June 17, 2009

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.

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May 27, 2009

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.

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May 22, 2009

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.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 05:28 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

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.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 12:20 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

May 06, 2009

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.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 10:51 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

May 05, 2009

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!

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May 04, 2009

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.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 09:43 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

May 03, 2009

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.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 12:57 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

April 18, 2009

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?

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 10:56 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

April 16, 2009

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.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 08:19 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

December 15, 2008

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

Dallas infighting and Green Bay's a wreck
New York and Tampa soon flat on the deck
Star football players that aren't in the clink
These are a few of my favorite things

Halfbacks that impress on forty-yard dashes;
Tough cornerbacks that intercept passes;
Flying to Oahu just before spring
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!

Baltimore losing and Denver pathetic
Tennessee not looking all that athletic
Getting so close to six Super Bowl rings
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!

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 02:10 AM | Comments (1) | TrackBack

December 09, 2008

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.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 02:00 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

November 27, 2008

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.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 05:40 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

November 22, 2008

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.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 11:18 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack

November 21, 2008

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.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 09:44 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

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.

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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.

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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.

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November 11, 2008

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.

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November 02, 2008

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.

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October 30, 2008

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.

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October 25, 2008

Michigan: Yeah, That's Familiar

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October 18, 2008

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!

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September 29, 2008

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:

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September 11, 2008

(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.

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* 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.

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September 10, 2008

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.

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September 09, 2008

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.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 08:20 PM | Comments (4) | TrackBack

September 02, 2008

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.

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August 30, 2008

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.

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August 17, 2008

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?

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August 15, 2008

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.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 11:39 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

August 13, 2008

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."

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 09:20 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

July 31, 2008

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.

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July 19, 2008

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.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 06:45 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

July 16, 2008

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.

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July 13, 2008

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.

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July 08, 2008

July 05, 2008

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.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 12:10 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

July 04, 2008

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.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 08:41 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

July 02, 2008

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 ...

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 12:30 AM | Comments (1) | TrackBack

June 29, 2008

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.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 10:38 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

June 25, 2008

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.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 10:00 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

June 22, 2008

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.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 11:15 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

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!

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 10:15 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

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.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 07:30 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

June 20, 2008

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

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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.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 10:41 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

June 18, 2008

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.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 11:32 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

June 15, 2008

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."

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 08:44 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack

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.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 06:52 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

June 12, 2008

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.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 11:11 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack

June 11, 2008

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.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 01:05 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

June 10, 2008

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!

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 07:35 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

June 09, 2008

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.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 10:36 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

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.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 01:34 AM | Comments (1) | TrackBack

June 07, 2008

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.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 12:16 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

June 06, 2008

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.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 11:45 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

June 03, 2008

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.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 08:30 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

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!

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 12:58 AM | Comments (1) | TrackBack

May 30, 2008

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."

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 10:13 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

May 28, 2008

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.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 09:10 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

May 21, 2008

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.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 09:39 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

May 15, 2008

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:

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 09:27 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

May 09, 2008

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?

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 11:59 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

May 08, 2008

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.

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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.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 12:24 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

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.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 12:07 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

May 05, 2008

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.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 05:38 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

April 28, 2008

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.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 11:59 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

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.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 11:55 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

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.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 11:42 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

April 22, 2008

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!

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 10:18 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack

April 13, 2008

"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.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 11:37 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

April 06, 2008

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.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 01:34 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

April 02, 2008

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.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 09:27 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

March 27, 2008

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.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 10:22 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

March 25, 2008

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 ...

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 10:47 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

March 22, 2008

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

How did this happen?
Oh -- Davidson's star player
put up forty points?

Well, that would do it;
but I feel for Gonzaga
who once again failed;

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

Are there glass slippers
on these teams the sharps forgot?
Or hard boots of lead?

Perhaps the latter;
they could face UCLA;
but then again, no --

The Angelenos
are getting pounded tonight;
they're down by ten points.

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!

There's a CBS poll
that asks for folks' reactions;
three of four like it.

One cannot complain
about Duke's ignomious loss;
their pride has cost them.

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

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 11:05 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

March 20, 2008

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.

A team with high hopes
folded like a cheap lawn chair;
it completely sucked.

Winthrop's grim humbling,
that brutal execution,
shan't be forgotten;

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!

How the world wished
Stinking Duke would crash and burn;
all would seem just, then;

But you shan't escape;
for sharks circle the wounded,
and laugh at weakness.

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.

Your loss carries joy
to the great plains of Kansas;
I exult with them.

Slain at Omaha,
and the multitudes rejoice;
how could one blame them?

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!

Rome's faith had wavered
in the Cincinnati squad,
but then, that last half!

How did Georgia fall?
Did Providence take action,
skew the final score?

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!

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 11:44 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

March 11, 2008

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.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 07:45 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack

But Nothing Tops These Guys ...

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

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 07:42 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

February 17, 2008

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

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 11:41 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

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.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 12:01 AM | Comments (10) | TrackBack

January 23, 2008

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.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 06:45 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

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!

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 12:01 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

January 16, 2008

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.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 11:19 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

January 13, 2008

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.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 11:32 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

January 04, 2008

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.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 11:10 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

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.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 09:08 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

January 01, 2008

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:

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 12:06 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

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?

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 12:48 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

December 25, 2007

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.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 07:19 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

November 28, 2007

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.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 09:49 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

November 20, 2007

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!

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 06:31 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

November 13, 2007

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.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 07:45 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

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!

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 12:18 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

November 04, 2007

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.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 09:40 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack

October 28, 2007

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.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 09:30 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

October 23, 2007

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.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 01:41 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

October 17, 2007

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.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 09:58 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack

October 05, 2007

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.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 10:06 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

September 25, 2007

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!"

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 07:20 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

August 31, 2007

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.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 08:57 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

August 25, 2007

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.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 06:45 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

August 22, 2007

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!

Your loyal reader,

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.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 07:40 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

August 19, 2007

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.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 11:57 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

August 16, 2007

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 ...

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 12:01 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

August 15, 2007

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)

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August 01, 2007

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)

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July 12, 2007

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)

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July 10, 2007

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).

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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)

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July 07, 2007

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.

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June 28, 2007

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.

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June 17, 2007

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.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 08:37 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

June 14, 2007

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.

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June 13, 2007

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!

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 11:31 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

June 11, 2007

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.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 09:47 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

"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" ...

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 04:15 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

June 06, 2007

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.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 08:45 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

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.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 06:48 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

June 05, 2007

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.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 07:29 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

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.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 07:10 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

May 07, 2007

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.

Hah! Just kidding.

That didn't happen.

As it happens, they've killed my column, and assigned me to write straight local news stories.

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!

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 08:55 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

April 17, 2007

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.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 07:53 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

April 12, 2007

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

I saw then, all around me, fresh torments
And tormented spirits I had not seen before,
As I moved on, turning this way and that, and looking.

I was in the third circle, where it rains
Eternally, icily and implacably;
Weight and direction are invariable.

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.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 11:39 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

April 01, 2007

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.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 07:18 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

March 24, 2007

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.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 07:03 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

March 22, 2007

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

You'll choke soon enough
for karma can't be denied,
and you will collapse

God knows the Bruins
would love to throw you down
to the hardwood floor

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?

Must Ohio pull
victories out of its ass
ev'ry single game?

I mean, they were down
twenty points against the Vols,
yet came back to win

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

How great were those shots
as they broke the Aggies' spirit
after a tough game

Now the real test comes
as they must face the Buckeyes
over the weekend;

Please, beat them soundly;
let the Buckeyes reap defeat;
let the clock strike twelve.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 11:20 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

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

You'll choke soon enough
for karma can't be denied,
and you will collapse

God knows the Bruins
would love to throw you down
to the hardwood floor

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?

Must Ohio pull
victories out of its ass
ev'ry single game?

I mean, they were down
twenty points against the Vols,
yet came back to win

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

How great were those shots
as they broke the Aggies' spirit
after a tough game

Now the real test comes
as they must face the Buckeyes
over the weekend;

Please, beat them soundly;
let the Buckeyes reap defeat;
let the clock strike twelve.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 11:20 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

March 16, 2007

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.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 09:58 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

Basketball Haikus

No. 11 VCU 79, No. 6 Duke 77.

One point eight seconds
made all the difference for
the VCU Rams

How wonderful was
that last jump shot near the paint
which sealed Duke's defeat

For the nation cheered
as ignoble Duke sank down
to obscurity

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

Now, you see, we can
ignore Bob Knight's existence
until next time 'round

General principle
demands the wretch suffer for
his silly antics

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

Like bad aftershave,
Old Dominion started strong,
but couldn't hold out

Oh, they seemed so close
to knocking off a five-seed
per long tradition

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

They now lie ruined
before proud Indiana
which surged to glory

You were not the same
squad as you were this last year,
when Morrison played;

Do better next time,
for Michigan makes me weep
in the NIT.

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March 11, 2007

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:

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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.

This fouling situation is even more mystifying because no one, not even the referees, knows all the potential foul calls in basketball. Does a player accidentally touch another player while trying to defend a shot? Foul. Does a player spend too much time near the basket? Foul. Does a player cut back one way across the court, then another way, dodges past a guard and drive for the basket? That’s a foul too, even though the player picked up a triple-word score AND used the X and Z tiles.

But all those fouls, again, are OK because as long as one doesn’t have five (or six) of them, they can still play in the game and realistically suffer no consequences. Meanwhile, you can be damn sure that the football player who got an unnecessary roughness penalty is STILL in the doghouse with his coach, the assistant coaches, and most of the offensive line.

Of course, there are plenty of other things with basketball I’m not thrilled about. Let’s look at the collegiate basketball realm for some examples.

One major issue is that many of the schools competing for this month’s NCAA men’s basketball tournament are annoying (e.g. Virginia Tech), utterly lame (e.g. Purdue) or thoroughly deserve to get knocked on their asses (e.g. Duke, USC, Duke, Michigan State, Duke). Sure, this means there are plenty of teams to root against, but the plethora of icky teams will often mean a team one doesn’t like will end up playing another team one doesn’t like. This is not fun.

It’s also not fun when teams from – how does one put this – less-renowned conferences are given guaranteed berths in the tourney, despite no one knowing who the hell they are. For instance, it’s worth noting the Corpus Christi campus of Texas A&M University – the Corpus Christi branch campus, for God’s sake – won something called the Southland Conference and as such, was named a No. 15 seed in this year’s tournament. While I will secretly root for them in their game against Wisconsin – because Wisconsin, as a matter of course, goes easy on their schedules each year – it does feel like Texas A&M (CC) will show up, get beaten about on the court, and have a long, not fun bus ride home.

Now, I don’t really mean to cut down the Texas A&M (CC) squad – well, not directly, anyway – they were just the first example that came to mind. They also have an impressive 26-6 record, which is better than one can say for, oh, Purdue. But it’s no fun watching cannon fodder get cannoned either. So either the NCAA has to do a better job promoting why these teams are important basketball players on the national scale, or add in more at-large berths for other schools. I’m just saying: I’m sure the Mid-Continent Conference is important, but I’m not entirely sure why it should get a guaranteed tournament berth.

That said, it’s also not fun when one’s own alma mater will ONCE AGAIN lean against the wall looking awkward during the Big Dance, because one’s alma mater can’t win a big game even if their evil arch-rivals practically hand them a victory on a plate. Not that I am bitter.

After all, Michigan’s situation is Michigan’s own fault. Getting caught putting nitro in the tank is not exactly a way to make friends or influence people. Still, that was many years ago and it is getting increasingly frustrating to have a basketball team that can’t get the job done when it needs to do so. All Michigan basketball fans want, when you get right down to it, is at least one win over Ohio State per season and a berth in the NCAA Tournament, even if that berth involves playing Fairleigh Dickinson (or a similar school) in the play-in game.

But I digress. Plus, I want to end on a positive note – which is that March Madness starts this Thursday (or Tuesday, if you count the play-in game). This is one of two times during the year in which basketball is enjoyable to watch (the other being when the Clippers are in the NBA playoffs). So, I do hope Rant readers will spend some time watching the college kids play some hoops – because like all sports, this isn’t just about the game of basketball. It’s about school pride, cheering on one’s favorite underdogs, blatant regionalism and indulging in a whole bunch of schadenfreude (e.g., with Duke).

Speaking of favorites, since my alma mater is heading to the Not Invited Tournament ONCE AGAIN, The Rant will again root this year for its coreligionists, the Gonzaga Zags, who are apparently really the Gonzaga Bulldogs but no one calls them that. I haven’t any idea how well they’ll do, but I certainly hope they’ll do well – and knocking off Indiana would be rather a bonus, I would think.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 09:29 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

March 10, 2007

Hail, Hail to Michigan

EIGHTY YEARS AGO, the University of Michigan dedicated its new football stadium in Ann Arbor. One of the very cool things about that particular Saturday's football game -- aside from our triumph over a certain second-rate university -- was that the day was filmed.

Dig this compilation of pre-game footage, crowd reaction shots, and football action from the fall of 1927, which even includes aerial shots and a pleasing score of school songs:

Yeah. Let's see those scoundrels down at Ohio State top that. Oh, wait. Michigan beat them when their stadium was dedicated; in fact, we shut them out at home, 19-0. Also, it's again worth noting Michigan Stadium holds more people, is much more fun to attend and is generally cooler than Ohio Stadium.

Although it seems inconceivable, Michigan Stadium could be even cooler if this plan for the stadium's renovation was adopted.

(with thanks to my good friend Lee, a fellow Michigan alumnus)

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March 09, 2007

I'm Just Saying, Some Respect Would Be in Order

ONE SUSPECTS THAT if A.O. Scott, the chief movie critic for The New York Times, had been around for the Battle of Thermopylae, he would be the first to welcome Greece’s new Persian overlords. It is the only conclusion one can draw from Mr Scott’s unfriendly review of “300,” the new movie devoted to the battle in question, as most of his ire is aimed at the plot and not the various technical aspects of the film.

The kicker, of course, is that the plot – despite its considerable artistic licenses – is taken from the very fabric of history itself. Back in 480 B.C., a small band of Spartans and their allies held off a vastly superior force of subject conscripts and Persian elite units at Thermopylae, a key mountain pass. Their three-day stand – which was only broken due to treachery – paved the way for the epic Battle of Salamis, in which Persia was badly beaten.

It is no exaggeration to say the Spartans’ stand at Thermopylae pretty much saved all of Western Civilization from Persia’s cruel despotism, which was the standard governance model of the day back in 480 B.C. It is also no exaggeration to say the Spartans’ stand was one of the greatest military accomplishments of the ancient era, given that Persia’s forces outnumbered the Greeks by at least 30 to 1, and perhaps as much as 300 to 1, depending on which commentator one believes.

However, Mr Scott does not seem to care. Nor does he seem to care that certain artistic licenses were taken in making the story into a comic – from which the movie is adapted. Here are some of his observations:

Devotees of the pectoral, deltoid and other fine muscle groups will find much to savor as King Leonidas (Gerard Butler) leads 300 prime Spartan porterhouses into battle against Persian forces commanded by Xerxes (Rodrigo Santoro), a decadent self-proclaimed deity who wants, as all good movie villains do, to rule the world.

The Persians, pioneers in the art of facial piercing, have vastly greater numbers — including ninjas, dervishes, elephants, a charging rhino and an angry bald giant — but the Spartans clearly have superior health clubs and electrolysis facilities. They also hew to a warrior ethic of valor and freedom that makes them, despite their gleeful appetite for killing, the good guys in this tale. (It may be worth pointing out that unlike their mostly black and brown foes, the Spartans and their fellow Greeks are white.) …

… There are a few combat sequences that achieve a grim, brutal grandeur, notably an early engagement in which the Spartans, hunkered behind their shields, push back against a Persian line, forcing enemy soldiers off a cliff into the water. The big idea, spelled out over and over in voice-over and dialogue in case the action is too subtle, is that the free, manly men of Sparta fight harder and more valiantly than the enslaved masses under Xerxes’ command.

I suppose this might be a bad time to mention that Xerxes pretty much did, in fact, want to rule the world. I mean, if you look at history around 500 BC, the Persian Empire is IT in terms of powerful empires at the time. Persia controlled Egypt and a lot of other Near Eastern real estate, plus what is now Iran and other Central Asian territory. So why else would he consider expanding west? Also, as much as I hate to break it to Mr Scott, back in the old days people fought battles and killed each other in hand-to-hand combat, often for reasons that people today don’t really understand.

Now, it may be that “300” just really stinks; not having seen the film, I can’t offer a defense on artistic merits. But my argument with Mr Scott is not over that; it is rather that his review treats the historic import of Thermopylae as barely an afterthought, when the historic import of the battle is fundamental to the work. Basically, Mr Scott ought recognize that some 25 centuries ago, a group of people made a great sacrifice, and its benefits still accrue today.

That said, Mr Scott does in his review somewhat address what he considers fundamental shortcomings with the film itself. Here’s one standard criticism:

Zack Snyder’s first film, a remake of George Romero’s “Dawn of the Dead,” showed wit as well as technical dexterity. While some of that filmmaking acumen is evident here, the script for “300,” which he wrote with Kurt Johnstad and Michael B. Gordon, is weighed down by the lumbering portentousness of the original book, whose arresting images are themselves undermined by the kind of pomposity that frequently mistakes itself for genius.

Well, if that ain’t the pot calling the kettle black, I don’t know what is.

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February 27, 2007

Oh, What a Feeling!

FOR THOSE OF YOU who were wondering, here it is: my 2006 Ford Taurus!

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February 23, 2007

Yanqui Turistas Turn Tables on Muggers

WELL, HERE'S AN enlightening story which should once again remind the rest of the world Not to Screw Around with the United States. In Costa Rica recently, a group of muggers tried to hold up a tour group of American retirees. Although the muggers were armed -- and one had a gun -- the senior citizens fought back, killing one mugger in the process and sending the other two fleeing for their lives.

Even better, the Costa Rican authorities were cool with this. So again, to recap the lessons from this story: Americans can get really angry if attacked and will make a point of fighting back.

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February 13, 2007

If You Listen Closely, You Can Hear Lake Havasu Calling

HERE IN NEW HAMPSHIRE, I know we've had a winter which even I would describe as mild and bucolic. We've only had one real month of cold, and the snowfall has been practically nonexistent. However, I would note the weather forecast for this time tomorrow contains the following phrases:

"definite snow"
"areas of blowing snow"
"chance of light ice pellets" (i.e. sleet)
"chance of thunderstorms" (i.e. thundersnow)

These weather phenomena are expected to happen with the air temperature around 20 degrees and sustained winds of about 25 miles per hour, resulting a wind chill of about zero. Given this, the idea of looking into air travel for slightly warmer parts of the country -- Lake Havasu City comes to mind -- seems better and better with each passing moment.

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February 12, 2007

'Tis More Than Any Man Could Bear

SOME YEARS AGO, Digby Anderson -- founder of The Social Affairs Unit think-tank and a food critic for several publications -- wrote one of the most brilliantly nasty essays I have ever read in my life. The subjects of Dr Anderson's considerable ire were vegetarians and their social graces, or what Dr Anderson charged were their lack thereof.

More indulgent souls might not, for instance, share Dr Anderson's tongue-in-cheek contention the only fitting social relationship between vegetarians and non-vegetarians is apartheid. One might also not agree with Dr Anderson's complaints about vegetarians, whom he described as rude, ungrateful scoundrels. But there's no denying the man skewered his targets as thoroughly as any cook lances shish-kebabs before the grill:

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But whether they are vegetarians or other sorts of food cranks, they show the same characteristics of ingratitude, bolshieness, rudeness, and lack of taste. They are ungrateful to the Almighty, spurning all the good things He has showered upon them. They are bolshie in their contempt for all the wonderful recipes tradition has found for the good things. They are rude in their insolent expectation that normal hosts should lay on abnormal food for them while they never lay on normal food for us. And they lack good taste. Fancy putting a boring quiche in the rightful place of a roast goose.

----------

I thought of Dr Anderson's long-ago essay when reading this just-published article in The New York Times, in which the paper describes insufferable young people who are planning to subject their guests to ecotopian weddings. These wedding ceremonies -- one hesitates to call them celebrations -- will involve fun and exciting activities, such as environmental tours around an organic farm.

You know, because dodging piles of horseshit and being eaten alive by mosquitoes is what everyone wants to do when sacrificing vacation time to attend a wedding. Christ. But lest my readers think I am kidding, let us examine the opening paragraphs of the Times' report:

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KATE Harrison’s idea of a fairy tale wedding goes something like this:

Gather more than 150 friends and relatives at an organic farm for a prewedding day of hikes and environmental tours.

Calculate the mileage guests will travel and offset their carbon dioxide emissions by donating to programs that plant trees or preserve rain forests.

Use hydrangeas, berries and other local and seasonal flowers for her bouquet and the decorations, instead of burning up fuel transporting flowers from faraway farms. Design an organic autumnal menu (same reason). Find a vintage dress to avoid the waste of a wedding gown that will never be worn again.

“It’s well worth it to start your life together in a way that’s in line with your values and beliefs,” said Ms. Harrison, 28, a graduate student at Yale, who is to marry in October. “You don’t want this event that is supposed to start your life together to come at the expense of the environment or workers in another country.”

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At this point, it's worth stopping for a moment to reflect on a few things.

The first thing I would note is that, as a man, any ideas I have about how weddings ought be conducted can be considered secondary at best. Women have mastered the art and science of the wedding process, and as such, the idea of a man actively intruding on this process is silly and laughable. If he is consulted, that is fine; if his advice is asked, he can give it; but the idea a man would actively direct the process is ridiculous.

I'd also say I'm not necessarily opposed to the principles the couples in the story follow, and I'd say there is much to be gained from having a smaller wedding. I myself tend to look at things through an economic prism, so I'm naturally sympathetic to any wedding plan which keeps the guest list and festivities reasonable.

What gets me about these ecotopian weddings, though, is that they seem pretty ungracious when it comes to one's guests, for the reasons which Dr Anderson described in his essay. For instance, in the Times article, there is mention made of a "vegan" menu, in which all the dishes are prepared to strict uber-vegetarian standards. The way I see it, it is one thing if the bride and groom eat vegan, but guests should at least have the option of eating dishes which don't require a stop at McDonald's on the way home.

Also, there is talk in the story of having guests, in lieu of gifts, sign up for things such as renewable energy projects. This seems gauche at the least and insulting at worst. After all, if a guest has spent considerable time and money just to make it to one's hippie wedding, and one is not even going to give him a dry breast of chicken during the reception dinner, one ought not hit up the guest for donations to this or that cause. That just seems like good manners -- or at least it's just not rubbing salt in a wound, which is also a good thing.

The Times notes that the ecotopian trend is spreading beyond weddings to private parties, but I would argue this trend is not nearly as worrisome. After all, it is much easier to avoid private parties than a family wedding, and there is far less guilt associated with doing so. Still, it is somewhat disconcerting to think private parties are becoming an exercise in finger-wagging. After all, both private parties and weddings are meant to be fun.

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February 11, 2007

Waking Up is Hard to Do

SO ON FRIDAY I went out with some work friends to celebrate my recent -- God help me -- 31st birthday. On this night, I learned a few things. For instance, I learned I am truly an incompetent pool player even when I am completely sober. I also learned that for some strange reason, my body is impervious to the ravages normally associated with drinking large amounts of tequila. Even though I had about half-a-dozen shots of tequila during the evening, I was entirely sober by the time I left the bar, and woke up the next morning feeling great. It's really all very strange.

Although for some reason, it was incredibly difficult for me to wake up this morning. This may have been because it was Sunday morning (and for me Sunday is a Monday, due to my work schedule). Still, I think that's as good a reason as any to trot out the "Happy Morning!" Folgers commercial again:

You can sleep when you are -- happy morning!

Anyway, the long and short of it is that I had a great time on Friday night, and I'm glad my friends were able to join me during the evening. Also, I'd like to thank them for buying me all that tequila, because there are few better ways to celebrate a birthday than with the noble product of the blue agave plant. That goes double if one is actually near tequila's ancestral home on one's birthday.

So if any of my readers should find themselves in such a situation -- he writes completely innocently -- I would encourage them to have a neat shot of the stuff, even if it is served during breakfast. Particularly if it served during breakfast. If I hadn't had to work on my birthday this year, I might have done just that!

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Why the Internet is Great

REASON NO. 6,234,993: Someone, somewhere, actually paid money to secure the domain name for this site, which solely exists as an inside joke for science fiction fans (warning! sound! but the sound is good!)

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And Now, a Television Interlude

STARRING THE TEAM FROM "24" and "Aqua Teen Hunger Force."

(via Steve Silver)

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February 06, 2007

Ye Olde Wasted Saturday

A KEY QUOTE from Patrick "Bad News" Hughes' recent trip to a "Renaissance Faire:"

"I know! We’ll counteract the poisons with a little taste of something good from the mead vendor! And once again experience one of my least favorite aspects of the Faire, the fact that every merchant somehow feels compelled to constantly yell throughout the entire transaction: "MEAD! AH YES, MEAD! THIS GENTLEMAN WOULD LIKE A MEAD! ONE MEAD FOR THIS FINE GENTLEMAN ON THIS SUNNY MORN. ONE MEAD COMING RIGHT UP. YES, A FINE LORD SUCH AS YOURSELF MUST WORK UP A MIGHTY THIRST! NO DOUBT YOU'LL SOON ENJOY QUENCHING YON THIRST WITH MEAD. HERE YOU ARE, SIR! HERE BE YOUR MEAD! GOOD DAY, SIR! GOOD DAY TO YOU, SQUIRE!"

Go read the whole thing. It's alarming yet hysterical at the same time -- and it's even got pictures! Then, after you're done reading it, go read his entry from last year, which is perhaps even funnier.

(via Sheila O'Malley)

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February 03, 2007

Oh, I Almost Forgot

BECAUSE THE FIRST STEP is always a doozy:

Happy Groundhog Day, everyone!

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February 02, 2007

Oh, I Almost Forgot

BECAUSE THE FIRST STEP is always a doozy:

Happy Groundhog Day, everyone!

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January 30, 2007

But Is This Man REALLY From Michigan?

RECENTLY, I WAS PERUSING the on-line edition of the Detroit Free Press, when I stumbled across a rather different story the paper's driving columnist had authored.

Apparently, changes in Michigan law have boosted the speed limit on several freeways from 65 miles per hour to 70 miles per hour, but the signs on those roads haven't yet been changed to reflect that. As such, it understandably prompted Matt Helms to write about the matter, pointing out to motorists that one could in fact drive 70. But what I didn't understand was Mr Helms' lead, which ran as follows:

You're tooling down the freeway at 70 m.p.h., keeping an eye out for cops because signs say the speed limit is 65. Relax! You're driving perfectly legally. It's one of the state's best-kept road secrets that the signs are wrong, and no cop is going to stop you.

As a Michigan native who has lived in Kalamazoo and Ann Arbor, and who has traveled extensively throughout the Great Lakes State, this is a lead which forces me to ask: is Mr Helms really from Michigan, or is he doing the driving column from some place a bit more placid, like Sheboygan, Wisc.?

I'm sorry, but I think my fellow Michiganders would agree that were one to actually "tool down the freeway" at a mere "70 miles per hour," one would find oneself crushed between a Mack truck and a Ford Excursion sooner than one could start ranting about the wretched roads. After all, this is Michigan -- home to the American auto industry, and home to the Motor City, the City That Moves the World. The way people Back Home drive, one would think the state's speed limits are just friendly suggestions, suggestions which carry penalties similar to those associated with tearing off the tags on a mattress.

Of course, anyone who has actually received a ticket from the authorities in Michigan knows the authorities don't screw around. Trust me on this -- it sucks. That said, having driven on all the major freeways in Michigan, I also know people just don't drive 70 miles per hour. Nor have they ever worried about getting a ticket while driving 70.

Gad -- I mean, here's just one example. US-23 is a four-lane highway which, in part, runs from between northwest Ohio to Ann Arbor. This stretch of road is practically a straight line. I can assure readers that I have driven on this road at 85 miles per hour, and in doing so, have been frequently passed on the right.

But here's the thing. It's not just that road. When I was driving back to my home town of Kalamazoo last year, I found myself being tailgated on I-94 when I was driving in the upper 70s and lower 80s, even though I was traveling as fast as I could in heavy traffic. Around the Detroit area, the traffic ran at an equally frantic pace, and based on my travels elsewhere in the state, I can't imagine Michiganders driving 70 unless their vehicles were equipped with speed governors. Throughout most of Michigan, there's just too much open space and too little traffic, and everywhere else folks drive as if they're drag racing. I mean, it's so bad it's on par with the 405, and as a former Angeleno that says something.

On a related matter, though, I would note that Mr Helms also advises motorists to stick with driving 55 miles per hour in certain 55 mile per hour zones around Detroit, such as on I-94, I-96, and M-10 (the Lodge). Again, Mr Helms seems to pose this as a matter of law. In reality, anyone who drove faster than 55 mph on these horribly-maintained roads would experience mechanical troubles with their cars, including flat tires, wrenched alignments, and rear axle assemblies being ripped from cars so fast it would impress an eating champion at Ribfest.

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January 29, 2007

An American's Home is His Castle

(Or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love
The Distinctive Properties and Estates Section
of The Wall Street Journal).

OVER THE PAST FEW YEARS, I've come to realize that few things in American life excite people as much as the residential real-estate market. As a younger man and a renter, this is not an excitement I particularly share, as for most people my age it is a big step when one simply finds a place with a dishwasher, or a separate washer and dryer. Why, some days even the idea of a carport seems like an unimaginable luxury.

Still, I do find the discussions people have about their real-estate fascinating, particularly when they get to talking about the market itself. People talk about which way prices have moved, and which way they should move; they talk about the insufferable cheapness of buyers or the wretched stubbornness of sellers. People will also sometimes offer friendly advice about the market, and taken together, these myriad opinions are as different as the snowflakes at Mont-Tremblant. Indeed, it is enough to make any renter confused. Should I buy now? Should I wait? Should I buy in the city or an hour north? Should I buy a condo or a house?

The way I see it, though, there's an easier solution than to worry about these questions. Namely, I read the The Distinctive Properties and Estates Section of The Wall Street Journal, along with its affiliated sections like the City Residences listings. This way, I can live vicariously through the experiences of overpaid investment bankers and other buyers who, despite a knack for squeezing the last pennies out of a major equity trade or making money through exchanging cotton futures for contracts on frozen orange juice, will pay ridiculous sums of money for semi-desirable property.

Of course, I am an admitted skeptic when it comes to these types of things, which makes it even more enjoyable. For instance, one recent advertisement referred to a New Jersey home which was allegedly "distinguished by interior and exterior magnificence." Have it all covered, do we? Then, there was the one-bedroom New York apartment notable for its "amazing details" -- at the seven-figure price the owners were asking, the details better have included solid-gold fixtures in the bath.

Also, apparently every other listing proclaimed a buyer would live on one of such-and-such's "most prestigious estates" in a "gated community" -- in short, a "once in a lifetime" experience for any executive, at least until he went to a dinner party at the nicer home of Murray, that sycophantic bastard down on the bond desk. All the superlatives and descriptives and blaring of trumpets are enough to give one a nose bleed.

I did like the advertisement, though, from the unnamed Florida broker who proclaimed his area was full of "SELLERS IN PAIN." I thought it rather inventive and frank, both of which are selling points in my book. And of course, there are plenty of homes listed which are downright spectacular and which I will never be able to afford until I finish the Great American Novel, which has been languishing for years. But there's something to be said for a little vicarious living as opposed to seriously pining away for the unobtainable.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 08:19 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

January 28, 2007

Tequila Sunrise

SO ON FRIDAY NIGHT, I went out and partied with a bunch of friends from the office. No, really, I did! I can assure everyone I had a great time and I really enjoyed myself, although I started feeling sleepy after midnight. The next morning, I found there was good reason for that, as I was really tired.

Here's a dramatization of how I reacted to waking up on Saturday morning, after a night of actual drinking and about six hours' sleep:

I suspect a key contributor to this was the tequila I had during the evening.

Some readers may be familiar with the country song, "Ten Rounds with Jose Cuervo," in which singer Tracy Byrd regales his listeners about quickly imbibing ten shots of the erstwhile spirit during a night at the bar. This action supposedly prompts Mr Byrd to engage in a desultory pattern of behavior, ending with him starting to drink tequila again. However, I can assure readers Mr Byrd's song is a complete and utter fantasy. This is because the tequila would have burned through the man's throat somewhere around Shot No. 7, prompting him to drop to the ground in agonizing pain.

Furthermore, in the event Mr Byrd's central nervous system could have stayed intact to the point of managing a tenth shot in rapid succession, it is dubious anyone would have remained in close proximity to serve him one. After all, at that point it would be feasible that the additional shots of Jose Cuervo might have built up in Mr Byrd's trachea, prompting an conflagration that would go down in local lore, kinda like the unfortunate Denny Pratt tragedy.

So, yeah, the stuff I had was a bit strong and I had four shots of it over a two hour period. Strangely, though, I was completely sober at the end of those two hours, and that somewhat surprised me. I drink very little as a matter of course, so four shots of tequila should have had me stumbling around the bar yodeling and insulting the other customers. I mean, I didn't even have a hangover the next morning.

In fact, I actually felt really good.

Thus, I think we can conclude the night was a success, particularly since I didn't wake up with the horrible shooting pains in my shoulders and back that seem to crop up more and more frequently these days. Who knew that tequila could serve as a balm of Gilead? Also, I learned that if I need something really strong, I'll order a shot of Jagermeister.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 08:05 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

January 26, 2007

In My Opinion, This Sucks

FOR THE RECORD, it is 1.4 degrees below zero (Fahrenheit) here in Manchester this morning, according to the weather station located a short distance down my street. The windchill is down to roughly -18F below and given stronger winds expected for today, that should fall even further. The predicted high for today? Oh, let's call it eight degrees.

In comparison, it's THIRTY DEGREES right now at McMurdo Station in Antarctica. Just on general principle grounds, people shouldn't have to live in places colder than Antarctica.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 07:47 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

January 25, 2007

Because Wretchedness is Universally Recognized

WELL, HERE'S A HEADLINE that scares the hell out of me: "Bud's Super Bowl ads take on an international flavor."

The good people at USA Today have the full story. Apparently, the Anheuser-Busch Companies Inc. are concerned about the declining U.S. fortunes of their Budweiser product (which in The Rant's opinion tastes like horse piss). According to USA Today, as imports have gained market share at Bud's expense, the company has decided they're going to try and promote Budweiser as a "world beer" during the Super Bowl.

No, I'm not making that up. That's what the paper said:

"The Budweiser brand — which has been losing market share domestically for several years — is being re-billed as a "world" beer. As imported beer sales have climbed, Anheuser-Busch has been buying up import brands in recent years. And its Super Bowl ads seem to be doing less flag-waving and more global hugs.

Two Bud spots will end with a logo of the globe behind the familiar Budweiser symbol.

For A-B, it's a new world — of competition.

"We have lots of equity in our traditional American heritage," says (Bob Lachky, executive vice president of global industry development). "But most people don't know that Budweiser is one of the world's most popular beers." In fact, it's second only to Bud Light as the world's best-selling beer."

A world beer, eh? One wonders what the folks at Budweiser Budvar will think about that. For that matter, one wonders what the rest of the world's going to think about that, or at the very least the Europeans, who mastered the art of brewing. I am confident my European readers are already reading this and snickering, or perhaps more properly gasping in horror, at the very idea of Bud being promoted as a world beer. That's somewhat like promoting some wretched, cheese-drenched Pizza Hut creation as a "world pizza."

Simply put, it's not going to work. It's not going to work precisely because Bud is a mass-produced American beer and, as such, represents everything associated with mass-produced American beer. Meanwhile, these ads will be shown during the one American sporting event which gets broadcast around the world, and everyone abroad is going to either a) laugh at us even harder or b) hate us even more than they already do. I mean, can you imagine it? Here you'll have people in God-knows-where, already having trouble figuring out what a "nickel defense" is and why the Colts quarterback stinks to high heaven, and then they're going to wonder why the Americans insist on drinking thin, watery beer.

Also, for the record, The Rant is astounded that Bud and Bud Light are the world's best-selling beers. Why, even the Canadians are drinking the stuff -- and they always claim to know better!

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 09:36 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

January 20, 2007

The Agony and -- Well, the Agony

Numb me -- drill me --
floss me -- bill me.

-- Weird Al Yankovic, “Cavity Search”

IF GOD HAD WANTED MAN to have perfectly straight, whiter-than-white teeth, He would have put immense amounts of naturally-occurring fluoride into the lakes and streams which feed the world's municipal water systems. Then again, given the events of Genesis, perhaps having wretched dental issues is all simply part of the burden associated with original sin. In fact, given what I went through Friday, I’d say that sounds about right.

On Friday, you see, I went for the second part of a Not Fun Dental Procedure known as root scaling and planing. (The first part had taken place the previous Friday, and it also proved to be Not Fun. In fact, when I submitted a claim form for the work, I put down “Not Fun Dental Work” to describe the procedure). The reason this procedure is not fun is because it is a deep-cleaning of the teeth and gums, which flushes out all the plaque and other unpleasantness in there. Since the work is done around the roots of the teeth, it requires several shots of novocaine to get to the point where work can proceed.

Just for the record, you know the procedure isn’t fun when your dentist fully admits that the shots are going to hurt, and actually somewhat commiserates throughout the process. It’s one thing to get a shot in the back of the mouth, which hurts a little but is fully bearable, and another thing entirely to get a shot in the palate, which hurts to the point where I shouted in discomfort. Fortunately, it was by far the worst part of the procedure, but it was a just wretched few moments there.

That said, the combination of adrenaline and numbness was something else – I got out of the chair an hour later in a cold sweat and feeling as if I’d nearly gotten hit by a train. But the good news is that several hours later, my mouth felt better and I was able to go out and have a nice dinner. Well, that and I don’t have to go back to the dentist until May.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 01:13 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

January 18, 2007

Alarming! Very, Very, Very Alarming!

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

An occasional Rant feature

SOMEHOW I MISSED this glorious news, but recently I learned that Citigroup's wretched ad campaign with the vaguely Eastern European guys got canned several months before it was scheduled to wrap up. I wish I had known this when the news broke before Christmas, for it would have made everyone's holiday at home even better. Gee, we probably would have had a nice bottle of wine just to celebrate that news alone. My God, can you believe those ads were originally scheduled to run through March?

But although news of the campaign's end was wonderful, what remains rather alarming is how the campaign took hold in people's minds, as if the commercials were the advertising variant of phenobarbital. True, many people exposed to them were able to resist the ads, despite suffering symptoms similar to those one has with a bad sinus infection. Others, though, clearly broke down soon after the ads' assault, and quickly had the ads' catch phrase utterly inserted into their psyche.

This is the only explanation of which I can think to explain why A FULL SIX PERCENT of searches to The Rant in January involved some rendition of the phrase, "Rewarding! Very, very, very rewarding!" I mean, I haven't seen anything this bad since that goddam paper clip in Microsoft Word. You remember the paper clip, right? No? Here's a reminder:

Here's another fun version -- albeit shorter, foreign, profane, and violent. But we all felt this way, right?

But I digress. Anyway, to put the figure in proper perspective, it's worth nothing that variations of the "rewarding" theme turned up EVEN MORE in The Rant's search logs than various search strings related to sex and pornography. The latter subjects attract an alarming number of hits despite The Rant's almost complete lack of discussion on such matters. So I really don't know what to think of this, except that it suggests a level of banality in today's life that is very, very, very alarming.

Without further ado, though, here's a look at some of the OTHER search terms from the New Year. This will be a relatively short list but hopefully will turn out all right:

QUERY: dump lloyd carr

ANSWER: Gee, you lose to Ohio State and lose the Rose Bowl and suddenly everyone forgets the 11 games Michigan won beforehand. OK, so I wouldn't mind if the guy retired, but I don't think we can throw the man out. He went 11-2, for Pete's sake, and that's not bad. There's always next year and we'll recover.

QUERY: coca cola thieves

ANSWER: Stealing Coca-Cola is depraved and wretched in all but the most dire of circumstances, such as a large-scale thermonuclear war. I mean, can you imagine if people just stole Coca-Cola at whim what it would be like? Anarchy and bedlam!

QUERY: taurus no heat

ANSWER: A colleague of mine who had this issue recently said the blower motor had shorted out. A service call might prove necessary. Or it could just be a fun Ford Taurus quirk, the type of thing which just happens for no reason. I've noticed these start to happen on my car, although my Taurus will be ten years old this year and has 130,000 miles on it and I still really like it.

QUERY: i hate peyton manning

ANSWER: You know, variations on THIS theme were the third most popular search at The Rant so far this month! I wonder why. Anyway, thanks for visiting, and I hope you'll continue to stop by. Here's a fun video helping to explain why I hate Peyton Manning and hope New England's defense "signs his melon" repeatedly on Sunday:

QUERY: car door latch freeze

ANSWER: You may be able to prevent this in future by spraying the locks with WD-40. A liberal application of the stuff should force out any moisture inside the lock mechanism, which is what freezes. Open the door, spray inside the lock, open and close the door several times to make it stick. This tactic has worked for me several times and I've had no problems as a result.

QUERY: seattle is depressing

ANSWER: You're not going to find me arguing with that complaint.

QUERY: tricks of investing

ANSWER: Buy. Hold.

QUERY: who are the old coaches in the coor beer commercials

ANSWER: Wait, I'm sorry, what? The old coaches? How can ... OK, now I feel old. Geez. I mean, it's not like they dug up old footage of Tom Landry and worked him into the commercials, now is it? Also, although I've generally hated these commercials, I like the one with Jim Mora. That one was clever, although I have to admit I liked it largely because they got the "Playoffs?!" rant into the script.

QUERY: how to say nothing in 500words essay

ANSWER: I'll spot you one of the 500 right now: synergy. Now go on, get to work!

QUERY: is gall bladder pain bad

ANSWER: Until it's removed, yes. There's nothing like getting wracked with random spasms of excruciating pain despite subsisting on a diet that eschews fats and spice.

QUERY: natty up caffeinated beer

ANSWER: Ah, isn't that beside the point? Last time I checked, beer had ... alcohol. Which is a depressant. Which would seem to make the idea of making it caffeinated a bit pointless.

QUERY: how much do arena football players earn?

ANSWER: This can range from $200/game in the af2 league to $80,000 per year in the AFL.

QUERY: cheap bengals shirts

ANSWER: But aren't they all?

QUERY: ridiculous beckham america

ANSWER: I'm glad someone agrees with me!

QUERY: celebrity worship syndrome solution

ANSWER: Beats me. I do think, though, that the reason people tend to closely follow every detail of celebrities' lives is that it lets them live vicariously through the celebrities in question. Obviously, there's nothing wrong with that in moderation but for some it clearly becomes more than simply an interest. This would suggest to me, anyway, that the person is inwardly dissatisfied with things about his or her life and takes interest in the celebrity to focus attention away from that dissatisfaction.

Speaking of dissatisfied, I'm somewhat dissatisfied with how this entry turned out, given that I should have done a better job with it. But it's late and I'm tired, so I'm going to go to bed. In the meantime, I hope everyone has a good weekend and that you enjoy the football on Sunday. Yeah.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 09:05 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

January 06, 2007

*Grumble* *Grumble* *Grumble*

SO THE COLTS WON and the Chiefs lost and the Cowboys won and the Seahawks lost (or not; see above -- eds.) in today's NFL playoff matches. As someone who dislikes Indianapolis and detests Dallas, I found this most annoying. So annoying, in fact, that I'm going to reserve comments on the whole matter until later, when I can think clearly about these events. Until then, though, as a cheer-up enjoy the commercial which has actually caused me to warm up to Dunkin' Donuts. But only slightly.

For the record, "Fratalian" was the language I was conversing in tonight to express my amazement and surprise at how the Colts brought the hammer down on Kansas City. I mean, come on. Stupid Peyton Manning throws three interceptions and suddenly the rest of the team shows up? Crikey. Of course, Kansas City played horribly* the entire game, but boy.

* Is there a more graphic phrase than "horribly" to use at that point in the sentence? Such as, say, "incredibly incompetent football?" I'm sorry, but when one's kicker shanks a 23-yard field goal off the uprights -- after a momentum-changing turnover and drive -- there's something wrong with one's football team.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 10:52 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

December 15, 2006

And Now, a Special Holiday Interlude

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 11:32 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

Yet Remarkably, There's No Mention of Jean Chretien

FROM THE TORONTO GLOBE AND MAIL: "Man with no pulse considered a medical breakthrough."

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 09:32 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

December 08, 2006

First Snowfall Reported Today

MANCHESTER, N.H. has recorded its first decent snowfall of the winter today. Right now, it's a balmy 18 degrees outside, with a windchill of four degrees and 17 mile-per-hour winds, gusting to 25 mph. We're supposed to receive snow through late afternoon.

I hope the late start this year doesn't mean it will snow in mid-April.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 07:12 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

December 03, 2006

Gee, I Feel Better Already

DESPITE MY DISAPPOINTMENT with the way the BCS turned out (see the post below), I do have to say that on the whole, it was a pretty damned good football weekend. Wake Forest won the ACC Championship; UCLA beat USC; Rutgers came oh so close to beating West Virginia; and Navy beat Army. Yeah. Even on the pro side, the Steelers actually managed to win. As did the Browns, which was a bit of a surprise.

Weekends like this, I think, are why people love this game.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 11:43 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

November 26, 2006

Five Years Ago, I Would Not Have Anticipated This

-----------

Dude! You're 72% from Massachusetts!

Okay, either you come from the western half of the state or from the Boston area. Still, it's not bad, so I'll give you the thumbs up. Cool!

How Massachusetts are you?
Quiz Created on GoToQuiz

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

MY INITIAL THOUGHTS about this diagnosis are as follows:

1. How YOU doin'?

2. This should make for some interesting conversation back home.

3. And the TORCH has been PASSED to a NEW generation of Americans -- BORN in this century...

4. What kind of quiz about Massachusetts doesn't mention the Red Sox, Dunkin' Donuts or the Blizzard of '78? Isn't that like having a quiz on Christianity without mentioning the Father, Son and Holy Ghost? I mean, boy.

5. Dude, I'm just saying. Yeah, I've only gone to Massachusetts like five times, and three of those trips involved Logan International Airport, but still. Even I, the Midwestern transplant to New England, know this.

6. Back from Ohio. Had wicked good ... er, wonderful Thanksgiving. Hope you did as well.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 07:57 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

November 10, 2006

Some Things Never Change Dept.

"They say we have among us a regiment of spies -- men and women -- sent here by the wily Seward. Why? Our newspapers tell every word there is to be told, by friend or foe."

-- Mary Boykin Chesnut
Montgomery, Ala.
May, 1861

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 10:27 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

Well, That's a Fair Point

"Mississippi gets more than their fair share back in federal money, but who the hell wants to live in Mississippi?"

-- U.S. Rep. Charles Rangel
15th Congressional District, New York

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 10:20 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

Borat: Make Benefit for Glorious Nation of Lawyers

ACCORDING TO THE GOOD people at TMZ.com, two frat boys who appeared in the hit film "Borat" have sued 20th Century Fox and various film-production companies, charging they were tricked regarding the circumstances of the film's distribution. They claim to have suffered "humiliation, mental anguish, and emotional and physical distress, loss of reputation, goodwill and standing in the community," TMZ.com said.

I think my favorite part here is the poll question: "Are the frat boys lame for suing?" With more than 30,000 votes, it's running 82-18 in the affirmative.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 10:09 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

November 04, 2006

Nature Communed With

REMEMBER BACK IN September when I took a hiatus from the blog for like three weeks? Well, I was here -- and other places in the American Southwest. This photo was taken soon after I arrived at Grand Canyon National Park. It was the first time I had been to the Grand Canyon, and although it is simply a giant hole in the ground, it ... well, it's an extremely impressive hole in the ground.

I went on a driving tour on my trip. Parts of my journey were the same as mentioned in this article in The Telegraph, although I drove in a Chrysler Sebring sedan with an I4 engine. I think I might have preferred the V12 in the Bentley GTC Continental which the Telegraph's guy got to drive. However, no matter what you drive, a driving tour through Grand Canyon National Park and Kaibab National Forest nearby is definitely a great road trip.

I also drove -- entirely by accident -- through Oak Creek Canyon on Arizona Route 89A when heading from Flagstaff to Sedona. This was entirely worth it, however, and provided some of the most scenic driving of my entire trip. I'd also encourage folks to check out the tiny mountain hamlet of Jerome, Ariz. It's about 5,000 feet up and seems built right into a mountainside; it's really rather stunning. Also, for those who prefer going places that aren't built up and touristy, Jerome might fit the bill. Again, I found this place entirely by accident.

Another cool thing about my trip -- this was earlier in the journey -- was my drive from Los Angeles to Death Valley. Much to my surprise, I apparently took the "back way" to Death Valley -- and I can honestly say I don't think I've ever been that alone ever. When you can drive for twelve miles without seeing another car on the road, and get out of the car and hear nothing but your feet on the ground, that's alone. The drive, again due to the lunar-like scenery, was incredible: but I'm glad I bought extra water before heading out.

Of course, I can't write without mentioning my good friends Chris and Mary Kate, with whom I spent an enjoyable weekend, and my good friend Simon From Jersey, who immediately got the joke when I called him from the desert, viz.:

ME: Hey, guess where I'm calling you from?
SIMON: Uh, would that be the World's Tallest Thermometer in Baker, Calif.?
ME: YES!

Anyway, like I said, it was a great trip -- although this does present a bit of a conundrum. You see, I realized after coming home that I haven't yet visited two great swaths of the country: the Old South and the Northwest. I mean, excluding trips to Florida (which were more eastern than southern), the closest I've gotten to the Old South is Fairfax County, Va., which isn't southern at all. On the other side of things, I've visited Eugene, Ore., and Colorado Springs, Colo., but other than that haven't spent ANY time in the Northwest at all. I've never been to the North Central states either. Hell, I've never even been to Wisconsin. Chicago, plenty of times -- that may explain why I've never been to Wisconsin -- but boy.

So I think I'm going to have to plan some trips for those parts of America, just because I probably should. After all, there are 50 states in this great country of ours -- not 30-something.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 08:09 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

November 02, 2006

The Institutions of Football Must Be Preserved

FOOTBALL IS A SPECIAL GAME. Those words, which legendary announcer John Facenda made famous many years ago, remain true even in this troubled age. It remains a game which has captured the hearts and minds of millions; a game which values pride, loyalty and honor; and a game which demands professionalism and results.

That’s why Paris Hilton’s ten-second appearance introducing “Monday Night Football” was such an abomination, and why events like it must never, ever happen again on any National Football League-licensed telecast. Ugh. It was bad enough we had to watch the Minnesota Vikings get their heads handed to them by the far superior New England Patriots, but that didn’t make me, you know, choke down vomit. But being exposed to the horrid visage of Paris Hilton, something I have diligently avoided until now, was enough to make me nauseous. “I’m ready for some football” indeed.

I don’t know whose bright idea it was to include Miss Hilton on the intro – it was likely some dunderhead at ESPN – but surely that person could have gotten, I don’t know, anyone in The Walt Disney Co.’s television/movie empire to take part instead. But no. We got Miss Hilton, who would undoubtedly be more at ease watching useless sports, such as rowing or badminton. That’s just great.

Now look. Football is a special game, OK? Hundreds of thousands of high school athletes, many of whom have had a rough time of things thus far in life, learn a lot through playing football. They learn about character and teamwork and hard work and grit. Tens of millions of football fans watch the game for its beauty and its glory, even when the players are earning nothing more than pride. Hell, football is such a great sport that if you’re up late watching old game footage and hear the line, “The 1988 Houston Oilers tested the waters of greatness,” it not only works, it seems like genius.

As a result, it is not something with which Paris Hilton – whose antics have tarnished and cheapened her family name – should be involved. As much as I admire Miss Hilton’s ability to spin gold from straw with her tawdry career, I can’t sit idly by when that same tawdriness threatens an institution which I’ve come to cherish deeply. Please, football types, no more Paris Hiltons and Justin Timberlakes. We’ve got a good thing going here. It doesn’t need to get screwed up in misguided attempts to generate “buzz” or get “the young people” more interested.

(via Steve Silver, who jogged my memory)

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 11:29 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

November 01, 2006

A Bull in the China Shop

RECENTLY, A GOOD FRIEND sent along a column which appeared in the Sarasota Herald-Tribune lamenting the demise of the Ford Taurus, the type of car I have driven for the past ... well, 15 years that I've had a driver's license.

Like columnist David Grimes, I'm also sad the Ford Taurus is no longer being produced, considering I've had largely good experiences with my two Taurii and the Mercury Sable before it. That said, while I've also found Ford's decisions a bit strange lately, I don't think I would suggest Ford is "managed by people who were dropped on their heads as infants," as Mr Grimes does. After all, there are successor models to the Taurus, and they should be fine. As long as you can get 200 hp out of the engine -- and with the Ford 500 and Ford Fusion, you can! -- there really seems like little to complain about.

Of course, I'm not really a car person -- I'm more the type who wants to get from Point A to Point B with a minimum amount of fuss, expense and pain in my lower legs. Besides, no matter how much one pays for a car, they all turn to junk in roughly a decade or so.

Which reminds me: sometimes, it may make more financial sense to buy a slightly-used car as opposed to a new vehicle, since buying new means an owner takes on all the initial depreciation expense himself. People who really want a Taurus for their next car -- like me -- will likely find them in abundance at used-car dealers, since the cars have been popular in rental fleets.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 08:51 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

October 20, 2006

A Nice Thought, But ...


HowManyOfMe.com
LogoThere is:
1
person with my name
in the U.S.A.

How many have your name?

ACCORDING TO this clever Web site, there's only one Benjamin Kepple in all of the United States. This is, in a way, quite flattering. However, I also happen to know it's not true. There is at least one other person named Benjamin Kepple out there, and the one of whom I know happens to be a first cousin (once removed) of mine. However, I have the domain name, and as such, I'll modestly declare myself first among equals until the other Benjamin Kepples also get an Internet presence.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 11:07 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

October 17, 2006

Consumption No Longer Being Standardized

GOOD NEWS! The Rant's e-mail capabilities are up and running again! However, any e-mail messages sent to The Rant's primary address in the last 36 hours have been lost. Sorry about that. Please resend any letters, communiques, receipts and other correspondence if necessary. Thank you!

Let us be thankful we have commerce. Buy more. Buy more now. Buy, and be happy!

--------------
On a serious note, The Rant would like to thank Dean Esmay for his generosity in again assisting me with these types of technical issues.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 09:19 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

October 16, 2006

Technical Troubles and the Rites of Fall

HELLO ALL. I'M SORRY for not posting lately, and I'm even sorrier for not keeping up on my e-mail correspondence like I ought. Unfortunately, The Rant has been having what can charitably be described as "e-mail issues," and these -- combined with the continued lack of comments on-site -- have rendered me somewhat mute for the moment. I'm working on fixing these problems and will hopefully have them dealt with soon. However, given the way my technological capabilities are being degraded, I might soon have to start sending audiotapes to television stations.

Of course, aside from all that, things here have been amazingly busy. I had a great visit with my parents this weekend, and have been quite busy with work in the meantime, and spending most of my free time doing things like "eating" and "sleeping." However, things are slowly starting to "cool down" here at The Rant and I do hope to resume a normal posting schedule shortly.

UPDATE: OK, I can apparently write e-mail -- I just can't receive any e-mail. So if you've sent me e-mail in the last, oh, 36 hours or so, I can assure you I haven't received it. This is being worked on.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 10:03 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

October 05, 2006

A Proposal

KEPPLE'S LAW OF MEXICAN RESTAURANTS: A Mexican restaurant is good when one eats there and has an excellent dinner. A Mexican restaurant is great when one goes back the next morning for breakfast.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 11:08 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

September 29, 2006

A Point of Order Here

AS A GENERAL RULE, I don't get involved in policy arguments here at The Rant. As readers know, I much prefer spending my free time criticizing beer advertisements, insulting search engine users, writing about the Pittsburgh Steelers and examining personal-finance issues.

However, I must say I was disappointed to see Michelle Malkin, the columnist and prominent blogger, dismiss some recent arguments my good friend Dean Esmay put forward as mere "traffic bait." This was not merely sloppy, it was perfectly untrue.

After all, a responding writer does not give "traffic bait" the benefit of a giant post arguing against the points made in the baiter's essay. Besides, it wouldn't surprise me if Mr Esmay gets more traffic than Mrs Malkin. According to Mrs Malkin's "About" page, she averaged four million page views per month as of July 2006; Mr Esmay, according to his publicly-available site statistics, received 5,105,638 page views during that month. In any event, having known Mr Esmay for several years, I can assure my readers that he does not argue for the sake of arguing, or to merely draw traffic to his site.

For those readers who would care to learn more about this issue in depth, one can read a good primer on it at Mr Esmay's site.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 09:01 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

September 20, 2006

And Now. a YouTube Interlude

OK, SO I SAID I would return on Monday and it's now Wednesday and I've still written nothing of consequence on the blog. But I have a perfectly valid excuse. Namely, I got back from my trip and ran smack into two giant obstacles. First, there were those annoying chores one must do following one's vacation, such as "unpacking" and "getting the dry cleaning done" and "buying groceries." As much as I like blogging, I figured it was important for me to spend the free time I had on, well, stuff. Also things have been crazy-busy at work, with long days and/or weird schedules.

I should warn that in early- to mid-November, a similar break in blogging will take place due to this. But that is a long way off. In the meantime, rest assured that I had a great vacation and it was super fun. Also, enjoy this YouTube clip (via Chris) of Darth Vader ... well, at least Darth's lesser-known, less-accomplished brother Chad.

Episode IV comes out soon! Yeah!

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 06:20 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

August 21, 2006

Apocalypse Now

SO RUMOR HAS IT the certifiable president of Iran, Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, may take some sort of action tomorrow aimed at hastening the Apocalypse. I would not normally mention such things here at The Rant, but given today's events in Boston, I would like President Ahmadinejad to know:

Dude. You're too late. It's already here.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 09:01 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

Snakes on a Plane! (Part II)

SAMUEL L. JACKSON appears on "The Daily Show with Jon Stewart" to discuss "Snakes on a Plane."

(via Dean Esmay)

SWEET.

(For those of you are at work -- or are minors -- note that this clip contains strong language).

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 07:40 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

August 11, 2006

I Can Give the Red Sox Tuesdays and Wednesdays

I HAVE A horrible confession to make.

On Thursday, talk at the office revolved around how the Boston Red Sox had dropped four straight against the two of the worst teams in baseball. The prognosis for the team was grim: the Sox were collapsing and we were down three games and the season was over. Then I said something like:

ME: Well, fortunately, it’s football season!

This prompted at least one of my baseball-loving colleagues to look at me as if I was insane. But it really wasn’t my fault! I mean, it’s football season! It’s practically autumn, the season of miracles!

Could I really be blamed for being more interested in that night’s pre-season game between the Indianapolis Colts and the St. Louis Rams? Could I really be blamed for wanting the Rams to knock Peyton Manning flat on his keister, even though he would only play for like three minutes?

I don’t think so! Particularly because Quarterback Candyass got shaky again when the Rams managed to put him under pressure, and yet I still had to listen to the frickin’ announcers go on about how wonderful the Golden Child was. Please. But I digress.

My point is: I’m from the Rust Belt and my family is from the Rust Belt, and in the Rust Belt, football is king. I grew up with football and grew up with my team and football is the sport that binds us all together. I love football – not only pro football, but college football and minor-league football and minor-league minor-league football. Truly it is the greatest sport ever invented.

So I have to ask for understanding and forgiveness from my colleagues and friends here in New England. That goes especially for when the NFL playoffs start in January and I show up to work with my Terrible Towel and root for the Pittsburgh Steelers, the greatest football team in all of history. But it also goes for now, when my interest in the Red Sox starts to wane in favor of pre-season maneuvering and news about the college game and all that jazz. I’m sorry. It’s my Midwestern roots.

That said, for those of my readers who are die-hard baseball fans, I would encourage you to make Basegirl a daily stop on your blog-reading list. She’s an excellent baseball writer and a devoted Red Sox fan, so go give her a read. Start with her essay on the Sox getting swept by the Royals.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 02:45 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

August 10, 2006

We Built This City on Craptacular TV Specials

THERE WERE MANY THINGS bad about the Seventies: the oil shocks, the stagflation, the 55 mph speed limit. Yet perhaps the worst part about the decade was that even the few good things in it, such as Star Wars, were occasionally tainted with the massive suckitude that infested everything else. When it came to the Star Wars franchise, perhaps the worst such incident involved something called "The Star Wars Holiday Special."

The "Holiday Special" has been broadcast only once: on Nov. 17, 1978, on CBS. According to its Wikipedia entry, it is so horribly bad that George Lucas, who had little to do with the final product, removed his story credit. It is so horribly bad that an actual television critic called it "the worst two hours of television ever." It is so horribly bad that its "special guest stars" include Bea Arthur, Harvey Korman and -- wait for it -- Jefferson frickin' Starship. Yes, that Jefferson Starship.

I'm sorry, but when Jefferson Starship is presented as a Special Musical Guest, you know the show's going to bite. Anyway, after the special aired, the "Holiday Special" wasn't widely available for nearly three decades. That is, until June 3, 2006, when somebody uploaded the thing to YouTube. Here you go!

True, that's only the first nine minutes, but God knows that's about all you should really watch at one sitting.

(Thanks, Chris! THANKS A LOT!)

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 08:25 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

August 05, 2006

The Coaches Poll is Downright Loony

I DON'T KNOW about the rest of you, but I think America's college football coaches -- Joe Paterno excepted -- have collectively gone stark raving loony. It is, after all, the only plausible explanation for them naming the Ohio State Buckeyes the No. 1 football squad in the USA Today pre-season coaches' poll.

I hear my readers muttering, so let me assure you: even though I hate Ohio State and all its works, this is not sour grapes on my part. Really.

Yes, the Buckeyes have Troy Smith and Antonio Pittman and Ted Ginn returning on offense. They do not, however, have A.J. Hawk, Anthony Schlegel, Ashton Youboty and a whole host of other players returning on defense. Maybe it's just me, but Ohio State's great defense last year played a huge part in why they did so well, and without those key players I can't see why they should get a No. 1 ranking.

Ohio State should be No. 3 or No. 4, but not No. 1. Rather, No. 1 should go to Notre Dame, which has whole bunches of its top starters returning and will be an extremely formidable squad. Instead, Notre Dame is ranked No. 3 -- and tied with USC for that! (Texas, last year's national champ, is in the No. 2 spot, and I suspect that's overly generous -- their quarterback last played in high school).

Meanwhile, the coaches ranked Michigan, which went 7-5 last year, No. 15! What the hell were they thinking?

Loyal Rant Readers know I'm a fanatic partisan on behalf of the Michigan Wolverines, the greatest and best college football team in history. That said, I can't believe we deserve to be ranked No. 15. Much of that is because Lloyd Carr remains as coach, and barring a miracle season, that alone should knock us down five or six spots. But also, I'm not convinced Michigan's present players have proven themselves yet. The squad went 7-5 last year. They need to earn a high berth. We should've been somewhere in the twenties.

Meanwhile, Iowa and Penn State were ranked No. 17 and No. 19, respectively. This does not compute. Iowa is a surprisingly good team: for instance, it only lost to Michigan last year in overtime (and OT in college football is notoriously stupid). As for Penn State, it continues to have Joe Paterno as coach, which should automatically boost Penn State several notches. Sure, PSU's defense left too, but No. 19 seems a bit low.

Of course, I do realize that all these rankings will prove moot after the first couple of weeks, particularly when Akron knocks off Penn State in Happy Valley. What's that? You think I'm kidding? Only a little, my friends, only a little. As a Midwesterner, the Mid-American Conference is almost as near-and-dear to me as the Big Ten, and the Akron Zips are a team one underestimates at one's peril.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 10:09 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

August 01, 2006

Good Lord, It's Already August

I'M HORRIFIED AS USUAL -- just had to mention it. Carry on!

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 07:26 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

July 31, 2006

Parker Lewis Can't Really Be 35 This Year, Can He?

WHILST SURFING the Internet and the myriad blogs which contribute so much to this grand life of ours, I stumbled across a rather alarming post regarding nostalgia for the early Nineties. The alarming part didn't have to do with the nostalgia; I rather liked the early Nineties, even though I was stuck in high school in Kalamazoo, Mich., and going to high school was like attending a minimum-security prison.

Rather, the alarming part had to do with the topic addressed. At this point, we'll turn things over to blogger Spinachdip, the New York-based writer who first discussed the matter. Mr Spinachdip writes:

"I was all ready to do an early-90s nostalgia post, but one huge problem - the scarcity of YouTube clips of Parker Lewis Can't Lose. So I figure I could just put a Parker Lewis DVD on my Netflix queue and rip some footage. But guess what? There is no Parker Lewis DVD. How could this be? Do we, as a nation, no longer care about synchronizing our Swatches and eluding Larry Kubiak?"

Mr Spinachdip goes on to write about other disturbing matters, such as an actual Biz Markie doll (wearing -- wait for it -- a Boston Bruins-esque jersey). But never mind that. Do mind the picture of Parker, Mikey and Jerry which Mr Spinachdip posted. Did you click there and then return here? Good.

DEAR GOD IN HEAVEN, LOOK HOW YOUNG THEY LOOK.

I mean, my God. What the hell's happened to me? What the hell's happened to all of us? How did the time go so quickly? It feels just like yesterday that I, a youthful innocent, was watching this show on the five-inch black-and-white portable television I had in my room. Now, I'm overweight and anxious and stressed and an ex-smoker* and unhappily single, and it's my own damn fault. My own damn fault!

As if that wasn't enough, the guy who played Parker Lewis is turning 35 this year. Dear God. Also, the guy who played Kubiak got all the work after "Parker Lewis" wrapped up. Like you, I never saw that one coming.

------
* well, that's good, actually.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 10:38 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

Almost There...

ON SUNDAY, AUG. 6, the NFL's Hall of Fame Game will be played in Canton, Ohio, kicking off the league's preseason. The game, which will be televised, also officially ends the horrible months-long sports drought through which most professional football fans suffer each year. Remarkable as it may seem, many football fans don't have access to the life-sustaining arena football games or Canadian football TV broadcasts which let lucky folks (like me) get through the long spring and summer months. As such, Sunday's game will be a welcome development for all, but especially for those in football deprived areas like northeast Ohio.

Interestingly enough, this year's Hall of Fame Game is being played between two teams not known for any recent accomplishments: the Oakland Raiders and the Philadelphia Eagles. As a fan of the Pittsburgh Steelers, I hate both of these teams, and would like nothing more than for each to go 1-15 during the regular season*. However, I realize that in the world of football realpolitik, one must govern one's passions accordingly.

As such, here's a little video to celebrate the start of this year's NFL season, and with it my implicit hopes for how the Hall of Fame Game turns out this year. I'm ready for some football!

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* Unfortunately, it's downright impossible for both teams to go 1-15. Furthermore, if they did, that would conflict with my hopes that the Dallas Cowboys and Washington Redskins also go 1-15. Still, one can dream.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 12:03 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

July 26, 2006

Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!

USA TODAY ASKS: "Are you ready for a little more football?"

That's like asking if you're ready for a little more cake. Everyone loves cake! Anyway, a new football minor league will start up in 2007 -- hey, that's next year!

The All American Football League plans to field eight teams based in college towns, feature players from local schools and conferences, and cater to regional audiences. Players will earn about $100,000 per year, according to USA Today. The AAFL won't compete with the NFL -- it plans to draw its players after next year's NFL draft, will play from about mid-April to mid-June, and use college rules.

Sweet. The only way this could get any sweeter is if the University of Michigan's athletic director, Mr William C. Martin, were to announce, "Why, yes, Michigan is a part of this exciting venture. Ann Arbor shall have a team, and it shall be called the Michigan Panthers. And it will rule."

Also, if the AAFL could schedule its games to be televised on Sundays, that'd be nice too. This way, they wouldn't conflict with potential NFL Europe/Arena Football League games, which are generally played on Saturdays and Fridays or Saturdays, respectively.

UPDATE, 7:18 p.m.: Purdue?! Uh, no. Michigan, please.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 06:36 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

July 25, 2006

My Bloody Oath

SO ON THURSDAY, I went down to my local blood donation center and gave blood for the first time. I realize the apparent generosity of such an act may prompt surprise among some of my readers, but I can assure you the reward for donating – in this case, a decent barbecue dinner – represented a fair exchange for my pint of A-negative. Besides, a good guy in my trade union organized the drive, so I thought attending would be nice.

The only downside to the whole affair was that my body and mind were not on the same plane about the donation. My mind’s train of thought went something like this: donate blood, help people in need, perform public service. My body’s train of thought went like this: donate blood, get stuck with really large needle, have precious bodily fluids sapped and impurified. Must – resist – Communist – subversion.

I don’t know why my body has this autonomous resistance to needles. Sometimes I wonder if it has something to do with my long hospitalization as a newborn, in which I was stuck with IV needles for something like three months. Whatever the cause, my subconscious resistance is real and documented. I’ve even been told that, as a child, I once ripped out an IV needle placed in my arm and threw it at a doctor. The fact I was on an operating table at the time, and out cold under a general anaesthetic, was apparently not enough to stop my body from resisting.

Now that I’m an adult, and much more used to unpleasantness, I don’t consciously have any issues with needles, or various nasty medical items like surgical tape or that foul-smelling iodine solution they use to prevent infection. Unfortunately, I also don’t have any accessible veins close to the surface of my arms. As a result, whenever I have blood drawn for tests, I have the technician draw it from one of my hands with a smaller “butterfly” needle. This is much simpler and easier for all concerned.

They don’t draw blood with butterfly needles.

Now, the blood donation process is actually very easy. You go in and fill out some forms. Then you go through a survey with a technician in which you are asked a variety of questions, generally dealing with whether you have one or more godawful diseases, many of which you have never heard. Particularly if you’ve traveled.

TECHNICIAN: Do you have Chagas’ disease?
ME: No – uh, do I have what?
TECHNICIAN: It’s from some bugs in Mexico.
ME: Ah. Uh, no.

After this is all done, you go lie on a “bed” (that is to say, a glorified lawn chair), another technician comes to draw your blood, sticks a needle in your arm, and checks back in ten minutes. Unless you’re like me, in which case it takes a while for the technician to actually find a usable vein, and the vein is so deep that the technician has no choice but to jab and shift the needle back and forth to draw blood. Then, instead of just leaving you to bleed quietly, the technician has to spend all her time making sure the blood keeps flowing, because your vein might run dry (for some reason, I’ve had this happen as well).

The good news, though, is that I was able to successfully complete my donation. Now, someone in need will end up with my pint of A-negative. Meanwhile, I got a decent barbecue dinner from this place. I also got a nasty bruise on my arm – but that’s a small price to pay for good North Carolina-style barbecue.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 10:21 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

July 21, 2006

Finally, A Decent Summer Movie

THERE’S NOTHING like a round of plotless action films, insipid remakes, and iffy horror films to make one wish for the halycon days of high school, back when Hollywood made really inspired movies for the summer movie season. This summer’s movies have been so bad that the high point has been waiting for “Snakes on a Plane” to make its debut in August. Yeah. “Snakes on a Plane.”

However, I think we’ve turned a corner. For today, I went out and saw “Clerks II,” the long-awaited sequel to “Clerks,” the iconic 1994 movie which inspired and defined a generation. Well, at least it inspired lots of people my age, who were born in the mid- to- late-Seventies and grew up with Star Wars, and who react to most circumstances in life with a combination of passive-aggressive behavior, ranting aloud and terminal ennui. Yeah. Ennui.

Anyway, even though it’s been ten years since the first “Clerks,” and even though it was impossible for director Kevin Smith to top “Clerks,” the sequel is a damn fine movie and, even better, a damn fine sequel. I laughed hysterically at the very first scene and kept laughing throughout, and the ending was unexpected and even a bit poignant. Perhaps the best – and most amazing thing – was how Smith managed to keep things fresh, all while addressing the fact that ten years have passed since the first movie.

Also, “Clerks” fans can rest assured the main characters remain the same. Dante is still high-strung and dissatisfied with his life, while his partner-in-crime Randal is still sarcastic, bitter and a complete schmuck to others. I mean, more so than usual.

Thus, “Clerks II” is definitely worth seeing if you’re between the ages of 25 and 34, which I guess is kind of the “Clerks” demographic, and you’re not offended when curmudgeonly characters (by which I mean Randal) say truly horrible things just because it sets up a really good argument between Randal, Dante, and anyone else within earshot. Nothing, and I mean nothing, is sacred.

But then, nothing ever was in “Clerks,” and that was partly the joy of it.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 07:58 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

July 19, 2006

An Open Letter to the Ford Motor Co.

MEMORANDUM

TO: Bill Ford

FR: Benjamin Kepple

RE: Possibilities

Dear Mr Ford,

AS A PROUD Ford Taurus (or similar) driver for roughly 15 years, I have been extremely pleased with my cars’ performance, reliability and safety features. My Ford vehicles, both new and used, have consistently made my drives greatly enjoyable and quite economical. I’m also convinced that, during a bad accident on the highway, my Ford Taurus even saved my life.

That said, if you don’t stop airing that “Possibilities” commercial during Red Sox games, I’m buying a goddam Honda.

Well, OK, maybe I wouldn’t. Still, for the love of God, please make the commercials stop. They are single-handedly ruining my Ford ownership experience. Even worse, they are destroying any smidgen of coolness which may have been associated with Ford ownership. These commericals of yours are so bad they’re tagging the Ford brand with a distinct aura of lameness; an aura which shouts to the world, LOOK UPON MY CAR, YE PEOPLE, AND SNICKER.

I’m sorry, but it’s just depressing. A proud customer of one of America’s two remaining carmakers ought not have to suffer through lame commercials in which some yokel singer spins around like an aging baby boomer overdosing on disco music. I don’t care if the man won “American Idol.” He’s spectacularly uncool and spectacularly annoying and spectacularly miscast. Plus, as I have it on good authority, the song gets stuck in everybody’s heads and drives people crazy. This fills people with an undying hatred of Ford and Ford products.

For that matter, what the hell were your advertising people thinking when they signed the winner of “American Idol” to star in your commericals, commercials with the stated aim of emphasising Ford’s “bold” attributes?

Dude. Having the winner of “American Idol” star in your commercial is not bold. Having the winner of “American Idol” sing a lame-ass paean to baby boomer rebellion is not bold. Having the winner of “American Idol” spin around like a whirling dervish while singing it is roughly as bold as having a high school drama class perform “The Music Man” at its spring concert. In other words, not frickin’ bold.

Now, look at this commercial. This is bold. It’s also rather funny. But in general, it fits the definition of bold:

See! That’s bold! Bold wins! Unfortunately, in this case, it also means that Toyota wins. As such, maybe you should try to develop commercials like Toyota has done. For instance, perhaps you could emphasize how well the Ford Taurus protects its drivers and passengers, even during a massive collision with an eighteen-wheeler on I-94. After all, you’ve pretty much caught up on the quality front, so now it’s just a question of being cool and with it.

In the meantime, be bold. Start by going down to JWT Detroit and breaking things in the account manager’s office, or something. Don’t worry, at Ford, there’s precedent for that sort of thing. Besides, J. Walter Thompson wouldn’t have put up with this crap, and neither should you. After all, last time I checked, Quality is still Job #1.

All best,


Ben Kepple

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 11:21 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

July 07, 2006

Celebrating What Makes America Great

THIS WEEK, Americans have paid much thought to the Fourth of July’s deeper meanings. Our Independence Day reminds us of our freedom from tyranny and our freedom to pursue happiness. It reminds us that our property and capital is protected from the wicked and the strong, and that we are free to worship God in any way we please.

Now that the holiday’s done, though, I don’t suppose it would be entirely blasphemous to cheerfully note Independence Day also means it’s roughly a month until professional football starts again.

Oh, sure, it’s the Hall of Fame Game in Canton, Ohio, and the game is between the Oakland Raiders and the Philadelphia Eagles, but the important thing is that it’s football. No longer will I have to hope my minor-league arena football team makes the playoffs; no longer will I hunt in vain for Canadian football on television. Real football, professional football – even though it’s the pre-season – will have returned!

As such, it’s a fitting time to look at this year’s prospects for the greatest football franchise ever in the history of sport, the Pittsburgh Steelers. My prediction, which all will agree is bold and daring, is that the Steelers will win the Super Bowl again this year. Furthermore, I think we’ll do so after winning the AFC North division, and knocking out the New England Patriots somewhere along the line.

It will not be an easy task. First and foremost, this is because the Steelers play in the AFC North, the toughest division out of the eight we have in the NFL.

It’s worth noting the Cincinnati Bengals actually won the AFC North last year, with an 11-5 record. Even though Carson Palmer was hurt, he’s apparently recovering well and they remain a strong squad. They’re going to want to win it again more than ever, this year, and they’d like nothing more than to prevent Pittsburgh from reaching the playoffs.

The Cleveland Browns and Baltimore Ravens also would like nothing more than to prevent the Steelers from reaching the playoffs. Like Cincinnati, these teams hate Pittsburgh and all for which it stands. Their motivations are a little different than the Bengals’ are, but nonetheless, they want to utterly crush the Steelers and run roughshod all over Heinz Field.

The trouble for Pittsburgh is that the Browns will be good this year, perhaps even very good. As the linked article notes, they got rid of their useless quarterback, Trent “Dillweed” Dilfer, and put QB Charlie Frye in the starter’s job. They got some good defensive draft picks. Furthermore, they got WR Joe Jurevicius from the Seattle Seahawks. Jurevicius is a fine wide receiver and quite capable. Perhaps the most ominous thing of all is that the Browns’ organization seems – at least from here -- to actually have its act together. This could prove problematic if the Browns go at least 8-8, as I think they will.

One can also never count out the Ravens. Although the Ravens are an evil franchise worthy only of scorn and ridicule from decent people, they play well enough to potentially trip up the Steelers at a crucial time. They certainly pose no danger this year in terms of winning the division, but could cost Pittsburgh a much-needed win along the way.

Pittsburgh will need every win it can get. The Steelers’ trouble stems from its tough division and correspondingly tough schedule. In certain divisions (*cough* AFC South *cough*), the imbalance between teams can mean an easy four, five or even six wins for a team in a sixteen-game season. Pittsburgh has NO easy wins available to it in divisional play.

But then again, neither do the other AFC North teams. However, due to the vagarities of the scheduling process, the Bengals will have the toughest schedule of all the AFC North this season! That first place finish they were so happy about last year means they’ll play the New England Patriots and the Indianapolis Colts, while Pittsburgh gets to play the much weaker Miami Dolphins and Jacksonville Jaguars. Heh.

All the AFC North teams will play the NFC South this year – yawn – but they’ll also play the AFC West, which will be exciting. The AFC West is the second-toughest division in football and there will be plenty of good games with all the AFC West teams.

Anyway, here’s my out-on-a-limb predictions for the AFC North. These will undoubtedly come back to haunt me:

PITTSBURGH: 13-3
CINCINNATI: 11-5
CLEVELAND: 10-6
BALTIMORE: 6-10

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 06:57 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

June 19, 2006

Thanks, Italy! (and Other Sports Foibles This Weekend)

I MUST SAY I PITY Cristian Zaccardo.

The look on his face after he scored an own goal in the World Cup match between Italy and the USA -- a goal which kept America's tourney hopes alive -- said more than any words could about the gravity of his error. It was a look of both horror and fear, a look that seemed to say, "Oh, dear God, back home the children will laugh at me and the women will mock me and there's a fair chance I'll get garroted in a back alley."

As with all sports, soccer fanatics tend to have memories that are very long, and one can imagine Mr Zaccardo will hear about his blunder until the end of time. So I wish Mr Zaccardo well, and wish Italy the best on Thursday when they take on the Czech Republic -- wait, what? What's that you said? I'm just saying that because we need Italy to beat the Czechs on Thursday to advance ourselves into Stage 2? Dear readers, I can assure you I would never ever sunder my love for Italy due to a tough and hard-fought soccer match, even if Daniele De Rossi is a scoundrel and a cad.

But moving on. Did you notice this weekend was a weird one for sports mishaps? Maybe it's just me, but it seemed like there were plenty of big-time screwups, no matter the sport. Let's review:

GOLF: Phil Mickelson loses the U.S. Open in an 18th hole performance so bad that even he said, "I'm such an idiot." I mean, first the man screws up his drive off the tee so bad he hits the corporate hospitality tent. Then he hits a tree. Then he knocks it into the bunker. Three strokes later, he's handed the entire tournament to Geoff Ogilvy, who was in the clubhouse watching it all on television and, from what I could see, trying mightily to not jump up and down for joy.

BASKETBALL: Dallas Mavericks forward Josh Howard not only misses two free throws in the clutch, but also calls a time out BETWEEN FOUL SHOTS right at the very end of the game. This meant that Dallas, down by one point with 1.8 seconds left on the clock, had to start with the ball at the far end of the court, instead of being much closer to the basket. As a result, Dallas lost. While this actually wasn't all that bad -- it meant we once again got to see Mark Cuban pitch a fit -- it still is kind of pathetic.

FOOTBALL: The Canadian Football League's Edmonton Eskimos wanted to prove they still "had it" in their first game, despite many changes since they won the Grey Cup last year. Well, they not only lost to Calgary, they had a third quarter in which they scored just one point.

Yes, that's right. ONE point. In the Canadian Football League, it is possible to score just ONE point in regular play. It's hard to describe why, but it's kind of as a consolation prize. Anyway, this was embarrassing.

BASEBALL: On Sunday night, the Boston Red Sox organization allowed Rudy Seanez to travel with the team, enter Turner Field, suit up in a Red Sox uniform, and enter the game as a relief pitcher in the seventh inning. Upon throwing his first pitch, Seanez gave up the Red Sox lead on a three-run homer. The game was only saved due to an improbable eighth-inning comeback which saw the Sox score six runs -- plus the efforts of ace closer Jonathan Papelbon, who rules.

Speaking of Papelbon -- for those of you who were watching the game, did you see Papelbon and Tavarez warming up together in the bullpen? Upon seeing that image, did you -- like me -- think, "Oh, dear God, they're going to put in Tavarez and we'll lose?" That was MY initial thought, anyway.

Fortunately, though, the Red Sox won the game -- and won tonight, as it turned out. Just as nice, the Yankees lost yesterday -- and lost tonight too. I'm really not the type to gloat -- really, I swear it -- but I can't say I mind when the Yankees help out the cause.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 11:03 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

June 16, 2006

Don't Call Us, We'll Call You Dept.

REPORT: After Roethlisberger crash, Tommy Maddox "available" to return to Pittsburgh lineup.

A poll on KDKA-TV's Web site presently shows that 76 percent of respondents are opposed to the idea of Maddox, whose incompetence cost the Steelers at least one game last year, returning to the team. The remaining 24 percent are fans of the Cleveland Browns.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 07:44 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

June 15, 2006

... And the Agony of Being Thrown Into a Windshield Head First

RECENTLY, A DEAR friend of mine wrote and mentioned he had a good laugh at my recent nasty remark directed at Peyton Manning, the Indianapolis Colts quarterback.

As a New England Patriots fan, my friend too has no love for Peyton Manning, whom all can agree is a pathetic crybaby sissy who can't deal with an aggressive defense. Still, as a Patriots fan, my friend could not leave things at that. Oh no. At the close of his letter, my friend politely wrote, "Still waiting to see your post about idiot QBs who ride motorcycles without helmets."

Sadly, it has taken me a while to properly compose my thoughts on this week's incident involving Ben Roethlisberger, the starting quarterback of the five-time Super Bowl champion Pittsburgh Steelers. For those unaware, Roethlisberger suffered a broken jaw and nose after he ran his motorcycle into a car. As my friend noted, Roethlisberger was not wearing a helmet. However, I can assure readers that I went through the same emotions as the rest of Steelers Nation upon hearing the news: namely, fear and nausea.

I first heard the news at work, where due to circumstances beyond my control, I am surrounded by New England Patriots fans. Most were sympathetic to my plight, or at least kind enough not to openly mock my suffering. However, there were those who poked a little fun at Pittsburgh's expense. ("Hey, Ben! What's a nose and jaw between two buns? A Roethlisberger!")

Ha, ha! I thought. Then I realized this particular colleague was not even a Patriots fan, but rather a fan of the Green Bay Packers, who last won a Super Bowl in 1996 and will not win one again until 2048, when their quarterback, Brett Favre, finally decides to retire. Sadly, I could not come up with this witty comeback when the joke was first delivered, but hey. It works now.

But anyway. Certainly, the news of Mr Roethlisberger's injury came as a severe blow to my psyche, and I have to admit it was the first time in a long time I felt really crushed about a sports incident.

You see, Roethlisberger is one of about three professional sports figures in whom I have placed an actual emotional investment -- the others being Pittsburgh Steelers wide receiver Hines Ward and Red Sox closer Jonathan Papelbon. So to hear that Roethlisberger was hurt was devastating -- particularly as it seemed, at first, to put in jeopardy the chances of winning a sixth Super Bowl victory.

It also came during a particularly bad sports week here at The Rant. In the World Cup, the Czechs kicked America's collective ass on the soccer pitch in a game that can be called embarrassing at best. Then, the Germans -- whom I was rooting against -- went around winning everything. So did the English, which was also annoying. As if that wasn't enough, barring direct intervention from St. Sebastian -- and perhaps even Our Lady of Victory herself -- the Italians are going to crush us like a bug on Saturday.

But things were not only going bad soccer-wise. This week, the Red Sox have been busy dropping the ball over in Minnesota. The trouble, you see, is that the Red Sox have a weak bullpen, aside from Papelbon and Timlin. So here we are in extra innings on Tuesday -- the 12th inning, to be precise -- and the Red Sox are set to win if they can just hold off the Twins. However, it was that point the Red Sox decided to send in Julian Tavarez. I submit that everyone in Red Sox Nation knew the game was irretrievably lost at that point. What we didn't know was that Tavarez would lose it the worst way possible -- with a grand slam.

So all in all, it's been a crappy week sportswise -- the incident with Roethlisberger is just, I don't know, an additional steaming pile of crap on top of everything else. The good news, though, is that Roethlisberger is now out of the hospital and will hopefully have a speedy recovery. In the meantime, we've always Charlie Batch -- who was once a former starter himself -- to rely on. As Pittsburgh fans know all too well, it could be so, so, so very much worse.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 09:08 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

June 06, 2006

All Football, All the Time

I HAVEN’T been a good blogger lately and for that I am sorry. I’ve been busy with work and home and trying to eat properly and switching dry cleaners, among other things, and all-in-all it’s taken my blogging energy and stomped it into little tiny shreds. That, and I realized I’m suffering from a considerably advanced case of football drought, and also slowly becoming the type of embittered, wretched, hubristic person one frequently encounters in James Clavell novels.

The good news, though, is that I’ve found a fix for the football drought problem.

I realize the idea of a football drought may seem a bit much to some. After all, few seem to talk about a baseball drought, even during the winter. Even fewer talk about a basketball drought, given the length of the NBA’s playoffs. As for a hockey drought, although the true fans suffered mightily, no one else really minded when the NHL cancelled its 2004-2005 season.

But football, at least for me and many others, is different. Both the professional and collegiate seasons only run in earnest from early September through the New Year, and while the January playoffs are exciting, the end of the Super Bowl in early February marks the start of several long football-free months. No Michigander can be expected to suffer this way, especially a Michigander with deep family roots in Western Pennsylvania, and an extended family with strong loyalties to their respective teams in the AFC North (except Baltimore, which can rot in perdition along with Art Modell, the scoundrel).

However, I was fortunate. After doing some research, I found that soon after the Super Bowl ends, I can start watching minor-league football, courtesy of the Arena Football League and the NFL Europe development league. That will keep me going all the way through June, when I can start watching the Canadian Football League, plus see a few live games of the Manchester Wolves squad, which is a team in the arenafootball2 league, the AFL’s minor league. These games will get me through until the NFL and NCAA start up again, thus ensuring all football, all the time.

Yet this solution also presents a dilemma: what teams am I supposed to root for?

Some decisions are easy. For instance, Manchester has its own af2 team, so I clearly have to root for them. The Canadian league also makes it easy. I mean, what Midwesterner couldn’t support the Saskatchewan Roughriders? They’re from Saskatchewan, for God’s sake. That’s reason enough. Besides, think of the Roughriders’ fans out on the wind-blasted steppe! Think about little Johnny out in Flin Flon, who lives and breathes the Roughriders and whose dream is –

READER: Isn’t Flin Flon in Manitoba?

Not now, I’m on a roll. Anyway, think about little Johnny, who yearns to someday earn thousands of (Canadian) dollars per year making crucial third downs and scoring a rouge here or there for the green and white. I mean, you just can’t ignore that cultural impact. Also, Saskatchewan went .500 in the 2005 season, so it’s not like I’m jumping on the coat-tails of an especially good team. In my book, that would be as dishonorable as rooting for the Oakland Raiders or saying nice things about Jerry Jones.

But what do I do regarding NFL Europe, where nearly all the teams are in Germany? My traditional mindset would have me root for the one non-German team in the league, the Amsterdam Admirals. The trouble is, the Admirals are one of the best teams in the league, which means I can’t start supporting them now. As for the German teams, I would normally side with Frankfurt, since that’s closest to the Ancestral Home of the Kepples. But they’re a good team too, so now they’re out as well. About all I have left, when one takes into account geographical and performance factors, are the Cologne Centurions. They may not be the best team in NFL Europe, but they sure have the best name.

As for the Arena Football League – well, that was easier than I thought. It turns out the city of Grand Rapids, an hour north of my old home town, has an Arena Football League team: the Grand Rapids Rampage. They were last in their division this year, with a crummy but not hideous 5-11 record. I don’t know if I’ll get to see them on television much, but then again, I don’t get to see the Steelers all that much either, so I’m used to it. Football, even if it means watching certain teams I don't especially like every week, is still football.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 09:58 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

May 24, 2006

Line of the Week Dept.

"IN OTHER WORDS, Mills seems to believe that the Chick-fil-a Peach Bowl could be the 21st century's Antietam."

-- Dean Barrett
"The Red and the Blue"
The Weekly Standard

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 09:57 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

May 20, 2006

Well, At Least Purgatory is Still Right Out

LOYAL RANT READERS know I find it greatly annoying when well-meaning but foolish parents name their children something strange: so much so, in fact, that I’m apparently becoming an expert on it. I can assure you that, much to my surprise and delight, a 2004 entry from The Rant has been named source material for the Dutch Wikipedia entry on stupid celebrity names. As the entry is in Dutch, I have no idea what it actually says, but considering Holland’s proud mercantile traditions, I can only assume the best.

I was disheartened again, though, to see that another unfortunate trend in naming one’s children has recently emerged in American life. The New York Times has the story in full:

In 1999, there were only eight newborn American girls named Nevaeh. Last year, it was the 70th-most-popular name for baby girls, ahead of Sara, Vanessa and Amanda.

The spectacular rise of Nevaeh (commonly pronounced nah-VAY-uh) has little precedent, name experts say. They watched it break into the top 1,000 of girls' names in 2001 at No. 266, the third-highest debut ever. Four years later it cracked the top 100 with 4,457 newborn Nevaehs, having made the fastest climb among all names in more than a century, the entire period for which the Social Security Administration has such records.

Nevaeh is not in the Bible or any religious text. It is not from a foreign language. It is not the name of a celebrity, real or fictional. Nevaeh is Heaven spelled backward.

It is also, one hesitates to mention, how one commonly pronounces NIVEA, the skin-care product brand from Hamburg-based Beiersdorf AG, which is notable for its smarmy television commercials. Somebody – make that somebodies -- at The New York Times failed to notice this.

That omission aside, the Times still managed to have fun with the story on an institutional level. For instance, somebody at the Times decided the story would be perfect for Jennifer 8. Lee, whose middle name is actually the number eight, to cover. Somebody at the Times also came up with the clever headline: “And if It’s a Boy, Will It Be Lleh?” Ha, ha!

Now, that second item is one of those cutesy little digs which might make a man momentarily question the Nineteenth Amendment. However, it is instead properly repudiated with a polite request for the Times copy desk to go stifle itself. Or, at the very least, a grumbled invocation of Sesuj Tsirhc.

But let’s be serious for a moment.

The name, as you’ve guessed, rings a sour note with me. It’s not merely that it may be confused with a similar-sounding skin-care product, or that it will also likely prove a challenge for many to spell. To me, the name is a walking billboard proclaiming the self-centeredness and indulgence of those who conferred it upon their child. Some might even consider it a warning sign: a placard, if you will, notifying other adults that said child’s parents will undoubtedly and immediately bore them to tears with dull stories about their little tyke. Yes, you may have just met them ten minutes ago, but be ready to reap the whirlwind when the pathetic helicopter parents blast off about the latest indignity the cruel world has heaped upon their little angel.

Such indulgence is particularly unfortunate when it affects children. It’s symptomatic, I think, of the weakening of the traditional family dynamic in American life, and the unspoken covenant that reminds one of how important the shared bonds of one’s last name are. For instance, back in the old days, parents would routinely mete out worse punishment to their child than their child’s teachers would. This was not merely because the kid needed direction, but because he had embarrassed his parents, a far graver sin. Nowadays, parents don’t seem to feel a bit of shame when little Johnny acts up, and instead attack the teachers or coaches or whomever disciplined their brat – even though doing so has connotations which are far more negative. It’s very, very strange, but perhaps understandable in a popular culture which places far more importance on the individual than on family.

“Nevaeh” is also unfortunate for the standard reasons I dislike out-there names. It has no ethnic connotation and no indication of one’s family traditions, meaning that anyone with the name loses out on positives that might be associated with it. Furthermore, there’s a danger the name may pick up negative associations. As Steve Levitt and Steve Dubner pointed out in “Freakonomics,” the original name – Heaven – is generally indicative of low educational status in a family. It would be particularly unfortunate if Nevaeh were to face a similar fate.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 11:02 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

May 14, 2006

No One Said Anything About Floods

YOU KNOW HOW I said yesterday that we had a considerable bit of rain here in Manchester, and that it had rained all day? Well, the rain never stopped. It's still raining. It's been raining so much that they're apparently cleaning up water damage down in one of the basement apartments, and they've put up plastic tarps near other basement windows to ward away water. Variations on this theme are taking place in roughly eight of New Hampshire's ten counties.

Speaking of eight, that's roughly how many inches of rain we've received here in Manchester over the past two days, according to the National Weather Service -- and that's just as of 7 p.m. tonight. In some places it's even worse. Amazingly, though, it's still not going to stop. On Monday, the forecast calls for a 100 pc chance of rain. Things may clear up on Tuesday, although we're still facing a better than 50 pc chance of rain that day too.

I suppose I just want to note for the record that, when I moved here to New Hampshire, I knew about the winters, and I knew about the cold and ice and snow. But no one said anything about continuous downpours and flooding that could make a visitor think he'd landed in Blade Runner.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 10:26 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

May 13, 2006

The Perils of Gardening and the City of Brotherly Shove

Oh No!
It's Time for Yet Another Edition of ...
YOUR SEARCH ENGINE QUERIES ANSWERED

An occasional Rant feature

IT IS A STRANGE DAY here in Manchester. Although it is one of the few days so far this year in which my allergies and sinuses are not causing me complete and total agony, it is pouring outside and has been for the past several hours. This means that I'm spending yet another day indoors and away from evil pollen-spreading plants, which for reasons I don't understand trouble me here far worse than they did back home or in California.

Still, the forced time inside has its advantages. For instance, I've done a lot of sleeping, which is always a fine way to spend a weekend. I've also watched some soccer and read a bit, and I'll probably watch a movie later before turning in early. Apparently, New Hampshire may experience floods like we haven't experienced since -- well, last year -- so I'll want to be ready for tomorrow. In the meantime, though, I think it's time for yet another edition of Your Search Engine Queries Answered, the semi-regular feature in which I look at The Rant's search-engine queries. They're all over the board this time, but as disturbing as usual.

QUERY: everyone can be a gardener. perhaps you have a window box or a tub or enjoy relaxing outside in the summer

ANSWER: I'm sorry, but you're incorrect. For instance, I can't be a gardener, because I failed to inherit the gardening gene from my parents. Furthermore, I find the outdoors -- with the exception of certain national parks and remote desert areas -- generally irritating and wretched. If I wanted to be outdoors, I'd go someplace where being outside was actually possible for most of the year.

QUERY: wretched winnipeg band

ANSWER: One can't be all that hard to find.

QUERY: pimped out subaru legacy

ANSWER: Somehow, I just can't imagine a pimped-out subaru legacy attracting the envy and attention of one's peers, even if it did hop. God! Can you imagine it? "Ay, yo! Check out that ... Subaru?!"

QUERY: charter cable disconnect still on

ANSWER: Television may be a vast wasteland, but there's nothing like a FREE vast wasteland, particularly if you're still getting the pay channels.

QUERY: it makes no sense living in the suburbs

ANSWER: I wholeheartedly agree. Of course, I'm also single and have no children. It may be that married couples with children have different outlooks on life.

QUERY: socialist pornography

ANSWER: Oh dear.

QUERY: what huge city is called city of brotherly shove on account of its supposed rudeness?

ANSWER: Wichita.

QUERY: what does it mean that my home equity line of credit is maxed out

ANSWER: It means I'm damned glad not to be in your shoes. Also: get advice from a certified financial planner before it's too late.

QUERY: high school reunions suck

ANSWER: That's why I've studiously avoided even considering attending one of my high school reunions.

QUERY: where to find champale for sale?

ANSWER: You'll find it next to the "wines not made from grapes" section at your local liquor store of dubious reputation. Look for the 32 oz. bottles. It may or may not be available in flavors other than the "classic" Champale taste, which I've been told is a cross between flat Mello Yello and horse piss.

QUERY: perks of senior year in high school

ANSWER: Well, you certainly get to enjoy four -- and perhaps even eight -- months of erroneously believing you're on top of the world and you have a bright future ahead of you. Such feelings are better reserved for your early twenties, when you're just out of college.

QUERY: cheap and pleasant places to live in california

ANSWER: Well, which is it?

QUERY: stupid question white people ask

ANSWER: The potential for humor here is so vast I'm going to just let folks think about that for a sec.

QUERY: free make a person suffer hoodoo and voodoo spells

ANSWER: I'm sorry, but if you want to harness evil forces from the world of the dead, you're going to have to pay. That's kind of part and parcel with the whole deal.

QUERY: repercussions from drinking 17 bottles of vodka in 2 weeks

ANSWER: Your liver might not be up for bottle No. 18.

QUERY: kangaroo meat tastes like

ANSWER: Chicken.

QUERY: how many miles is too many taurus

ANSWER: This all depends on how your Taurus is functioning. Many people may think that because a Taurus is old or otherwise has lots of miles on it, the car is no longer useful. This is crap. As long as the car manages to start and actually moves forward, you should drive it until it runs into the ground or becomes too expensive to repair around inspection time. Questions about reliability can be solved through paying $60 or so for a membership with the American Automobile Association.

QUERY: how to pump your own gas

ANSWER: First, insert your debit or credit card into the gas pump. Curse loudly and vow vengeance on the various nogoodniks responsible for gasoline prices approaching $3 per gallon. Remove the pump and insert it into the fuel tank. Pump gas while angrily muttering about the cost of gasoline, the annoying gas pumps which supposedly cut down on gas vapors, and the irrationality seen daily on the New York Mercantile Exchange. Pump gas until the auto shut-off function kicks in. Top off the tank to the nearest dollar. Curse loudly upon receiving receipt.

QUERY: dating a journalist

ANSWER: NO! DON'T! Oops -- sorry. Reflex action. I mean, good decision! Dating a journalist has lots of important perks and benefits which go along with it. Perhaps the most noteworthy is that dating a journalist provides one with some of the "cool factor" associated with dating musicians, artists, poets, etc., while still secure in the knowledge that said journalist is earning "a steady income." Of course, journalism has its challenges: but rest assured that dating a journalist has plenty of perks, such as knowing or being able to find out quickly where all the good restaurants in town are, and so on.

Anyway, that's it for this edition of "Your Search Engine Queries Answered." Tune in next time when we look at bad cooking, how much to tip at the car wash and why I'm probably going to retire in the southwest. Until then, thanks for visiting.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 05:55 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

Less Than One Month to Go ...

THE WORLD CUP, which combines the excitement of good soccer with the passionate fury one often associates with international incidents, starts in less than four weeks. Truly this is a fabulous thing, especially because the Detroit Red Wings got knocked out of the Stanley Cup playoffs in the first round, and the NBA finals will probably be rather boring. As such, the World Cup will help me survive what would otherwise be a typically tough summer sports drought.

I suspect I am like most World Cup fans in that I root for teams based solely on blind nationalism and, to a lesser extent, underdog status. While this World Cup doesn't contain many of the nations I would love to see lose horribly on the football pitch, there's still plenty of teams I'd enjoy watching lose. For instance, I'd love it if Germany were to lose badly this year. I'd also like it if Brazil, Argentina, and Saudi Arabia got blitzed. And if France loses too, that'd be like a bonus. As for the teams I'm actually rooting for, they include the USA -- because the Euros would be apoplectic if we won -- and Mexico, because Mexico and Canada are my traditional "strong second" teams.

In June and July, my blogging will undoubtedly reflect what's happening in the Cup, so to make things easier, I thought would present readers with an extended summary of my hopes for who wins the first 16 games of the 48-game first round. I'll advise regarding the remaining 32 games at a later date:

1. Germany v. Costa Rica: Costa Rica
2. Poland v. Ecuador: Poland
3. England v. Paraguay: Paraguay
4. Trinidad v. Sweden: T&T
5. Argentina v. Ivory Coast: Ivory Coast
6. Serbia v. Netherlands: Netherlands
7. Mexico v. Iran: Mexico
8. Angola v. Portugal: Angola
9. Australia v. Japan: Australia
10. USA v. Czech Republic: USA
11. Italy v. Ghana: Ghana
12. ROK v. Togo: Republic of Korea
13. France v. Switzerland: Switzerland
14. Brazil v. Croatia: Croatia
15. Spain v. Ukraine: Ukraine
16. Tunisia v. Saudi Arabia: Tunisia

I offer my sincere apologies to readers from countries whom I shall soon root against in the Cup. In most cases, I'm simply rooting for the underdog as opposed to rooting against your team. However, if your country's government has recently defaulted on its debts, nationalized industries, not supported America on the foreign stage or otherwise been generally irritating, then I hope your national team places 32nd and gets laughed at by neighboring countries. That said, may the best team win, as long as it's not Brazil.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 11:31 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

April 25, 2006

Gee, I Guess You Can Go Home Again (Kinda Sorta)

KALAMAZOO, Mich., Apr. 12-13 -- WHEN A DRIVER leaves the I-94 at Exit 75 and hangs a right on Oakland Drive, the first sign of commercial activity appears in a couple of miles. When I was growing up in Kalamazoo, the first things I would see taking that route were the Superior Cleaners dry-cleaning service and the D&W supermarket. When I went back to Kalamazoo after nearly a dozen years, those were still the first things I saw upon my arrival.

It is true, as I wrote in my last post about Kalamazoo, that parts of the town have changed. But much to my surprise, I found that Kalamazoo hadn't changed all that much since I left. In fact, I'd go so far as to say that certain parts of town -- like my old neighborhood -- remain practically unchanged. As such, I came to the natural conclusion that my old subdivision was caught in some weird Twilight Zone time warp, and furthermore, that I would soon be in thrall to the sway of a daemonic fortune-telling machine stuck in the back of Theo & Stacy's. But I digress.

Anyway, the old neighborhood was practically the same, and Simon From Jersey's old house was practically the same and Loy Norrix High School was practically the same (as seen from I-94, anyway). Much of the time, it just seemed like folks had thrown a fresh coat of paint on things. Heck, even the Kalamazoo Hilton -- I'm sorry, the Radisson Plaza Hotel at Kalamazoo Center -- was largely the same, even if it did have an entirely new exterior design and new shops inside. It was still the grand hotel of Kalamazoo County and its surrounding environs.

Of course, some things did change. Much to my dismay, the old bowling lanes where I hung out were gone, and the pool hall where I used to play was torn down and replaced by a bank, and the old bookstore I liked couldn't hack it against the national chains. However, downtown Kalamazoo actually got a lot nicer. I mean, it was a place where one could go and actually do stuff after the close of business. It certainly wasn't like that back when I was growing up. Oh, and Western Michigan built this huge new campus out on Parkview Avenue, in an area of town that was once entirely farmland. That was a real shocker.

Best of all, though, I got to see Josh Grant on my trip, a Loyal Rant Reader and an old friend from high school. We had dinner downtown at the London Grill, a pub-like place which had the clever idea of serving British food along with Indian food. This was a lot of fun. Aside from the sheer novelty of ordering vindaloo in Kalamazoo -- this was once a town where it was tough finding good Italian -- it was great to catch up with Mr Grant, and find out that he was doing well (and getting married in May!).

I don't know whether the years since I've been gone have been good or bad for Kalamazoo -- based on my trip, they almost seem like a wash. But I was glad to find two things out the morning I left. First, the Michigan News Agency on West Michigan Avenue -- one of the few truly great newsagents out there -- was still in business. Second, so was Theo & Stacy's just a few doors down. I don't care where you are in America, but in my mind, any place where restaurants serve up eggs, bacon, pancakes and a large Diet Coke for $5.83 has the potential to be called home.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 10:46 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

April 22, 2006

Tag, I'm It!

AH, THERE'S NOTHING like Saturday morning. It would have been a better Saturday morning had our beloved Red Sox not blown it against the Toronto Blue Jays last night, but never mind. This Saturday morning, I'm going to write about several interesting things you previously did not know about me, especially because Allison tagged me to do so and said she would find it fascinating if I did. So here we go!

SIX THINGS YOU PREVIOUSLY DID NOT KNOW ABOUT ME

1. I'm cooler than most people. Literally. The normal human body temperature is 98.6 degrees Fahrenheit, and one can arguably say that anywhere in the 98s is a reasonable range. As for me, however, my normal body temperature generally runs about 97 degrees even, and sometimes falls into the 96s. I have no idea why this is, although I do wonder if this explains why I tend to dislike very hot temperatures.

2. I have perfect pitch. This makes me useful to my musician friends, as they don't need a tuning fork to tell them whether their guitars are tuned correctly. The upside is that I can tell if things are in tune, I associate noise with musical notes (the dryer buzzer, for instance, has a note) and I can amaze my friends and confound my enemies ("How the hell do you do that?!"). The downside is that I can tell when things are off key or out of tune, and when they are, it's almost painful to listen.

3. I do sums to relax. If I'm trying to concentrate on something, or I am worried about something, or what have you, I do figures in my head to work through those issues. I don't know why I find this relaxing but I do. Plus, it helps me keep my mind sharp for when I need to do math in my head.

4. Occasionally, I maliciously lie about a particular scar. On my neck, I have a rather visible scar, from when I had a tracheotomy as a baby. (If you look at the masthead photo of me, you'll see it right around the K in Kepple) When I was growing up, I was mercilessly teased about this.

You see, kids -- being wretched little bastards -- would not know what the scar was, so they would politely ask me what the hell that thing on my neck was. Most of the time, this would result in a long and drawn out explanation of the tracheotomy process, after which the kids would continue making fun of me. After several years of this, however, something prompted me to tell one particularly stupid questioner that I had, in fact, been shot, and that was in fact a scar from being shot. The reaction -- I had him going for quite some time -- made me put this whole routine in my mental "witty comeback" file.

Now that I'm older, very few people ask me any more about the scar, and those that do are generally acutely familiar with tracheotomies. However, will I use the line again if the chance presents itself? Damn right.

5. Despite my college education, I still can't figure calculus out. This annoys me like you wouldn't believe. I'm great at doing figures and analyzing reports and familiar with statistics and what not, but I couldn't calculate an integral if my life depended on it. Well, maybe if my life depended on it, but still. The only time I ever felt I understood calculus, to be pefectly blunt, was when questions were put to me about marginal cost or something like that.

6. I'm listening to this album right now. This being Kirsty MacColl's "Tropical Brainstorm." Try it, you'll like it!

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 11:45 AM | Comments (2) | TrackBack

April 04, 2006

The Rant is Away ...

... UNTIL TUESDAY, APRIL 18. Until then, enjoy our archives, visit the good, fine people listed on our blogroll, and ... be excellent to each other. Yeah. See? I told you I was hip and with it!

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 11:03 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

March 31, 2006

A Heartwarming Story out of Texas

THE BODY OF a Texas woman has been held on ice for nearly two months in the Dallas County medical examiner's office, after the office and its crematorium disagreed over the per-pound cost of her cremation, WFAA-TV reports.

The station says that 457-pound Charlotte Blue died on Feb. 6, but hasn't yet been cremated because the office was fighting with the crematorium over the per-pound surcharge assessed against people who weigh more than 300 pounds. Eventually, the county paid the money, and Blue is scheduled to be cremated under a program which cremates the indigent. Unfortunately, though, that didn't happen without a bit of emotional trauma:

Blue's son, Sam Roberts, said he believed his mother had been cremated under a county indigent plan until he called to get a death certificate.

"That's when I was informed that for the last two months she's been sitting in the deep freeze at the medical examiner's office because the crematorium that does business for the county says, 'Oh well, she's too big (and) too fat," he told WFAA-TV on Wednesday.

Dallas County Medical Examiner Charles Gaylor said the dispute has been settled and that county officials apologized to Blue's family for the delay. County officials approved the funds this week to cremate Blue's body.

Maybe it's just me, but isn't giving the indigent dead a decent sendoff one of those basic functions of government that our leaders ought just have done, regardless of the decedent's weight? I mean, good Lord.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 12:52 PM | Comments (5) | TrackBack

March 25, 2006

Gee, I Guess You Really Can't Go Home Again

"Youre lucky, Max where I used to live is now a pornographic equipment store."

-- Rob, "Annie Hall"

RECENTLY, WHILE planning my upcoming vacation, I decided that I wanted to travel back to my old hometown of Kalamazoo, Mich. Its been a little more than ten years since I was last back there, so I thought it would be neat to pay it a visit. For those of you unfamilar with the town, you should know that no less than The Wall Street Journal recently declared it a downtrodden industrial city. You should further know that crime figures have shown it to be more dangerous than New York.

All that said, though, Kalamazoo was a good place for me to grow up, and I have many fond memories from that time in my life. That, however, is what troubles me. You see, as part of my vacation preparations, I did some Internet research to see how the place has changed since I last visited back in 1995. As a result, Im worried Ill visit my hometown and I wont recognize it a bit. For what I discovered horrified me, and will undoubtedly shock (or at least bemuse) other expats from the Celery City.

For instance, one of the things I wanted to do while back home was have lunch at Peking Palace, which back in the day was a locally famous Chinese restaurant. Well, as it turns out I cant, because the place closed up a few years ago. Call it a slight disappointment. Unfortunately, though, it turns out that Peking Palace wasnt the only business to have closed its doors since I had left. Apparently, half the bloody town threw in the towel.

The other Chinese restaurant I liked? Gone. The old bowling alley where I used to bowl? Gone. Another bowling alley I liked? History. The Kalamazoo Public Library? Moved. The pedestrian mall downtown? Paved over.

I mean, even Bill Knapps Bill Knapps, for Gods sake shut down. Oh, sure, everyone expected that someday, but not for the reasons listed. Someone even tore down Maple Hill Mall, which I mean, that surprised even me.

I learned all this thanks to Vanished Kalamazoo, a disturbing yet often hilarious look at the way things once were in Kalamazoo. In all seriousness, the site itself is a masterpiece for anyone who is interested in Americana or local history or what not. It has things like old restaurant menus and photos and what not, which I find really interesting; and as someone who grew up in Kalamazoo, they are especially so. At the same time, though, there are also things which are laugh-out-loud funny.

Here are some links to choice exhibits at Vanished Kalamazoo, with selected excerpts taken from the editors' tag lines accompanying the photos. Ive saved the best for last:

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* "IMAGINE, from this 1972 advertisement, the 'psychodelic' 'happenings' that must have happened there, and what 'The Sunshine' must have sounded like."

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* "IN THE '80s, they actually stocked 'First Date' brand soap in their rooms."

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* "JANUARY 1979 saw the opening of one of the most unusual bar/restaurants ever seen in Kalamazoo."

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* "... UPBEAT canned music served as a weird soundtrack for the deserted sidewalks and sleeping drifters."

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* "THOUGH A DISASTER, the event did spark the urban renewal that continues today."

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 08:19 PM | Comments (7) | TrackBack

March 18, 2006

First Round Wrap-up

OVER THE last two days, I think we've seen some of the best first-round action which has ever taken place in the NCAA Division I men's basketball tourney. Not only did Northwestern State knock out Iowa, and Bradley knock out Kansas, but games that wouldn't normally be close were downright exciting.

I mean, my God: who would have expected the Great Danes of Albany to put on such an amazing show against mighty Connecticut? Yet, until UConn turned on the nitro at the end, it very much looked as if history was in the making: a No. 16 seed beating a No. 1 seed. It hasn't happened yet, but the Great Danes nearly pulled it off. They looked so good that I, like a lot of other people undoubtedly did, started calling my friends to let them know.

But that wasn't the only close call. Davidson scared the hell out of Ohio State and Murray State nearly put the kibosh on UNC's repeat hopes. Heck, even Winthrop put on a good show. And of course, Montana and Texas A&M did their jobs in upsetting Nevada and Syracuse, respectively. In short, a good three-quarters of the 32 first-round games were exciting, fun to watch, and kept one on the edge of one's seat. Truly, this was one of the best first rounds in one of the best sporting events we have.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 11:32 AM | TrackBack

A Dirge for Kansas

No. 13 Bradley 77, No. 4 Kansas 73,
OAKLAND REGIONAL

So Kansas blew it
for the second year running--
thats just got to hurt

Its one thing to lose
by one point against Bucknell;
but Bradley schooled yall.

I mean, its Bradley
Good God, thats embarrassing!
Did you study film?

Perhaps its karma
held over from last years round:
smacktalking the 'dogs.

But look who called it:
such wisdom, such perception!
Yes, that would be me.

No. 3 North Carolina 69, No. 14 Murray State 65,
WASHINGTON REGIONAL

Murray State fell short
but not 'til the last minute,
and I must applaud.

How could one not root
for a school named Murray State?
It's just principle

Besides, my friend Drew
teased me about Gonzaga;
So I hoped he'd sweat.

And although his team
won out against the Racers,
he was quite concerned.

No. 14 Northwestern State 64, Iowa 63
ATLANTA REGIONAL

Smooth move, Iowa
you lost to Northwestern State
and you deserved it

You should've won it
You were up 17 points
So there's no excuse.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 11:18 AM | TrackBack

March 16, 2006

Go, Gonzaga, Go! (Post No. 2)

No. 3 Gonzaga 79, No. 14 Xavier 75
OAKLAND REGIONAL

Gonzaga just won
I just had a heart attack
Please get me a beer

I just can't believe
the Zags were down by like nine
yet won in the end

It could have been worse:
I, who cheered the Zags at work,
could have eaten crow

Thank God I avoid
that agony and torment
Nevada fans face

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 10:36 PM | TrackBack

An Ode to Winthrop

PART OF The Rant's traditional haiku festival celebrating the NCAA Division I men's basketball tournament:

No. 2 Tennessee 63, No. 15 Winthrop 61,
WASHINGTON D.C. REGIONAL

Dang, look at Winthrop!
Where the hell did they come from?
A shame the Vols won

For the Eagles soared
as they played in Greensboro
but time never waits

There's always next year
for Winthrop, another game
for the Big South champs

Still, it's hard to lose
with just three seconds until
an earned overtime.

No. 11 UW-Milwaukee 82, No. 6 Oklahoma 74
MINNEAPOLIS REGIONAL

Oh, Oklahoma!
Yeow! Yipioeeay!
Good Lord, what happened?

Gee, we thought you'd win
against frickin' Milwaukee.
Clearly, we were wrong!

No. 12 Montana 87, NO. 5 Nevada 79
MINNEAPOLIS REGIONAL

Nevada got stopped
It'd been a long time coming
Nevada got stopped

Denied win fifteen
Goodbye, Nevada, goodbye
See you next big dance.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 08:16 PM | TrackBack

March 14, 2006

Go, Gonzaga, Go!

AS AN ALUMNUS of the University of Michigan, it saddens me to note that yet again, Michigan's men's basketball team has FAILED to reach the NCAA Division I men's basketball tournament. This is unacceptable.

However, Michigan's latest tourney airball is not entirely bad. This is because it again lets me root for teams I would normally never cheer on, including the Gonzaga Zags. Each year, I predict the Gonzaga Zags will win the tournament, and each year I am wrong. However, hope springs eternal, and I am confident that this year, I'll be right for a change.

Still, even if the Zags somehow manage to lose this year, the 65-team tourney lets me root for a lot of teams. And who couldn't root for the Bucknell Bison? Who couldn't root for the Gaels of Iona, the Colonials of George Washington, or the Golden Flashes of Kent State? So what if that last one sounds like a rare venereal disease? This is about pride, and honor, and shouting at the television in one's own living room, especially if the Villanova squad does well.

Because rooting against teams is also a big part of the fun. Who doesn't want to see those arrogant Kansas scoundrels fall on their faces? Who wouldn't secretly enjoy it if Duke got tossed in the second round? Who doesn't, in their heart of hearts, want to see Ohio State get crushed? I mean, gee, it's weeks of entertainment!

Anyhoo, as in prior years, The Rant will celebrate our teams' victories, plus those of any underdog, with special basketball haikus. Here's some to get the ball rolling:

I'm sorry, Jesse;
the temptation was too great
and the joke too good.

But have hope Friday,
as the Flashes take on Pitt;
for Kent's a 12 seed.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 11:20 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack

Kids! Its Yet Another Mediocre Quiz Time!

SOMETIMES, people write blog quizzes which make a blogger look deeply into his soul and ponder the very mysteries of life itself. Then, people write quizzes like the one Im taking here. Theyre worth doing, but theyre not anything that makes one get up in the morning and say, Gee, that quiz I took last night really helped me gain perspective on my life. Im going to take up knitting and start drinking soy milk!

Actually, I ought not joke about drinking soy milk, as a glass of coffee-flavored soy milk is a fine dessert and one I enjoy. That said, this quiz is just kind of blah. Its only somewhat inspiring and somewhat interesting. However, Im going to fill it out anyway, just because the only alternative entertainment seems to be watching some horrible Norm MacDonald comedy special.

Also, I should note that due to scheduling issues, I filled out this quiz over two days, which may explain why some answers seem a bit odd. But hey. I take all due care when it comes to my posts.

So, without further ado, here I go:

1. Grab the nearest book to you, turn to page 18 and find line four:

The sentence incorporating the fourth line is: Rulers for centuries have also been fond of stamping their likeness on gold coins, to circulate throughout their kingdoms and abroad.

Thats from Peter L. Bernsteins The Power of Gold: the History of an Obsession. Ah, gold. Gold, gold, gold. Say, this would be a good time to link to that file I found on the Internet of Monty Pythons The Money Programme sketch (via Boston Gal's Open Wallet). Here you go!

See, now wasn't that fun? That's being hosted on something called YouTube. I have no idea what YouTube is, but it seems cool.

2. Stretch your left arm out as far as you can. What do you find?

I should probably visit the gym. I have no muscle tone at all.

3. What is the last thing you watched on TV?

Well, I dont know if this counts, because I had the sound turned off and this was playing in the background, but that would be Poor White Trash, a movie making fun of, well, unsophisticated rural whites, which was playing on the Comedy Central network. I was waiting for later programs to start.

You know how you can tell a movie is bad just from its cinematography? Well, this was one of those movies. It was -- from the look of it -- a mindless film with mindless jokes and mindless characters and it clocked in at a mindless 85 minutes.

Yes, I know I shouldve had CNBC on in the background instead. Im sorry its just I wasnt in the mood to deal with Jim Cramer.

4. With the exception of the computer, what can you hear?

Right now, Im listening to Sarah McLachlans Afterglow, and

What? Well, Im sorry. I think I should be allowed, in the privacy of my own home, to express my sensitive and romantic side. This is one way to do it with the dignity and reserve one expects from me.

5. When did you last step outside? What were you doing?

Earlier today. I was traveling from my car to my apartment, and was exposed to the noxious outdoors for an estimated 30 seconds. Fortunately, I was able to get inside quickly, as any longer would have probably upset my sinuses something fierce.

6. Before you started this survey, what did you look at?

Well, thatd be the computer monitor right in front of me. See, I told you it was a mediocre quiz. What did I look at indeed. Crikey.

7. What are you wearing?

Arent we personal? Well, if you must know, Im wearing gray slacks and a blueish kinda-checkered shirt.

8. Did you dream last night?

Not that I remember. I dont often remember my dreams. When I do remember them, they are usually nightmares. I dont know why this is. However, I suspect my feverish imagination combines with my natural neuroses to concoct wild and outlandish dreams which have little relation to real life.

9. When did you last laugh?

I recently saw the South Park episode where Cartman cooks up a wild and outlandish scheme to humiliate his tormentor, Scott Thyestes Tenorman. Oh my God.

10. What is on the walls of the room you are in?

There are three things on the walls of my kitchen/living room. The first is a giant poster of a tropical island, which commands those viewing it to relax. The second is a print hanging next to my desk. Its an unremarkable nature scene which I bought because it fit the blank spot on the wall. The third is a wooden crucifix over my desk.

11. Seen anything weird lately?

I live in Manchester, New Hampshire. I havent seen anything weird since well, since I lived in Venice, Calif. That was frickin Grand Weird Station.

12. What do you think of this quiz?

Ive taken better.

13. What is the last film you saw?

In the theatre, it was Aeon Flux. The wretchedness of Aeon Flux helps explain why I dont go out to the theatre much.

14. If you turned into a multi-millionaire overnight, what would you buy?

Peace of mind. Which is to say, a balanced portfolio of income-producing equities and Treasury bonds. Yeah.

15. Tell me something about you that I dont know.

Sorry, too vague, you lose.

16. Do you like to dance?

We can dance if we want to! We can leave your friends behind! Cause your friends dont dance, and if they dont dance, then theyre no friends of mine!

17. Imagine your first child is a girl, what would you call her?

Now heres a good question! Ive always found this tougher to answer than the name for a boy. To my mind, a girls name has to be feminine, but not cutesy; it has to be well-regarded, but not pretentious; it has to be chosen with all due care and respect for her future.

While Im a firm believer in having each spouse wield veto power when it comes to naming children, I must say I would be inclined to follow my (eventual, God willing) wifes lead in a case like this. I am certain she would give these types of considerations all due thought, and decide accordingly. That said, I am partial to names like Rachel, Elizabeth, and so on.

18. Imagine your first child is a boy, what would you call him?

John or James, both of which are names which run in the family. Hed need a good middle name too. It couldnt be Benjamin, because he would already have a family name as his first name. Thus, his middle name would have to be slightly different, and by slightly different, I mean so traditional, it wouldnt raise an eyebrow, even if I went back in time to 1953.

19. Would you ever consider living abroad?

Absolutely! But only if it was a cool country like Mexico, Italy, or another country which I liked. Plus, Id only want to live there part of the year. I like living here in America, so Id probably stick around.

20. What would you want God to say to you when you reach the pearly gates?

Youre forgiven.

WELL, that was easy. Took me a little while, but worth it, I guess. I got the quiz from Sheila, who was also only somewhat impressed with it.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 08:08 PM | TrackBack

March 08, 2006

The Mouse That ... Well, Asphyxiated Horribly in the Dead of Night

SO I WAS OUT having the oil in my car changed when the mechanics made an unpleasant and gruesome discovery. One moment, they were changing my car's air filter, and the next they were digging around in the casing, muttering about "something nesting in here." Then, they pulled out the mouse.

For a moment, I felt a twinge of pity as one of the mechanics showed me the dead field mouse. It was a tiny thing, and had undoubtedly crawled into the air filter looking for warmth during the cold New Hampshire winter. The mechanics surmised that it became trapped and suffocated shortly thereafter, and it seemed like a bad way to go.

Then I recovered my senses, and realized that Industrial Civilization had won yet another great victory over these disease-carrying, crop-stealing, air filter-chewing four-legged menaces. Thank goodness the satanic little rodent hadn't had the time or the inclination to start building a nest in the air filter, or start chewing its way through my car's wiring. Because clearly those would have been his next steps! Yes, it could have cost me hundreds -- perhaps even thousands -- of dollars to deal with his wanton course of destruction.

God -- I hate mice! I hate them! Foul, disgusting, dangerous creatures!

Ah. Sorry.

Anyway. I am hopeful the mouse did not suffer all that much, and I'm relieved that I was able to get it out of my car before it caused any damage. What gets me, though, is this: I just can't figure out how the mouse got in there. I guess through the air intake, but ...

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 07:46 PM | Comments (3) | TrackBack

March 07, 2006

Finding America, in the Recesses of My Freezer

I HAVE A CONFESSION to make: the freezer in my apartment is in desperate need of a good thawing out. However, to do this without feeling guilty, I first have to empty the freezer of all the frozen dinners, sandwiches, odd highly-processed snack foods and similar goods that I keep in it. This is a week in which the microwave shall get a workout.

But tonight, I found America in the recesses of my freezer: the America that's optimistic and productive, the America that's hard-working and forward-looking, the America that produces vast quantities of affordable consumer staples for the city on the hill. Yes, surely I found America within that package of South Beach Diet (TM) All American Breakfast Wraps, the package which the good people at Northfield, Ill.-based Kraft Foods Inc. prepared with such obvious love and care. At least, I think that's why they put so many warning notices on the thing.

For instance, consider this gem on the back panel, down on the lower right:

CAUTION: PRODUCT WILL BE HOT.

Now, I can understand why the good people at Kraft Foods Inc. put that warning label on the package. After all, decades of civil case law have shown that Americans can't be expected to infer that, after one microwaves an All-American Breakfast Wrap at HIGH for 105 seconds, said burrito will be tongue-burning hot. That said, noting in addition that STEAM FROM POUCH WILL BE HOT seems a bit much. You know, because steam itself is hot. And because not-hot steam is actually water.

I mean, maybe it's just me, but looking over this package, I'm starting to wonder if the Kraft Foods people designed their All-American Breakfast Wraps packaging for All-American Morons. I mean, come on. DO NOT EAT PRODUCT WITHOUT COOKING? It's hard enough to eat it when it's cooked, much less frozen solid. Oh, and I love Item 4 on the Microwave Cooking Instructions: "Remove wrap from pouch before eating."

You don't say.

Actually, the All-American Breakfast Wraps I just ate -- I had two, which account for two (2) servings, said serving size being one (1) wrap -- were pretty darn good. This was somewhat of a surprise, given that they consisted of Scrambled Egg Whites, Reduced Fat Mozzarella & Non-Fat Cheddar Cheeses, Tomatoes, Apple Wood Smoked Bacon & A Cheese Sauce In A Wheat Tortilla. There's little in life that scares me more than a processed cheese sauce.

But they were good, even though the ingredients were excessive. For instance, the applewood smoked bacon. What's up with that?

I mean, everywhere one turns these days, one finds "applewood smoked bacon" on the menu as if it's some sort of goddamned luxury. People. It's bacon. It's pork belly. It's traded via the Chicago Board of Trade along with butter and dry milk. It's not something to get all worked up about. Smoked meat, yes; smoked salmon, yes; smoked bacon, ehhhhh, no. And it's especially not something to get worked up about when one paid ... oh, whatever I paid for the All-American Breakfast Wraps.

While we're on the topic of inappropriately-venerated food items, can someone tell me why people think having more than one cheese in a dish makes that dish better? I mean, maybe it's just a successful marketing trick, but it's starting to get out of hand: there are frozen pizza brands which proudly advertise they have a full five cheeses on board. I'm sorry, but what the hell? The idea behind a good cheese is that you can actually taste it. If you have too many cheeses, the flavors run into each other and you end up with this wretched industrial amalgam of cheese.

Speaking of wretched, I've just noticed that on the top flap of the All-American Breakfast Wraps box, there's an exhortation for the consumer to "Try all delicious offerings!" Since that's where I opened the box, I can't read what's left of the tiny advertising script, but I do see the myriad flavors of Kraft's All-American Breakfast Wraps are prominently mentioned.

Oh wait. Now that I look closely at it, only my particular box had All-American Breakfast Wraps in it. Well, I'm glad to see we've clearly demarcated the lines between Real Americans' Breakfast Foods and those favored by our cowardly enemies. Yeah. Hey, you with the Denver-Style Breakfast Wrap -- you think you're pretty hip and far out, don't you, son?

Still, though, this box is a triumph of American marketing.

You see, on the front cover, there's this giant picture of an All-American Breakfast Wrap lazing about on something that looks like a towel. Clearly, this represents the typical breakfast wrap consumer in the Northeast, who wishes he was in someplace tropical, like Puerto Rico. Also, the box proudly notes that each All-American Breakfast Wrap has just 200 calories, yet 19 grams of protein. Also, each has 20 pc of my daily saturated fat allowance, and -- well, OK, so that's only noticed if one looks for it. But hey. Saturated fat allowance, current account deficit, what's the big deal?

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 11:12 PM | TrackBack

March 06, 2006

Well, Thank God That's Over With

AS SOMEONE WHO takes little interest in the Academy Awards, I have to admit I was pleased with how things turned out last night. Apparently, no one actually said anything that was particularly controversial, irresponsible, outlandish or mind-numbingly stupid. As such, I'm not going to have to hear about it ad nauseum for the next week or so, and as a result, I'll avoid the near-terminal case of ennui that I typically get in such cases. To the Academy, I say thank you.

Not that I watched the telecast in the first place. Oh, no. Instead, I relied on trusted blogs for my Academy Awards coverage. As I understand it, this had the pleasing effect of insulating me from some truly wretched program music, plus it kept me from falling asleep during the program itself. I don't know about you, but I can't for the life of me understand why anyone would spend several hours at a clip watching this thing. Reading blogs instead was a much more enjoyable -- and quicker -- way of finding out what happened.

What? What do you mean, you feel the same way about football? Geez.

Anyway, moving on. I have to admit I was surprised that the movie about how everyone in Los Angeles is racist beat out the movie about the effeminate shepherds. I haven't seen either, so I can't express a qualitative judgment on whether the one ought have beat out the other. Still, it surprised me based on what I had read leading up the ceremony.

Of course, if I haven't seen those, readers may wonder what movies I have actually seen in the past year. The answer to that is "damn few." There's no point in going to the movies when the tickets and concessions are overpriced, the other people in the theatre are rude and inconsiderate, and the movies playing usually disappoint.

But hope springs eternal, I guess.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 08:57 AM | TrackBack

March 05, 2006

Nationwide is On Your Side

DAMN. MC HAMMER has a blog.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 06:13 PM | TrackBack

March 04, 2006

The Perils of Traffic Engineering

WELL, THIS SHOULD PUT the damper on any well-intentioned but ill-advised ideas to again lower the national speed limit to 55 miles per hour.

It seems that several Georgia college students, finding the 55 mph speed limit on that city's beltway arbitrary and capricious, made a video in which they drove 55 mph in concert on the road. As a result, mayhem and disorder broke out along I-285 as frustrated motorists proved the students' point: that the 55 mph speed limit is too slow for the road in question.

Shockingly, no one -- not even any of the students -- was hurt. Of course, there are questions about whether the college students' actions were legal, but still, the film makes its point. It also makes the point that slow drivers, as a matter of course, ought only drive in the right lane.

As a driver who likes driving reasonably fast when conditions warrant, I do wish speed limits would be upgraded to accurately reflect road conditions. For instance, I've been on several roads -- for instance, I-15 between Barstow, Calif. and the Nevada line, and US-23 from northwest Ohio to Ann Arbor, Mich. -- that could handle higher maximum speeds than their respective 70 and 75 mph limits. I know they could handle them because other motorists routinely passed me on those roads, even though I was driving 80 or 85 mph to keep up with traffic.

On the other hand, as I've become older, I've come to value the engineers' judgment when it comes to lower speed limits on certain roadways. For instance, on the Pennsylvania Turnpike, there are areas where a 55 mph speed limit is reasonable and judicious, particularly if the roadway is a bit worn. That said, though, it seems we could use an upgrade to old-style, blanket speed limits, now that cars are safer, and roads are capable of handling more and faster traffic.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 09:27 PM | TrackBack

February 23, 2006

An Extraordinarily Busy Week

WASHINGTON, D.C. -- I have to apologize for going AWOL the past week, especially after getting kudos from readers for resuming a more regular posting schedule. But your correspondent has been quite busy, and so much so that he has earned himself a dateline.

This past weekend, I went on a trip to the nation's capital, where I was attending a conference in the Maryland suburbs. It was a great time and I had a lot of fun, especially because I was able to see my old friend Lee and his wife Giulietta, and their four-month-old son. That was really nice, since I hadn't seen them in more than a year.

Since I've returned, things have been busy with work, life and everything else. That's made it difficult to keep on a regular posting schedule, but I should post more frequently as things get back to normal. In the meantime, though, thanks as always for reading!

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 10:56 PM | TrackBack

Those Lazy Hazy Crazy Days of High School

AS IT TURNED OUT, I didnt really enjoy any lazy hazy crazy days in life until I went out to Los Angeles in my early twenties. Still, high school was a memorable and fun time for me: so memorable and fun, in fact, that Ive only mentioned my high school once by name here on The Rant. Furthermore, I only mentioned it while comparing it to the Detroit Lions, thus underscoring the fondness with which I remember it.

Heh. I'm going to have fun with this one.

With that, Ill kick off my version of the High School Meme Post which has started making its way around the Internet. I first saw the meme at Sheila's site. In my version, though, I did invert the order of the final two questions because I thought it worked better with my post.

Anyway, here goes.

1. Where did you graduate from and what year?

I graduated from this school, which I shall not name, in 1994. Im not mentioning the name of the school for one reason: I want all my readers to go visit its Web site. Go on, take a minute, and look at it. Look how badly it sucks.

I mean, come on. Its straight out of 96. Furthermore, I dont think the Web site is a good introduction to a school which says its working to ensure that each student graduates with the academic and social skills necessary to participate fully and responsibly as a life-long learner in a global and changing society.

Then again, maybe it is a good introduction. According to the staff directory posted at the Web site, my high school now has something called a Student Responsibility Center. I have no idea what that is, but I suspect it was formerly known as the Internal Suspension Classroom. In any event, it might be a good idea to have the troublemaking kids Do Something Productive like updating the school Web site, because Complete Economic Obsolesence would suck something fierce.

2. Did you have school pride?

Who wrote this survey? Mary Lou Retton?

3. Was your prom a night to remember?

I didnt attend my high school prom. I had no interest in attending. I mean, think about it: Im supposed to spend all night at a school-sponsored event, with the people I didnt like in high school, listening to bad music and drinking fruit punch? Come on. Besides, I was a nerd in high school. I didnt do anything wild until later.

4. Do you own all four yearbooks?

I own the yearbook from my senior year, provided that storing the yearbook at my folks house in suburban Cleveland is equivalent to ownership.

5. What was the worst trouble you ever got into?

You read the answer to question number three, right? I wouldnt have known how to get into trouble if I tried. Of course, there was that one time when I was racing Simon From Jersey (who was then Not From Jersey) down Westnedge Avenue, and I got pulled over by the police, but was released with a verbal warning. (If the kids tried a stunt like that today, theyd be taking the bus until they were 24).

6. What kind of people did you hang out with?

It was an eclectic and cool group of people. I liked them.

7. What was your number one choice of college in high school?

I wanted to go to Michigan. As it turned out, thats where I went.

8. What radio station did you rock out to?

The only radio station I remember from back in the day was WKFR-FM. For the most part, I think I listened to tapes or CDs I wasnt much of a radio listener. Looking at WKFR-FMs Web site, which also blows chunks, I still wouldnt be much of a radio listener.

9. Were you involved in any organizations or clubs?

For a short while like three weeks I was involved with the intramural bowling squad. Hey, you laugh, but in Kalamazoo, Mich., bowling was serious business.

10. What were your favorite classes in high school?

History and English. As such, it made perfect sense for me to spend half my day at a magnet school specializing in math and science.

11. Who was your big crush in high school?

As readers of The Rant know, I make a point of not discussing my love life on the Internet. I mean, my parents read this. My friends read this. My coworkers read this. Most importantly, Ive found that potential dates may read this, and the last thing I need is to get in trouble with 150 million American women, all of whom share notes.

However, I did have a big crush on this one girl all throughout high school. This came to an end when I asked her out to dinner and a movie, and she laughed at me. Then she asked me whether I was joking. Then, she asked if a friend of mine, whom she had broken up with prior to my asking, had put me up to the stunt. Then, she ripped out my heart with her bare hands and flung it about like a volleyball before stomping on it repeatedly and roasting it on a spit.

No, wait. That last bit was just part of the dramatization. Still, the experience was most certainly not fun.

12. Would you say you've changed a lot since high school?

Yes. In high school, I was only a pale half-formed shadow of who I am today. ("He's more machine now than man, twisted and evil.")

13. What do you miss the most about it?

I miss most that feeling of having graduated. You know, the feeling of having one door close and another door open, of having one chapter come to an end and having another one begin. The feeling of unlimited possibility with absolutely no responsibilities ---

Oh wait. That was college. Never mind.

14. Your worst memory of high school?

Scroll back up to Item 11.

15. Did you have a car?

Yes I did. My first car, which I received when I was 17 and a half years old, was a 1987 Mercury Sable. This car taught me the value of patience, especially when I drove it home from college for Thanksgiving with a broken radiator fan, a broken heating system, and a broken defrost system.

16. What were your school colors?

Blue and white. Yes, our school colors were lame-o.

17. Who were your favorite teachers?

Actually, my favorite teacher was probably Mr Burch. Primarily because we spent an entire semester during his senior year English class studying Don Quixote and with good reason, because Cervantes rules (and is better than Shakespeare by a long shot). Also, Mr Burch told me to write every day, which I started doing and enjoyed.

18. Did you own a cell phone in high school?

When I was in high school, we didnt have cell phones at all, much less cell phones with fancy-schmancy ring tones and digital cameras and anytime minutes. Oh no. Only responsible well-paid adults had cell phones.

The best people my age could do was to have something called a beeper. People would call this beeper and enter their telephone numbers, and the beeper would beep. This gave the wearer a certain cachet, and made him seem important.

I don't know who wrote this quiz, but given that question, I have a feeling they'd be surprised to learn that people once wore actual wall clocks -- yes, on their persons -- as a fashion statement. No, really. It's true. Stop laughing.

19. Did you leave campus for lunch?

Yes! One of the little perks of attending the magnet school in town for a half-day. Another little perk: no gym class.

20. If so, where was your favorite place to go eat?

Taco Bell. I remember that you could order lunch for under $4. Actually, now that I think about it, you can still order lunch for under $4.

21. Were you always late to class?

No. This was because my high school, in one of its periodic fits of discipline, mandated that students who were late to class would be caught up in a dragnet and detained for the period in an unpleasant study hall type of thing.

Also, I was always lucky when it came to class scheduling. This could pose a challenge at my high school, which may be one of the worst surviving examples of post-war architecture in the United States. For one thing, the two school buildings seemed entirely made out of glass, cinder blocks and uremic-colored bricks. For another, it was a spread-out campus, with lots of separate wings and pathways. So, conceivably, someone could have a class in the B wing and then, in five minutes, have to somehow make it all the way to the J wing.

Making matters worse, there was no order to the wings at all new students could easily get lost looking for the D wing, which if I recall right was under the K wing, or end up exiled in the M wing, which was creepy.

22. Did you ever have to stay for Saturday School?

No. Also, I dont like this quiz. It makes me feel old.

23. Did you ever ditch?

Yes. Actually, during my senior year, Im amazed that the attendance people at my high school didnt send home a nastygram, since I made a regular habit of skipping my morning classes. I mean, I didnt see any need to go to typing class when I was already typing fifty-some words per minute. I also didnt see any need to attend Spanish class, which wasnt the best-taught course I had.

24. What kind of job did you have?

I was a grill cook at a McDonalds restaurant. I could write a book about this experience, but now that Im older, I find that this job makes me very sympathetic (in most cases) to present-day fast-food workers. However, I have been annoyed when Ive had special requests denied that I know, or believe I know, can actually be fulfilled.

25. Do you wish you were still in high school?

Thats like asking a dog if hed still like to be in his cage.

26. When it comes time for the reunion, will you be there?

If by there, you mean relaxing on St. Kitts, then yes.

Although, I do wonder: maybe I should someday go back for one of my high school reunions. I mean, it'd be interesting to see how everyone turned out, and I'm sure there are acquaintances I had that would be neat to catch up with again. (I already keep in touch well with my best friend from high school, Simon From Jersey).

Besides, remember that Enterprise Rent-a-Car commercial that had the chubsy guy from the Capital One commercials in it? You know, the one where he looks in the mirror and says hesitantly, "Class of '94, here I come," but all turns out well when he arrives in a Cadillac? And he picks up not one but two hot girls, who applaud him for his style and clear financial acumen?

Well, we'll see.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 10:21 PM | Comments (3) | TrackBack

February 11, 2006

Where Have Harvey Danger Gone?

I WAS listening to Harvey Danger's album ("Where Have All the Merrymakers Gone?") as I blogged this morning and the question popped into my mind. As it turned out, they're right over here. Who knew?

Harvey Danger's big 1998 hit, "Flagpole Sitta," has some of the best sarcastic ranty lyrics ever written in the late Nineties, at least I think so. I mean, dig these:

Been around the world and found
that only stupid people are breeding;
the cretins cloning and feeding;
and I don't even own a TV!

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 11:00 AM | TrackBack

February 08, 2006

Cringing at Senescence

BACK IN THE DAY, Matt Groening drew a clever cartoon in which a young boy grew older and older with each panel. The young boy kept waiting for something to happen, only to suddenly reach adulthood with the thought, What happened?

Well, now that Ive turned 30 years old God help me Im thinking along much the same lines. What the hell happened?

Im not just saying that because I had a fun time at the surprise gathering my friends arranged at the Strange Brew Tavern, either. I mean, here it is Im 30, and for the first time in my life I feel as if the open door which existed for certain things might be starting to inch shut.

For instance: at the Strange Brew earlier this week, my friends, being clever and knowledgeable about matters of love, advised me that telling women it was my birthday would be an amazingly successful pick up line. I demurred at this suggestion. Why, you ask? Well, whats the attribute associated with ones birthday? Ones age.

I dont know about you, but having to mention the big three-oh seemed about as sexy as giving ones beloved an electric mixer for Valentines Day. I mean, really. It seems to me that change on the odometer has suddenly deducted key viability points from my profile. Prospective fathers-in-law will prove even more skeptical; prospective girlfriends will face more questions from their friends about that old guy they met.

But then again, maybe not.

After all, now that Im 30, Im older but also wiser, giving my traditional outlook on life a memorable and refined touch. This should work wonders for me on the dating scene, especially when my competitors in the market keep mentioning their new pickup trucks. Plus, I have all sorts of great paper attributes (good job! good degree! saving for retirement!) that will now mean even more to offset the slight negatives (unhealthy interest in economic history, occasional instances of maddening doltishness, love handles) that I admittedly possess. Also, Im smart and funny, and like traveling and long walks.

Did I mention Im 64? No, really!

But anyhoo. Any lingering doubts Ive had about turning 30 are tempered with the knowledge that at the age of 30, I have it materially better than any of my ancestors did. For instance, when my father was my age, he had to deal with recession and stagflation and wondering whether he could buy gasoline. When my fathers father was my age, America was still dealing with the Great Depression, and the Nazis had invaded western Europe. And when my fathers grandfather was my age well, it was 1913, which meant all sorts of future bad things were about ready to happen: income taxes and World War I and Spanish flu and Prohibition. Thats a truly grim turn of events, if one thinks about it. Not only would my great-grandfather have had all that weighing on his mind while working for the coal company, his only legal remedy at hand for dealing with it was a strawberry milkshake.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 09:53 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack

February 06, 2006

A Notice to People Who Advise of "Must Read" Material

THIS EVENING, I was surprised but pleased to find that a commenter had quickly left a comment on my post lauding the Pittsburgh Steelers' victory in the Super Bowl. My happiness turned to dismay, however, upon finding that said commenter had merely advised about a "must read" story about terror suspect Zacarias Moussasoui.

Much to my annoyance, I found the Moussasoui story had no mention of football at all. Instead, Moussasoui was causing trouble in court again, similar to how he has caused trouble in the past. As such, this certainly does not qualify for inclusion in a post about the Super Bowl and the Pittsburgh Steelers.

In future, The Rant would ask that "must read" stories be sent via e-mail to the address listed in the left-hand column. The Rant would further ask that readers refrain from bogarting the comment threads.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 10:35 PM | TrackBack

Let the Gloating Begin

So who's sad now, Mr Stevens? Hmmmmm?

IT'S TOUGH being a Pittsburgh Steelers fan in New England. For one thing, being here during football season usually means a weekly diet of watching the New England Patriots beat up some hapless opponent. For another, when Pittsburgh games are actually broadcast here, they usually involve the New England Patriots beating the Steelers.

But the real reason it's tough is because, when the Steelers finally do win a Super Bowl after 25 years, everyone in New England is pleasant and gracious. It's "the Steelers deserved it" this, and "I was thinking of you during the game" that, plus a hearty congratulations from all concerned. I mean, it's been a constant wishing of good will and cheer.

What's that? Yes, I know it was nice and considerate. That's the problem! How can I gloat over the Steelers' grand and glorious victory when everyone I know is so happy for me and well-adjusted about it?

That's why I'm turning to the Internet. You see, on the Internet, there are plenty of sports fans out there furious about the Steelers' victory.

I know this because sports-talk radio stations make vast sums of money each year. You see, I figure that if sports-talk radio listeners will spend hours listening to angry middle-aged couch potatoes scream about the New York Yankees, there must be at least a few sports fans who a) are similarly fixated on the Steelers' victory and b) have Internet access. So to you, my fanatic Steeler-hating sports-talk radio listening audience, I say: "Ooooooooooooooh. If you listen closely, you can hear the world's smallest violin playing for you right now!"

Of course, I should note that the Seattle Seahawks played pretty well in comparison to the Steelers in the Super Bowl, even if the Seahawks struggled with concepts like "basic time management," "kicking the ball through the uprights" and "catching the ball on key plays." Speaking of which, I have a call for Seahawks tight end Jerramy Stevens. A call for Mr Stevens -- ah, there you are. It's your Mom on the phone. She says you suck!

Notice how I cleverly waited until after the game to talk smack about the Super Bowl, and not before! This prevents me, unlike Mr Stevens, from having to go through any embarrassing backpedaling after the game -- the game in which the winning quarterback was Ben Roethlisberger, and not Matt Hasselbeck or Peyton Manning.

Heh. Peyton Manning. I hate Peyton Manning.

I have hated Peyton Manning ever since I was in college and the controversy over the Heisman Trophy in 1997. (Michigan's Charles Woodson, one of the best defensive players ever in college football, won the award; Mr Manning was second, and his backers hated that).

Now that Mr Manning plays for the Colts, I've taken great joy in watching him get in trouble, such as when Steelers OLB Joey Porter "signed Peyton's melon" on two consecutive plays during the AFC Divisional Championship. Yeah. God, that ruled.

Of course, after that game, Mr Manning had the gall to essentially say that his offensive linesmen hadn't done their jobs, which was classless and gauche and prima facie evidence that he can't win when it counts. Quite frankly, Peyton, it's not your offensive line's fault that you run around panicking whenever a pass rusher gets within three yards. And it's not your offensive line's fault that the Colts lost and you went home and didn't make it again to the Super Bowl, which this year the Steelers won. Also, you only won 13 games in a row because you're in a division with Houston and Tennessee, so there.

*phew*

God, that felt good. For weeks upon weeks I've been keeping all that pent-up energy inside. I didn't want to gloat about beating the Colts and then have the Steelers get crushed in the following week of the playoffs, and I especially didn't want to gloat in the event we lost to Seattle. As I know full well, it's no fun to eat crow.

But putting the gloating aside -- it was all meant with good cheer and humor, I assure you -- I have to say just how proud I am to be a Steelers fan. Watching my team win the Super Bowl was an amazing experience.

It was a great feeling to see Pittsburgh's reputation restored: not simply as a first-class football team, but a team which other squads must conquer to bridge the gap between being good and being great. For this, I must thank the Steelers' hard-working players, and Coach Cowher, and especially the owner, Mr Rooney, who hoisted the trophy on Sunday night. Thank you for a season to remember.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 09:32 PM | Comments (5) | TrackBack

February 01, 2006

America is the Greatest Nation Ever

WHY, YOU ASK? Well, one could mention the Constitution and the whole "rule of law" and "personal freedom" stuff, but there's also the fact that in America, people can go into a restaurant and order a 100-patty hamburger -- with cheese! And not only will the restaurant staff be happy to make up the order, they'll help celebrate when a party of eight somehow manages to finishes the behemoth.

It should be noted the burger in question is an In-n-Out Burger 100x100, which is essentially a "double-double with cheese," except with 98 extra meat patties and 98 extra slices of cheese.

I have no idea how these eight people managed to eat the thing.

I mean, come on -- just one double-double makes a meal, and two will be filling for anyone except a professional football player. Yet some in the party of eight ate the equivalent of TEN double-doubles. They ate the undercooked patties at the very end. Hell, they apparently even got fries, according to the photos.

And how did the store handle this, you might ask? They went to work making that $97.66 burger, set about creating a storage mechanism for the three-foot high construct, and in short, made it happen. It's that type of dedication to capitalism and the free market which makes America great, competitive, and prosperous.

(via Capitalist Lion)

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 04:20 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack

January 27, 2006

Extreme Disparity

QUICK LANGUAGE QUESTION for all of you out there: do people still use the word "extreme" in a non-sarcastic sense any more? I ask this because I was under the impression that no one used the word since "Harold and Kumar Go to White Castle" came out on DVD, but apparently this isn't the case.

First, some background for everyone. One of the running jokes in "Harold and Kumar" is the repeated appearance of a group of punks, who run around wreaking havoc and declaring said havoc "extreme," in the sense that dangerous ski antics are "extreme." As a result of this, I find it impossible to use the word "extreme" without snickering.

Apparently, however, I didn't get the memo that said it's still OK for people to use the word.

A while back on television, I saw a show which portrayed boat-building as "extreme." Mountain biking is still apparently extreme, but so are things like DSL service. My personal favorite, however, is Elvis -- who is so extreme that the Federal Government will apparently launch interagency investigations into alleged Elvis-related copyright infringement. Who knew?

So, now I'm in a quandary. I mean, it's a great slang term, and very "with it" if used properly, but I don't want to risk people think I'm using it in the "dude, that's cool you're skiing backwards" sense of the term. Not that people would think I'd actually go skiing, but you know.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 10:20 PM | TrackBack

January 16, 2006

"Can You Believe What You Just Saw?"

HOLY TOLEDO, I'm still higher than a kite after the Colts-Steelers game on Sunday. I mean, I'm still coming to terms with the fact we beat Indianapolis in the RCA Dome, and now we're going to Denver for the AFC Championship. Oh my good God.

I'll blog about football in a while; but not at length until all is said and done. Still, my God! What a game Sunday! What a victory!

Also, everyone up here in Patriots Country has been absolutely pleasant and gracious about how the weekend's games turned out. Thank you, everyone, for your support (and willingness to overlook my annoying enthusiasm) during this exciting time.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 10:13 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack

January 14, 2006

Should've Gone for the Stupidity Defense

THE TAX EVASION trial of Richard Hatch, the first million-dollar prize winner on the TV game show "Survivor," continues this coming week in a Providence courtroom. Yet one wonders whether Mr Hatch's attorney may have already made a crucial mistake.

You see, Mr Hatch's defense counsel has asserted to a jury that his client is not, in fact, an idiot. As an impartial observer, and someone who has done his own taxes for quite some time, I feel Mr Hatch's attorney should have come out and said his client was as dumb as a bag of rocks. That would be the most believable explanation for Hatch innocently failing to pay the taxes which prosecutors say he owed on his $1 million prize, $327,000 in related income and $28,000 in rental income. Prosecutors have charged Hatch with tax evasion, filing a false tax return, wire fraud, bank fraud and mail fraud.

The Associated Press reports:

(Hatch's) attorney, Michael Minns, argued Thursday that Hatch was struggling with his newfound fame after winning the contest, was overwhelmed by false child abuse charges and was relying on the advice of a self-employed accountant who was "in over her head."

"Richard Hatch is not a stupid man," Minns said. "He is the world's worst bookkeeper, bar none."

Federal prosecutors say Hatch filed false tax returns for 2000 and 2001 that omitted his income from the reality show, as well as $327,000 he earned as a co-host on a Boston radio show and $28,000 in rent on a property he owns in Newport.

(Prosecutor Andrew) Reich told jurors Hatch also altered checks made out to his charitable foundation, Horizon Bound, so he could use the money to renovate his Newport property.

One accountant Hatch hired estimated he owed about $230,000 in taxes for 2000, Reich said. The television star asked for a second return showing his estimated tax bill had he not won the million-dollar prize.

Despite warnings that the second analysis was for comparison only, prosecutors said, Hatch filed the return with the IRS.

Now, it may be possible for the "so my client's a little disorganized" defense to work. According to the Associated Press, Hatch has said that he thought CBS had paid the taxes on his winnings, although CBS has said Hatch knew all along that he was responsible for any tax. Still, based on reports from the second day of trial, I think the stupidity defense would have been the way to go.

The proceeding continues.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 10:53 AM | Comments (1) | TrackBack

My Lost Weekend

I DON'T KNOW about you, but I'm having a perfectly enjoyable weekend up here in Manchester. It's not simply that it was 50 degrees in January yesterday, either. Tonight, we have two out of four NFL playoff games; today, we have James Bond movies all day on AMC; and I have a variety of beers from the makers of Sam Adams in my fridge.

Oh yes.

Hope everybody out there is having a good weekend as well.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 09:33 AM | TrackBack

January 08, 2006

Reliability, For Less Than I Thought

GAD, WHAT A WEEK. In a stunning reversal of my fortunes, though, the past several days have turned out amazingly well. Key among my triumphs were getting my car fixed and my computer rejuvenated, tasks which had previously filled me with dread and anxiety, respectively.

When we last discussed the car, your correspondent had just spent an hour fussing around with the battery in his Ford Taurus, which was being uncooperative. The plan was to go out next morning and start it up, with the hope I could get it repaired sometime in future. It did not start up. As the following dramatization shows, this left me in quite a spot.

ME: Dammit! (click click click click) Start, you --- God! Wretched, cheap, stupid battery! Start! (click click click) Jesus Christ! I don't believe this. OK. I've got 18 minutes to get into the office -- but at this point, that'd be like recovering an onside kick!
JEROME BETTIS: Excuse me, but I think you're being a bit liberal with the football terminology!
ME: Yeah? Well, you start the car!

Fortunately, I was able to get the car started -- with the help of the building maintenance guy, who jump-started the battery with a generator.

Upon arriving at the shop, I recalled that my battery was not two years old, as I had previously thought, but four -- and when you get right down to it, four years is a lot for a battery, especially considering the winters we have up here. The shop went about its work, and as it turned out, my DieHard battery had, well, died hard. Fortunately, though, there was a solution, as this dramatization shows:

MECHANIC: You can see here, this is the "health meter" for your battery.
ME: Oooh. I guess I need a new battery.
MECHANIC: Yep.
ME: OK, well, what batteries do you have?
MECHANIC: For your car, we have one battery in stock.
ME: One battery.
MECHANIC: Yep.
ME: Well, that makes it easy, doesn't it?

Actually, though, it seems like a decent battery. It's supposed to last six years, and if it lasts until 2012, it will undoubtedly outlast everything else on the car, including minor parts such as the "steering column." Even better, it only cost about $100 for the whole repair, which gladdened even my cold heart. Plus, I get to go out to a car that always starts up in the morning, and the relief from no longer worrying about the car should last a good week.

But that was just one nifty repair.

This weekend, I hired a computer expert to install some RAM I got as a Christmas gift. When all was said and done, I not only had my new RAM working, I also had a clean and quiet computer, plus a reinvigorated monitor. It was like having a new machine and it only cost $90. Plus, since it was a house call, I didn't have any lost time in terms of computer availability. So here's a swell personal-finance tip: always find someone you know to do computer stuff, because they're cheaper than the brand-name services.

Not that I just sat back and watched the football game, of course. For one thing, New England was kicking the Jaguars back to Carolina. For another, my machine had suffered greatly due to my former habit of smoking two packs of cigarettes a day. Cigarette dust, as my expert pointed out, didn't just blow away -- it's tar. So I spent a bit of the time cleaning, as well as keeping track of tools and such.

It's sobering when you see what the tar does to machinery. I mean, my God: to think the same stuff was coating my lungs (and teeth, and throat)! It's not merely that it's filthy -- it's that it's devilish to remove. Then, dust gets kicked up along with it, and there's much coughing and hacking, and then a headache -- it was just foul. Just foul.

But the computer has run SMASHING ever since. It's truly unbelievable how much it has improved, and for that I'm quite pleased. I was also pleased I refrained from panicking when my expert went to town on my computer. We hear enough bad football cliches as is on television.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 10:40 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack

December 31, 2005

Well, Look Who's En Fuego Today

OK, SO I FINALLY updated the blogroll: fixed broken or dead links, replaced several now-defunct blogs, and so on. This will hopefully prove helpful to you, the Loyal Rant Readership.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 12:57 PM | TrackBack

Why I Don't Order Coffee Out

I FULLY ADMIT that I'm not much of a coffee drinker, preferring instead the sweet artificial goodness of Diet Cherry Coke. However, that's not because I dislike the taste of coffee. I actually rather like it. It's just that Diet Cherry Coke is cold (a plus) and easier to procure (just open the fridge), leaving coffee as an occasional drink.

As such, I only rarely have coffee at home, and almost never have it out. In fact, the last time I remember buying coffee for the sake of buying coffee -- or, more accurately, a sweetened coffee-flavored hot beverage -- was in 2003. Then, I had something called a caramel macchiato, something which I had enjoyed when I had been in Washington the year earlier. (In both cases, I had to pay more than $3 for it, which I did not enjoy).

However, it turns out my shock and amazement at being asked to pay $3 for coffee was well-founded. Dig what former coffee-shop owner Michael Idov wrote regarding the markup on coffee:

Thanks to the trail blazed by Starbucks, the world of coffee retail is now a rogue's playground of jaw-dropping markups. An espresso that required about 18 cents worth of beans (and we used very good beans) was sold for $2.50 with nary an eyebrow raised on either side of the counter. A dab of milk froth or a splash of hot water transformed the drink into a macchiato or an Americano, respectively, and raised the price to $3. The house brew too cold to be sold for $1 a cup was chilled further and reborn at $2.50 a cup as iced coffee, a drink whose appeal I do not even pretend to grasp.

I know that when life hands you a lemon, you're supposed to make lemonade. But that's just wrong.

In any event, I can see paying $1 per cup for coffee, based on the following:

We know, thanks to clever people on the Internet, that one pound of coffee beans will produce roughly 240 liquid ounces of coffee. We also know that Jamaican Blue Mountain coffee, considered among the best coffee in the world, runs about $40 per pound. Thus, it's nearly impossible to spend more than $1 per cup of coffee if one prepares it at home.

From that, we can deduce that $1 is a fair price to pay for decent coffee while out, because of overhead, labor, those plastic stirrer thingies, and liability insurance. Furthermore, we can deduce that any price above $1 for decent coffee is tantamount to highway robbery and price gouging after a natural disaster.

OK, well, maybe not. But it still pains me to fork over more than $1 per cup of coffee, and I can't ever see myself paying $3 or $4 unless I'm in a social situation and I must buy the stuff. I mean, it's not as if the poor coffee growers are getting any of the markup, and the guys behind the counter probably aren't doing all that great either. Actually, in Mr Idov's case, his own little coffee shop ended up destroying his life. But that's another story.

(via Sheila O'Malley)

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 12:35 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack

2005: The Year in Review

GEE, I'M GLAD this is the last day of 2005. I mean, I'm downright excited about bidding adieu to this wretched and miserable year, in which far more bad things seemed to happen than good.

Sure, there were bright spots, like me quitting smoking (9 mos. and counting) and getting to spend lots of quality time with my family, something which I have greatly appreciated. But then, there were not-bright spots, like me going through weeks of serious discomfort before having my gall bladder vacuumed out. Other not-bright spots have included various car repair hassles; mood changes which have caused me to experience more ups-and-downs than a swingset at some municipal park; and frustrating dealings with the medical profession, particularly its back office, insurance, pharmaceutical and equipment-supply sectors. That's only a partial list of not-good things which have happened.

I'm also not pleased that I haven't kept in touch with my friends as well as I ought have this past year. This, of course, is entirely my fault and I feel badly about it, and I will do better in future. In a similar vein, I feel I've let the blog go to hell ever since I had my gall bladder operation, and this aggravates me to no end. So I will do better in future here too.

Also, I'm not pleased that my frickin' sinuses keep acting up. Come on, it's winter. Surely I should get some respite in winter, for Pete's sake.

But hey. It is the last day of 2005, and soon it will be over, and I'll be cheery and optimistic yet again as I bask in the righteous knowledge that 2006 is right around the corner, and that good times lie ahead. I hope, anyway.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 11:09 AM | TrackBack

December 29, 2005

Wanted: New Football Coach

NO EXPERIENCE NECESSARY. Position needs filled ASAP. Job entails hiring new slate of assistant coaches, recruiting and retaining talent, and devising offensive plays which could reasonably fool a competent defense. Capability to beat evil archrivals and win bowl games in national spotlight a must, particularly in games with historic import.

Applicants with track record of three-loss seasons or better preferred. Salary negotiable, but will offer at least one honeymoon season in contract. Please send CV and references to: University of Michigan Athletic Department, Schembechler Hall, 1000 S. State Street, Ann Arbor, MI 48109.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 12:36 AM | Comments (6) | TrackBack

December 16, 2005

Detroit's Orange Revolution

WHEN THE PEOPLE of Ukraine defied that nation's Government in 2004, they used the color orange as their standard. Now, long-suffering fans of the hapless Detroit Lions football team have started their own Orange Revolution.

Yes, that's right. An outfit called The Lions Fanatics has declared an "orange-out" for Sunday's upcoming game at Ford Field against the Cincinnati Bengals, which as it happens have orange as their team color. The group argues that Matt Millen, the Lions' president whom fans despise, has failed miserably at his job and deserved to be cashiered.

When one sees how badly the Lions play -- this past week, they somehow managed to lose at Green Bay despite having the game pretty much won -- one finds it difficult to disagree with that idea. The team that Millen built has had an abysmal past five years, and there's very little hope their next five years will be better with him in charge. This has annoyed fans greatly.

In addition to the "orange-out," WDFN-AM -- Detroit's version of "The Fan" radio format -- is staging an "Angry Fan March" before the game on Sunday. If you're in the Detroit area, here's all the information you'll need. We'll see how well Detroit's Orange Revolution turns out, but at the very least, it's good to see fans are taking action and refusing to give up in such dire circumstances.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 11:17 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack

December 15, 2005

My Side. It Hurts.

I ABOUT FELL out of my chair laughing at this look at Dungeons & Dragons.

What's really disconcerting is that, back during my tormented years as a junior high school student, I took part in a few after-school role-playing sessions which were just as glamorous and exciting. Gee, just think, when I could have spent my time trying to secure invites to the "in crowd's" parties, I was instead -- well, never mind!

(via Meg McArdle)

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 09:06 PM | TrackBack

December 14, 2005

It's Always Coldest After the Sun Rises

I BLINKED, and winter arrived. As of this writing, it's a balmy 3.5 degrees Fahrenheit (-15.8 Celsius) here in Manchester, according to the weather station located a mile or so away.

The temperature will drop a bit before long. The sun hasn't risen yet, but that doesn't much matter: it is always coldest after the sun rises. It's due to temperature inversion or something like that; one of those neat weather facts one learns in New Hampshire.

It's days like this when I fully appreciate the fact America has stayed on the God-fearing Fahrenheit system for measuring temperature, as opposed to the cold, scientific Celsius scale. The advantage to the Celsius scale is that it's practical for indoor use: one knows how far one is from the freezing, melting or boiling point of water. The advantage to the Fahrenheit scale, on the other hand, is that it's practical for outdoor use: one knows whether the weather outside has a chance of killing you. That's not a small concern in some parts of the United States, including here. This morning, I must go up to Concord, where the air temperature is presently -11 F.

Yes, that's right. -11. And technically, it's still fall.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 05:58 AM | Comments (2) | TrackBack

December 13, 2005

How to Live Within Your Means: A Tutorial

MEG McARDLE HAS POSTED a downright fantastic series of personal-finance essays on her blog looking at living below one's means, why one ought sacrifice today to benefit tomorrow, and related topics. For readers interested in personal-finance matters, these essays are must-reads: they boil down a lot of the wisdom out there, leave room for enjoying one's priorities in life, and so on.

One thing I would add is that living below one's means doesn't merely let one save money for the future; it also means one has freedom of action. It's a lot easier to take opportunities or deal with tough shakes in life if you have ready cash on hand.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 07:09 PM | TrackBack

December 12, 2005

Aw Yeah, Go Pittsburgh

AH! THE GLORIOUS Pittsburgh Steelers have triumphed over the fearsome but ultimately overhyped Chicago Bears, a sweet and needed victory for the Steelers crew. Plus, all of our competition for the AFC's wild card lost, so we're sitting better than we were last week.

I hope the Steelers won't let down their guard against the Minnesota Vikings this week. Even though the Vikings play in a dome, an unnatural contrivance which takes away key elements of the game, they're still a really good football team. As such, we're going to have to power ahead and fight, and leave any smack-talking until after the game.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 09:18 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack

December 09, 2005

So Cold. So Very, Very Cold

IT'S BEEN A WHILE since I've seen snow this heavy. Perhaps that's simply my own sense of perspective playing tricks on me, but it's just noontime and we already have four or so inches of snow. Here's Manchester's weather conditions right now: look down near Boston, where they have that hurricane-eye like thingy on the radar.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 12:04 PM | TrackBack

A Fitting Day for Narnia, All Things Considered

DO YOU REMEMBER what the Pevensie children -- Peter, Susan, Edmund and Lucy -- discovered when they first went through the magical wardrobe in the Professor's mansion? They found a land which was very cold and very windy and where, due to some sort of evil enchantment, it was always winter.

No, I'm not talking about Narnia. I'm talking about Manchester, New Hampshire, where it's 22 degrees outside and we're in the middle of a nor'easter, and there's not only heavy snow but something called "freezing fog." We're expected to get a foot of snow today -- the expected totals keep rising -- and God knows when we'll ever see spring or warm weather again.

Also, due to an evil enchantment which the Evil Nabobs of Television Programming have cast, the daytime television stinks to high heaven. I mean, I've pretty much got one of four choices: the cable news channels, which will undoubtedly talk about the weather; CNBC, which doesn't seem to have anything new; reruns of "MacGyver" on that man-oriented channel; or "The View," which -- oy vey. "The View." God help us all.

Still, all things considered, it's a fitting day for "The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe" to open in theatres, even if no one in snowbound New England will get to see it. From what I understand, it's quite a good film, and I do plan to see it -- when the snow stops.

I'm sure the snow will stop some time. It must. Surely, it must.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 11:38 AM | TrackBack

December 04, 2005

I Guess Brent Musburger Was Reason 53

FOOTBALL BLOG Every Day Should Be Saturday has, like most God-fearing American sports fans, had it up to here with the ESPN/ABC sports-broadcasting machine. Accordingly, one of the blogs writers, who goes by the clever name of Orson Swindle, has produced a clever list of 52 reasons why he hates the franchise.

Amazingly, this list does not include sportscaster Brent Musburger, although this is perhaps understandable. Musburger is now nearing age 70, and as such, his often-annoying play calling now seems like a quaint throwback to an earlier, simpler time, when all people had to worry about was stagflation. Well, that and oil shocks. And Communist aggression. And getting a decidedly not-groovy case of the cl

Well, anyway, lets fast forward a bit. Consider what the conspicuous omission of Musburger from the list means. It now means that, in the world of football broadcasting, there are at least 52 things worse than Musburgers playcalling during key matchups even when Brent is pontificating upon the college game. Clearly, football broadcasting as we once knew it is in big trouble, and it certainly seems as if the ESPN/ABC folks have a lot to do with ruining the experience for everyone.

Here is, perhaps, the best reason of them all (a slightly-edited No. 18):

For a long time college football existed as a fiefdom apart from the Sportstainmenttastic! world of ESPNpleasantly stodgy, frills-free coverage of a sport that allowed you to soak in the atmosphere of each game through the screen. Now we have Nick Lachey interviewing people and Big and Rich suggesting that we need more Ying with our Ying Yang. Two old pieces of redneck jerkyincluding one who one of our readers pointed out, bears a striking resemblance to Phyllis Dillerwho were pulled out of a hat at random by marketing schmucks in New York who were like, Okay, people. Red state sportwe need us some edgy country! Total, horrid, absolute fecality soiling the last show we watch on the network.

As of this writing, the list has generated a mere 518 comments, the last of which is from some whiny Nebraska Cornhusker fan who apparently thinks his third-rate school deserved to share the 1997 national college football title with the much better Michigan Wolverines. Even though everyone knows that Nebraska had an easy schedule that year, and that the split was due to sympathy votes for the retiring Nebraska coach, this fan refuses to accept the obvious. And like ESPN/ABCs many infractions against the sport of football, thats just wrong.

In happier college football news, though, Id like to offer my sincere congratulations to the Akron Zips, which won the MAC championship game on a last-second touchdown play against the vaunted Northern Illinois Huskies. It was a hell of a game and I wish the Zips well in the Motor City Bowl.

(via Steve Silver)

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 06:21 PM | Comments (4) | TrackBack

November 29, 2005

We Need Some Immaculate Perception

ON NIGHTS LIKE THIS, being a Pittsburgh Steelers fan can be really, really tough.

Perhaps one of the greatest maladies with which Steelers fans must deal is the constant urge to scream at the television, because the Steelers playcalling is both transparent and stupidly repetitive. Im sorry, but if even I can predict when Pittsburghs going to run, its time to mix things up a bit. And when the running game isnt working, its time to start passing. If John Madden* can figure this out, Bill Cowher should as well. It also might have been a good idea to do more long passing earlier in the game.

That said, Im not going to deny that if Pittsburgh had recovered their surprise onside kick at the start of the second half, I would be writing that Coach Cowher was a genius and a wonder. Unfortunately, the evil Indianapolis Colts recovered it and went on to run roughshod over Pittsburgh for the entire second half, eventually winning 26-7.

Not. Extreme.

However, I must admit the Colts really put on a fine show during the game, and if they keep that up through the playoffs the team will earn Super Bowl rings. They pretty much stopped Pittsburghs offense (except for that one touchdown) and, except for Troy Polamalu's interception, ran holes through Pittsburghs defense too. Pittsburgh was outplayed and outmanned and outrun, and it hurt to watch.

So Id like to congratulate Colts coach Tony Dungy and wide receiver Marvin Harrison and linebacker Cato June on their victory. Even though the Colts play in a weather-proof dome, which to any real football fan is abomination and heresy, and indicative of the Dolts' eternal lameness. Still, it was a victory -- and heck, Id even like to congratulate that annoying squeaky-clean do-gooder quarterback of theirs.

Whatever his name is.

D-caf. I need to switch to D-caf.

---------------
* For non-football fans: John Coach Obvious Madden, one-time coach of the evil Oakland Raiders, is now an announcer. Hes kind of like footballs Yogi Berra, generally because football doesnt have a Yogi Berra. At least not one whom I know about.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 12:28 AM | Comments (2) | TrackBack

November 23, 2005

The Rant is Away --

-- AND WILL RETURN following the Pittsburgh Steelers' victory -- one would most certainly hope -- on Monday Night Football this Nov. 28. Colts delenda est, or something.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 08:50 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack

November 18, 2005

We Who Are About to Win Salute You

IT WILL BE forty-odd degrees in Ann Arbor at game time tomorrow, not cold enough to cause frostbite but cold enough to make three hours on the football field a test of strength and endurance. It is in this weather that the evil Ohio State Buckeyes, presently ranked No. 9 in the nation, will attempt to defeat the glorious Michigan Wolverines. They will fail.

At least, they should fail, if only on general principle grounds. After all, this is what Michigan does when other teams have championship hopes and aspirations to play in nationally-televised bowl games: we beat them. It doesnt matter how we do that. We may beat them with a last-second play, or we may beat them through trickery and deception, or we may beat them like a steel drum right from the first kickoff. What matters is that we beat them. For ruining other peoples seasons is what we Michiganders do, especially if our own season is shot. And when it comes to the Buckeyes of the Ohio State University, we are especially good at ruining their football seasons. Indeed, Michigan Stadium is where Ohio States dreams go to die.

Tomorrow, the teams will meet for the 102nd time since 1897, and Michigan will surely earn its 58th win in the series, which it presently leads 57-38-6. This despite the fact that Ohio State has probably had a better football squad most of those years, and certainly does this year. In fact, were Ohio State to win tomorrow as wretched and awful as the idea is they would probably be eligible for a berth in the Fiesta Bowl or something. However, Im confident Michigans longstanding tradition of ruining Ohio States hopes for a national title or a big bowl game will once again hold this year.

True, its going to be a tough match, and no Michigan fan underestimates the menace which the Ohio State Buckeyes present, particularly since coach Jim Tressel came aboard. Thats something which Detroit News columnist Bob Wojnowski explains particularly well in his essay on the game, with the ingenious and excellent title of Oh, How We Hate Ohio State:

You might recall Ohio State once had a fine coach by the name of John Cooper who won lots and lots of games. But astute Buckeyes fans noticed he was 2-10-1 against the Wolverines and demanded he be fired.

Cooper was replaced by Jim Tressel, who somehow is 3-1 against Michigan's Lloyd Carr despite wearing the geekiest sweater vest you've ever seen. We're never sure if Tressel is coaching football or teaching fifth-grade math. Put a sweatshirt on, man.

Almost immediately, Tressel swiped some of Michigan's trademark arrogance without even asking. When he arrived, he began counting down the days to Ohio State's first visit to Ann Arbor. Then he had the audacity to win that game. Later, he hired, er, signed a running back by the name of Maurice Clarett and won a national title.

Now, I realize its somewhat tough for non-Midwesterners to grasp just how important this annual contest is, but Ill do my best to explain. First, one must understand the history behind the teams mutual hatred, and second, one must understand the places from which both teams hail.

(It seems that many people, particularly on the East and West Coasts, have a tendency to lump Midwestern states into the same basket. It is astounding ignorance, to be sure, and many Midwesterners take great offense when outsiders make the mistake of confusing, say, Michigan with Wisconsin, or Indiana with Iowa. They wont say anything about it, of course, because theyre too polite to do so; but back home it really gets on peoples nerves. But anyway).

Michigan and Ohio have long hated each other. How much so, you ask? Well, back in 1835-1836, the two states fought a war.

A war over Toledo.

In retrospect, this probably wasnt a good idea. Fortunately, though, it wasnt much of a war: both states militias got lost in a giant primordial swamp, and the only combat took place during a bar fight (an Ohioan stabbed a Michigander). Still, they actually had a war, and it was in wrapping up the war that Michigan scored its first victory against Ohio. Namely, we tricked them into keeping Toledo.

You see, when Michigan entered the Union in 1837, we had to give up our claim to the Toledo area as a condition of our signing up. In exchange, we got most of the Upper Peninsula, which has mining and timber resources. Plus, its great for vacationing too. Ohio, meanwhile, got stuck with Toledo. So it was only natural this long-standing bitterness would transfer over to a football rivalry between the two states flagship educational institutions.

What a rivalry its been, too. Its exacerbated because of the stark gaps in educational quality and general coolness which exist between Michigan and Ohio State. Youll see that this weekend when the two schools run their promotional commercials.

Ohio State will almost certainly run some lame-o, cheaply produced, politically correct snoozefest about how some liberal arts major is making big strides on some mediocre research project. Michigan, on the other hand, will almost certainly point out our key involvement in the Apollo 15 space mission, in which all of the astronauts on board were Michigan alumni. Yeah. They put Michigans flag on the Moon too, which rules.

Oh, and what kind of a school has a frickin acorn for its mascot? Jesus Christ.

But anyway. Its sure to be a hard-fought, tough battle at Michigan Stadium this Saturday, and I must salute the Buckeyes in advance for the excellent and powerful athleticism which theyll undoubtedly show during the game. It wont be enough, of course, and well break the Buckeyes like Octavian broke Antony, but I will say they always put forward a great effort.

Besides, it could be worse. They could be from East Lansing.

Hail to the victors valiant!
Hail to the conquering heroes!
Hail, hail, to Michigan, the leaders and the best!
Hail to the victors valiant!
Hail to the conquering heroes!
Hail, hail, to Michigan, the champions of the West!

Go Blue!

UPDATE, 4:26 PM, 11/19/05: Dammit! Dammit! Dammit!

HOW did that happen? We had them where we wanted them and SOMEHOW, evil Ohio State won! GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH. Clearly Coach Carr must be held responsible.

It's time for him to retire.

I mean, what does it say when Coach Carr's supporters are ... Notre Dame fans?!

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 11:28 AM | Comments (2) | TrackBack

November 13, 2005

If Maddox Starts, That's an Emergency

OH MY GOD, I can't believe that Charlie Batch, the Pittsburgh Steelers' backup quarterback, broke his passing hand in tonight's game against the Cleveland Browns. Quite frankly, if a plague of locusts had descended upon Heinz Field tonight, it would not have been worse.

In part, that's because the locusts might have plagued Tommy Maddox, Pittsburgh's third-string quarterback, to the point where he couldn't throw the football. As such, this would prevent Maddox from throwing any interceptions. Prior to the game tonight, he threw 3 interceptions on 28 attempts, and during tonight's game the interception he threw was nullified due to a defensive penalty.

I mean, Maddox's performance was so bad tonight that even the ESPN Sunday Night Football announcers were rooting for him to throw a complete pass. One of 'em -- I think it was Theismann -- even said, "Come on, Tommy." It's pretty pathetic when the ESPN Sunday Night idiots stop insulting Maddox and start openly sympathizing with him.

The worst thing about Maddox is that, because he is so awful, his very presence in a game strikes fear and nausea into Pittsburgh Steelers fans everywhere. Consider the conversation I had with my brother, a Cleveland Browns fan, when it was announced Maddox was starting the second half in tonight's game:

*RING* *RING* *RING*
(Jesse picks up).
JESSE: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
ME: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Of course, it was a minute or so later that Maddox managed to hand the ball off, in a reverse-kinda-play, to none other than wide receiver Antwaan Randle El, who then threw the ball 51 yards to fellow wide receiver Hines Ward for a touchdown, prompting the following call:

*RING* *RING* *RING*
(Jesse picks up).
ME: Who's laughing now?! WHO'S -- LAUGHING -- NOW?!
JESSE: I can't believe that actually happened.

Now that the game is over -- and Cleveland got their heads handed to them, 34-21 -- let's look at the statistics for the game:

PASSING:

Maddox, T.: 4/7 for 22 yards, 0 TD, 0 INT* (* 0 due to penalty)
Randle El, A.: 1/1 for 51 yards, 1 TD, 0 INT

RUSHING:

Randle El, A.: 2 attempts for 10 yards; long, 12.

RECEIVING:

Randle El, A.: 2 receptions for 19 yards; long, 15.

PUNT RETURNS:

Randle El, A.: 3 returns for an average of 5.3 yards; long, 8.

Also, once upon a time, Randle El was starting quarterback for the University of Indiana football team.

Clearly, Antwaan Randle El should take over as backup quarterback until Charlie Batch is healed. Presently, wide receiver Randle El is the "emergency quarterback," and plays that position only in the event none of the QBs can do the job. To my mind, the possibility that Tommy Maddox might start for the Pittsburgh Steelers qualifies as a Grade A, bona fide, four alarm damn-the-torpedoes emergency, and as such, Randle El needs to get the nod if Roethlisberger or Batch can't start next week.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 11:59 PM | Comments (3) | TrackBack

November 11, 2005

Your Guide to Understanding the Midwest, Part II

DOES ANYONE KNOW where the love of God goes, when the waves turn the minutes to hours?

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 10:00 AM | TrackBack

Your Guide to Understanding the Midwest, Part I

SIMON FROM JERSEY has, on his blog, reprinted a rather nice essay about how college students from the Great State of Michigan would change a light bulb. This easy comparison sheet, which is being forwarded around the Internet, will prove helpful to anyone hoping to learn more about the Rust Belt, particularly in regards to its internal jealousies and rivalries:

At MICHIGAN, it takes three students to change a light bulb: one to change it, and the other two to talk about how they did it every bit as good as an Ivy Leaguer.

At MICHIGAN STATE, it takes 2,000 students: one to change the bulb, and the other 1,999 to riot and set it on fire.

For the rest, visit Simon's excellent blog.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 09:47 AM | TrackBack

November 06, 2005

It is Autumn: the Season of Miracles

THAT LINE MAY have come from a General Motors commercial, but somehow, that makes it all the more fitting to describe this weekend's football. How did the Northwestern Wildcats manage that amazing comeback against the University of Iowa, and from whence came the wind that helped put the Cleveland Browns over the Tennessee Titans? How did the Kansas City Chiefs manage to score that game-winning touchdown as time ran out, a minute after the Oakland Raiders had scored a touchdown to take the lead?

And behold the miracle of all miracles -- the Pittsburgh Steelers managed to beat the Green Bay Packers at Lambeau Field. Yes, even though Pittsburgh had Charlie Batch in as quarterback, Charlie Batch threw but one interception, and as such it was good enough. Besides, who would've thought Troy Polamalu would have run that Brett Favre fumble back 77 yards for a touchdown, oh my good God.

Oh, sure, the weekend wasn't perfect. The Detroit Lions, who are inept but lovable, lost again. It's not something one really feels bad about, of course, as the Lions haven't been playing up to par since 1957. Still, losing to the Minnesota Vikings isn't cool no matter what team you are, the Lions or the Hamilton TigerCats or the Loy Norrix High School Knights.

And no football weekend is complete without watching the iffy NFL coverage on ESPN. Perhaps it's the network's format, but they seem to have this obsession with individual players over teams that has always annoyed me. I was pleased to learn tonight that I was not the only one with this conviction.

As Dad back home put it, ESPN has been treating the Philadelphia Eagles' suspension of wide receiver Terrell Owens like it was the assassination of Lincoln. And this was before ESPN's Sunday night game even started (the game, in which the Eagles play the Washington Redskins, will go live in a few minutes). Dad and I agreed that "TO's" actions didn't seem to make sense: after all, Dad asked, what teams would sign him after all these shenanigans? (My response, that the Cowboys and Raiders would sign him, drew a grudging assent. Still, Dad argued -- and I agreed -- that all this silliness wouldn't help TO).

All this silliness does not help the Eagles out either, but after much thought, I do hope the Eagles win tonight against the evil Washington Redskins. I do not generally care for the Eagles, finding in them less of that grand American spirit which the Pittsburgh Steelers exemplify. But I can root for them tonight, if only because they seem to deserve a win after all they've been through. As General Motors said, it is autumn -- the season of miracles. And we shall see.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 08:33 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack

November 04, 2005

Uh oh, KO

DISTURBING NEWS from The Coca-Cola Co. today. While Diet Cherry Coke will be unaffected -- thank God -- TheStreet.com reports the company is getting rid of its vanilla-flavored soft drinks. Coca-Cola's replacing them with some weird upstart beverages:

The Atlanta-based beverage giant said the simultaneous launch of Diet Black Cherry Vanilla Coke and Black Cherry Vanilla Coke is a first for Coca-Cola North America. "Cherry-flavored beverages are experiencing significant growth, as are no-calorie soft drinks," said Katie Bayne, senior vice president, Coca-Cola Trademark, Coca-Cola North America. "Our innovative fusion of real cola, luscious black cherry, and smooth vanilla flavors creates a taste that is complex and delicious."

I hear they taste a bit like Dr. Pepper.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 02:48 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack

November 03, 2005

Charlie Batch to the Rescue!

OH CRIKEY. Charlie Batch will be Pittsburgh's starting quarterback on Sunday. The Charlie Batch who's thrown eight passes in four seasons, the Charlie Batch whose last quarterback rating was 68, the Charlie Batch who once played for the Lions. He's going to start the game in place of injured Ben Roethlisberger. Clearly, the Pittsburgh Steelers are ...

Well, maybe we're not doomed after all.

After all, Charlie Batch has lots of things going for him, such as the fact he's not Tommy Maddox. Plus, with practically no playing history in recent years, this fresh start will give him a chance to really impress folks. Also, the Green Bay Packers aren't exactly playing like Lombardi would have hoped.

All in all, that should mean victory this weekend at Lambeau Field. At least, I hope it will mean victory this weekend at Lambeau Field.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 09:05 PM | Comments (5) | TrackBack

November 01, 2005

Trampling Out the Vintage

SO TONIGHT I was going through The Rant's referral files and found, to my great annoyance, that Communist bandwidth thieves were siphoning off The Rant's precious bandwidth reserves. I couldn't believe it -- here I am, providing a free service to the general public and my loyal readership, and scoundrels are taking undue advantage of it.

Well, they're not taking advantage of it anymore. Heh. Dig how clever I was: I found the file to which the bandwidth thief had linked, and for just a few minutes, I pulled the "switcheroo" trick. For five minutes or so, this image was visible on the thief's site instead:

Yes, I do rule. I took the image down after a few minutes, just because I didn't want to make it too embarrassing, but I was greatly pleased with how it turned out. And should similar stunts happen in future, I'll be prepared.

The image, by the way, is Photoshopped -- the original is from that site with all the bad album covers. The photo is of the Rev. Robert White, from his album, "The Reverend in Rhythm." I don't think anyone knows what happened to Father Bob -- at least not on the Internet -- but there will at least be one kinda-cool mention for the guy.

Oh, and one last thing: please don't hotlink the anti-hotlinking image. That would be wrong.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 11:30 PM | TrackBack

October 30, 2005

An Extra Hour for Complaining

I WAS IN a rare good mood today. The sun was out when I woke up, and it was a nice, crisp, clear day -- perfect for football, outdoor activities, and what have you. Plus, I got an extra hour of sleep because last night, we switched from Daylight Saving Time back to Standard Time, and that kicked ass.

Unfortunately, the sun set at 4:40 p.m. today, and that gave me plenty of time to stew. In this first evening back on Standard Time, in the wretched darkness that serves as a harbinger of winter's hideous polar gloom, I realized I had no reason to be happy. After all, I hadn't gained anything over the interceding six months except two weeks of headaches, misery and anguish stemming from the first time change. Now, I'm supposed to be happy because I got an hour -- an hour stolen from me in the first place -- back?

Sure, maybe I'm getting too worked up about this, but I've hated Daylight Saving Time for a long while. It increases traffic accidents, reduces productivity, and contributes to fatigue, nausea, indigestion, gum disease and ennui. At least that's what generally what happens to me. In rare cases, I'm sure Daylight Saving Time also causes gout, rheumatic fever and typhus, just due to the stress of having one's sleep patterns disrupted. If you don't believe that DST causes big trouble, just look at the University of Indiana's football team, which is 1-4 in Big Ten play.

In my own case, my hate for DST stems from my childhood in Kalamazoo, Mich., when the sky would routinely stay light until 9, 9:30 or even 10 p.m. around the start of summer. This screwed up my sleep patterns, and as a boy I recall going to bed when it was light out quite a lot. Admittedly, this happened because we were on the far western end of the Eastern time zone. But that also meant a lot of long dark mornings, particularly at the start of DST in the early spring.

Now that we're back on standard time, and I'm here in New Hampshire, I have the opposite problem. I pretty much wake up with the sun every day, but the sun sets before 5 p.m. By the time winter rolls around, it will practically set about 4 p.m. This results in reduced productivity and contributes to fatigue, nausea, indigestion, gum disease and ennui.

I don't think it's too much to ask that I only go through just one misery-inducing seasonal experience each year. I'm just saying.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 11:07 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack

October 28, 2005

Happy Halloween!

FOR EVERYONE ELSE out there with a morbid sense of humor, I've found a link to Edward Gorey's "The Gashlycrumb Tinies," the children's alphabet guaranteed to amuse and delight youngsters everywhere! Or, alternatively, encourage them to have an unhealthy fascination with trench coats, weird music and the occult. But hey, that's the chance one takes these days.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 11:16 AM | TrackBack

Point Reluctantly Accepted

A PITTSBURGH AREA man was recently fined $300 after claiming to be Pittsburgh Steelers quarterback Ben Roethlisberger, the Associated Press has reported:

Brian Jackson of Brentwood pleaded guilty to disorderly conduct charges yesterday. Authorities say Jackson pretended to be quarterbacks Ben Roethlisberger and Brian St. Pierre to two women so he could date them. Jackson gave one of the women a signed football and signed Roethlisberger's name on a Steelers jersey owned by the woman's neighbor.

The best comment thus far about Jackson's Big Ben impersonation has come from Stephen Silver, who said, "And yet, he still did a better job of it than Tommy Maddox did."

Now, if you ask me, a Minnesota Vikings fan has no right to talk smack about ANY competing football franchise, particularly the Pittsburgh Steelers. But, I must reluctantly accept his point. At least until Dec. 18, when the Steelers shall undoubtedly crush the Vikings in Minnesota.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 11:01 AM | Comments (2) | TrackBack

October 17, 2005

A Good Football Weekend

SURE, MICHIGAN defeated the Nittany Lions of Penn State, but I still want U-M football coach Lloyd Carr to get cashiered. Now, thanks to this nifty Web site, you can help in the quest. It's worth a visit just for the picture alone.

WHY DO the Pittsburgh Steelers have such crappy backup quarterbacks? I mean, I'm sorry, but when Ben Roethlisberger got hurt last week I had two reactions: "NOOOOOOOOO!" when Roethlisberger's knee got hit, and "NOOOOOOOO!" when Charlie Batch got put in the game. Don't get me wrong, I like Charlie Batch, but he played for the Lions. And even though all he did was give the ball to Jerome Bettis, those few plays with our third-string QB were really scary.

But it's not Batch that worries me -- it's Tommy Maddox. Gad. Dig that 1 TD/3 INT stat, that 39.3 completion percentage, that 30.1 QB rating. We need a better performer in that second slot, and quickly.

ALSO -- a congratulations to the Northwestern Wildcats, who won two games in a row with their defeat of Purdue last week. Yeah.

I would further like to thank the television programmers who made this week's football telecast MUCH BETTER in terms of game selection.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 09:25 PM | TrackBack

A Grand Theological Discovery

AS A PERSON OF FAITH, I have always felt it important to treat the views of religious believers with respect, particularly if I myself don't agree with them. I have always had confidence in my own outlook on life, and I realize that in most cases, such believers are just well-meaning folks who "walk the walk."

However, there's got to be a special exemption for Madonna, if only because she thinks she's all that and a bag of chips, and even worse, apparently thinks the rest of the world believes she's all that and a bag of chips. Dig this item from the Drudge Report, which has quotes from her upcoming -- God help us -- documentary:

-------
"The material world. The physical world. The world of illusion, that we think is real. We live for it, we're enslaved by it. And it will ultimately be our undoing," Madonna explains in her new documentary film, I'M GOING TO TELL YOU A SECRET.

In the movie, which will premiere at the Ziegfeld Theater in New York City on Tuesday, Madonna warns how people "are going to go to hell, if they don't turn from their wicked behavior."

"I refer to an entity called 'The Beast'. I feel I am describing the world that we live in right now. To me 'The Beast' is the modern world that we live in."
-------

Oooooooooooooooh.

You know, it boggles the mind just to think of it. How amazing is it that -- a mere nineteen centuries since The Revelation to John was written -- Madonna would come up with such a grand theological discovery? Gee, just imagine what other spiritual truths the Material Girl might reveal. Maybe she'll rediscover the events in Exodus 15:25 next. I can imagine that:

... and the LORD showed him a piece of wood. He threw it into the water, and the water became sweet. And behold! the LORD said, "Dude, if you bottle this stuff, you can sell it to people for an amazing price, because it contains some ... ah ... you know, some mystical healing properties, or something. Yeah. Mystical healing properties." And the man said, "Dude, let us bottle this stuff, so we can sell it to people for an amazing price, because it contains some mystical healing properties. Besides, He is a jealous God, and this is the Old Testament, so He'll get really angry with us if we don't."

Anyway, I'm not annoyed with Madonna because she's getting preachy. I could care less about that, because no one is going to take her "material world bad" approach seriously until she fires her household staff, moves to a two-bedroom apartment and starts using public transport. Oh, and lets people download all her new music for free.

What really annoys me is that, in attacking capitalism, Madonna -- a very successful creative-type person -- is insulting and embarrassing less-successful creative-type people. Plus, she's making it harder for those folks to get ahead, albeit in a very small way.

Well, I think so, anyway.

Remember when Jonathan Franzen, whom I hope rots in perdition, turned down an Oprah's Book Club selection because Franzen, the wretched cur, thought the Oprah sticker reeked of "corporate ownership?" That was insulting and embarrassing to all the authors who would have given their right arm to get an OK from Oprah. A few months later, Oprah ended her book club featuring contemporary authors, and Franzen got on the short list of people whom I hope come down with typhus.

Well, I think Madonna is acting similarly to Franzen with this type of silliness. Brazen hypocrisy is one thing, but being so public about it is aggravating. Plus, there are many writers and artists and actors and poets who do need support from the buying public.

I don't know. Maybe it's because I'm a writer, and writers have looked for success since Dua-Khety wrote his instruction four thousand years ago, and told his son to become a writer. ("See, there is no scribe lacking sustenance, (or) the provisions of the royal house.")

But I can't help think about the difference between Madonna's silly attack on the system which enriched her and Cervantes' dedication to his patron when he published the second part of Don Quixote. In part, Cervantes wrote:

--------
But the personage who has manifested the greatest longing for (Don Quixote) is the Emperor of China, who dispatched to me a month ago a letter by express messenger, begging, or rather imploring, me to send the knight to him, for he wanted to found a college for the teaching of Castilian, and intended The History of Don Quixote to be used there. Furthermore, he informed me that I was to be the rector of the college. I asked the bearer whether His Majesty had given him any money to defray my expenses. He replied that His Majesty had not given a thought to it.

"Then, brother," I answered, "you may return to your China at ten o'clock, or twenty o'clock, or at whatever hour you can start, for my health is not good enough to undertake so long a journey. Besides, in addition to being unwell I am confoundedly short of money, and emperor for emperor and monarch for monarch I stand by the great Count of Lemos in Naples. Without all such paltry college appointments and rectorships he protects me and confers upon me more favors than I can desire."
-------

Hey, it may be that our society is overly concerned with making money. But there's something to be said for not dying broke.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 08:47 PM | Comments (3) | TrackBack

October 07, 2005

(Can't Get No) Satisfaction Dept.

A LOS ANGELES MAN has sued a dating service after another subscriber rejected him, KNBC-TV in that city has reported. The man argues that JDate.com, an on-line dating service for Jewish singles, guaranteed he would find high-quality personals without wasting time. However, KNBC says, the man charges that things didn't turn out that way:

The subscriber, who is a co-defendant in the case, made sexual remarks during the chat, claimed to work for the nation's largest lingerie manufacturer, and told (plaintiff Soheil) Davood that "she might have found her man in the plaintiff," the suit states.

Davood claims the subscriber wanted to talk to him and even convinced him to call directly when he became tired and wanted to go to sleep.

When the plaintiff called, he "received a taunting automated message telling him that he was rejected."

Davood, who is seeking unspecified compensatory and punitive damages, claims the Web site is "defective" because it was poorly designed and monitored, which exposed him to "serious psychological injury."

Speaking personally, I'd like to thank the folks over at Overlawyered for linking the co-defendant's profile. This was quite helpful for my own research in preparing this post, and ... oh! Sorry. Got distracted there for a moment. Where were we? Legal case, man sues dating service, right.

The lawsuit, of course, is silly. But part of me thinks this is one of those "unintended consequence" type of situations. I doubt very much that Mr Davood expected the press to pick up on his lawsuit, which now has exposed his love-life woes to approximately half the world's population. More importantly for Mr Davood, this lawsuit could also lessen his chances of success in the romantic arena, as women don't especially like getting sued prior to the first date.

Of course, the real bit missing from this story is this: who's the lawyer, if there was one, who filed Mr Davood's lawsuit? It's one thing if Mr Davood filed pro se but another entirely if a lawyer actually took the case.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 08:18 AM | TrackBack

September 30, 2005

Report: Dimbulbs Take Field for MSU

AND NOW, for some Pre-Game Heckling.

In today's edition of The Wall Street Journal, the paper has analyzed myriad professional and collegiate football programs, based on the leaked results of how the programs' players have done on a standardized intelligence test. In a happy coincidence, this analysis includes The University of Michigan's football program, plus the program of the state's Cowtipping Agricultural School in East Lansing.

While the exam results contained some surprises -- for instance, Evil Nebraska ranked 10th out of 39 programs -- some things turned out as one might expect. The University of Michigan ranked 14th out of 39th schools listed, and NFL prospects from Michigan achieved an average score of 21.7. This was a better showing, one might note, than that of The Ohio State University, which ranked 17th on the WSJ's list.

But then we come to Michigan State University. The WSJ writes: "So much for Michigan State: Graduation rates and test scores for its system's players are at the bottom of the pack, and it hasn't ranked in the final AP poll for four years."

Such words can't do justice to MSU's true failure. The team ranked an abysmal 38th out of 39 teams on the WSJ's list. Since No. 39 was the University of Miami (Fla.), MSU's average score of 16.6 clearly shows that Michigan has been, is now, and always will be the better school in any and all endeavors the two happen to undertake. Should Michigan somehow lose on Saturday, it will clearly be a statistical outlier -- a blip due to bad luck, bad officialing, or East Lansing thuggery.

But I know that Michigan has no plans to lose. That's because Michigan lives for days like Saturday -- if only because the Wolverines get to remind other schools that the other schools aren't all that and a bag of chips.

Last week, MSU's football squad planted its school flag on Notre Dame's turf after beating the Fighting Irish at home 44-41. It was a true example of the thuggery and lack of sportsmanship, the classlessness and braggadocio, which one so often finds in the third-rate. I very much hope that Michigan will get to again remind MSU that they're not all that and a bag of chips. I very much hope that, as Lou Holtz said, the next flag MSU plants will be one which says, "We surrender."

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 11:40 AM | Comments (2) | TrackBack

September 27, 2005

Coach Carr? It's Really Time to Retire

HOW MANY LICKS does it take to force the retirement of a Michigan football coach? The answer used to be, "The world may never know." But now that the University of Michigan Wolverines have a 2-2 record, we may find out the answer soon enough.

I mean, come on. It's entirely conceivable the Wolverines could end the year with a losing record, given how well certain schools in our schedule are playing this year. Should that happen, there should be some professional recriminations as a result.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 08:22 PM | TrackBack

The Organic Seeds of Discontent

SO HELP ME GOD, I did some of my grocery shopping this past week at a natural foods store. This will undoubtedly shock those who know me, as I strongly believe in American agribusiness's power to improve food through the use of preservatives, irradiation and chemicals like acesulfame potassium, the Diet Cherry Coke additive. But I happened to chance across the store and went on in, as Ive found natural foods stores often offer good deals or have a different product selection than the larger groceries.

Im still amazed, though, that it took me so long to discover the store in question. Its located off a new shopping plaza here in town, but I routinely drove past the place without even knowing it was there. Partially, this was due to my amazing ability to not notice the obvious; for instance, it took me three years to notice the kitchen sink in my apartment had one of those spray nozzle things. But it was also because the stores sign was designed more to fit in with the scheme of the building rather than to attract customers like me, who often shop at the giant supermarket just one hundred yards away.

Still, though, I found the store, and it was good. Of course, I always feel like a fish out of water in such places, particularly if my mind gets stuck in cynical mode. I mean, I've never been impressed with products whose sole selling point is their supposed "authenticity," as I don't see how anything can truly be inauthentic. (It can be bad, yes. But inauthentic?) I also don't hesitate to eschew organic products if their non-organic product is better.

Still, these stores do have their intangible advantages. For instance, there are always cute women shopping at such places. There are also always strange and outlandish products available for purchase, such as the organic Bible-based pasta.

At least that was my original judgment regarding the Ezekiel 4:9 brand pasta, a flourless pasta which contains several grains and lentils and what not. True, the company only mentions the verse in passing, and focuses on the fact that when all the things (wheat, barley, beans, lentils, millet, and spelt) are combined (per the direction of the LORD our God in the verse) it makes for a surprisingly protein-rich food. Still, though, my thought was: good God -- first pasta, what next? The Ezekiel 25:17 Big Kahuna Tofu Burger? (That IS a TASTY burger!) Leviticus 15 hygiene products? (Lets not go there).

Then I wondered about Ezekiel 4.

Now, like most Christians, I had no idea what the Book of Ezekiel covered, because its one of those Biblical books one just tends to accidentally forget. I mean, do you and here I refer to my Christian readers remember any verses from the Book of Nahum? No, you dont. You also dont remember any from the Book of Haggai, Micah or Habbakuk either. Thats because these are Relatively Obscure Old Testament Books, and Christians tend to skip ahead to the New Testament once they hit Isaiah. And thats just the Protestant version of the Bible; there are several Extra Bonus Biblical books to accidentally forget when one becomes Roman Catholic.

Well, as it turns out, Ezekiel 4 is all about the Babylonians wrecking Jerusalem, which presents all sorts of questions. Such as, should I even eat the pasta for dinner like normal, or should I save it in my disaster hoard in case of a blizzard? I mean, just look at Ezekiel 4:16-17:

Moreover, He said to me, Son of man, behold, I will break the staff of bread in Jerusalem; they shall eat bread by weight and with fearfulness, and they shall drink water by measure and in dismay. I will do this that they may lack bread and water, and look at one another in dismay, and waste away under their punishment.

Yep. Disaster hoard. Definitely disaster hoard.

Moving on from the pasta aisle, though, I found this store had a small section in which one could buy coffee. I must admit I'm not much of a coffee drinker myself, even though I do like it and I like coffee-flavored things. It was here, though, where I found the yin and yang of the natural foods movement, at noontime in the garden of good and evil.

For here, in the coffee section, a battle was taking place: between the fundamentally good desire to live modestly and treat one's fellow men honestly and decently, and the fundamentally craven desire to boast of one's cultural savvy and sophistication, even if unmerited. You see, there was a couple examining the java for sale, and they were having an argument over it. To paraphrase their discussion, it went something like this:

The woman thought it particularly important to buy the fair trade coffee on offer. Such coffee provides the buyer with a guarantee that the coffees producers were only minimally oppressed in growing the stuff, and even got an above-market price in the bargain.

Horrified, the man pointed out that the "fair trade" coffee on offer was ground, and intimated he would sooner drink dish water than buy pre-ground coffee, which would have flavor issues. He made a point of not selecting the fair trade coffee his wife/significant other/life companion had chosen.

Annoyed, the woman politely asked whether he wanted to screw over the poor workers who harvested the precious whole coffee beans he so desired.

This caused the man to fall back upon the technical merits of whole-bean coffee, arrogantly explaining to his wife about things like the fragrant, flavor-improving oils within each whole coffee bean.

By this point in the argument, I was biting my lip, so I moved on. But my initial analysis was confirmed when I saw the man in question make a big show of carrying an entire frickin' box of organic vegetables to the register, announcing that he couldn't wait to put them in his home juicer. I couldn't wait for his wife to knock him upside the head with her purse because he was being such an arrogant fuckwit, but unfortunately, that didn't happen.

As one might imagine, I was far more inclined to agree with the woman in the argument, although I admit on technical grounds that both had sound reasoning. But I think the woman won out anyway, and here's why.

There's something to be said for people who make a point of sticking up for their principles on an economic basis. That doesn't happen as much as it should, and it's particularly inspiring when it means making a sacrifice, as buying the fair-trade coffee would have meant. After all, it probably would have lost its flavor pretty quick.

There's also something to be said for moderate living. I've always liked the idea of saving "the good stuff" -- whether it's coffee or drink or food -- for special occasions, because that makes one enjoy the good stuff more. Plus, one never risks having one's luxury become a necessity, something which Andrew Tobias and others have warned against.

Conversely, it's pretty frickin' pathetic when a man publicly argues about supermarket coffee. I mean, it's supermarket coffee. It is not, as a general rule, anything one would write home to mother about. It's bad taste enough to pull out the talking points when one buys Jamaican Blue Mountain or Kona coffee, but to lecture one's wife when buying the Manager's Special "Sorry, We Lost Track" Blend is just amazingly oafish.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 08:16 PM | Comments (4) | TrackBack

September 19, 2005

Ah, Sweet Victory!

PITTSBURGH WON. Oakland lost. It was a good weekend for professional football. I'm especially looking forward to this Sunday, when the glorious Steelers take on the New England Patriots, who strangely lost last week to the Carolina Panthers. I'm sure it will be a tough game though, nevertheless, and salute the Patriots fans who brave Heinz Field this weekend.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 10:36 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack

Decline and Fall

DEAN ESMAY has jumpstarted an argument over the question of whether the United States is in decline. He argues in the negative on the matter, and disputes writers who had obliquely argued the question in the affirmative. Plus, as a tangential aside, Mr Esmay goes on to attack ancient Rome, and now everyones beating up on the Romans. As M. Tullius Cicero once put it, excitabat fluctus in simpulo.

Still, it is an interesting topic when one thinks of it, the decline and fall of nations. The small ones tend to get swallowed up in war and politics, the larger ones tend to burn out after their economies collapse. Sometimes, of course, it is a combination of both traumas. Sometimes it involves neither. All that said, though, I like Mr Esmay dont see the United States going down the tubes anytime soon. Rather, Id say were doing a hell of a lot better now than we were a quarter of a century ago.

In fact, I have concrete proof of this. Through a thorough analysis of political and social trends, economic data, and other indicators, I have conclusively determined that American life and society has improved considerably from our last overall low point, which we hit on July 12, 1979.

What? No, really. July 12, 1979.

OK, fine. I can see why some will question my designation of July 12, 1979, as the most recent low point in American political and economic history. After all, lots of bad things happened after July 12 that year. On July 19, for instance, the Sandinistas took power in Nicaragua. On August 27, the IRA killed Mountbatten. On Sept. 7, Chrysler got a federal bailout, and on Christmas Eve, the Soviets invaded Afghanistan.

Admittedly, lots of bad things had already happened prior to July 12 too. The Shah fell in Iran, there was another energy crisis, inflation was running at 11 pc, the Chinese invaded Vietnam and Three Mile Island went on the fritz. Heck, if that wasnt enough, Skylab that cheap lame-o excuse for a space station we had fell out of orbit on July 11. Fortunately, though, the Government swiftly responded to all these problems and created the Susan B. Anthony dollar coin. Unfortunately, the Dollar of the Future reminded everyone about the 11 pc inflation.

But all this undoubtedly helps explain why people were so frickin angry back on July 12, 1979. And it was on July 12, 1979, when this happened:

Tom Hayden? You have a phone call. Thomas Hayden. Please pick up the red courtesy phone ...

DISCO INFERNO: Thousands of people rush the field at Comiskey Park in Chicago during the infamous Disco Sucks Riot of July 12, 1979. More than 50,000 disco-hating fans had descended on the baseball park to watch several thousand disco records get blown up. Sadly, violence and destruction soon erupted.

I mean, my God. Look at it. Thousands of people in pleather and corduroy and bad haircuts and gamey T-shirts trampling over the grounds of an iconic American institution, rebelling against the misery and pointlessness of their wretched lives -- lives so awful they couldnt even count on steady supplies of gasoline. I mean, were talking maximum suckage here, folks suckage so foul people my age have trouble comprehending how frickin awful it was. Pleather and gas lines and Carly Simon?

Yeeesh. All I knew back on July 12, 1979, was that the Kepple household had a lot in the way of Furniture of the Future. Also, we had a pretty grim-looking kitchen.

So why is the Disco Sucks Riot the low point in a low point year? Well, it was only after July 12 that one first began to see positive changes happening in American society; the groundwork, if you will, for a brighter future.

For instance, on Sept. 7, ESPN went on the air. And on Oct. 6, Federal Reserve Chairman Paul Volcker and his fellow governors took the first steps to break the stagflation gripping America. A few months later, the Pittsburgh Steelers would go on to win Super Bowl XIV, their fourth victory in the big game.

Clearly, the future looked good. And just a little while later, America had its confidence back knowing that International Communism would eventually be destroyed, and that the American way of life ruled. Then we got a call from Japan Inc. -- but that is a story for another time.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 10:07 PM | Comments (5) | TrackBack

September 13, 2005

Coach Carr? It's Time to Retire

Champions of ... well, maybe next year.

FAILURE IS NOT AN OPTION: LLOYD CARR, The University of Michigan's football coach (center), is seen here during happier times with starting quarterback Chad Henne (at left). In an unforgivable lapse, the Michigan football squad has now lost two years in a row to Notre Dame.

IF YOU HAD BEEN an observer standing outside my apartment here in Manchester, N.H. this Saturday afternoon, you might have wondered why exactly shouts of "NOOOOOO!" and even "GODDAMMIT!" would occasionally erupt from my abode, particularly since I am a generally quiet person. I am not known for shouting anything, much less profane and wicked calls for the LORD our God to smite the University of Notre Dame football team.

However, had you been inside watching the Notre Dame-Michigan game along with me, you would have understood why I was so disheartened. For any amount of wailing and gnashing of teeth is justified when one's alma mater turns over the ball twice in the "red zone," that is, on the verge of scoring. Such wailing is also justified when one's alma mater fails to enter the 21st century in terms of play-calling. And it is definitely justified when one's alma mater does not score a frickin' touchdown until there's just 3:47 left in the fourth quarter. Michigan's loss to Notre Dame this Saturday was unacceptable, particularly since it was the second year in a row such a thing has happened.

You see, losing to Notre Dame is a stinging rebuke for anyone affiliated with Michigan. It is not the worst defeat Michigan's football program can suffer during a year, but it is the type of defeat that makes one want to work harder and get better. This is especially true because of later and more important battles Michigan faces, in which we must remind certain second-rate institutions that we rule.

(I mean, my God. How awful would it be to lose to those cow-tippers over at Michigan State? I remember one year when I was in school: a bunch of East Lansing dimbulbs arrived on campus during the week before the game. After chalking graffiti all over campus, they stood on the Diag with a cowbell and shouted cheers. But no one gave a damn because it was midterms and we were all drinking and smoking to get through it and we all wondered when the second-rate State losers with their limited career opportunities and pathetic school mascot had mid-terms. And don't get me started on Ohio State, which requires its own post).

But moving on. We learn from The Detroit Free Press this week that Coach Carr is -- now that all is lost -- worried about Michigan's offense. This is a week after Coach Carr was worried about our defense. Next week, perhaps, he will worry about the special teams should some Eastern Michigan kick returner do something extraordinary. Speaking personally, though, I think these problems would solve themselves if Coach Carr was worried about his job.

When it comes to college football, I'm convinced -- rightly or wrongly -- that all failure stems from the top in one way or another. This past week was undoubtedly a reflection of that. It wasn't merely that the players performed badly; the calls they were given to execute also made matters bad. Was that quarterback sneak attempt, which ended in a fumble, really necessary on first and goal when the ball was at the 1 yard line? Did Michigan really have to pass into crowded territory, which resulted in an interception, on a separate touchdown try? In both cases, I submit the answer is No.

But that is how Coach Carr likes his football -- overly cautious and conservative and unimaginative. To the casual viewer, it must appear as if, on two out of every three downs, Michigan runs the ball up the middle; a play that may, if luck holds, earn the team as much as three yards. The remaining plays are spent pursuing boring passes that may, if luck holds, earn enough yards to come up just short of the first down. Once in a blue moon, a long pass is thrown or a clever end-around is made, but these are seemingly so infrequent one would sooner attribute their success to pagan sacrifice than to proper coaching.

In summary, Coach needs to mix it up.

Will he? No. He will not.

Therefore, I submit -- just like many other Michigan fans out there have done -- that it is time for Coach Carr to retire. But since he won't do so voluntarily, we Michigan alumni must make our displeasure heard. Clearly, we must refuse to give any money to the University of Michigan until Coach Carr retires or beats those bastards down at Ohio State, in which case all will be forgiven as per usual.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 09:16 PM | Comments (7) | TrackBack

September 10, 2005

Ben's Reading List

NOW THAT my weekend is here -- huzzah -- I've set aside a few books I plan to start reading in those rare moments this fall when I'm not watching sport. I must admit, though, that I'm not entirely sure about how some of these particular titles will turn out.

First up on my list is Howard Karger's Shortchanged: Life and Debt in the Fringe Economy. In summary, Prof Karger's work looks at how pawnbrokers, check cashing shops, payday advance lenders, and myriad other businesses legally extract great sums of money from the poor. Prof Karger argues the practices of these firms are immoral and exploitative.

I'm only a little way through it so far, but Prof Karger's work seems as if it will prove more useful for its empirical research than its conclusions. There's no denying that those who patronize such establishments often get a raw deal. Still, one must ask whether it would be better for those customers to face the alternative of having no credit at all. Perhaps it would be, but I'd venture to guess that those who would agree with that statement aren't in the position of having their lights shut off. We'll see how Prof Karger deals with that idea.

One must also ask whether a borrower, knowing the terms of the agreement through which he is provided credit, and agreeing to them of his own volition, can thus be "exploited." This is not to argue that the poor bastard isn't getting nailed to the wall when he pawns his DVD player. I am, however, suggesting that folks generally know what they're getting into when they walk into the store. We'll see how Prof Karger deals with that idea too.

Oh, and one last thing. Maybe it's just me, but I'm feeling a bit shortchanged at having paid $24.95 for a thin volume that's roughly 250 pages in length. I mean, maybe that's some kind of inside joke, but come on.

I'm feeling considerably more optimistic about C.V. Wedgwood's The Thirty Years War, which I'm reading as part of my continued attempts to learn about what life was like for my ancestors back on the Old Continent. (Delving into family history is a really good way to get perspective on things).

Anyway, I have no doubt Dame Wedgwood's work will prove eminently thrilling and good history, as she received high marks for this volume. One quibble, though -- the foreword to the book, which a Princeton historian wrote, is annoyingly fawning in tone. The man goes so far as to call Dame Wedgwood "the greatest narrative historian of the twentieth century," which is just silly. But again, that's just a quibble. I have no qualms about being shortchanged on this volume -- particularly at 520 pages!

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 12:27 AM | TrackBack

August 26, 2005

A Point of Order --

I'VE DECIDED that out of all the songs performed in human history, the song most deserving of having its vocal tracks re-recorded with silence is Europe's "The Final Countdown." I mean, come on.

What? No, no, that was all. I'd heard it on the radio going to work yesterday, and the lyrics got stuck in my head, and I was annoyed that a perfectly good and upbeat synthesizer/drum-machine melody got ruined thanks to some of the most pathetic vocals I've heard in my life.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 11:29 AM | Comments (2) | TrackBack

Extreme!

THE U.S. MILITARY has developed a working prototype for an aircraft-based laser weapon. According to the Reuters news service, the system should eventually be powerful enough to knock enemy missiles out of the sky. It should be ready by 2007.

Now this is cool. Aside from the engineering and practical advances that could come from this innovation, we're going to have lasers on our aircraft, and only a half-century since the concept really began going in science fiction. We might not have a moon base, video phones or flying cars yet, but at least we've got one honest-to-God 21st century innovation in the works. I salute the good, fine people at DARPA on their success, and look forward to hearing more about such advances.

You know, like the Death Star superlaser.

(via Capitalist Lion)

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 10:33 AM | TrackBack

August 24, 2005

Diagnosis: "Baseball Heaven"

BOSTON 3, Kansas City 1.
TORONTO 9, New York Yankees 0.

I know tonight's games aren't over yet ... and I know this is tempting fate ... but I'm definitely psyched when all goes well with Major League Baseball. We'll see if Cleveland can improve and Oakland holds on.

Go Sox! Go Sox! Go Sox!

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 09:16 PM | TrackBack

August 20, 2005

It Must Be Autumn

BACK IN 1961, then-FCC Chairman Newton Minow famously declared to the National Association of Broadcasters that television was a "vast wasteland." Here's the crux of Mr Minow's speech to the Association:

When television is good, nothing--not the theater, not the magazines or newspapers, nothing -- is better. But when television is bad, nothing is worse.

I invite you to sit down in front of your television set when your station goes on the air and stay there without a book, magazine, newspaper, profit and-loss sheet or rating book to distract you--and keep your eyes glued to that set until the station signs off. I can assure you that you will observe a vast wasteland.

You will see a procession of game shows, violence, audience-participation shows, formula comedies about totally unbelievable families, blood and thunder, mayhem, violence, sadism, murder, western badmen, western good men, private eyes, gangsters, more violence and cartoons. And, endlessly, commercials -- many screaming, cajoling and offending. And most of all, boredom. True, you will see a few things you will enjoy. But they will be very, very few. And if you think I exaggerate, try it.

"And most of all, boredom." Now that is a line. Still quite true, too.

Today, though, I am glad to report that I will not be bored while watching television, and I plan to watch until the broadcasters sign off. For not only do I have all the sports broadcasts -- baseball! football! basketball! -- I could ever want at my disposal, AMC is also showing three James Bond movies throughout the day.

This can only mean it is autumn. I only watch a little television for most of the year, but during fall there are few things more enjoyable than the cool weather and cool TV. You can't go wrong with news all week and sports all weekend. Could one ask for anything better?

I mean, aside from an a la carte ordering system via cable, so I wouldn't have to pay for Lifetime and all the other stations I never watch. But that's another post entirely. In the meantime, I plan to sit back and enjoy James Bond and the Red Sox.

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

* Mr Minow's words are even more impressive when one considers the man was only 35 when he said them, and as such wasn't "square" or otherwise representative of an older generation of Americans. (Mr Minow went on to become an accomplished lawyer, and I believe he still practices today).

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 12:29 PM | TrackBack

I've Seen Fire, and I've Seen Rain

IT'S BEEN A BUSY past few weeks up here in New Hampshire. Gad. Did I mention there was another fire at my building? Don't worry -- everyone and everything is all right, and it was a tiny, run-of-the-mill nothing-to-it fire (Just like the last one). But God, there was drama for a little bit!

OK, so dig this. It's 3:15 a.m. on a weeknight. The fire alarm suddenly went off, and woke me from a perfectly sound sleep. Somewhat annoyed, I got up and went about getting dressed. Having been through this routine before, I knew the only folks who could shut off the alarm system were firemen. Therefore, I knew I would have to leave the building, and I was not about to do so without getting properly dressed. (It can be a long and unpleasant wait outside sometimes).

So, as I was putting on my work clothes from the day before, I smelled a faint bit of smoke. As I went out into the hall, I noticed the smoke smell was a bit stronger, but I didn't think too much of it. Then I went outside and joined my neighbors, and did what apartment-dwellers do when their building's on fire: wander around the structure and try to find the blaze. After finding it, my neighbors moved their cars (cleverly, I was parked away from the building).

Of course, it was the apartment next to mine which had the fire. You could see puffs of smoke coming out of a vent, and it seemed like there was smoke in the back bedroom. Then, my Hero Neighbor who lives downstairs noticed it, as you can see in this dramatization:

HERO NEIGHBOR: Hey! That guy's not out of his apartment yet!
ME: Shit!

The next thing I knew, I was following my Hero Neighbor back into the burning building ... smoke-filled building ... building in which a tad of smoke was present, but which was still really foul smelling and bad for my sinuses.

When I first mentioned this story at work, everyone seemed very impressed, but I do need to reiterate to everyone that I was and still am embarrassed about my barely-adequate performance during this whole episode. I wasted two or three good minutes standing around like a dumbass, and it was only the selfless action of my Hero Neighbor which jogged me into following his lead.

Anyway, we went back into the building, and the smoke was more noticeable when we reached my floor. We began pounding on the door to the apartment next to mine and shouting; no luck. After 30 seconds of pounding, I went out to tell folks to alert the complex manager, while my Hero Neighbor kept banging against the door.

A minute later -- it could have only been a minute -- I went back inside. The manager had been notified and was on his way, but my Hero Neighbor had succeeded in rousting the man inside the apartment next to mine. After that, I did one last check of the building, pounding on doors and shouting and what not.

Now, you have to understand that the whole episode had gone on for several minutes at this point. The fire alarm system in my building is so loud that it could serve as a backup trumpet on Judgment Day. There was lots of moving about, shouting, and general alarm on the part of residents. One could easily smell smoke in the building, at least I thought. So you would have thought people would have FLED THE AREA AT THE EARLIEST OPPORTUNITY.

As I'm on the basement floor, pounding on doors and what not, a couple in one of the apartments opens the door and asks, "Is there really a fire?"

Honestly, this was the first time I'd screamed in like -- I don't know, a long time -- but in tone and volume, my shout in the affirmative was on par with that from a memorable scene in "Ghostbusters." ("Ray, when someone asks you if you're a god, you say YES!")

Anyway. I screamed at them, they disappeared back inside the apartment, and reappeared 10 seconds later. I then calmly informed them of the situation and made sure they got out of the building. As they left, the firefighters arrived.

As it turned out, it was not much of a fire to put out, if it even ever got to that point. I later learned the guy who lives next door to me works late, and he had come home from work tired. He apparently fell asleep as his dinner was cooking on the stove. That's something that can happen to anyone, I guess -- but the whole episode reinforced to me how important it is to keep an eye on the stove while cooking, to say nothing of leaving the building when the fire alarm sounds.

As for the rain -- well, that happened just this Thursday. Basically, there was a tiny water leak from the apartment above me and it caused a small drip through a hole in the ceiling above my shower. No big deal, but cause for consternation and annoyance.

It was worth it, though. For one thing, I'm getting my bathroom repainted. Plus, when I spoke with Simon from Jersey about it, he expressed his sympathies and suggested the title for this very entry, which I thought both clever and fitting. Lord knows when the cold wind blows, it'll turn your head around.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 01:15 AM | Comments (1) | TrackBack

July 23, 2005

The Summer of Ought-Five

OK, THIS IS officially turning out to be a crappy summer. There are many reasons for this, ranging from the heat and humidity to the surgery I had in June to some personal issues which have cropped up lately, but trust me: for whatever grand karmic reason, this is the worst summer I've had in -- Jesus, years.

Unfortunately, it's also left me in a position where -- for the time being -- I can't devote the time to the blog that I once did. This is NOT to say that I intend to close up shop -- I have no such intention -- but I am going to have to take an extended vacation from it while I deal with these issues which have cropped up. I just need a break to deal with these other matters.

I can assure everyone this is nothing to be concerned about, but if this does happen to concern you, feel free to drop me a line and I'll be happy to explain further. As for me, I would think I'll be back sometime around August 15 but no later than Labor Day.

Until then -- thanks, everyone, for reading, and see 'ya round.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 12:15 PM | Comments (5) | TrackBack

July 13, 2005

Monster Chiller Horror Theatre

FROM Editor and Publisher magazine:

Gallup reports today that its latest poll found that one in three Americans believe in ghosts. The numbers: 32% of all adults say they believe that ghosts/spirits of dead people can come back, while 48% do not, and 19% are unsure.

An even larger number of Americans believe that houses can be haunted, with 37% holding that position, 46% saying no, and 16% not sure.

I don't mean to be rude, but please: will someone explain to me how more people can believe in haunted houses than in ghosts? I mean, shouldn't there be an equivalency there, regardless of the margin of error that exists within the poll?

I mean, if ghosts aren't doing the haunting, then who -- or what -- is? Carpet salesmen? Your in-laws from Texarkana? Count Floyd? I mean, it's just silly.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 07:00 PM | Comments (3) | TrackBack

July 05, 2005

Coincidence? I Think Not

SO DIG THIS -- a line of thunderstorms is presently over Syracuse, N.Y., and heading towards New England. Also at present, the driver's side front window of my 1997 Ford Taurus is stuck in the down position.

It is not the first time this has happened to me -- the last time was on April 6 -- but the trouble is the remedy. Namely, there isn't one. You see, the last time I took it to the repair shop, the problem "fixed itself" and the mechanics could find nothing wrong with it. This was at the best shop in the city of Manchester too.

This time around, I've only had recourse to Google, and the suggestions I've found on there don't seem too helpful. Kicking the door in the area of the power motor might feel kind of good, but I don't think it's going to solve the problem.

Anyway, I don't know what this latest trouble signifies, or if it signifies anything at all. Certainly, the combination of my recent surgery and this latest drama doesn't bode well for the future -- after all, these types of things happen in threes, right? But then again, perhaps my Taurus got a signal from Detroit -- for just as I was cursing over my window's malfunction, this press release went over the wires.

Coincidence? I think not.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 06:56 PM | Comments (10) | TrackBack

June 15, 2005

A Point of Order

SO I'M WATCHING "Reno 911!" and a commercial for the new Kidman-Farrell vehicle comes on the television. Apparently they are remaking "Bewitched!" The movie looks dreadful, of course. But what gets me is that when Ms Kidman tells Mr Farrell that she's a witch -- the big moment, so to speak -- his response is that he's "a Clippers fan."

I would just like it known that I had the whole "I'm a Clippers fan" thing down before it became with it and popular. Hell, I still have a Clippers bumper sticker on my car. That's my own magic trick: using a $3 bumper sticker to provide the same auto-theft protection as a $600 tracking system. As long as the Clippers don't have a chance at making the playoffs, I'm made in the shade.

OK. To bed.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 12:56 AM | Comments (2) | TrackBack

May 29, 2005

The Gallic Wars*

I HAVE BUT four days to go until my gall bladder, via something called an electric cautery device, is divided into three -- well, four -- well, lots of parts. I know you're bored with me going on about this, but I can't say enough just how much I want rid of this damned thing. I guess this is what happens when one's often in pain: it becomes the issue of the day.

It's hard to explain just how I feel physically, but I feel gray and washed out. I often feel fatigued, and if I have an attack for whatever reason it just ruins my productivity at work. And I certainly face the world with a lot less joy than I did previously! It's different than how I felt with my appendix, when I just had a pain in my side that hurt like the dickens. Now, I have a pain that varies in its intensity, but with side effects that range from annoying to truly aggravating.

But I only have four more days of this and then I shall be on the mend. This too shall pass.

By the way, if any Loyal Rant Readers should -- God forbid -- end up having a gall bladder attack or similar ailment, I have to say that Subway sandwiches present an easy and economical temporary fix for many of the digestive issues. I'm eating one a day. There's hardly any fat if you order the right ones, and if you avoid the oils, cheese and spicy peppers, they're perfect. So they might help if, like me, you've a bit of wait for surgery (but for the love of God, follow your doctor's instructions and diet information and all that).

* title suggested by: Simon From Jersey, whose site you ought visit regularly.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 11:36 PM | Comments (3) | TrackBack

Democracy Project

THERE'S LOTS of interesting stuff over on the Democracy Project's blog. Go give it a look.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 10:55 PM | TrackBack

Not the Brightest Bulb in the Lamp Store Dept.

AS A FORMER YOUNG PERSON, I know that some parents these days very much want their children to consider them "cool" and "groovy," even as their own parental instincts warn them that being "cool" and "groovy" ought wait until their offspring have reached majority.

I would offer up this Associated Press article as prima facie evidence that alleged attempts at "being with it" aren't merely ill-advised, but can potentially result in criminal prosecution, viz. and to wit:

NASHVILLE, Tenn. - A mother faces criminal charges after she hired a stripper to dance at her 16-year-old son's birthday party. Anette Pharris, 34, has been indicted by a grand jury on charges of contributing to the delinquency of a minor and involving a minor in obscene acts. The boy's father, the stripper and two others also face charges.

But wait, there's more! According to police, Pharris not only took photos at the party, she took the film to a local drugstore for development.

(via Dean)

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 10:47 PM | TrackBack

May 28, 2005

Tip o' the Iceberg Dept.

BBC HEADLINE: "Bolivia admiral denies coup plan."

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 10:59 AM | TrackBack

May 22, 2005

Oh Yes, Wyoming!

WHY AM I so positive about Wyoming all of a sudden, you ask? Because crap like this does NOT happen in Wyoming.

Actually, as I've noted before, nothing seems to happen in Wyoming. As of this writing, the top story on the Wyoming Tribune-Eagle's Web site is: "Many in favor of Frudenthal." This refers not to Wyoming's version of Vernors or something, but to the state's Governor, whose first name is Dave. But if that type of cordiality's not excitement enough, consider the second-biggest story: 175 people in Cheyenne got together and listened to an author speak -- and on a Saturday afternoon!

You know, it sounds kind of nice.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 08:30 PM | Comments (3) | TrackBack

May 21, 2005

I'd Like to Buy the World a Coke

HERE'S ONE MORE reason why I exclusively drink Coca-Cola products, unless for whatever reason I end up at some restaurant which has a contractual agreement to serve the third-rate bilge from PepsiCo masquerading as liquid refreshment: the Coca-Cola company would never do something this stupid.

(I mean, aside from introducing New Coke back in 1985. That was a lulu.)

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 03:20 PM | TrackBack

More College Fun

AS SOME Loyal Rant Readers may know, it is my qualified opinion that -- aside from the Southwestern desert -- the most agreeable place to live in the United States is the city of Ann Arbor, Mich.*, and its surrounding environs. Small city, university environment, great restaurants, temperate climate**, one can do a lot of walking, an OK cost of living if one doesn't mind having roommates. All good things in Benjamin Kepple's book.

Plus, I mean, the name. Ann Arbor. It's kind of humorous, unlike the names of places where the Real Work of the Nation is Done. I mean, think about Manchester for a second. It's not funny, and the city would be offended at the very thought. That goes double for Boston and triple for Philadelphia. But Ann Arbor? Funny. Especially when it leads to Web sites with funny names like this.

Actually, that Web site is a pretty handy reference, because it means I can keep track of how things are Slowly Being Changed Back at My Old Stomping Grounds. I try to get back to Ann Arbor every couple of years and every time I do return, I inevitably end up asking myself what the hell happened to Restaurant X and Store Y and Drinking Establishment Z. I mean, the last time I went back, the Arbordale Mall had suddenly reinvented itself into a kickass shopping plaza. But now I can keep track, even though I am 800 miles away.
And behold! there are lots of blogs dealing with Ann Arbor matters. And many of them are funny.


* The link leads us to one downside about Ann Arbor. Notice how on the city's main page, perhaps the most prominent feature has to do with paying parking tickets online. This is for good reason.

** Yes, it bloody well is a temperate climate. My God. If you don't believe me, go to Lake Havasu City in the summer -- or New Hampshire in the winter!

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 02:57 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack

Laborare est Orare

GOD! WHAT A long week I've had. In the office late most of the week, and an extra day on top of that. This, Loyal Rant Readers, is why I have not posted much at all this week. I've been tired -- I am tired -- and when I am tired I don't do my best work; and since I don't like posting on the blog unless I write posts you'll enjoy AND of which I am proud, that's why there's been the verbal silence.

But I have to admit that I like the long hours, even though I find it taxing in every sense of the word. It's a difficult thing to explain, but if you've ever had one of those days where you come home from work feeling worn out and exhausted but good, like you've accomplished something, you'll know what I mean. They're days when I feel a kinship, I guess, with my ancestors -- who toiled in the fields and the shops and the mines and later, much later, in the offices. I can stand and look them in the eyes and say, "Even though I too often fail to show it, I have not forgotten what you have done for me."

But anyway -- back to work! Well, back to blogging, anyway. I will try to post more frequently in future. Oh, and if you've gotten this far, dig this site. It's weird and creepy yet strangely, one gets drawn into it.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 02:22 PM | TrackBack

May 16, 2005

Mouth of Wilson Triumphs Again

MOUTH OF WILSON, the excellent band from Trenton, N.J., whose shows you ought attend often, just blitzed the competition in a semi-final bracket of the Emergenza Music Festival.

This was a pretty big deal for Mouth of Wilson and the six guys in it -- including Simon From Jersey, the band's drummer. They proceed next to the Theatre of the Living Arts in Philadelphia for the final on June 18.

And, there's even better news for Loyal Rant Readers: instead of having to read about how wonderful Mouth of Wilson is, you can now download some of the group's very early demo tracks here. All three songs featured are quite good, although I think I like "Pressure" best of them.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 10:07 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack

May 14, 2005

Weekend Report

SAY! IT'S another weekend survey from RTG. Here, yet again, are my answers to 14 out of the 15 questions she presented. (Item No. 14 was political in nature and hence struck off). ANYHOO -- here you go:

1. Name three people you consider heroes.

Looking at the wider world, I don't have any heroes. There are certainly people out there whom I admire, and for whom I have the utmost respect, and to whom I look up, and so on -- but actual heroes? No. Anyway, though, if I had to think of three people outside my circle of family and friends whom I greatly admired, those would be Alexander Hamilton, C.S. Lewis, and William Shirer.

2. What qualities attract you to others?

I like people who are intelligent and well-read. I like people who are fun to be with, who have a good sense of humor, and who have many of the same common interests and/or a desire to try new things.

3. What qualities do you think other people are attracted to in you?

I have a good sense of humor, and I'm down for whatever, and I'm extremely low-maintenance.

4. Where do you want to go today?

I want to go to the desert, because there is pollen everywhere up here in New Hampshire and it makes my eyes water and my head congested. The way to escape this annual trauma is for me to go someplace where there are few flowering plants and very little humidity. The desert fits the bill.

Right now, I'd like to head out on old Route 66 for a drive -- out in eastern California, the part of the state which can be accurately described as, a la Star Wars, The Point Which is Farthest From.

By the by, while I'm thinking of it, Rant readers are advised that, thanks to some very happy coincidences (increased vacation time from work, alignment of the planets and so on), I'll be taking a Kickass Vacation Trip sometime in 2006. The details of the "Oh Christ, I'm Thirty" Tour must still all be worked out, but it looks at this point as if I could get two weeks off in a row.

5. What's your favorite curse word?

Now look, this is a family-friendly site. Well, it's kind of a family-friendly site -- OK, fine, no one who hasn't yet achieved the age of majority in his or her state, province or similar jurisdiction ought read this. Anyway, my favorite curse word is The One Magical Word -- you know, the one that can fill in for pretty much everything in a sentence.

For more information, click here. But be advised: the link, whilst very very funny, has sound and as such is Not Safe For Work. So use all due caution in clicking on it, although aside from the language, there's not any obscenity. Well, not really any.

6. What lights you up and blisses you out?

Oh, I haven't done any of THAT since college. But I suppose one thing which really blisses me out is traveling; it really is a love of mine. Someday I'll write a post on why this is so.

7. What qualities do you dislike in others?

For starters, I dislike it when people think they're all that and a bag of chips, generally because they are not, in fact, all that and a bag of chips. I dislike it when people fail to operate their motor vehicles competently, shout into their mobile telephones at inopportune times, and make a big deal out of ordering expensive vodka. Also, I dislike it when people have a thrombo in public over other people smoking cigarettes.

8. Do you speak any foreign languages?

I speak enough Spanish to get me in trouble, but I must admit I'm not very good even at that. My trouble is that I think in English, so I'm not as quick on the draw as I'd like. Interestingly enough, when I went to central Mexico back in March, practically everyone I met spoke English. That was somewhat surreal -- almost as surreal as watching "A Day Without a Mexican" in Mexico. (It's a long story. But I liked the movie, even if its premise and execution are both a bit ham-handed).

9. Recommend a book you think RTG readers should check out.

William Shirer's "The Nightmare Years: 1930-1940." Mr Shirer was a pioneering radio and print journalist who covered Germany and other hot spots in Europe during the Thirties.

10. Angels are to cargo nets as _____ is to swimsuit mishaps.

Ah ... ahem. Sorry. Just got distracted there for a moment thinking about the swimsuit mishaps bit. Anyway, I don't know.

11. Name at least one person you'd have a fling with (besides your significant other - I'm looking for celebs here.)

NOW I'm really going to be distracted. But if I had to pick just one person to have a fling with, I have to say it would be Monica Bellucci. I mean, my God.

12. What happens when we die?

Well, this depends. I obviously have as much insight as any other person not in direct contact with the spiritual world, but here's my guess. There will be three outcomes, and of the outcomes there will be three: Heaven, Hell, and Purgatory. Or places roughly corresponding to each -- after all, for all I know, they'll call Hell "Indianapolis." But you get my point.

I won't speculate on Heaven or Hell because I don't see myself ending up in either, at least not to start. Fully keeping in mind that I am setting myself up for a Really Nasty Surprise some sixty years hence, I do think that I will end up in Purgatory. Here, I imagine I will be tasked with working at Purgatory's Central Bank, which is fighting a seemingly-eternal case of stagflation. Furthermore, the Central Bank would be located in a city not unlike C.S. Lewis' city in "The Great Divorce," except it wouldn't be as, well, hellish. However, I still couldn't get any decent Indian food, and I'd be forced to rely on public transit, and I'd come home to an awful third-floor walkup. There would be gin, though. Not very good gin. Yet gin nonetheless.

But I ought go on no longer; for as Dr Lewis noted, there is little value in factual curiosity about just what's on the other side. And besides, to borrow again from Dr Lewis -- we'll find out sooner or later what's there. Whether we like it or not is a different matter!

13. Do you believe in anything supernatural?

Well, it depends on what you mean by supernatural. If you mean things like vampires and werewolves and banshees and all the rest, the answer is certainly No.

14. (Struck for political content).

15. Why is the sky blue?

Rayleigh scattering! -- as this excellent article found via Google shows. I like Google.

OK, that's it -- back to the regularly-scheduled programming. Or unregularly-scheduled programming, given everything else happening these days...

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 04:09 PM | Comments (5) | TrackBack

May 09, 2005

Sound the Retreat

IN RE: MASON/WILBANKS, I have found myself roundly condemned because I said the ditched groom, John Mason, should be commended for sticking with his decision to marry Jennifer Wilbanks, the bride-to-be who left him at the altar. And ran away to New Mexico. And told authorities she'd been kidnapped, etc. etc.

I had written my essay before I read this article in The New York Post. Based on the article, in which it emerges that Ms Wilbanks allegedly HAD DONE THIS TO SOMEONE ELSE BEFORE, I must now disavow my prior words of encouragement. I would also ask Mr Mason to consider the following advice:

Run, John! Run like hell!

UPDATE: But there is good news!

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 08:48 PM | Comments (13) | TrackBack

May 03, 2005

How a *Man* Lives

I LIKE THIS John Mason guy we've all been hearing about in the papers.

This particular Mr Mason is not the John Mason who announces for the Detroit Pistons basketball squad, but rather the John Mason from Georgia whose fiancee got cold feet and fled town before their wedding. As we all know, her disappearance sparked a nationwide media frenzy.

Yet despite this, Mr Mason (from Georgia) has announced to the world that he STILLLLLL wants to MARRRRRRRRY Ms Jennifer Wilbanks, even though she -- well, for God's sake, she ran out on their wedding. My God. Anyway, here is Mr Mason's reaction to the events, according to the Associated Press:

The jilted groom whose bride-to-be ran away four days before their wedding still wants to marry fiancee Jennifer Wilbanks, saying, "Haven't we all made mistakes?"

"Just because we haven't walked down the aisle, just because we haven't stood in front of 500 people and said our I Do's, my commitment before God to her was the day I bought that ring and put it on her finger, and I'm not backing down from that," John Mason said Monday in an interview with Fox News' Hannity & Colmes show. ...

... Mason said he has given the 32-year-old Wilbanks her ring back she had left it at the house and said they still planned to marry.

Now this, I would submit, is how a man acts when he faces an admittedly awkward and tough situation. Really, now. This guy had just been through an absolute nightmare. Yet he's not judgmental, he's not embittered, he still loves his fiancee and he's ready to let bygones be bygones -- unless the local authorities press charges against his fiancee, in which case Mr Mason is going to be the first to defend her honor.

This is astonishingly chivalrous of Mr Mason and I think he should be applauded for his devotion and fidelity.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 10:26 PM | Comments (7) | TrackBack

When Getting There Ain't Half the Fun

WASHINGTON, BOSTON, NEW YORK, SAN FRANCISCO. These are the places where The New York Times found people to speak about the ghastly, hideous, horrible idea of lowering the speed limit back to 55 mph. Yes, you read that right. Fifty-five miles per hour.

Gee. Maybe it would have been nice for the guys writing the story to, I don't know, see how the idea would have played in Michigan. Or New Hampshire. Or North Dakota or Tennessee or Arizona. You know, places where people actually use automobiles or light trucks to travel long distances on a regular basis. These are also places, one reckons, where most people would consider the return of the 55 mph speed limit a Biblical curse, along the lines of a plague of locusts or having one's teeth ripped out in an industrial accident.

But no. That would have required -- well, flipping through a phone book looking up strange area codes. Plus, given the tone of the article from Messrs Jad Mouawad and Simon Romero, it's pretty clear they don't particularly care what those people out in the provinces think. It's also pretty clear they don't know much about life out in the provinces, either.

I mean, consider this gem of a paragraph:

Instead of opting for small fuel-efficient cars, people switched to large sport utility vehicles and larger pickups. As drivers groaned and states fought for their right to speed, the limit was raised.

Memo to The New York Times: out here in the provinces, people actually use these "light trucks" to -- wait for it -- haul stuff around, especially when going on vacation or doing yard work. Plus, out here in the provinces, some people actually have more than one or two children, and as such these light trucks are useful.

Lastly, you may be dimly aware that the United States continues to have a domestic auto industry. Their light trucks are superior to those which foreign suppliers produce. Further, as amazing as it may seem, some people actually prefer God-fearing domestic vehicles instead of foofy and underpowered foreign cars.

But the Times article is a laundry list of bad ideas -- either they don't work, or even worse they do work, but have such awful economic consequences we'd all be worse off than before. For instance:

Other industrialized countries, especially in Europe, have been much more successful than the United States and have managed to actually lower oil demand, or at least keep it in check. That comes from higher diesel use and higher taxes. In France and Germany, a gallon of gasoline sells for as much as $6, with taxes accounting for about 80 percent of that.

Few politicians in America might risk ridicule or rejection by explicitly supporting higher taxes on gasoline, one of the surest ways to limit the nation's dependence on oil.

Perhaps the Times has forgotten that, even in New York, the economy is fueled through transport. All those organic vegetables and chi-chi fou-fou scented candles and movie-popcorn containers and ridiculous clothing items are brought into or shipped around the city on -- wait for it -- trucks. As such, increasing the cost of transport tends to increase the cost of everything else, making for a world of pain.

Speaking of which, it's strange how the writers don't see how the above-mentioned paragraph fails to jive with this paragraph lower down:

Still, Americans can expect to pay record prices for gasoline this summer. According to the latest national average compiled by the Energy Department, gasoline prices at the pump averaged $2.24 a gallon, up 42 cents from last year; they are expected to touch a record $2.35 a gallon this summer.

Polls show that higher gasoline prices are increasingly hurting Americans, and the president is pressing Congress to revive an energy bill that has been stalled for four years.

If people are getting hurt at $2.25 a gallon, what would happen if gasoline taxes kicked it up to $4 or $5 or $6 per gallon? Eh? I mean, come on. Besides, we have all seen the stories about how people are dealing with gasoline prices -- they're cutting back on driving if they can do so. This would seem to suggest that we can dispense with all the Seventies-era ideas, because the market is already eating into demand.

Besides, it's not as if the Seventies-era ideas worked all that well. Consider this paragraph down near the end:

Roland Hwang, the vehicles policy director at the Natural Resources Defense Council in San Francisco, estimated the savings of the speed limit in 1983 at 2.5 billion gallons of gasoline and diesel fuel, or 2.2 percent of the total use for these types of fuels.

2.2 percent? That's it? That's why we'd bring back the 55 mph speed limit? It sounds like the NYT guys take the subway. And it also sounds like they should've done more work on the story, and should've talked with folks who actually drive all the time. Fortunately, I know the perfect place to do this.

The next time the Times decides to write a story about speed limits, I would invite them to actually send a writer out to the US-23 corridor, which runs from Ann Arbor, Mich., to a bit west of Toledo, Ohio.

This road, for those of you unfamiliar with it, is a four-lane highway and pretty much a straight shot between the two points. As such, it is one of the closest things America has to an autobahn. The top speed on it is just 70 mph, but in general drivers will do well above 80 mph; I have been passed on the right while doing 85. Yet barring inclement weather, the road is perfectly fine to drive on at that speed. Traffic flows smoothly and I can't say I ever saw an accident on it.

I can't say anyone traveling the road would take kindly to a 55 mph speed limit, either. So hopefully the Times will broaden its horizons a little bit. Because there are lots of us who would rather eat glass than drive 55. Besides, as many of us from the provinces know, getting there often ain't half the fun.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 08:20 AM | Comments (5) | TrackBack

May 01, 2005

Weekend Survey

RIGHT THINKING GIRL recently posted a rather nice "weekend survey," which asked a series of 10 questions for readers/other bloggers to answer.

Here are my answers to the questions she presented, viz. and to wit:

1. What movies would you like to live in? (Note: This question was directly lifted from The Sheila Variations. If you haven't checked her out, you really need to.)

Gad movies I would like to live in. Thats a tough one. I mean, with the historical movies, itd be kind of tough because youd know how things would turn out. I can just imagine it

CHAMBERLAIN: -- and I believe it is peace for our time.
ME: Uh. Dude. What the hell?
CHAMBERLAIN: Excuse me!
ME: Hes not going to stop with Czechoslovakia, moron.
CHAMBERLAIN: But I have this agreement, and
ME: If you attack NOW you might have a chance at stopping him before the Wehrmacht goes fully operational and crushes Poland. Oh, and
CHAMBERLAIN: Guards! Seize him!
ME: -- what! Hey! Let go of me! You rotten OUCH!

2. Name one thing you do better than anybody else.

I have a good head for remembering numbers and doing mental arithmetic. Obviously Im not the best in the world at these things, but I do have an aptitude for figures. This aptitude stops at calculus, however I am completely useless with integrals, although I finally got derivatives.

3. What's your background?

Well, lets see. Im a twenty-something white guy of German, French and Scottish ancestry. I grew up in Michigan, went to school in Michigan, and still have a soft place in my heart for the Great Lakes State, particularly the Ann Arbor-Detroit area. Im now living in New Hampshire, which is a lot like Back Home, although I also spent time in California (got burned out on the place) and a wee bit of time in Washington, D.C. (which rules).

4. If your friends would be completely honest and tell you what they think about you, would you want to know?

No, I would bloody well NOT want to know unless, of course, it was actually good. A key part of friendship is overlooking someones minor faults, irritating tics and whatnot because in the end such things are immaterial compared to all the wonderful things which led you to be friends in the first place. However, I can now say that Ive really really quit smoking and thats got to make me a lot more agreeable to be around.

5. What's the last good book you read?

I re-read Walter Millers A Canticle for Leibowitz. It really is a fabulous book its not merely an engaging story, its great in terms of how it deals with spiritual matters. Its definitely worth a read. Plus, its funny.

6. If you were a cartoon character, what would your name be, what would you look like, and what would you do?

After long and serious thought on the matter, Ive decided my cartoon character would be named "Ward Randall." My character would look a lot like Helmut Dantines character in Bring Me the Head of Alfredo Garcia.

You know, like this:

But Ward Randall would not be shot by Warren Oates. Oh no. Ward Randall would never be shot by anyone like Warren Oates, because Ward Randall would not let anyone armed with more than a bag of chips near his immediate person. He would be careful and he would be smart, as both these traits would be necessary for him to pull off his quasi-nefarious schemes.

Yes, you read that right -- quasi-nefarious. Thats because Ward Randall would only be partially evil, and that on days when his sinuses were acting up. He would have lots of good days too. Besides, normal cartoon bad guys always want to make Big Statements and Wreak Havoc, and that's madness.

I mean, Gad. First its a plan to blow up Mount Rushmore; then its a plan to steal the Hope Diamond or a scheme to take over Topeka. Trouble is, these geniuses never realize that none of these great ideas ever work, and the end result is prison or worse. And if all that wasnt bad enough, the sheer indignity of having ones arch-nemesis bask in the glory and adoration of the people after one was thwarted feh!

Ward Randall would not be about having Lieutenant (j.g.) Freedom come along and ruin his plans. No. That would not work. So what would Ward Randall do, you ask?

Well, you know those convenience charges that you get when you buy concert tickets? Thats Ward Randalls work right there. Inexplicable surcharges on your phone bill? Ward Randall. Gas prices went up, even though the price of oil went down? Ward Randall. Some electronics firm held up your rebate? Ward Randall.

Ward Randall would then use the millions upon millions of dollars generated through these annoying but perfectly legal schemes to a) work at destabilizing the European Union and b) have massive, Bacchanalian parties at his pad, which would have that late Sixties, Diamonds Are Forever feel to it. Also, he would help all his friends out with registering their cars, getting cable television service, or what not. So you can see hes not such a bad sort after all. And when the chips were down and the fate of the world was at stake well, Ward Randall would be fighting right alongside the good guys.

7. Are you going to buy a copy of my new book?

Yes! Absolutely! Just buy a copy of mine -- when I finish it, that is. IF I finish it.

8. Tell me one thing you are glad you finished.

Im glad Im finished listening to my annoying, pot-smoking neighbors having domestic disputes because, praise God almighty, they moved out yesterday. Yeah. OK, so thats not the intent of the question. I dont care. Im glad they moved out.

9. Give me one piece of wisdom your mother told you.

Mrs Kepple always told me that I would find love when I least expected it. I can say with certainty that this has held through my entire romantic life.

10. Name a few overrated blogs and a few underrated blogs.

Well, I dont think it serves any purpose to name overrated blogs. After all, who am I to question the wisdom of the market? Who am I to question the Demiurge of Fortune? Who am I to question the idea that the customer is always right? Plus, as Mom used to say if you dont have anything nice to say, dont say anything at all.

However, I will say that many of the blogs on my blogroll deserve to be read more, and many deserve to be read on a daily basis. In fact, if you came here JUST to use my blogroll, and didnt even read any of the entries on which I spent SO MUCH TIME laboring, I would be cool with that.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 10:42 PM | TrackBack

April 25, 2005

Bravo!

LILEKS has written a great Bleat decrying Best Buy's annoying tendency to ask for one's personal information at the checkout counter. Of course, it's not only Best Buy which does this, but if there's anything that makes me want to snap at the surly underpaid checkout teen, that's frickin' it.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 11:18 PM | TrackBack

April 18, 2005

The Cruelest Month

Oh No!
Its Time for Yet Another Installment of
YOUR SEARCH ENGINE QUERIES ANSWERED

A Semi-Recurring Rant Feature

AH, APRIL. The cruelest month, according to Eliot, who undoubtedly knew such things quite well. However, Im quite pleased with this, as it means I get to be especially sarcastic in my responses to this months Your Search Engine Queries Answered, a sort of how-you-doin guide for all those folks who arrive here via Google. With that out of the way, lets get to work!

QUERY: paragraph on comparing an orange to a tangerine

ANSWER: It sounds like youre taking Freshman English at a college or university of your choice! Or, rather, Freshperson English. Or is that Freshpeople English? Or maybe Freshpeople Lingua Franca?

Anyhoo, son, here you go. Remember that the orange symbolizes many things, all of them somehow related to race, gender, ethnicity and social status. For instance, the orange can symbolize how the heretic English ran roughshod over the Irish for three centuries via the cruel boots of the Orangemen, or Orangepeople, or simply the Orange, as Syracuse calls them now. But if that doesnt fit in with your theme, you can also use the orange to symbolize the prison-industrial complex, the struggle for environmental justice in newly-developed areas, or the Boxer Rebellion. Use your imagination.

As for the tangerine, the tangerine can be used as an interesting dichotomy subject. For instance, compare and contrast how tangerines are represented both in college football (i.e. the Tangerine Bowl) and something really odd, like a modern-art exhibit at your college museum. You wont have any trouble missing it it will be down in front, while all the good paintings will be in back. But if that doesnt fit in with your theme, write up something about how Americans preference for oranges over tangerines, tangelos, and other tropical fruit is proof of the nations cultural imperialism.

So there you go some tips on comparing an orange to a tangerine. I hope it proved helpful. Oh, and one final tip for the love of God, whatever you do, dont buy any grapes.

QUERY: soccer haikus

ANSWER:

Its one-nil again
The fans are getting angry
Go cut off the beer

Hearts booed the Pope
But the pathetic yobbos
Didnt check the score

There. Hows that?

QUERY: what I shall say at the birthday

ANSWER: Well, shouldnt you know? Anyway, its probably not a good idea to be nasty about how the birthday boy (or girl) is getting on a bit. Nor is it polite to make smart remarks about the cheap gift you brought. Also, buy a nice bottle of wine, will you?

QUERY: why do rich people live in monaco

ANSWER: Because Monaco doesnt tax them.

QUERY: aol cancellation

ANSWER: I wish you luck.

QUERY: eugene oregon in the seventies

ANSWER: I dont think its changed all that much in the ensuing three decades.

QUERY: ford taurus no heat

ANSWER: Ohhhhhhhh. Theres no heat in your Ford Taurus.

Admittedly, having that happen would suck. I know, because back in 1996, it happened to me as I drove home from the University of Michigan in my old 1987 Mercury Sable, which at the time was practically the same car.

I mean, dig this: Im driving up on North Campus to get to the 23, so I can avoid the day-before-Thanksgiving crush down on Washtenaw Avenue. Much to my surprise and annoyance, I discovered the cars fan had gone kaput, and as such, the car overheated roughly a quarter-mile from the expressway.

Not. Extreme.

Thank God for small miracles, however: it was like ten degrees out. This meant I could air-cool the engine all the way back to Cleveland, a trip that generally took between three and four hours. Unfortunately, the defroster had also broken and so apparently had the heater. This meant I was traveling in a car where the air temperature was well below freezing, and I was forced to stop every hour or so in search of shelter to warm up. And its no fun drying out ones socks in the mens room of a gas station near Toledo. Meanwhile, as I was freezing in the car, any time I drove slower than 60 mph, the car would start overheating again.

My advice to this particular person is that he ought begin saving for a down payment on another Ford Taurus.

QUERY: letter of sacking employees

ANSWER: I hate to break this to you, but you cant send a letter, because your firm will then be known as the firm which fired its employer via letter. As this is the age of the Internet, youll be screwed. Therefore, youre actually going to have to act like a human being or at least delegate that responsibility and tell them in person.

QUERY: diamonds as investments

ANSWER: Oh, dear God, no. Im not even a fan of going all-out on ones wedding ring, although even I recognize the need for buying a decent diamond for that particular occasion. One wants her to say yes, right?

Still, diamonds are a crappy investment for a few reasons. First, youre spending vast sums of perfectly good money on very sharp and very shiny rocks, which may or may not hold their value over time. They will almost certainly not hold their value in a time of war or calamity, because everyone ELSE is going to be selling the family diamonds at the same time, and the market will be flooded with them. Youve seen Casablanca, you know Im right. Plus, since youre not an expert on diamonds who the hell is? youre almost certain to get screwed in the selling process anyway.

But back to the ring question for a moment. God knows Im not saying men ought not buy diamond rings for better or worse, buying them for ones intended is recognized tradition now. Furthermore, one ought spend a good bit of money on them, because failing to do so invites trouble. Still, though, I think a man should be reasonable about it, because while a diamond represents everlasting love, it also represents an amazing amount of dead capital. Its an asset but its not an asset, because if you ever had to hock it, your wife would kill you. On the other hand, she also might kill you if she found out you spent ten or twenty thousand on the ring, but didnt have enough for a down payment on a home.

QUERY: manchester not suburb of boston

ANSWER: Goddammit, for what people want for a house around here, youd think Manchester was three blocks from Fanueil Hall. OK, so maybe thats a bit of an exaggeration, but my God the housing here is really expensive, and its all based on its proximity to Boston. So yes, were a suburb, just like everything else in southern New Hampshire.

QUERY: exceedingly funny politics

ANSWER: You do realize youre visiting a Web site domiciled in the United States, yes? Exceedingly funny politics is out, my friend.

QUERY: live on $40000 per year

ANSWER: Yes, you CAN do it! Even in Los Angeles!

QUERY: weird conversation starters

ANSWER: Heres a few of my favorites:

Say, Jack, I wasnt saying you were a racist. (aka the Benfield manuever)
Did you see what Phil just did with the punch bowl?
What the hell is this, Mariachi Day? Theres no work for you either!
That guy over oh, him? Just made parole, actually.
Ill have the avocado milkshake.
Bring me the head of Alfredo Garcia!
My rights, please.

QUERY: war and remembrance soundtrack by

ANSWER: Bob Cobert.

QUERY: getting married in prison

ANSWER: Whats that phrase oh yes, bad idea.

QUERY: songs about abstinence

ANSWER: (I Cant Get No) Satisfaction

QUERY: britney spears overweighted

ANSWER: According to a proprietary analysis from The Rant Capital Advisors LLC, which factors in BSPRs merger with an underperforming firm and the combined entitys pending spinoff of a new product line, analysts have given BSPR a rating of underweight vis--vis the entertainment industry as a whole. However, there is a possibility BSPR could be upgraded to market perform in the near future, depending on sales of BSPRs next album.

QUERY: prospectus of knitting industry in bangalore

ANSWER: Learn Chinese and quickly!

QUERY: salisbury steak dinner incident with the eagles fans

ANSWER: Now THAT sounds like a movie Id pay money to see!

QUERY: value of house after loss of roof

ANSWER: Ouch.

QUERY: how many ounces in small movie popcorn

ANSWER: 64

QUERY: which is better - city or suburb

ANSWER: Well, I suppose it depends on what you like, doesnt it? Personally, I like the cities more than I do the suburbs, for a few reasons. For one thing, Im single and I dont mind living in an apartment. For another, I like lots of good restaurants and other cultural activities near where I live. For a third, I actually dont mind public transport and would use it all the time if only I lived in a place which had decent public transport.

There are tradeoffs to everything, of course. Living in the cities often means experiencing higher taxes, a greater vulnerability to crime, congestion and pollution. Living in the suburbs often means experiencing higher taxes, a greater vulnerability to the predations of your homeowners association, congestion and pollution. Either way, youre screwed and should move to rural New Mexico, which quite frankly sounds like a hell of an idea, now that my allergies are acting up.

QUERY: shapes of buildings remind you of

ANSWER: Well with the notable exception of the University of Michigans North Campus bell tower they remind me of buildings.

Whats that, you ask? Whats the Ann and Robert H. Lurie Tower look like? Ah erm well, its a Giant Triumph of Engineering, and well leave it at that.

Did you click on the link? Yeah. HOLY ...

QUERY: tracheotomy scar

ANSWER: Id be surprised if they were all that bad these days. I myself have one, and its not all that bad, although it is noticeable because well, youd have to see it, but its as if the skin didnt heal up right. Still, its not something which prompts a lot of discussion, and that was from a surgery done nearly three decades ago. Today, there shouldnt be any trouble at all.

QUERY: why women love assholes

ANSWER: Ah, Mans Traditional Great Lament the object of my affection is attracted not to me, but to that other man, who clearly cant be a man, because he does not smoke the same cigarettes as me.

Of course, I quit smoking, but you get the drift.

Men react to this situation in different ways, but one unifying force between them is a complete and total lack of understanding of how such a situation could occur. After all, the universe is an orderly and rational place, with physical laws and deep-set moral principles. Therefore, it makes no sense for the woman in question to like the other guy, because well, it just doesnt make sense. After all, the guy says to himself, she is all that and a bag of chips, so it makes no sense for her to like that other guy, who is ---

Well, you insert the proper phrase(s). He is a jerk. He is a cad. He is a moron. He has strange and un-American political views. He has no money. He has too much money. Hes uneducated or too educated. He rides a motorcycle. He drives a sedan. He listens to crappy music. He is uncultured. He is pedantic. He talks too loud. And so on, and so on, and so on.

Of course, things perhaps make more sense when one turns the tables and thinks about what some men see in certain women. I am sure there are lots of disagreeable things which women notice about other women, and about which men dont have a frickin clue. The long and short of it is: I dont know why some women happen to like jerks. But of course it helps to remember that one is only discussing a small portion of women out there, not all of them. After all, your mother fancied your father, no?

QUERY: amor vincit omnia!!!

ANSWER:

(stare at computer monitor, thinking)
(continue staring at computer monitor, still thinking)
(sigh)

Yeah, it does.

Anyway, thats it for this months edition of Your Search Engine Queries Answered! Drop in next month, when we examine well, more of the same, but it'll be different. After all, I don't know how many pictures of ... uh, Freudian ... bell towers I can dig up.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 10:52 PM | TrackBack

April 17, 2005

All About the Dollars Dept.

ENTERTAINMENT WEEKLY has a really interesting story up about expensive perks given to celebrities. Not so much because of the perks -- but because of the interesting financial analysis related to them.

Apparently, an amazing 5 pc of the price associated with certain entertainment goods and services (e.g. a movie ticket, or compact disc) is directly related to the extravagant offerings such firms must offer their top-tier talent. However, that's 5 pc that could go to the bottom line -- and it seems the companies are noticing that top stars don't necessarily make a top-quality product. Hopefully, the firms will take a closer look at their practices and decide to spend more cash where it seems to count -- on new talent, more experienced crew, better effects, etc.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 10:59 PM | TrackBack

Pie from the Sky

SOME DECADES AGO, Robert Heinlein wrote a snappy little essay, "Pie from the Sky," detailing some small positives should Western Civilization undergo what he politely termed "the Hiroshima treatment."

His thinking was along these lines: if the Ultimate Disco Inferno did hit -- and Mr Heinlein was of the idea that it someday would -- the survivors would constantly torture themselves with how things used to be. Gee, they would think, wasn't it wonderful when we had air conditioning, the theatre, and the Chicken Fried Chicken at Applebee's, etc.

No, I'm not kidding. Chicken Fried Chicken. With ... *shudder* ... country gravy.

Anyway, Mr Heinlein figured such self-torture wouldn't be all that helpful if one was out trying to shoot rabbits for dinner or what not. Therefore, he suggested such survivors of a nuclear war ought focus on the few good things resulting from the conflict. Not only would one have fewer immediate worries, he figured, one's immediate worries would be the only such worries one would have.

And Gad, did he focus.

No more alarm clocks! wrote Mr Heinlein. No more subway smell! No more annoying neighbors! No more "Hate Roosevelt" clubs! (Mr Heinlein wrote this a long time ago). No more John L. Lewis! No more jurisdictional strikes! No more Petrillo! No more Gerald L. K. Smith!

For those readers who were born after 1950, Lewis was one of the chief men responsible for creating the Congress of Industrial Organizations (the CIO in AFL-CIO). He also ran the United Mine Workers of America, a trade union. Petrillo was another trade unionist: he ran something called the American Federation of Musicians back during World War II. (It's still around, although Petrillo isn't). This tells you about Mr Heinlein's thoughts on unionism.

As for Gerald Smith -- Smith was ... well, he was one member of America's Unholy Trinity of Infamy, back during the Depression. I use the phrase "Unholy Trinity of Infamy" because Smith was not only wrong, he was evil. I mean, for God's sake, he teamed up with Father Coughlin (member No. 2) and Francis E. Townsend (member No. 3). That's proof enough for me the man was dangerous. If you need more proof, consider the following sentence, which Smith used in one of his speeches:

Let's pull down these huge piles of gold until there shall be a real job -- not a little old sow-belly, black-eyed pea job, but a real spending money, beefsteak and gravy, Chevrolet, Ford in the garage, new suit, Thomas Jefferson, Jesus Christ, red, white and blue job -- for every man!

Today it sounds like the speech Dr Venkman delivered to the mayor in "Ghostbusters." Back then, though -- I mean, the man was actually serious.

Anyway, you can see why Mr Heinlein added not hearing about Smith to his silver lining list in the event of a nuclear war. He also saw positives in no longer having "debutantes with press agents" and the end of marketing-driven weeks, e.g. "Eat More Citrus Fruit Week."

I can think of a few more things to add to the list.

No more cable news updates! No more mobile phone problems! No more mobile phones! No more mobile phone users who make a point of taking phone calls in public! No more "convenience fees!" No more annoying "surcharges!" No more screaming investment gurus on television! No more screaming investment gurus on television who scream on about Martha Stewart!

I'd also be partial to not ever hearing about this guy again.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 09:57 PM | TrackBack

April 16, 2005

Memo to My Neighbors: Thank You

AS I WRITE, I am pretty sure that people in one of the neighboring apartments are enjoying a bit of marijuana. Unfortunately, as one can deduce, they're doing a bad job of hiding it.

It's not that I mind what my neighbors are doing in the privacy of their own home, and I'm certainly not going to rat them out for toking up. But what annoys me is this: the sickly-sweet-burnt stench of grass emanating from their apartment is stinking up the frickin' hallway. I mean, gee -- light some incense and put a towel under the door; both are reasonable ways one could divert attention from one's habit. Even when I smoked -- tobacco -- I generally opened a window and had all these air-freshener thingies around the house. It wasn't something one could easily notice from the hall, at least I don't think it was.

Ah well. It is spring and I suppose I should be ... I don't know, charitable and generous and what not. Besides, my other neighbor -- who takes care of the building through vacuuming the halls and what not -- has just emerged and is busily cleaning. It's that time of year, isn't it?

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 01:27 PM | TrackBack

Love This Life

OH MY GOD -- what a week. For it did suck a second time over. I mean, it was that bad. Started out the week putting in a double shift at the office, then followed that up with contracting a particularly vicious malady that had me flat on my frickin' back during the week. Then, at the end, the frickin' market had its worst day in two years, which was even more aggravating. As a young person and "dollar cost averager," I know I'm supposed to actually like that, but even still it's frustrating.

Spot of good news: the car's all set, and it looks pretty promising the thing will make it -- God, at least 10,000 more miles, maybe 20,000. One of the nice things about living out here in the provinces is that people take an opposite view towards their cars as they do in the cities. I can assure readers that, even though my Ford Taurus has 113,000 miles and thus well-past its sell-by date, people routinely encourage me to keep the damn thing. After all, why get a new one if the car still runs, and with the engine it ought last 'til 150,000 miles, etc.

Also: I'm still not smoking, amazingly enough.

As for the blog -- yeah, I've been neglecting it and I'm not pleased about it, because I do enjoy writing here. It's just that some weeks, there's precious little time for one's hobbies.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 10:32 AM | Comments (1) | TrackBack

April 09, 2005

Dear God, No!

COOKIE MONSTER reacts with horror as he discovers his hippie colleague (left) has replaced the cast table's standard array of fattening foods with fruits and vegetables. The cost-saving measure led Cookie Monster, who received just one (1) low-carb reduced-sugar carob-chip cookie, to file a grievance regarding prevailing work conditions.

THIS BLOG ENTRY is brought to you by the letter T, which rhymes with P, and that stands for Puritanical.

It seems the people behind Sesame Street are now telling their young viewers they ought not eat bad food. This would be fine, except in the process, they're turning Cookie Monster into a relative health freak. According to the Associated Press, Cookie Monster is now "advocating eating healthy." He even has a special song to mark the switch -- "A Cookie is a Sometimes Food."

I find this situation rather depressing, for two reasons. First, the fact Sesame Street is now informing three-year-olds about proper nutrition means that's not being done in the home, which is where such things should be done. Why is it so many parents aren't making an effort not to buy sugary foods? The kids'll get over not having Cocoa Puffs or what not, won't they?

Secondly, what's next? Will all the puppets start making fun of Big Bird because he's overweight? Will Ernie arrive home to find Bert has gone vegan? Will Bob lead an intervention to combat Oscar's smoking?

Can't we just let the kids be kids for a few years before we expose them to this kind of puritanical meddling?

(via Dan Champion)

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 10:18 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack

April 06, 2005

Hit by Your Own Flack Dept.

C.S. LEWIS ONCE wrote a pretty good formula for analyzing reports of strange, outlandish, or downright surreal happenings, particularly when rational people were doing the reporting. He wrote it in "The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe," and I'll summarize it for readers who don't recall it off the tops of their heads:

It's near the beginning, right after Lucy tells her older siblings there's a portal to another world inside a wardrobe in one of the manse's back rooms. The older children, naturally thinking Lucy has gone off the deep end, alert the wise and knowledgeable Professor about the stories, with the clear expectation that he too will find ol' Luce has lost the plot.

However, the Professor -- who has seen some crazy stuff in his day -- informs the Pevensie kids there are three options one must consider: 1) Lucy is lying; 2) Lucy is mad; or 3) Lucy is telling the truth. As it turned out, Option Three was the right conclusion to draw, and soon, the Pevensies -- like millions of children reading the books -- were cleverly drawn into Lewis' religious play.

But that's beside the point for the moment. My question is this:

The New York Post recently reported on the alleged marital troubles between Britney Spears and her husband, That Goofy Looking Guy. The paper said the couple had called an emergency family meeting to discuss the situation, which has reportedly gotten quite serious. Given this, which of the three options mentioned above would explain the following statement from one of Britney Spears' publicists?

A representative for Spears said: "Britney and Kevin were at the hotel to celebrate [sister] Jamie Lynn's birthday. An emergency meeting was called, but only because Britney was afraid her dog, Bit Bit, was pregnant by [brother] Brian's dog, Porkchop and that would be incest.

"As for Britney and Kevin, they are still together, happy and gearing up to do press on the new show. There will be a magazine cover involved."

For the record, Bit Bit is a chihuahua and Porkchop is a bulldog.

The couple are "staying at a Santa Monica condo now," the rep added.

Um ... well, Duane -- gotta go -- due back on planet Earth.

I mean, I honestly don't know which option to consider, although I damn sure hope it ain't option No. 3. God, can you imagine it -- here you are, with the details of your private trauma being reported, and your PR people instead tell the world that you're an idiot. I would about die of embarrassment if I ever found myself in such a spot.

Then again, I would about die of embarrassment if I found out my PR people had lied, per option No. 1. I'm sure it's not that, though -- because lying about something is stupid, and serving up a bad lie is even worse. Telling a lie that makes people believe the true report is actually true -- it just doesn't work at all.

So that leaves option No. 2, although madness admittedly doesn't fit into the equation here. Instead, the publicist might have actually been erroneously told this was what happened, and as such might have completely believed it, and as such might have had to act rather annoyed if the Post scribe had laughed his ass off upon hearing it.

But that's show business.

(via Steve Silver)

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 11:55 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack

Unchained Melody

SIMON FROM JERSEY is counting down the Best 25 compact discs released over the past five years. As Mr Einspahr has excellent taste in music, I encourage Rant readers to go take a look.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 10:02 PM | TrackBack

I Picked a Bad Week to Quit Smoking

JESUS, WHAT A WEEK. So dig this: as I left work here in Manchester today, it was 67 degrees out, sunny, and there was a perfect gentle breeze going. It was therefore perfectly natural that the power-window motor on my car's driver-side door would decide, at 5:30 p.m., to go kaput.

It was also perfectly natural the power-window motor would go out while the window was in the down position. So I just now had to spend a good twenty minutes removing every last scrap of personal crap I had in the car AND the trunk -- including everything from last Friday's Wall Street Journal to the ground-up half of a pay stub I found from my job.

My job in Los Angeles.

Five years ago.

Anyway, this just sucks, and the repair's probably going to run me a good $300 to $400, although hopefully less. Even worse, I'm going to have to use up one of my precious personal days, which I like to save for emergencies. Although this is an emergency, and it'll be a bloody catastrophe if it rains any time in the near future. Cripes.

This is the second Unpleasant Experience I had today. The first was that my cheap imitation mobile phone's memory card bought the farm, and I had to go to the mobile-phone store to get it fixed. They wanted to charge me $25 for a new card, but I prevailed through a rational explanation of how the problem occurred. That is to say, I blamed the phone's shoddy manufacturing, and I mean, my God, I'd just bought the phone last month, etc. etc. So I therefore got a $25 memory card -- which may have cost as much as 50 cents or $1 to mass-produce -- for free. I suppose I ought be happy, except the card ought not have broken in the first place.

Still, there is SOME completely good news. Loyal Rant Readers will recall there was a fire at my apartment building last week. There was really nothing to it, as it was a cooking fire, but it did prompt me to consider renter's insurance. This week, I called my insurer and asked them to throw on a rental insurance policy. The minimum policy provides far more coverage than I could ever need, even at replacement value, and it's definitely nice to have that peace of mind.

I did not, however, expect my insurance company to pay me for having the stuff. Combine the cost of the renter's insurance with the discount on my auto insurance and I'm ahead all of $14 per year. If I had known it would work out like that, I would have gotten the stuff a long time ago!

ANYWAY, I am also proud to announce that I've now gotten through SIX days without smoking a cigarette. It is still quite hard, and I'm getting the sweats and the nervousness, but I'm noticing that I'm losing the "oh my God, I really need a smoke" feeling. And what the hell was I thinking, smoking in my apartment?

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 07:47 PM | TrackBack

April 04, 2005

Administrative Notes

THE RANT WILL RETURN on WEDNESDAY, April 6.

However, in the meantime, we did want to mention some Important Changes which have occurred or will occur soon:

SMOKING LAMP OUT: The Rant has now been smoke-free for the past four days, and thus far the switch has gone well. Unfortunately, the staff has developed an awful case of the munchies, and posts may reflect -- say! Fritos!

STYLE CHANGE: Loyal Rant readers are advised of the following change in editorial policy, effective next post: entries which reflect the personal views of Benjamin Kepple, chief executive of Benjamin Kepple's Daily Rant Inc., will be written in the first person singular.

This was done because Mr Kepple has finally gotten to the point where he can write using the "editorial we" as second nature, and thus has no further need to practice it. Other parts of The Rant's style guide shall remain the same, however, including the use of "Bermudan English."

DAYLIGHT SAVING TIME: After careful consideration of Administrative Proposal No. 12, The Rant's American operations have decided to follow Daylight Saving Time. Proposal No. 12 would have required entries to be posted with a timestamp reflecting the proper Standard Time; however, the solution for doing so was deemed unsatisfactory.

BLOGROLL UPDATING: YES, we know some of the links need fixed; YES, we'll get to it soon; YES, we've been meaning to do it, it's just that we've found it easier to make the extra click instead of fixing the HTML code.

OK, that's about it. See you all Wednesday night.

-- The Management

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 09:55 PM | Comments (4) | TrackBack

March 28, 2005

The Roof, The Roof, The Roof is on -- Hey! That's My House!

OK, SO DIG THIS -- I get into work this morning as I usually do, and there's a bit of commotion surrounding some chatter on the police/fire scanner, something about "smoke showing from an apartment building."

Uh oh.

Did you ever have one of those gut feelings where you instantly know something is going to prove unpleasant? I don't know why, but that's the kind of feeling I had at that very moment -- that icy, queasy, pit-in-the-stomach kind of feeling. Maybe it was because I had left the house in such a rush this morning. But I'm sorry to say that as I kept asking questions about the scanner reports, that feeling seemed more prescient as the seconds ticked by:

"What street is it on?"

"Oh. Hey, that's my street -- that's my apartment complex! What building?"

"GODDAMNIT! MY GODDAMN APARTMENT BUILDING IS ON FIRE!"

I don't want to say that I panicked. After all, the last thing I'm supposed to do in my line of work is panic. So it was merely ... um ... concern which prompted me to rush around my office -- which has an open floorplan -- shouting about the fact my apartment building was apparently heading for the Great Building Lot in the Sky.

It was also this concern which prompted my hyster ... um, expressions of concern ... to include rather nasty obscenities. For me, it wasn't so much the potential economic loss that was troubling -- as a young bachelor, I have few things of value in my home -- but rather the potential loss of my writing.

That really frightened me. I've got all sorts of half-finished ideas floating about on my computer, and the thought the hard drive AND the backup disk could go bye-bye was terrifying. Plus, what about all the time it would take to set up a new life in a new apartment? My God -- I saw months of my life passing before me. Surely I was destined to spend them in an endless bureaucratic maze where functionaries kept asking me for my present utility bills and other semi-essential documents I no longer had. Oh God oh God oh God ...

There was a spot of hopeful news, though -- the smoke wasn't coming from my apartment. It was coming from a higher floor. That meant it wasn't my fault.

Not that it would be, of course. I have downright ancient views when it comes to preventing fires. I am super-careful about turning off the stove, and double-checking things before I go to bed, and I always douse my cigarettes as opposed to just stubbing them out in an ashtray. Still, as odd as it may sound, that news came as a big relief.

For as all apartment dwellers know, there's only one thing worse than having your own apartment burned to a crisp. That's the knowledge that the fire which burned out your own apartment also caused others to end up out on the street. For not only would they hate you and hope you contacted typhus and diptheria and the gout, such a happening could also put you in the horrible position of being liable for their losses. And that could take years to settle up.

Besides, how fricking embarrassing would it be to have caused the fire in the first place? Holy smoke -- I mean, you'd all be out on the sidewalk waiting for the fire department, and everyone else in the building would be staring at you because you were the schmoe who left the candle unattended, the iron on, the stove on, etc. And there are families that live in this building, for God's sake -- what would they do? It's one thing for a single guy to end up temporarily homeless, but a family? God. And all that trouble, of course, would pale next to what would happen if someone actually got hurt or worse because of the fire.

But I couldn't just stand there running these things through my head. So I grabbed my overcoat and a notebook and rushed out the door. I was rushing down the hall when I heard a repeated shout of "BEN! BEN! BEN!"

It was bad cooking? Someone burnt beans on the stove? The building isn't on fire? There was nothing to it? Oh. Thank God, and never mind. That was great news to hear but it took a long time for me to settle down afterwards. A long time.

It was such a jolt to begin with, and then, when the adrenaline finally faded from my system, I just felt drained. That, combined with not sleeping well the previous night, meant the rest of my day was a struggle to get through. I had this irrational urge to go home -- to make sure everything was all right and soothe my nerves, even though I knew everything was all right. Still, I forced myself to overcome that -- and even used my lunch break to eat lunch.

When I got home tonight, the fact that everything was all right made things even more surreal. I knew they would be, of course -- when you have bad cooking or some other non-event, all the fire department usually does is put fans in the corridors and doorways to air out the place. But to arrive home and find things just as they were when I left felt downright strange. The entire day just felt like a bad dream.

Yet it was, of course, real -- the scanner does not lie, and as I walked to my building through the late March gloom, I caught the faintest odor of acrid smoke hanging in the air. It was there for a second, and then it was gone. And so, I went inside, kicked off my shoes, and listened to the rain.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 09:03 PM | Comments (4) | TrackBack

March 26, 2005

Credit Where It's Due

WE NOTE WITH AMUSEMENT a recent quote attributed to Lee Bollinger, late of the University of Michigan and presently President of Columbia University in New York. It seems the school is adding a second program of study to its Graduate School of Journalism, and upon introducing the program, Mr Bollinger said the following:

"There is no profession more important in the modern world than being a journalist," Lee C. Bollinger, the president of Columbia and a First Amendment lawyer whose father was a newspaper executive, said this week. "I felt that journalism education had not developed to the same point in terms of providing the richness of what a great university like Columbia can offer."

Now, we hate to think that Mr Bollinger's remark was simply transparent flattery, but the first thing that sprang to mind after we read it was a sarcastic aside Bill Shirer wrote in his "Berlin Diary." Mr Shirer, who hated the Nazis before most did and who wrote much about German nastiness during The War, wrote the following in Sept. 1939, a short while after the Germans had invaded Poland:

Starting day after tomorrow, new ration cards for food. The German people will now get per week: one pound of meat, five pounds of bread, three quarters of a pound of fats, three quarters of a pound of sugar, and a pound of ersatz coffee made from roasted barley seeds. Heavy labourers are to get double rations, and Dr Goebbels -- clever man! -- has decided to classify us foreign correspondents as heavy labourers.

Of course, we are being facetious -- the last thing we would want is for easily-excitable people to think we were seriously comparing Mr Bollinger with Goebbels. We certainly didn't intend the foregoing that way -- it just was the first thing that popped into our head. So let us give Mr Bollinger the benefit of the doubt, and assume he meant what he said. Do journalists have the most important profession in the modern world?

Of course not.

This is certainly not to say journalists' work is unimportant, but we honestly can't see any justification for arguing their work is more important than that of a host of other professions.

After all, think about the business of journalism for a bit. A journalist's job is to disseminate information. His salary comes from two empirical sources: the readers who pay for the product he produces, and the advertisers who sell goods and services through the product in which his words appear. This very format puts the journalist in the business of providing what we personally call a "secondary service," that is, something for which a market exists solely because there is enough primary economic activity to support it. If there isn't enough economic activity to support his work, the journalist soon finds himself in the unemployment line.

So in that regard, there are far more jobs which are more important and which provide greater benefit to the society as a whole -- ranging from agricultural laborers to factory workers to soldiers to business executives. For these folks keep the markets working at their primary core -- they provide the needed goods and necessary services which civilization needs to survive. It is only because these folks demand non-essential services that journalists and doctors and plaintiffs' lawyers and certified financial planners and all the rest can make a living.

Now, that may seem a bit harsh, but it's very true. One can't live without food on the table, but a typical human being can live without advanced medical care if he takes care of himself. That's not to say that people would live as long or as happily without doctors, of course, but they would still live. The same goes double for certified financial planners -- if there were none, people would still have money to spend. They might not handle it as wisely as they otherwise might, but the money would not disappear. And if that line of reasoning goes double for certified financial planners, it goes triple for plaintiffs' lawyers and fivefold for journalists. People would have poorer lives without their services, but would they get on without them? Of course.

But we do not want our point to be misunderstood -- just because folks in these industries are in empirically non-essential lines of work does not mean what they do is unimportant. It also does not mean they don't provide value or utility in exchange for the money they earn. Quite the contrary on both counts! That's an important consideration and one that shouldn't be overlooked.

The total bills for our appendectomy a few years back ran about $14,000 -- but even if we had paid every cent out of pocket, spending that $14,000 certainly beat being dead at 27. Similarly, readers who spend 50 cents or a buck on their newspaper each day get access to a wealth of information they would have had to spend countless hours to gain on their own. Since people are busy, it's very cost-effective for them to buy the paper instead of attending meetings down at City Hall or sitting in court all day to learn about what's happening. It therefore stands to reason that these consumers have every reason to want qualified people performing the services for which they're shelling out their hard-earned.

So we do want to give Mr Bollinger credit for spearheading what seems like a smart program at Columbia. Among journalists, the usefulness of journalism school is sometimes debated, but we are pretty impressed with the scheme which Columbia has set up.

If one reads The New York Times story linked above, one finds Columbia plans to have two mandatory courses for its new Master of Arts in Journalism degree (amazingly, the existing program is a Master of Science degree). One of these courses will be on the history of journalism, and the other will be on analyzing statistics, legal filings and certain archival material. Both will be useful for those who aren't already in the trade and haven't figured out the tricks of those things yet.

But more important in our view are the other courses -- the seminars on business and economics, politics, and other topics. We also very much like the idea of an immersion course in foreign languages, as having language skills is an amazing help for journalists. (We just wish we were better with our Spanish, which can be charitably described as "grim.") For the most important ammunition a journalist can have, aside from interview skills, is a well-rounded background in real-world subject matter -- in short, how things work.

We do have one concern about the program, though. It reportedly costs an all-inclusive $50,000 per annum to attend Columbia University, and as such we're not convinced of its cost-benefit for prospective journalists. Mr Bollinger reportedly had envisioned a two-year program, which would have kicked up the cost of attending to around $100,000. And that's cash on the barrelhead -- if one had to borrow the cost of attending, one may as well double it to include interest payments.

It is one thing to spend that type of money on law school or medical school or business school, because these degrees will almost certainly provide an impressive return on investment. But journalism isn't a job which people take with the idea they'll get rich.

As of 2003, The New York Times paid top scale base wages of $75,000 per year, which is worth about $45,000 anywhere else in the nation. Journalists in union shops -- there are about 120 of these around America, including the Times -- will generally make about $45,000 in base wages at top scale, which one usually hits after three to six years of service. (On the high end, they'll make $65,000; on the low, $25,000).

But those working at Guild shops are a minority -- there are something like 3,000 newspapers in America. The reporters working for the small dailies are lucky to clear $40,000 per annum -- typical salaries range from the mid-twenties to the high-thirties. Those working at weeklies make even less -- we've known folks who have had to take second jobs while working at them. For more on this, see The Newspaper Guild's salary scale info -- and find out what the guys at YOUR local paper are making!

There are exceptions to this rule, of course, and some journalists can often make lots of additional money in overtime. Plus, journalists often get fringe benefits unheard of elsewhere in the private sector -- such as plentiful vacation packages. We have no doubt that most journalists -- ourselves included -- consider being a reporter a great job and a great way to make a comfortable, middle-class living. But we can't see spending $50,000 or more for additional training if it means being in hock for many years after receiving it.

(via Meg McArdle)

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 08:10 PM | Comments (3) | TrackBack

Thoughts on the Dollar

LOYAL RANT READERS have long known about our aversion to foofy money, a term which in our peculiar lexicon can be described as brightly-colored banknotes notable for either their meaninglessness or their supposed inability to hold value. Examples of the former include euro notes, which are well-designed but dont convey any historical significance in their design; while examples of the latter include pretty much everything thats not an official reserve currency somewhere in the world.

Still, a re-examination of national currencies elsewhere have made us realize the U.S. dollar, while still the best reserve currency in existence, needs a bit of an upgrade. This is not merely because decades of inflation and innovations in banknote design require it, either. It is also because many American banknotes fail to properly convey the grandeur of the nations history. Americas currency isnt only redundant at times e.g. having Lincoln on the penny and the $5 bill but looking at the banknotes, a learned observer could honestly believe it was a Grand Inside Joke.

Lets look at the notes and we think youll see what we mean:

We mean, come on why the hell is Ulysses Grant on the $50 bill? Oh, sure, he was a great general and he did win the Civil War. But he was a lousy President his administration was notoriously corrupt, and noted historians have cast his legacy down with that of Nixon, Tyler and Fillmore. Therefore, he ought not be on the $50 bill.

Oh, and then theres Andrew Jackson, on the $20 bill. Our only thinking as to why Jackson ended up on the $20 is because somebody at the Treasury Department came up with the idea at a three-martini lunch and as such, found it downright hilarious. We daresay Old Hickory is spinning in his grave at knowing hes on the face of the most widely-issued paper money in America, because the man hated paper money and bankers the way most Americans hate cockroaches. For a brief look at Jacksons ideas about finance matters, well quote from americanpresident.org.:

Jackson's unsatisfactory experiment with the state banks helped drive his economic thinking toward more radical extremes. He renounced all banknote currency and demanded a return to the "hard money" of gold and silver. To that end, and to curb rampant speculation, he ordered the issuance of a "Specie Circular" in 1836 requiring payment in coin for western public lands. By the end of his presidency he was attacking all chartered corporations, including manufacturing concerns, turnpike and canal companies, and especially banks, as instruments of aristocratic privilege and engines of oppression. His Farewell Address in 1837, drafted largely by (Attorney General Roger) Taney, warned of an insidious "money power" that threatened to subvert American liberty.

As such, the idea that Jackson ought appear on a $20 note which holds its value solely due to Government fiat is ridiculous.

Finally, of course, there is the $2 bill with Thomas Jeffersons portrait. This design must have caused much mirth over at the Treasury, as Jefferson was always short of money due to inherited debts and lavish spending. Like lots of people in America today, the man lived with debt for practically all of his life. Still, we dont think Jeffersons picture should be stripped from the $2 bill. We think its rarity in U.S. commerce (when was the last time you saw one?) and its inability to be accepted in vending machines make the $2 bill worthy of Jeffersons portrait.

Now thus far we think weve made a pretty good case for changing the portraits on the $20 and $50 bills, but we also think we need to go further. Namely, we need bills larger than the $100 note.

We had them in America once, of course, but they were silly back then. Putting Presidents McKinley and Cleveland respectively on the $500 and $1,000 notes may have made sense at the time, but today this move prompts one to ask what the guys at Treasury were thinking. The higher denominations were even sillier the $10,000 note, for instance, had someone called Salmon P. Chase on it. We are sorry, but no one named Salmon ought appear on any sort of banknote anywhere.

Still, though, in doing our research for this post, we discovered that of the $539.8 billion in U.S. banknotes out there, a full $364.7 billion are $100 bills. We know inflation has worn away the value of the notes in the marketplace; in 1969, when the big notes were withdrawn, the $100 bill was worth roughly $500 in todays money. We also know the Europeans have 200 euro and 500 euro banknotes. Well, dammit, if the freedom-hating Eurocrats in Brussels think really large banknotes are a good idea, then theres no reason why freedom-loving Americans ought not have them. Besides, as most U.S. currency is held outside the United States, there would almost certainly be a demand for these higher notes. So we clearly need $200 and $500 notes.

We would also suggest that $1,000 notes be introduced on general principle grounds. After all, it is very much in the United States general interest to preserve the dollar as the worlds premier reserve currency, and creating a note with that store of value in it would again give the dollar a place of pride. No longer would American tourists have to go to London or Paris and feel as if their money was merely green-colored paper; one bill would ensure the holder was given a vast amount of currency in exchange. Although we realize such an idea is perhaps premature, we do think its something to consider. Nor is it all that crazy up until a few years ago, the Canadians had a $1,000 note.

But if we hold off at the $500 note as the new maximum denomination, and we strip Jackson from the $20 and Grant from the $50, the question naturally becomes, who do we put on all these bills? Heres our thinking.

Clearly the proposed $500 note should have Alexander Hamilton on it. Aside from being the architect of modern American life, with his vision of a nation dedicated to commercial activity, Hamilton is the archetype of the American Dream a poor kid from Barbados who made good in America solely through hard work. As for the color inflection in the notes themselves the new $20s and $50s have this feature already it should be purple, a good imperial color.

Hamilton, of course, is already on the $10, so we can take him off there in exchange. This leaves four openings on the proposed $200, the $50, the $20 and the $10. The beauty of having four slots open is that each political party can choose two of them all theyd have to do is figure out who would go on the notes, and on which notes their selected personages would appear. But heres our thinking of who should go on each note:

$200: President Eisenhower. Aside from overseeing U.S. victory in Europe, Ike was President during a time of peace and prosperity. Sure, no one could figure out what he was saying when he said it, but thats not important right now things went pretty swimmingly when the man was in charge. Therefore, its fitting Ike should get put on the $200 note. Color inflection: mustard or tan, similar to the 200 euro note.

$50. President Kennedy. The torch has been passed to a new generation of Americans, born in the 20th century, and our banknotes should reflect this. President Kennedy not only oversaw a time of peace and prosperity, he forced Khrushchev to blink over the Cuban Missile Crisis. And God knows what the man could have accomplished if it wasnt for what happened in Dallas.

$20. Martin Luther King Jr. Really isnt it about time we had somebody other than a white guy on our banknotes? Putting Dr. King on the most widely-circulated currency would serve as a fitting tribute in recognition of what the civil rights leader accomplished.

$10. President Reagan. Lots of people want this, and under our plan, theyd be able to have it.

One benefit of these changes is that we can also attack the Redundancy Problem with our coinage. For instance, theres no reason why Lincoln should appear on the penny AND the $5 bill. Put Grant on the penny instead. This will satisfy both those who value Grants historical accomplishments he wrote some decent memoirs and those Southerners who still hate Grant.

As for the nickel, we dont have any ideas, but we know that Jefferson shouldnt get to monopolize the $2 bill AND the five-cent piece. We could put President Madison on there, or Frederick Douglass, or Teddy Roosevelt, or Walt Whitman, or Booker T. Washington, or one of many other leading historical and cultural figures. All would be good on the nickel.

As for the dime, we think FDR ought stay there on general principle grounds. It just fits: brother, can you spare a

Washington gets to keep the quarter because he was our greatest president and kicked ass. Besides, hes stuck with the $1 bill and if were not going to give him a promotion, he of any American in history should get an exemption from our no double-dipping rule.

Lastly, if we put Kennedy over on the $50 note, theres no reason for him to stay on the 50-cent piece. We suggest that whomever comes in second place for the nickel would get put on the 50-cent piece. Heck, we could even put Susan B. Anthony on it.

Anyway, we call for the Secretary of the Treasury and the Bureau of Engraving and Printing to consider our idea and ways they could put it into practice. New bills would not only make things more convenient for Americans and other U.S. currency holders, it would increase usage of and confidence in the U.S. dollar. Plus, wed be able to update the new bills with all the latest security features to prevent counterfeiting and such. So we hope the Government will give the idea some consideration because its time.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 01:31 PM | Comments (6) | TrackBack

March 24, 2005

Take the Money and Run Dept.

FROM THE NEW YORK POST:

Ask Jeeves Inc., an Internet search engine, was sued by a stockholder who claimed the company is worth more than the $1.96 billion offered by IAC/InterActiveCorp. Chief Executive Officer Barry Diller.

Dude. It's $1.96 billion for Ask Jeeves. Take the equivalent of $28 and change per share already.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 11:23 PM | TrackBack

March 22, 2005

OK, It's NOT So Bad as Battlefield Earth

LOYAL RANT READERS may recall that last month, we issued a rather pointed denunciation of the "Gastineau Girls," a particularly unfortunate reality-television show which we greatly disliked. Indeed, we disliked it so much that we called it the television equivalent of "Battlefield Earth," and charged the show was a "television disaster not seen since the infamous Star Wars Holiday Special of 1978."

However, much to our great surprise, this commentary has momentarily put us in a role similar to that of Petronius Arbiter. For we can assure readers that LOTS of people arrived at The Rant looking for information about the show, and our commentary was ranked No. 32 when one performed a Google search about the program. While our thoughts were similar to higher-ranking pages which also panned the show (AdFreak.com, for instance, hated it), our words did not go unnoticed by the entertainment industry.

For we can assure readers that this evening, we received a rather nice note from Chad Greulach, one of the show's co-executive producers, in which Mr Greulach invited us to take another look at the program. While we got the letter after business hours on both coasts, a bit of detective work on the Internet led us to discover enough evidence for us to believe the letter was genuine, and we appreciate Mr Greulach's inclusion of enough information in his note to make that possible.

In any event, tonight's episode was billed as a "turning point" in the series. Apparently, Lisa and Brittny (no 'a') Gastineau have begun working at achieving "independent success in their lives and careers." Or, as the cable company's synopsis of the episode puts it, "Brittny's hope to become a model hits a roadblock."

Oh dear. But as of this writing, we do have 18 minutes before the show begins, so let's give it some breathing room. Besides, over on CBS, a bunch of gringo tourists are running around Argentina as part of some kind of crazy Phineas Fogg-like expedition. We would be annoyed with this too, but for some reason, we're only able to scrounge up 32 pc of our normal feelings of disgust.

Oh, here we go. Say, it's Lou the Fake Doorman! Ah, Lou. At least somebody in this thing's got a union card ...

(thirty minutes later ...)

You know, that actually wasn't half bad. Given how much we hated the first episode, we can't believe we just wrote that. But it honestly wasn't all that bad, probably because the elder Gastineau is actually portrayed as parenting her daughter to some degree, although Miss Gastineau still seems a bit hopeless to us. And while we can't say we would set aside Tuesday nights to watch it, we have to say the show is considerably better than it was when it began -- probably on par with any of the other reality TV shows out there.

That's not to say the show still doesn't have flaws. It still relies too heavily on Lou the Fake Doorman, and there's still too much use of the quick edit, and both these things suggest the folks making the show don't have as much material as they'd like to work with. Plus, even though we only watched 30 minutes of the show this time, we felt ourselves suffering Gastineau Fatigue two-thirds of the way through it. Partly this was because we still felt bored with the characters, and partly it was because we failed to make the Coolness Connection. Glamorous parties and modeling and all that may be lots of folks' ideas of a good time, but they ain't in our book -- we want a reality TV show about bond traders, dammit, and we want one now. CNBC, get to work.

But we digress. Based on tonight's show, we have to revise our initial assessment of the "Gastineau Girls," and so we'll say this: people who have an interest in conspicuous consumption, modeling and a bit of family drama would probably find the show somewhat entertaining. We won't tune in again just because the show really isn't our bag, and it doesn't really carry our interest, although we would watch if something truly amazing were to happen on it. And while we're sure the E! Entertainment Network has already got the 10 ordered episodes ready to go, that amazing something is this:

For God's sake, will someone please redecorate that apartment. We are sorry, but in watching the show tonight, all we could think of was that scene in "Small Time Crooks" when one sees Ray and Frenchy's swell new digs, and everything is covered in leopard-skin. That was horrifying and so is the Gastineaus' apartment, which is treason to interior decorating.

We mean, it's so badly-thought out it's not even funny -- there's more style in our apartment, where at least there's space and furniture that kind of matches up. And we're a 29 year old bachelor who has plenty of excuse for not knowing anything about interior design. In their apartment -- God, those drapes! They're not drapes, they're something from the stygian depths in an H.P. Lovecraft novel. Anyway -- it's a thought. And who knows? If the folks behind "Gastineau Girls" manage to get an Episode 11, perhaps we'll see it.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 11:25 PM | Comments (3) | TrackBack

March 19, 2005

DEAR GOD IN HEAVEN!

WE STILL CAN'T BELIEVE IT, despite seeing it live on television and having confirmed it independently with two other people. The Bucknell Bison, from that small university in Lewisburg, Pa., beat the Kansas Jayhawks in the first round of last night's NCAA tourney.

It is difficult to explain to readers unfamiliar with U.S. college basketball just how big a victory this is for Bucknell. The newspaper reports are saying it's Bucknell's first win in the Big Dance since Bucknell basketball was founded back in the 1890s. For that matter, it's the first time any team in the Patriot League -- in which Bucknell plays -- has managed to win a game in the tournament. And most amazing of all, they knocked off Kansas.

As an example of how Kansans reacted to the loss, consider this grief-stricken report from a dumbfounded Kansas City Star scribe:

OKLAHOMA CITY Kansas lost to Bucknell, 64-63, in the opening round of the NCAA Tournament Friday night.

You read that right.

Kansas, the No. 3 seed, lost to No. 14 seed Bucknell.

Unable to control the tempo or ever take control of the game, Kansas fell when Wayne Simien's turnaround jumper in the lane at the buzzer couldn't find the mark.

The shot, off a set play with 2.4 seconds to go from underneath its own basket, looked just like Christian Laettner's famous buzzer-beater that lifted Duke by Kentucky.

Except the shot didn't go in.

The Associated Press reports that Bucknell is the first No. 14 seed to advance in the tourney since Weber State beat the University of North Carolina in 1999. Other reports have said that Bucknell, which last appeared in the tourney in 1989, faced a school which had won the dance twice, made 12 appearances in the Final Four and had 33 overall appearances.

In short, this was downright amazing basketball -- especially as it came on the heels of Vermont knocking out Syracuse, a similar type of amazing victory in which 13th-seeded Vermont blitzed 4th-seeded Syracuse. Vermont hadn't won a tourney game since 1950, television reports said.

We just hope the whole tourney's like this.

NOTE TO INTERNATIONAL or NON-SPORT FAN READERS: The NCAA men's basketball tournament, popularly known as "March Madness" because of the excitement surrounding it, is one of the United States' premier sport contests. It's kind of like the World Cup, except it involves basketball and is held once a year. The event, held over the span of just under three weeks, pits 65 college basketball teams against each other. Some have suggested -- and they're not entirely joking -- that the United States declare game days national holidays due to the lack of productivity in offices around the nation.

Perspective on Bucknell's victory can be gained when one considers there are four tournament brackets, with 16 teams starting out in each. A No. 1 seed has done far better during the year than a No. 16 seed -- and the mismatches are generally so great that a No. 16 has never won an opening-round game in the tourney's history. A No. 15 seed last beat a No. 2 seed in 2001. However, there are limits to everything. Oddly, No. 9 seeds tend to beat their No. 8 opponents, and tradition holds that a No. 12 seed will upset a No. 5 seed at least once each year. This year, No. 12 UW-Mil (University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee) beat No. 5 'Bama (Univ. of Alabama).

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 01:51 AM | Comments (1) | TrackBack

Haikus for Kansas

WE GLEEFULLY NOTE that, prior to Bucknell's historic win over Kansas this past evening, certain Kansas basketball fans had made sport about Bucknell's chances through a nasty limerick contest.

Oops.

In that spirit of fun, we thought about writing limericks of our own. But perhaps limericks don't really do the trick. After all, when one wishes to convey snappy sentiment, is there any better form of poetry than the haiku? There is not. So, let us compose haikus in honor of Bucknell's victory:

Behold Kansas' shame:
They lost to a fourteenth seed --
on TV to boot!

Who the hell had heard
of tiny Bucknell, who tarred
and feathered Kansas?

For Bucknell triumphed --
thank God they recovered from
that stupid foul

Kansas is bleeding;
their efforts all went for nought.
Cry us a river.

Here's one really cool thing about this win, in personal terms. We had family go to Bucknell, so not only are they thrilled, the win insulates us from any and all charges of jumping on a bandwagon. However, we will fully take our lumps once our favorite team in the tourney -- that would be the Gonzaga Zags -- gets knocked out.

(actually posted at 2:51 a.m., but timestamp changes were made for page-placement purposes).

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 01:49 AM | Comments (4) | TrackBack

March 18, 2005

The Book Meme Everyone's Doing

WE UNDERSTAND all the popular bloggers are informing their readers about how they would react to various farcical situations involving popular books, so we're going to do the same thing. Besides, our marketing people thought it was a good idea too. Therefore, we present ...

THE RANT'S ANSWERS TO THE BOOK MEME EVERYONE'S DOING

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

Question: You're stuck inside Fahrenheit 451, which book do you want to be?

Answer: That's easy -- the Fireman's Manual, the only book which enjoys the protection of the authorities in Bradbury's dystopia.

Question: Have you ever had a crush on a fictional character?

Answer: We haven't had a crush on a fictional character, no.

Question: The last book you bought is:

Answer: Alvaro Vargas Llosa's Liberty for Latin America, a book examining public policy (or more precisely, the public policy failures) on that continent over the past two centuries.

Question: The last book you read was:

Answer: Michael Lewis' Liar's Poker, which looks at the life of a Wall Street bond salesman during the late Eighties, and the shocking screw-the-customers attitude which reared its head among some Wall Street types. It also looks at the rise of the bond-trading markets, which had long played second fiddle to equity trading. The most shocking thing about Lewis' book is that he admits earning $225,000 in his last year at his brokerage house, far less than today's salaries for high earners. Boy, talk about being a decade too early!

Question: what are you currently reading?

Answer: We hate to say it, but nothing -- we've been too busy to get to the bookstore. Perhaps on Saturday we shall.

Question: Five books you would take to a deserted island --

Answer: Now that's a tough question, especially because it seems to us a "deserted island" is never deserted. After the castaways do some looking about, they eventually find other people. But here are our choices ...

1. How to PROSPER During the Coming Bad Years, by Howard J. Ruff.

We found Mr Ruff's book in the used paperback section of a small English bookstore in San Miguel de Allende, Mexico, and instantly decided we had to snap it up as a curio. We paid 24 pesos for it, which was worth roughly $2.18 at the time. Our theory was that the prior owner had traded it in for a copy of Dow 36,000 or something like that.

Anyway, Mr Ruff's book was published in 1979, and as all Rant readers know, that means trouble. We had written before about our amazement upon learning that here in the United States of America, there was once something called the "Cost of Living Council" which generally set wages and prices between the years of 1971 and 1974. Mr Ruff's book went further, painting a picture of a time so bleak that no young person can truly comprehend Just How Much it Sucked Back Then. (Double-digit mortgage rates! Rotting cities! 15 pc inflation! Oil shocks! Collapse of the nuclear family! Pension schemes on the brink!) And that's to say nothing of major traumas such as "Mork and Mindy" and the Soviets invading Afghanistan.

Anyway, Mr Ruff's prescription for guarding one's grill against a lawless, dying society was to basically Plan for the Very Worst. Store food for a year! Buy gold coins! Move to small towns if possible! Did we mention gold coins? And silver coins? Oh, and don't forget diamonds either -- a great way to store wealth during really bad times, Mr Ruff advised.

Actually, in all fairness, his ideas back then weren't necessarily bad, it's just the degree to which he prescribed them that we didn't like -- even during the late Seventies, which as we said sucked.

We mean, we could see someone owning gold as a disaster hedge -- but at 1 pc or less of one's holdings, not 15 percent or more. We could also see someone holding pre-1964 silver coins as a hedge, but again, 1 pc or less, not 10 pc or more. Mr Ruff also advised back then that one "should invest no more than 30 pc of your investable assets in diamonds." Well, he needn't have worried about that. Anyone who's seen "Casablanca" knows that diamonds flood the market when you want or need to sell, making diamonds worthy of nothing in one's portfolio. During horrible inflationary conditions, one would think real estate and T-bills would do the job (which Mr Ruff did suggest, although not to the degree we would have liked).

But we have to give Mr Ruff credit. Some time after he wrote his book, he apparently told folks they should sell all their gold and silver near the top of the market (gold for $800 per ounce and silver for $35 per ounce, which was back in the early Eighties). This meant folks who bought low made money hand over fist. And besides, he invented a great inflation hedge of his very own -- a book that sold THREE MILLION COPIES.

Anyway, we digress. We'd take this book along because surely it'd be helpful when the island we were stuck on went into a hyperinflationary spiral ("One cigarette? That'll be 8,900 dates, 87 fish and 23 abalone.") and we needed to convince other lost folks to move to a sounder monetary standard (sand dollar sea-shells).

IMPORTANT NOTICE: The foregoing is merely the author's opinion about certain finance matters and should not be construed as financial advice, which you really shouldn't take from a blogger anyway. Do your own homework, and always consult with a licensed financial advisor and a clever relative before making investment decisions. Read the prospectus carefully before making any investment. Investors can and do lose money on investments, which can carry high degrees of speculative risk, not to mention the risk you'll look bad at a cocktail party for investing in "sure-fire" Argentine bonds. Caveat emptor, leave no stone unturned, etc. etc. Your results may vary.

2. The Bible, King James Version. If we're going to end up like John of Patmos, we may as well have a book which will prepare us to deal with the horrid trauma of being stuck on a deserted island.

3. The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, Edward Gibbon. This three volume history is perhaps one of the longest and most-complete histories ever written, and we'd have plenty of time to both read it and decipher all the nasty footnotes in Latin.

4. US Army Survival Manual. Yeah. We'd have civilized our part of the deserted island in no time using the Army's neat guide to surviving using only one's wits. Especially if we woke up one day to find Gilligan and company had crashed a ways down the shore. With the manual, we'd undoubtedly be able to counteract any zany hijinks and wacky shenanigans using a clever array of jerry-rigged weapons and very large rocks.

5. The Mystery of Capital, Hernando de Soto. What's the problem with living on a deserted island? All the capital's dead! Without a proper system to issue titles, the Rustic Beachside Hideaway we constructed couldn't be used as a capital vehicle to provide funds for Fish-Catching Goods, Island-Based Transport Vehicles, or crossbow bolts. Dr de Soto's book would help us create a simple economy based on healthy respect for property rights and the rule of law, and thus formalize the arrangements we'd set up. That would let us engage in trade and industry, as well as engage the services of others on the island who might possess skills we lacked.

So anyway, there you have it -- the book meme completed! Of course, it's an exercise in futility as there's no way we'll ever end up on a deserted island. But hey, it never hurts to plan.

(via Allison)

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 12:46 AM | TrackBack

March 15, 2005

That Hideous Strength

JOHN MILLER has a nice article in The Wall Street Journal today about horror writer H.P. Lovecraft. As it turns out, today is the 68th anniversary of Lovecraft's death.

We do think Mr Miller hits on just what it is that makes Lovecraft's work so particularly chilling. He writes:

Central to Lovecraft's effectiveness was his personal philosophy, and this is what separated him from Poe and the others who came before him. He was a thoroughgoing materialist--a socialist in his politics and an atheist in his beliefs. "Now all my tales are based on the fundamental premise that common human laws and interests and emotions have no validity or significance in the vast cosmos-at-large," he wrote upon successfully resubmitting the original Cthulhu story. "One must forget that such things as organic life, good and evil, love and hate, and all such local attributes of a negligible and temporary race called mankind, have any existence at all."

That's nihilism, of course, and we're free to reject it. But there's nothing creepier or more terrifying than the possibility that our lives are exercises in meaninglessness. "As flies to wanton boys are we to the gods," says Gloucester in King Lear. "They kill us for their sport." From Lovecraft's perspective, this gives us far too much credit. In his grim milieu, we don't even rate as insect pests, but we still manage to get ourselves squished.

Squished, or buried, or attacked by zombies, or destroyed by horrible beings which crawl up from the depths or arrive from out of space or which lurk unseen as we go about our everyday lives. The characters in Lovecraft's works, save one (Randolph Carter), may as well simply choose their poison and resign themselves to insanity at best and a truly horrible death at worst. There's no hope in any of his work, and that's where the terror lies.

After all -- as we said, Mr Miller has his finger on this -- we as people would generally like to think two things about our existence. First, that our short time on Earth matters, that we'll be not only be productive and loved and happy, but that we'll have an impact on our society and world as a whole -- even if that comes in ways we might not recognize now. And second, that even if we fail on Earth -- with dreams unrealized or love that fell apart or happiness that just never seemed to arrive -- there is that Redemption of knowing we will move on to what comes after, with its promise of Paradise.

Unless, of course, there is no Paradise, and our works will be forgotten. That's where Lovecraft works his magic. His universe, with complete and hideous chaos at its center, is so cold and so unforgiving and so cruel that only the feverish workings of a few scholars keep mankind safe from the hidden knowledge that would destroy us. That's where the terror comes in, as otherwise normal people go where they ought not tread and learn what they ought not discover.

Yet amidst even that terror there is beauty, as evidenced in Lovecraft's dream worlds, where those who have braved the universe's horrors can find a measure of contentment out of time and space. It is with these that we think Lovecraft made his mark as a writer -- for the imagination which he showed in creating them was so downright impressive that only a few others in the genre have since matched it.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 05:32 PM | TrackBack

March 12, 2005

And Today's Booby Prize Goes to ...

... TARA REID, who ought not have sued a Las Vegas-based condominium developer for mocking her recent accidental, um, "asset display" in an advertisement.

It seems Ms Reid, who is reportedly an actress, alleges the developers of Sky Las Vegas didn't merely fraudulently exploit her image with their advertisement. No. Ms Reid also charges the developers also libelled her with a tagline in the ad which read, "Dear Tara Reid. Come let it all hang out." This tagline referred to an unfortunate but well-publicized incident in which one of Ms Reid's breasts got loose from an apparently too-confining dress.

According to news reports, the suit claims Ms Reid "has suffered injury to her business in that she has lost value of her reputation." It further claimed the ad "is defamatory because the language carried a defamatory meaning to those who read them rather than an innocent meaning by implying that plaintiff is sexually lewd or immoral."

Okaaaaaay.

Anyone else have the sneaking suspicion that the developers' defense counsel is going to have a lot of fun with this case? Let's put aside the fact that Ms Reid is a public figure and, as such, libel will be a high bar to jump; let's put aside the fact that the allegedly-libelous statement in itself is based on a public happening. Wouldn't a really nasty defense counsel -- which is the type one ought hire -- make a point of attacking Ms Reid's reputation as part of his defense? There are a lot of gossipy news reports out there about Ms Reid, after all, and as far as we know, they are all accurate. Couldn't the defense make rather liberal use of these to make a point?

Our point, of course, is simply that Ms Reid's lawsuit could boomerang quite spectacularly. Which would be great fun to watch, although we don't think that would produce the result for which Ms Reid might hope. Besides, in matters of law, there are three big hurdles which Ms Reid's counsel will have to overcome. We haven't been able to find a copy of the lawsuit on-line, so they may have addressed these already -- but these are the questions we see:

First, did they even file in the right jurisdiction? The advertisement appeared in Vegas magazine, a Nevada-based publication. If the ad was aimed at Nevada readers, and wasn't aimed at California residents, one could argue Los Angeles Superior Court isn't the proper venue for her suit.

This leads us to the second point, which is that Ms Reid's counsel will have to prove to a jury of California or Nevada residents, depending on the judicially-determined proper venue, that the ad was defamatory. We would like to wish Ms Reid's counsel a lot of luck in this regard.

The third point, though, might have some teeth -- the question of likeness. Can one mock a celebrity in an advertisement -- thus appropriating the celebrity's commerical likeness, so to speak -- even if the celebrity in question doesn't agree and isn't compensated? This is a good legal question and one to which we don't have an answer. But given the representation (it's a parody-type tagline, not an image or endorsement) we'd be surprised if counsel would succeed on this point.

Anyway, we do hope the developers would go after Ms Reid for costs if the matter goes to trial, but we expect both parties will settle soon enough. That'd actually be kind of a win-win -- although the developers have already won. Even if they lost a case in court, they've gained publicity that money simply can't buy.

(link via Sheila)

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 09:15 PM | TrackBack

Illinois Lawyer Accidentally Sues Self

NO, WE'RE NOT KIDDING. We quote from The Madison County Record, an Illinois newspaper, which has the details on this "only in America" type of story. The paper writes:

Alton attorney Emert Wyss thought he could make money in a Madison County class action lawsuit, but he accidentally sued himself instead. Now he has four law firms after his money - and he hired all four.

Wysss boomerang litigation started in 2002, when he invited Carmelita McLaughlin to his office at 1600 Washington St. in Alton. Acting as her attorney when she bought a home in Alton and when she refinanced it, on both occasions she had chosen Centerre Title--a company that Wyss owned--to close her loans.

In the course of the attorney-client relationship, Wyss advised McLaughlin she might have a claim against Alliance Mortgage, holder of the first mortgage. Wyss believed Alliance Mortgage might have broken the law by charging a $60 fax fee when she refinanced.

But the story continues. After depositions in the case were taken and some fancy lawyering by the defense, according to the Record, the trial judge ordered that Counselor Wyss and his firm were to be added as third-party defendants in the case. That's because they collected those allegedly improper fees. Counselor Wyss then understandably quit the plaintiff's case, but is now still on the hook as a defendant.

OOPS. Gee, isn't this is a prime example of "loser pays?" Heh heh heh.

Interestingly enough, though, Madison County is one of those class-action-friendly types of places which the tort-reform crowd has long detested. Perhaps because of this, Counselor Wyss hasn't apparently been able to get out of the jam in which he finds himself; and despite the glee some might feel about Counselor Wyss being hoist on his own petard, he should get out of it. For based on the deposition testimony which the lead plaintiff in the case provided -- it's pretty pathetic -- we would be very surprised if there's a case here.

It's also interesting that, according to the newspaper, there are 61 companies in court next week alone in Madison County. As these entities range from CBS to General Electric, and from Honeywell to The Salvation Army, one can surmise one of two things.

Either the people of Madison County (and perhaps other Illinois locales) are the most maligned, downtrodden, unlucky people on God's green Earth, repeatedly subject to companies harrassing them and eating out their substance -- or some of these 61 cases aren't the shining examples of Fighting for the Little Guy we've been told such lawsuits involve.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 08:01 PM | TrackBack

Get a Long Letter, Send Back a Postcard

SAN MIGUEL de ALLENDE, Mexico WE LEARNED an important lesson about vacations this week. When one goes to central Mexico with the idea that one will escape life back in the United States, one ought not watch The Beltway Boys after one has finally attained some level of relaxation.

We can assure readers that after two days being cut off from the outside world, listening to Fred and Mort shout at each other for thirty minutes was enough to prompt a nervous reaction worthy of Ren Hoek on his worst day. But despite this one isolated incident, we greatly enjoyed our vacation to San Miguel, a small colonial town hours from any airport which has splendid architecture, great restaurants, and fine mountain air. This last item makes returning home fabulous, as we should have at least two days before our body realizes that were no longer at 6,300 feet and therefore doesnt need to speed oxygen throughout our system.

Anyway, we have much to do in terms of reacquainting ourself with life back home there are many bills which must be paid, travelers checks to cash, unpacking to be done, etc., but we shall have more complete entries about our trip and photos (God help us all) soon enough. When all is said and done, were glad to be back but were also very thankful for our very enjoyable respite from toil.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 08:49 AM | Comments (5) | TrackBack

March 01, 2005

Let's Toke Up, Gang!

WELL, THIS HAS to be one of the funnier things we've read in quite some time: Iowahawk's "Fear and Loathing in the Mystery Machine."

In his post, Iowahawk reveals "excerpts" from the never-aired Scooby Doo episode featuring guest star Hunter S. Thompson. The plot -- well, it's something readers will instantly get if they remember Scooby Doo, and something they might not get if they don't. The backstory, as Iowahawk relates, is this:

Hanna and Barbera liked my story on hormone doping at the '72 Laff-a-Lympics and proposed that I cover a Harlem Globetrotters game at a haunted Aztec pyramid in Mexico.

Readers are encouraged to click the above link and read the whole thing for themselves.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 09:29 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack

Patient, Cure Thyself

NOW HERE'S a nice and infuriating story out of -- where else? -- Northern California. It seems that Sarah Nome, an 82-year-old Marin County woman who is upset at the health care she has received, has been occupying a San Rafael hospital room for the past year. The San Francisco Chronicle reports she has not only refused to take part in planning for a move to a nursing home or her eventual discharge, she won't leave until an acceptable Marin County facility is found which will take her.

The hospital in question, Kaiser Permanente San Rafael Medical Center, is unwilling to forcibly remove the troublesome old biddy. Therefore, it has instead run a tab for Mrs Nome's care. This now tops $1.2 million, and is increasing at the rate of $3,090 per day. The hospital has sued Mrs Nome to recover this, and has also challenged the transfer of Mrs Nome's home to her daughter, alleging it was fraudulent. Meanwhile, Mrs Nome is occupying an acute-care bed despite not being sick. Her justification for this, the Chronicle reports, is as follows:

"When you pay Kaiser insurance month after month for 50 years like I have, you expect to be treated like a good patient and a human being," Nome said the other day from her hospital bed. "If I had known that Kaiser would take me for only a couple of days and then would expect my family to take care of me, I would have paid my family what I paid for insurance."

We submit the above suggests that Mrs Nome is either willfully dense or amazingly possessed of that slothful sense of entitlement one normally associates with wanton benefit cheats. We do understand that Mrs Nome, like many aged people, does not want to be a burden on her family in her old age. That said, Mrs Nome's long involvement with the system means she knows full well how it works, and she should accept the fact she will have to make certain sacrifices as a result.

For Mrs Nome's scandalous and reprehensible conduct is a slap in the face to all those hard-working pensioners who have played by the rules, and also a slap in the face to those pensioners' families. We saw how hard our mother and our aunt worked to navigate those rules when our maternal grandmother was sick, and as such, it frustrates us immensely to see Mrs Nome game the system for all it's worth. Mrs Nome's actions are not merely selfish in the extreme, they force others to carry her weight -- an act one would normally think anathema for someone in her generation.

Other writers, notably Ken Summers over at Emily Jones' site, have inquired as to where Mrs Nome's family is in all of this. We also wonder just what the devil Mrs Nome's family is doing. But as the Chronicle does not say in its story, we are forced to reserve judgment on that aspect of things. After all, Mrs Nome is of arguably sound mind if not of body, and it would not surprise us if they've had as much luck as the hospital has had in cajoling Mrs Nome to leave. That's just the way things are sometimes.

Still, stubbornness is not a virtue, and there is the small matter of that hospital bed which Mrs Nome is occupying -- a hospital bed presently unavailable for someone who really needs it.

We do hope her reticence has not meant others have received diminished care as a result of her squatting. We would further hope Kaiser Permanente would be a bit more forceful in its attempts to evict Mrs Nome from its hospital. We would suggest sedation and subsequent relocation to a county nursing facility -- but if that doesn't work, perhaps other tactics could be used. One thing's for sure, the hospital food ain't driving her away.

We are glad that Kaiser Permanente has apparently moved to seize Mrs Nome's former home as part of its fight to drive her from the facility. It would be quite fitting if Mrs Nome was forced to spend the rest of her days in the meanest of situations because she had no money to pay for better nursing care. It is a situation which apparently could have been avoided had she accepted the inevitable from the start. But as the old folks say, "you made your bed -- now lie in it."

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 08:58 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack

February 25, 2005

Time to Shut Up Dept.

OK, SO DIG THIS: Randy Washington, 24, of the fittingly-named municipality of Dolton, Ill., allegedly robs a bank inside a grocery store. After tying up the employees, Mr Washington and his comrades in the heist reportedly make off with $81,000 in cash. Investigators have absolutely no leads in the case, and as such, the crime goes unsolved for several months.

Until Mr Washington allegedly called a radio station and bragged about the whole scheme. He was subsequently arrested and faces a charge of bank robbery in federal court. The charge carries a sentence of up to 20 years in prison.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 12:14 AM | TrackBack

February 24, 2005

Maybe We'll Stick with Best Western ...

OH NO. No. No. No.

We have just learned from USA Today that hotel stays may grow intolerable and snarky, now that some hotel chains are revamping things for the young people. While this could be considered good news -- after all, people other than Baby Boomers do spend money -- it is particularly bad when some of the proposed changes are disturbing to consider.

Here are three particularly salient paragraphs from the USA Today story, which makes use of annoying phrases such as the "under-40 set" (we may vomit) and "Gen Xers" (prima facie evidence of ne plus ultra lameness). The paper writes:

The adjustments are needed because Gen Xers make different demands than the older baby boomers for style and ambience, Internet service and creature comforts.

The sketch of the Gen X traveler, as developed by market researchers, goes like this: They crave branded items for example, Starbucks, not coffee. Paradoxically, they're less loyal than older travelers to single brands. As a result, they're willing to scour the Web to find a boutique hotel oozing with attitude, instead of simply booking the same chain hotel their family booked for their 1980s vacations.

And they fiercely insist on "their way," whether that means being able to check e-mail while sipping a mojito in the lobby bar, or having the choice of soy or low-fat milk for their cafe latte.

Please pardon us while we fiercely stomp upon this idiocy about Generation X, whether it means we have to digress for 500 words, or have the choice of using a scalpel or chainsaw for the dissection.

First thing first: you can't lump everyone from 1961-1981 -- the traditional Generation X dates -- in one generation. It just doesn't work. Someone born in 1961 was enjoying his first toke and using words like "groovy" and lusting after the neighbor's AMC Pacer about the time we came home from hospital in swaddling clothes. Therefore, it's not tough to conclude that we and Mr Dazed-and-Confused don't exactly share the same tastes.

As for where one might draw the dividing lines, we're not exactly sure, but we think a bit of additional stratification might help a bit. It seems to us that folks born between 1961 and 1966 had their formative years in the mid- to late Seventies, while those born between 1967 and 1973 came of age in the early to mid-Eighties. Those born between 1974 and 1979 came of age in the late Eighties and early Nineties, while those born between 1980 and 1985 came of age in the mid- to late Nineties. As such, they had wildly different experiences growing up, and these are reflected in their personal tastes. (For those of you who know us personally, think of how different our tastes are compared to those of our younger brother).

This leads us to our next point, which is that we don't know anyone who "craves branded items," who would voluntarily endure "attitude" from a lodging establishment, who would really care about the milk put in his or her coffee, or who would "fiercely insist" upon anything at a hotel, because it's not cool to harangue the staff at the front desk. It's not their fault the people in reservations overbooked all the smoking rooms, is it?

So that explains why we're somewhat mystified at all these changes some hotel chains are considering. For instance, according to USA Today's sidebar, one such change involves telling staff to be informal and engage in banter with the customers. Yeah, there's a real winner. We don't know about the rest of you, but the last thing we want at a hotel is for some clerk to give us the same spiel we'd get down at Applebee's -- especially if we're paying more than $100 per night.

But of course, we can now have the Applebee's right in the hotel too. USA Today informs us that because "the Gen X man" makes hotel choices based on whether there's a serious sports bar on site (!), all the hotel chains are going to start replacing their lounges. Great. So much for our chances of getting a decent omelet in the morning.

Still, if there is a bright side to this, it's that some of the proposed changes very much make sense. For instance, the shaving mirrors which don't fog up after one showers -- those would be convenient. Better television channels would also be rather nice -- we'd like all the news channels, plus Bloomberg, please. As for those 24-hour gift shop/emergency bath-supply deals? Definitely a smart move.

And you know, maybe we're just wrong on this one. Maybe the sports bars and what not really will work and boost revenues. But speaking as a somewhat-frequent traveler, we just hope these hotels don't forget the basics in their drive to become more with it.

That would really prove a turnoff for us and, we suspect, many other people our age. At the end of the day, what we personally want is a clean room and a decent bath and good service and a place where we can get a quick and pretty good breakfast in the morning -- if not at the hotel, then at least nearby.

As it turns out, the reasonably-priced chains (think Howard Johnson's, think Best Western) do a surprisingly good job of this, because that's been their prime focus. They've also been able, as we noted, to keep their prices reasonable -- which is our own prime focus.

Could the major players lure us away with goodies that justify our paying $40 or $50 more per night? Perhaps -- but only if those goodies had a direct impact on the two hours or so per day we would spend awake in a hotel room. After all, the point to traveling isn't to spend time in a room, but rather to spend time in the place one is visiting.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 11:31 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack

February 23, 2005

An Extreme Victory

PHILADELPHIA, Feb. 20-21 -- THERE IS SOMETHING to be said for a band which plays seven original songs in a set and every one of them proves a winner. Such performances are rare but beautiful things, of course -- too often when listening to live music, one finds oneself secretly wishing for a fast-forward button, or grooving along only to have a massive tempo switch. So when a band not only avoids these kinds of pitfalls, but produces downright amazing songs which one wants to hear again -- it's worthy of note.

We are pleased to report that New Jersey-based "Mouth of Wilson" is such a band, and also pleased to report that our lifelong friend Simon from Jersey is the drummer in "Mouth of Wilson." We saw the band play a set at The Five Spot nightclub in the Old City here, and they were frickin' awesome. We mean, they're that good. Professional-grade good. And as the set in question was played during competition -- a first-round bracket in Philadelphia-based competition of the Emergenza Music Festival -- it went especially well, as "Mouth of Wilson" proved the victor.

They would have won on musical talent alone, but as we understand it, the first such round is based solely on fan support. Therefore, the guys behind "Mouth of Wilson" actually chartered a bus to ferry fans from central New Jersey down to the City of Brotherly Shove.

Now this was fun. Along with Loyal Rant Reader Mike Nagy -- hi, Mike! -- we joined roughly 45 other music-loving people on a bus ride in which heavy drinking commenced from the moment the genial Russian driver started the engine. As it turned out, the bus had its own passenger-pacification system (they showed "Mystic Pizza" on the video system) but this was not enough to calm the hordes of fans desperate for the sweet tones of "Mouth of Wilson." It was also not enough to calm the hordes on the way back. How Mr Nagy managed to get any sleep at all on the return trip -- punctured as it was with drunken argument (sample question: "Springsteen: deity or Communist?") -- is absolutely beyond us.

As for the rest of our trip -- well, we shall get to that in short order. But for those music fans in the central New Jersey area, we would encourage them to go check out "Mouth of Wilson." They're next playing at the Conduit in Trenton on March 12.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 08:23 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack

February 17, 2005

Time to Ratchet Down the Expectations

JAMES LILEKS has today written a hard-hitting Bleat on the matter of parenting, a subject which he addresses through examining a Newsweek article on the topic of motherhood.

We shall not address Mr Lileks' post here, as it discusses certain topics which we do not discuss on The Rant. But we do wish to note, as he did, a part of the Newsweek article which struck us as a bit off.

The magazine's scribe writes as follows:

Women today mother in the excessive, control-freakish way that they do in part because they are psychologically conditioned to do so. But they also do it because, to a large extent, they have to. Because they are unsupported, because their children are not taken care of, in any meaningful way, by society at large. Because there is right now no widespread feeling of social responsibilityfor children, for families, for anyone, reallyand so they must take everything onto themselves.

As I write this, I have an image fresh in my mind: the face of a friend, the mother of a first-grader, who I ran into one morning right before Christmas.

She was in the midst of organizing a class party. This meant shopping. Color-coordinating paper goods. Piecework, pre-gluing of arts-and-crafts projects. Uniformity of felt textures. Of buttons and beads. There were the phone calls, too. From other parents. With criticism and "constructive" comments that had her up at night, playing over conversations in her mind. "I can't take it anymore," she said to me. "I hate everyone and everything. I am going insane."

That first paragraph's a doozy, isn't it? Like Mr Lileks, we would not deny that motherhood is a difficult and often tough experience. But for one to say that society offers no support for mothers or children -- or anyone else, for that matter -- is a bit much.

After all, we are all constantly bombarded with messages and edicts and policy papers which remind everyone how important parents and children and the elderly are. Along with this, billions upon billions of dollars are regularly doled out from the public fisc to help these groups. Whether it's free public education, child tax credits, welfare schemes, government pension programs or health care for the aged, this country shells out rather a lot to support children, parents and lots of other people. We do not intend for the foregoing to serve either as criticism or support for those measures, because we know folks have differing views about them. (You all can argue elsewhere whether we collectively need more or less support for those endeavors). But we would note those things do, in fact, exist. That's just the way it is.

In fact, now that we think of it, the only people who don't get outright support from society in some way are young, jobholding, single people with no children and no home through which they can claim a mortgage-interest deduction. Say! Wait a minute ...

But let's move on, for the first paragraph wasn't the one which really struck us as a bit odd. It was the second and third, which describe that poor woman going crazy over a party for schoolchildren.

As we read through that, it seemed to us the schoolchildren were entirely secondary to the mix -- all the fuss and bother and expense and everything else were being driven by the mother, who was consciously or subsconsciously seeking approval from her fellow parents, and who wanted to make sure everything was all right because of that. For if things weren't all right, Mrs Smith from across the way would make a catty remark at the bridge group, and Mrs Jones and Mrs Thompson would disinvite the poor woman from the neighborhood potluck, and scandal and calamity would result -- especially if Gladys over on Spruce Street got word of things.

Now, that's just madness.

We do, though, think parents -- hell, not just parents, everyone -- would be better off physically, financially and emotionally were they to chuck out the present rules of engagement and focus mightily on three key principles.

The first principle is that people ought not get uptight about what others in their social set think of them.

This is not, of course, to suggest that people ought act in an uncharitable and selfish manner injurious to their fellow citizens. That would be anti-social and rude, and could result in substantial civil and criminal penalties if the injuries were severe enough. However, we do think it's a bit silly to worry about what the frickin' neighbors -- who are probably spendthrift and indolent anyway -- think about how a couple raises their children, or anything else. Life is too short to worry -- actually worry -- about Mr and Mrs Jones. Therefore, people ought use their finite worry reserves carefully.

The second principle is that people ought not spoil their children. If there is one lesson which children ought learn early and frequently, it's that they're going to have to get over it. They can't have the sugary cereal and they can't have the new doll and they can't go to the beer bash and they can't spend the summer idling about.

Obviously, they have to have some reward or incentive structure in their lives, but that just makes them appreciate hard work or the special treat all the more.

Consider: when we were very young and growing up, Mr and Mrs Kepple decreed that we would receive one (1) serving of carbonated beverage per week -- the "Sunday Coke," which was awarded after we attended church services and settled down for quality football.

If we recall rightly, this generations-long tradition was handed down from Mr Kepple's father, who also decreed that his children would receive one (1) Coke per week. And it was a very good idea, because we wanted that Sunday Coke like nothing else -- even when Mrs Kepple decided that she would buy the decaffeinated diet version of the stuff. (If we recall rightly, we complained mightily about this, but lost the argument).

Later, of course, we bought lots of carbonated drinks -- but it was largely on our own dime, with the money we earned from unpleasant and frustrating physical labor during high school. But you can see how the principle was established -- and much later in life, we've come to realize just what a virtue it is to believe in delayed gratification. We have every intention of repeating this scheme with our own eventual children.

The third principle, though, is perhaps most important -- realizing one can't have it all, and accepting it. It seems to us that lots of folks these days have bought into the idea they can have everything they want without sacrificing for it. But life requires sacrifice. The lawyer or bond trader who wants to make a mint has to work seventy-plus hours a week; the family who wants to save for college costs has to settle for a lesser vacation, etc. These tradeoffs have always existed and will always exist -- to believe that they do not exist, just because one wants it to be that way, doesn't make any sense.

Of course, we do realize that it's hard -- damnably hard -- to suddenly switch tracks after charging hard in one direction for so very long. But we do think that for some folks out there, trying might pay dividends.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 10:31 PM | Comments (3) | TrackBack

February 12, 2005

Mobile Phone Bought!

OOOOOOOO. So we finally bought a mobile phone today, roughly two decades after they were first introduced to the American public. Yeah. Now we're hip and with it.

Those who know us are well aware of our long-standing antipathy towards mobile phones. When we moved to California back in the late Nineties, we resolved that we would keep to our Midwestern traditions. As such, this meant we weren't going to mess around with anything we deemed weird or un-Midwestern, including: a) sunglasses, b) mobile phones, c) heroin and d) fusion cuisine. And despite the fact that everyone we knew in California had a mobile phone, we resisted.

Fast forward to our time here in New Hampshire, and we still resisted having a mobile phone. After all, it wasn't like we needed the thing. But we decided today that, with the time we spend on the road, it was probably smart for us to sign up for a mobile phone plan. So we did. Now, we have a phone that does things like ... make and receive calls. We also have a ring tone that ... sounds like a telephone. We also have a calling scheme that allows us about four hours of Anyhoo Minutes and fourteen hours of Inconvenient Calling per month.

So we are psyched at finally joining the Mobile Phone Revolution. Our family and friends will receive our new number once we get around to setting the thing up. The number will be made available to the general public, as Lileks once put it, at Nix o'clock on the 12th of Never, two thousand no five.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 04:25 PM | Comments (9) | TrackBack

February 10, 2005

So Much for That Old-Time Hockey

SIMON FROM JERSEY, who is a devoted hockey fan, has written a smart essay on the National Hockey League lockout. Among other things, Mr Einspahr notes the general irrationality of the NHL Players' Association, which is being stubborn at the negotiating table. He writes:

The owners aren't budging....NOT NOW, NOT IN 2006, NOT IN 2009. At worst, the NHL will dissolve and some semblance of a league will reform WITH A CAP. Either the players can come along and play ball, or FUCK 'EM. This is what the players don't realize, or seem willing to accept. The NHL, as much I absolutely love it, is not on the same page as MLB, the NBA, and the NFL. Golf, Tennis, even the WNBA are more successful. The players and owners need to find common ground and figure out how to fix the game or no one will be making any money at all. What's 42% of nothing? That's what I thought. The longer the game sits on the shelf, the more the essential casual fans the league is desperately trying to convert will disappear forever.

Mr Einspahr writes as this year's NHL season is pretty much in its death throes; even if it were salvaged, the league would hold a pathetic 28-game season and then, of course, the playoffs. We daresay they might as well kill it now and save everyone all the bother.

After all, as Mr Einspahr points out, most folks are not wailing and gnashing their teeth at the league's absence. At its best, top-level professional hockey is America's No. 5 Sport, falling behind football, baseball, basketball and, of course, auto racing. Although hockey has become successful over the years, it still has that faint aura of an unfortunate import which just didn't take off, kind of like an Isuzu Stylus sedan. And now that hockey's gone, Americans have reacted much like they did when the Stylus sedan went away -- that is, by not minding.

Like Mr Einspahr, we too wonder just what the devil's going through the players' minds. We are not unsympathetic to their hatred for a salary cap; after all, were hockey to enjoy a renaissance, this probably would limit their earnings potential. But on the other hand, we don't see how they can do anything but accept the owners' proposal for one.

For the players' backs are against the wall. Since the league says it has lost $500 million over the past two years, and will continue to lose money if nothing is done, it makes perfect sense for the league to do everything in its power to fix things before the ships sink. If that means playing with replacements, they'll do it. If that means putting ads on the jerseys and naming the men's rooms after sponsors, they'll do it. It's much easier to pay good players an average of $500,000 per year than it is to pay great players close to $2 million. And since athletic talent is a renewable resource, it's not as if the present crop of players offers a skill set that can't be duplicated eventually.

So the owners will win -- the only question is when the players will realize that. We have absolutely no idea when that might be, but if this year's season is finished, we would guess that would happen around this time next year. We'd also guess that by then, the NHL would have started using replacement players.

For while many athletes are savvy with money, there are many who aren't; and as TIME magazine recently reported, in Europe, players aren't exactly making what they were making here. As time goes on, some will undoubtedly feel the financial pinch, and more will realize they had a pretty good deal going. When that happens, they'll start coming back into the fold. The only other question, though, is whether they'll do so while hockey fans still give a damn.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 11:43 PM | Comments (7) | TrackBack

February 08, 2005

The Stupor Bowl

WE CAN'T THINK of any nice way to say this, so we'll just come out and say it: the commercials this year bit the wax tadpole. They were horrible. They were unbelievably and incredibly lame.

This is not to say all the commercials were awful. We cracked a smile at the one for the Ford Mustang (yeah!), and we liked the one where the guy at the convenience store got beaten with the baseball bat. Also, the soldier in the airport commercial was well-done and poignant.

But God! Sunday night made us miss the Internet bubble, it really did. Back then, the ad firms came up with really creative and memorable spots, like the infamous Outpost.com ad (the marching band attacked by the wolves) and the EDS "Herding Cats" ad. Even after the bubble burst, the advertisers had great fun with it (the E*TRADE chimp riding through the dot-com ghost town. We loved that). This year paled in comparison. Will ANYONE remember ANY of these ads a week from now, much less several years from now? No. Of course not. Because the ads sucked.

So the question is: who do we blame for ruining this year's Super Bowl?

Well, we suppose we can first blame Janet Jackson and Justin Timberlake, those wretched, imbecilic, pathetic imitation pop stars. Gawd. They just had to frickin' cause trouble, didn't they, with that stupid and tawdry stunt during last year's halftime show. That was the truly frustrating thing about that whole mess, of course. It wasn't "shocking," it was crass and foul and showed as much subtlety as throwing chum into a shark tank. So it was offensive AND dumb, and the latter aspect was the worse sin. We are glad, though, that in the fallout both of them have subsequently disappeared from the public eye. We can only hope that market forces cause their permanent proscription from the airwaves.

Yet one cannot solely lay the blame on those two. We believe that most of the liability for this year's lousy commercials can be equally divided between the Fox television network, the National Football League, and the ad agencies which created the commercials in question.

After all, as The Arizona Republic reports today, officials with the NFL were "upset" over one advertisement for "GoDaddy.com" -- whatever that is -- and complained to Fox, which then killed later airings of the ad.

This advertisement was a clever, and pretty funny, spoof on the fallout from last year's debacle. Yet NFL officials were upset about it, which to us says they're complete and utter killjoys. After all, last year's troubles were due to the half-time show, not a bunch of advertisements. Besides, there's something to be said for being able to laugh at one's misfortune.

As for Fox, we learn from the Republic the network killed several proposed ads, and the creators of other ads pulled their ads from the lineup before the game. We think this was overcautious in the extreme on everybody's part. Fortunately for the advertisers, though, people everywhere are now going to see these "banned" spots. Also, it was dumb to throw off the Miller ads -- after all, watching Miller and Anheuser-Busch go at it would have kept us glued to our seat for hours.

But despite all this, we can't let the ad agencies off the hook either, for they could have come up with spots which were a) clever, b) funny, and c) not entirely and utterly predictable. Just because the ads had to be somewhat tasteful this time around didn't mean the people behind them couldn't have come up with some decent jokes and unexpected surprises.

Now, it may come as a surprise to some that we complain the lack of swell ads "ruined" the Super Bowl, as it was a heck of a game until late in the fourth quarter. But we did not have a horse in the race -- the Patriots knocked out our beloved Steelers during the AFC Championship -- and as such, we wanted some great ads to keep things interesting. Instead, we half-watched the game and half-watched the ads and grinned once in a while and mostly just went about our daily work. Given that ratings fell year-over-year for the Really Big Game, we can only conclude that at least a few other folks out there did much the same.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 07:06 PM | TrackBack

Silver Writes a Golden Essay

STEVE SILVER has posted a smart essay on the mainstream media that all bloggers ought read -- especially those bloggers who frequently criticize the media for supposed bias in all things. As excerpts cannot do justice to Mr Silver's work, we would encourage everyone to read it in its entirety.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 06:33 PM | TrackBack

February 05, 2005

Great Moments in Intellectual Property Law

AND NOW, for something completely different:

-----------

As often happens in the hip-hop world, two rappers became embroiled in a dispute over who owned the rights to a song that utilized a popular phrase. And it took the musical ear of the 5th Circuit Court of Appeals to settle the matter.

Positive Black Talk Inc., et al. v. Cash Money Records, et al. plunged the conservative appellate court into the world of booming bass lines and popular street slang.

Chief Judge Carolyn Dineen King, who wrote the opinion, boiled the case down to a dispute between Louisiana rappers Juvenile and D.J. Jubilee over who owned the rights to a song "that included the poetic four-word phrase 'back that ass up.'"

--------------
We can assure readers the above is not a joke, but an actual news article from Texas Lawyer magazine. It's based on a Jan. 13 decision (see here and here) from the 5th Circuit.

Aside from the idea of rappers engaging in court battles -- we look forward to rap songs including the phrases injunctive relief and writ of mandamus -- what really makes the story funny are the people involved in deciding and analyzing the appeal. It's somewhat similar to the one funny scene in "Scary Movie 2," where the upper-crust partygoers gather 'round a piano to sing Mystikal's "Shake Ya Ass."

The judge who wrote the opinion, for instance, likes Brahms; the experts quoted in the story include practicing IP attorneys and university professors. However, lest music lovers fear the case was entirely out of order, we would note a jury originally found for the defendants.

(via The Artful Writer)

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 01:37 PM | Comments (3) | TrackBack

January 25, 2005

Now That's Just Wrong

WE PRESENT the following quote verbatim as a sign The Powers That Be ought not treat their rank-and-file workers like idiots:

The boxes have to have their bar codes scanned and if they scan correctly, we hear Homer Simpson scream "WOO-HOO!" And if they aren't scanned correctly we hear Homer Simpson scream "D'OH!" So all frickin' day it was "WOO-HOO! WOO-HOO! WOO-HOO! WOO-HOO! WOO-HOO! D'OH! WOO-HOO! WOO-HOO! WOO-HOO! WOO-HOO! D'OH!"

Go read the rest. Please.

(via Dodge)

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 10:16 PM | TrackBack

January 21, 2005

Just for the Record ...

IT'S 1 P.M. It is four degrees outside. The wind chill is -16. This is just wrong in every possible way.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 12:50 PM | Comments (10) | TrackBack

The Economics of Smoking

LIVING IN NEW HAMPSHIRE, we have found, is such a comfortable existence that going to other states in the Union can sometimes cause us to suffer fear and nausea.

For instance, when we were back in Ohio for the Christmas holidays, we went to the bookstore and bought $18 worth of goods. When the clerk informed us that we owed $19.44, we actually thought there was a mistake until we remembered Cuyahoga County has an 8 pc sales tax. In New Hampshire, of course, the sales tax is 0 pc.

We wish we could say this was an isolated incident, but it is certainly not. When we were in Washington, D.C., recently, we blanched at the amount of tax we paid on our hotel rooms (12 pc, as opposed to New Hampshire's 8 pc). When we talk with friends in California, we inevitably recall how much we paid in income taxes (9.3 pc in the Golden State, compared to 0 pc here). But the incredible thing is this. The shock and anguish we feel going elsewhere is nothing near that which our friends and loved ones feel when they come here.

For they are suddenly confronted with the fact that in New Hampshire, goods in the stores cost ... just what the prices say they cost. Then they'll inquire as to the rent we're paying on our apartment, and they learn our real housing cost has actually gone down since we moved here. Then, the real surprise comes.

"You pay HOW MUCH for cigarettes?"

It depends on the brand, of course, but it ain't much. If one buys Marlboros -- and who doesn't? -- one will pay somewhere around $25 a carton, taxes included. If one buys the off-price brands, one can expect to pay $20 a carton, perhaps even less.

Now, we personally suffer from what we call the California Effect, which to say our time there caused certain "benchmark prices" for goods and services to stick in our mind. Therefore, we get angry when the price of gasoline goes up -- but only if it goes higher than $1.75. We get annoyed when the price of milk goes up, but only if it goes above $4 per gallon. And in our mind, the benchmark price for a carton of cigarettes is $45, and less in Nevada.

For our friends a bit farther down on the Eastern Seaboard, the only way they can pay $45 per carton is if they buy out of somebody's trunk. We knew the prices down there were bad enough to warrant taking New Hampshire cigarettes on the road with us, but we had no idea how bad they were until we read about this sad story out of New York.

It seems that certain New Yorkers, facing $7.50 per pack prices at minimum for their smokes, decided to be clever and order cigarettes off the Internet. This seemed like a win-win: the smoker got cheap cigarettes, the buyer made his sale, and so on. But the loser in the equation was the city of New York, which found itself losing out on its $1.50 per pack of tax revenue. In all, a New York City smoker pays $3 in tax on each pack of smokes.

Now, the New York Daily News informs us the city is Not Happy about this, and is dunning a whole bunch of smokers for the city taxes they owe. Apparently, the buyers are supposed to voluntarily pay the tax if they buy cheap cigarettes from elsewhere.

This seems a bit much, if you ask us. Not so much in terms of the law -- the law is the law, even if it is stupid -- but in general principle terms.

After all, it's one thing if you're dealing with income taxes -- those are taxes to which everyone is subject (and with April 15 coming up, we remind all Rant readers to pay all the taxes they owe to everyone). But when it comes to sales and use taxes, which vary between states, it seems unjust to make people suffer simply because other jurisdictions are more competitive than the ones in which they live. And on general principle grounds -- if not, apparently, legal grounds -- this seems like tax avoidance, not tax evasion.

It also amazes us the city of New York thinks Civic Virtue will trump the basic laws of economics. Mayor Michael Bloomberg, in keeping with his Crusade Against Fun, has no sympathy for the smokers who avoided their taxes. Yet the laws of supply and demand are inviolate. As long as cigarette prices in the city are extraordinarily high, people will take extraordinary measures to find cheaper cigarettes. It's not rocket science. It's basic, entry-level stuff that any adult knows.

It's also no surprise that other jurisdictions are following suit, as New York's move was so extreme it gave them lots of incentive to do so.

For instance, let's look at New Jersey and nearby states as an example.

When New York City put a $3 per pack combined tax in place, New Jersey's taxes were $2.05 per pack. That gave them 95 cents in breathing room to manuever -- actually, a bit more, as New Jersey's cigarettes were previously 47 cents costlier per pack than New York City's. New Jersey soon raised its cigarette tax to $2.40 per pack -- and why not? They had the pricing power to do that, and it was politically easy after New York City decided to walk the plank. Pennsylvania did the same thing, hiking its cigarette tax from $1 per pack to $1.30 per pack. Despite the increase, they still preserved their price advantage over New Jersey accordingly. Nearby Virginia also increased its cigarette taxes, from 2.5 cents per pack to 20 cents per pack.

What's interesting about this is that none of these states lowered their cigarette taxes. That to us would seem the best move economically, because it would move the demand curve outward. But the experts say that increased prices will cause people to give up the filthy habit, and that's cheaper and better in the long run anyway. We don't know if that's true, but we have seen anecdotal evidence to suggest it.

Speaking personally, though, we can say increased prices would not have an impact on our smoking habits. Further, because we are a student of economics, we would find a way or make one to ensure we came out revenue-neutral on the deal. For instance, we can and would give up one dinner out per month just on general principle grounds -- it would be a painless way to slap the grasping hand reaching for our wallet.

Of course, in terms of smokers' personal economy, it would be far cheaper for us all if we just gave up the damned cigarettes in the first place. Smokers would be greatly helped in this regard if the cessation products were generally covered under health insurance, or were cheaper than smoking in the first place. But that is a subject for another post.

(cigarette tax information from the American Lung Association).

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 12:43 PM | Comments (3) | TrackBack

January 18, 2005

Door Bonking

What? Oh. OH, NO, PEOPLE! NEVER!

-- Dick Dietrich

DESPITE THE TITLE -- heh heh heh -- we can assure readers this post is not about that, or anything related to that, at all. No. This deals with something entirely different -- namely, our car.

Like everywhere else in America, New Hampshire has seen its share of patently weird weather over the past week or so. Here in the Granite State, we had rather a lot of rain, and then bone-chilling cold following it. While we were originally thankful for the spate of abnormally warm weather late last week, we have now come to realize it was Satan's handiwork. You see, over the past two days, we have found ourselves facing the troublesome automotive problem known as "door bonking."

"Door bonking" -- as it's called because of the sound that goes with it -- is the opposite of most cold-weather auto troubles. These generally deal with frozen locks and windows that refuse to roll down, things which prevent one from getting into one's car. "Door bonking," on the other hand, means that when one gets into one's car after a cold spell, one finds the door latch gets jammed, and as such one can't close the driver's side door. This is very uncool, as the following things happen:

1) The dome light goes on and stays on, because the door isn't closed. This is often followed by an annoying dinging noise from the car.
2) Because the door isn't closed, a driver may attempt to jimmy it closed using persuasion, brute force, and finally, outbursts of profanity not seen since Drake went after the Spanish treasure fleet.
3) The driver will not drive the car, as he could fall out of it upon making a right turn at an otherwise placid intersection.

It was natural the first instance of this happened on Sunday, when we were rushing to get to work. However, after a few despondent minutes, we realized the severe temperature change in the prior 48 hours -- combined with the humidity -- had somehow caused the car to get annoyed. Therefore, we simply warmed it up, and once the door latch secured, off we went.

Thinking we had solved the problem -- for it did not reappear over the next 36 hours -- we were no longer concerned. However, tonight it happened again -- when we were leaving work. After waiting for the car to warm up, we then realized we needed to Take Drastic Action. Clearly the only option was to go look on the Internet for information.

Well, as it turned out, we were somewhat lucky: we found that applying something called "silicone spray" would act as a water repellent, thus preventing any future freezes. Therefore, we sallied forth to a Very Large Chain Store, knowing for sure the store would have the stuff.

The Very Large Chain Store did not have silicone spray.

This was most annoying. We did, however, learn how this particular chain delivers such amazing returns for its investors. Apparently, they broadcast security-camera images of customers cluelessly wandering around looking for various goods to the staff, all of whom are hiding in a back storeroom. These broadcasts boost employee morale to the point where they work at peak efficiency for the store stocking shelves, thus maximizing revenue flows. Yes, we are bitter -- but quite frankly, when we have to literally walk half the length of a store to find someone, and the only thing they do is page an employee who himself doesn't bother showing up, we don't exactly see Customer Service as a high priority.

In any event, 20 minutes after our futile attempts to actually get an employee to help us look for "silicone spray," the guy at the sporting goods desk informed us the chain did not carry the stuff. We were most amazed at this, because we were sure the Chinese had mastered the production of pretty much everything. But instead, we were told "any hardware store" would carry the spray, and we ought go there.

At this point, we were ready to concede defeat. However, a Helpful Citizen at the weaponry counter came to our rescue. This enlightened soul kindly told us that WD-40 would solve the problem, and displace any moisture affecting our door latch. We, of course, had WD-40 in our car, having found it quite useful for fixing lots of the car's minor ailments. So, we went home and liberally applied the stuff to the affected area, and we closed the door with the lightest amount of force possible.

It shut.

So we would like to offer a public thanks to this Helpful Citizen, who charitably acted as a Good Samaritan and will hopefully have this remembered on the Final Day. Also, we got a kickass extendable snowbrush while we were at the store. Do they even have snow in Guangdong?

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 12:04 AM | TrackBack

January 13, 2005

The Year That Was

VIA ALLISON BARNES, we have learned of a new "meme" floating around the blogosphere which has bloggers noting the first sentences of their first posts from each month during the year. In doing this, we realized a few things:

1) We really need to eat better and get more sleep.
2) We need to inform our readers better when we're going away.
3) We are really tired all of the time.
4) This is really a fun hobby.

JANUARY: WE HAVE BEEN AMUSED to see all the analysis, the shock, the hand-wringing coming from fans of the Washington Redskins football franchise following the resignation of Steve Spurrier, the team's head coach.

FEBRUARY: THE STATES WE HAVE VISITED are in red, whilst the states we have not visited are in olive green.

MARCH: ANY REACTION TO JAMI BERNARD'S most recent column in the New York Daily News, in which she details the slings and arrows sent her way since her one-star review of "The Passion of the Christ," should start out with a spirited defense of her position.

APRIL: HAMILTON, BERMUDA -- Benjamin Kepple's Daily Rant, an Internet content provider based here, said its Web site was hacked sometime around 10 p.m. last night. The company has blamed Communism.

MAY: WE NOTE, with no small bit of amusement, that The Raving Atheist has vowed to join the priesthood should he win the New York State Lottery with numbers from a fortune cookie.

JUNE: IN A MOVE WE FIND deeply distressing, the Government of New Jersey has ruled that bars and night clubs may no longer offer women free admission to or discounted drinks at their establishments.

JULY: (By MacKENZIE LAURIER, Rant Canada) OTTAWA Relations between Canada and the United States are at a new low after prominent Canadians accused America of influencing its election, and an advertising campaign launched immediately following the race hasnt helped matters.

AUGUST: WE HAD BEEN inclined to applaud Halle Berry, whom we once saw in a James Bond film, for recently making some strong statements against the practice of women having plastic surgery.

SEPTEMBER: WE SUPPOSE we owe our readers a bit of an explanation as to where the devil weve been for the past week, and an apology for not bothering to post a message regarding our absence.

OCTOBER: WE SUPPOSE we should start the morning off with a sincere apology -- again -- for not blogging much this week.

NOVEMBER: FEELING FATIGUED and a bit bored this past Saturday, we splurged on a copy of Rome: Total War, the latest strategy game from the good, fine people at Creative Assembly Ltd. Our reaction to the program can be summed up in one word: wow.

DECEMBER: SO WE TAKE a mere eight days off from our blog, five of which were due to various Thanksgiving-oriented happenings, and our friends start sending us notes inquiring about our health, our personal situation, and whether we are in fact still breathing. (The answers, respectively, are "lousy," "fair-to-middlin'," and "surprisingly, yes.")

Stick with us as we roar into 2005, folks! Of course, we're already in 2005, but you know what we mean.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 12:02 AM | TrackBack

January 12, 2005

Well, We'll Stop Complaining

THE TINY HAMLET of Kaktovik, Alaska, is in the midst of a rather nasty blizzard which has forced temperatures to twenty below zero and wind chills to sixty below zero. These are conditions which make even us, somewhat used to New Hampshire's brutal winters, shudder.

Their power went out three days ago.

We are happy to note that rescue efforts to help the village, which had been stuck in a meterological nightmare of "Twilight Zone" proportions, have largely succeeded. Most homes in Kaktovik have had their power restored, and two tons of equipment were scheduled to be shipped -- by snowmobiles, if necessary. (The point of origin for that equipment was another hamlet, with the understandable name of Deadhorse).

We would further note that -- with the air temperature in Manchester supposed to reach at least 50 degrees tomorrow -- we shall not complain about New Hampshire winters for ... gee, maybe as long as a week.

(link via Simon From Jersey)

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 11:47 PM | TrackBack

Haven't They Suffered Enough?

WE WERE PLEASED to learn that a New Jersey school district concluded it wouldn't be Educationally Enriching for one of its middle schools to serve as a backdrop for the wretched antics of "The Simple Life."

After all, the kids are from South Jersey. They've suffered enough. They don't need that horrible dimwit and her miserable friend playacting during school hours. Especially considering the two were going to "work" as "substitute teachers" during the filming. Dear God -- what were these administrators thinking when they gave the initial greenlight? We are simply astounded such a thing would be even seriously entertained, much less approved.

Even more discouraging, what were the parents in this tiny hamlet thinking? Thank God about 10 pc stood up for righteousness and decency -- but 90 pc said it was perfectly all right for their kids to be televised on "The Simple Life?" The very thought is enough to give us dyspepsia for a week.

Speaking of dyspepsia, we have always wondered -- what do the neighbors of the starlets' families think about all this? We've always just wanted to know, that's all. Because if we were their neighbors, we would disinvite them from all the trendy parties and big social events and other such things which we understand many wealthy people take quite seriously. Just as punishment for letting their wretched offspring run amok.

We mean, God. Attention, Mr and Mrs Hilton: it's not cool when your kid's major apparent achievement -- after four generations of wealth-building -- is to seemingly reattain the status of parvenu.

(link via Sheila)

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 11:17 PM | TrackBack

January 11, 2005

Memo to the New York Jets

WE UNDERSTAND certain players with the New York Jets football team have publicly expressed confidence they'll win when they play the 15-1 Pittsburgh Steelers this Saturday at Heinz Field.

Running back Curtis Martin said the team expects to win the game. And defensive end Shaun Ellis also stuck by comments he made on Dec. 12, in which he said much the same:

"If we come back here, we'll beat them. I honestly believe that with my heart. They are a great team, but if we come back here, I really think we'll beat them."

This was after the Jets LOST 17-6 against the Steelers.

Now, we -- like the Steelers -- are bemused at such smack-talk, coming as it does from a team which only made the playoffs after the Steelers beat Buffalo in the final week of the season. However, while we will watch the game with merely cautious optimism, we would offer the Jets and their fans one piece of sound advice for Saturday:

It's not manly to cry in your beer.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 07:32 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack

January 10, 2005

Call the Inspectors

WE DO HOPE the Government will soon look into a recent case of malfeasance which has troubled our sleep as of late. Apparently, someone at the Census Bureau has renamed Washington state's Bevis Lake as "Butthead Lake" in its internal records.

Washington state wildlife officials say it's all a joke, but clearly, the Government must launch an investigation into this right away. After all, there's a very real danger this "practical joker" could turn his attention to other lakes and water bodies. As such, we are gravely concerned that Kepple Lake, located in Washington state's Turnbull National Wildlife Refuge, could next fall victim to the Census employee's machinations! And we can't have that happen!

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 11:23 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack

Coffee: the Agony and the Ecstasy

WE NOTE WITH APPROVAL this handy list, which explains in plain English the myriad options one has when ordering at locations of the Starbucks Coffee Co., the friendly neighborhood coffeehouse with a market capitalization of $23 billion.

While we have not had Starbucks coffee in roughly 18 months -- and have no plans to drink it anytime soon -- we do think this list will go a long way in preventing us from looking like an idiot on the rare instances when we do order it. For when we wander into Starbucks, we generally want one of two things, those being either a small coffee or one of those caramel-laden thingies. As the Company does not describe the items as such, we usually end up holding up the line and we aggravate all the people in patchouli. Therefore, we salute the author of this list for providing us with a handy reference guide as we decide upon one of 190,080 possible permutations for our coffee drink.

Now, we do realize that many readers may express shock and amazement at our admission that we have ever had Starbucks coffee, for a few reasons. First, we see the practice of buying coffee out as wasteful and decadent; second, we prefer other ways to secure our daily requirement of caffeine; and third, we distrust and fear everything that goes along with the Starbucks Experience. We do not begrudge those who do enjoy that, of course -- it IS, after all, their right -- but that said, we see no reason on God's Green Earth why we ought pay $4 for one of Starbucks' drinks. After all, look at what we're getting for that $4 -- uninspired service, overpriced ingredients and an environmentally-friendly cup. And if we wanted a milkshake, we'd go somewhere else.

But this is not to denigrate the joy -- nay, the ecstasy -- of a good cup of coffee, which we occasionally enjoy. Nor is it to denigrate the many coffee-flavored things which exist here in New England. For instance, in New Hampshire, it is possible to buy "coffee milk" -- a downright heavenly blend of milk and coffee syrup. It is one of our few dietary luxuries, and we enjoy it much. Why, just tonight, we had a small glass of coffee-flavored soya milk for dessert -- which not only tastes great, but it provides a weak little kick to the system. And for our money, you can't beat Kona or Jamaican Blue Mountain coffee. We have only had those on very rare occasions, but they're worth every cent.

Kona beans, we would note, run about $16 per pound; Jamaican Blue Mountain beans run anywhere from $27 to $40 per pound, depending on your supplier. At forty cups to the pound, this puts the per-cup price of Kona at 40 cents, while Jamaican Blue will run you a buck at most. It is thus understandable how Starbucks has nearly a 12 pc operating margin.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 09:11 PM | TrackBack

January 06, 2005

Hello, Trenton!

OUR DEAR FRIEND Simon from Jersey is performing with his band, "Mouth of Wilson," in Trenton this Saturday. They'll be at The Conduit, 439 South Broad St., starting at roughly 9:30 p.m. Click on the link above for more details.

SFJ is on the drums, and we can assure Rant readers in the central New Jersey area that Mr Einspahr is extremely proficient. So if you're in the area, go check 'em out.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 08:44 PM | Comments (3) | TrackBack

January 03, 2005

It's 2005 -- God Help Us

How many times have I been down hard
and looked up and saw him smiling like a shining dime?
Hope that he would stay and tell me why
he was so happy, if he had the time
Oh, I wish there was a way to race him,
catch a flyin' horse and chase him,
everybody's goin' to the moon! (me and you!)
Everybody's goin' -- it'll be quite soon!
It's customary songs like this use a word like spoon,
of the light of the silvery --
we'll take a flight to the silvery -- (you know!)
everybody's goin' to the moon!

-- The Three Degrees, in "The French Connection" (1971)

"What kind of future is THIS? And where ARE the damn picturephones? They PROMISED me PICTUREPHONES!"

-- Biff, "This Modern World" (2002)

WELL, HERE WE ARE. Another year older, another year wiser, looking hopefully but cautiously towards the future. (Still no lunar colonies and still no home videophones, but never mind).

For us personally, 2004 was not a bad year, although certainly not a good one. We lost people close to us, but we did all right at work and did all right financially and did all right in terms of our personal life. For the world, one could perhaps describe 2004 in the aggregate as relatively awful. It was not the worst year we have had, of course; but the tragedies of the South Asian tsunami and the Darfur genocide marred things significantly. Add in the Madrid train bombings, the Florida hurricanes, and various other manmade and natural disasters, and it seemed like a worse year than most in recent history.

But this is not to say it was all bad -- we had stability and slow growth and the power of international terrorism waned a bit. Whatever one thinks of the election results from around the world, the only bad effects from them were emotional. The world economy got a bit stronger, and in most places, didn't overheat. There were no nuclear explosions, no industrial-scale poisonings, no acts of barbarism which shook the foundations of civilization. All in all, that's something for which to be thankful. For the chaos such events would cause would, in the end, prove far more devastating in human terms than the waves which swamped the coasts of Indonesia and Thailand and Burma -- and the deaths would go, as the analysts say, "unseen."

But what of 2005? We would not hazard a guess as to the vagaries of Fortune; but we do hope it will prove a better year than this last. We are admittedly more hopeful on a personal scale than we are looking at the world stage. But even on that former front, we wonder what time will bring.

For we are often reminded of our own weaknesses and failings and the crosses which we bear; and once in a great while, the thought escapes from the back of our mind: will this year will be the year when Bad Things Happen to us, as opposed to some rhetorical Good Person? We suppose we feel rather lucky in that regard -- we have not yet had the tragedies and diseases and general low points in life which so many others have suffered.

Yet along with that thought comes hope and appreciation, the knowledge that while the inevitable will someday visit us all, we personally have had a good run of things. Sometimes that has been wild and crazy and even surreal, but it has thus far been a good run nonetheless, and hopefully that shall continue. We could not dare to ask for more. So with that, we shall do our best to enjoy what we have been given, and continue to take life as it comes.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 10:18 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack

January 02, 2005

Let's Throw Another Log on the Fire

WE HAVE LEARNED, via the always excellent Dean's World, that Lake Superior State University has once again issued its list of words and phrases which ought be banished to the deepest pit in Linguistic Hell. These include "sales event," "enemy combatant," "safe and effective," "I approved this message" and "blog."

That last item, we submit, is proof that people at Lake Superior State University are very clever. But we also have our own suggestions for inclusion on this year's Banished Words list:

* UTILIZE -- Attention, American businessmen: using the word "utilize" makes you look like an idiot. The correct word, as you might have guessed, is "use." Use it instead of "utilize," which sounds like an euphemism for shady practices down at the gas company.

* ENHANCE -- Throw this word onto the ashheap of your word-processing dictionary, and you'll improve your writing.

* TELEVISION EVENT -- We have mixed feelings about throwing this one onto the fire, because the phrase "television event" is a clear sign we really wouldn't want to watch the program described as such. Still, we suggest using clearer language to describe such programming, such as "crap."

* RISKY SCHEME -- Scheme is a perfectly good word. It means "plan."

* SEE OUR AD IN ... -- What, we have to look at another advertisement to see what you couldn't put in the one we're watching now? Why don't you just give us a frickin' Web site we can check out?

* INNER DEMONS -- What, as opposed to the openly-visible hellspawn? You're sick. You need help. Deal with it.

* CREATIVE ACCOUNTING -- Look, it's according to GAAP or it ain't. If the latter holds, perhaps other words such as "fraudulent" and "jailworthy" might apply.

* FEATURING -- in the chain-restaurant sense of the term, which is to sex up an Uninspiring Chicken Dish through listing mediocre ingredients used in making it. They're not JUST chicken fajitas, they're chicken fajitas FEATURING Jack Daniel's(R) Old-Tyme Moonshine and Cough Remedy(TM)!

* PARTNERING -- If you've hired a consultancy firm, just come out and say you've hired a consultancy firm.

Blech. Now we feel nauseous.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 07:39 AM | Comments (1) | TrackBack

December 27, 2004

Think Merchandising, Man!

DEAN ESMAY is contemplating a name change for his extremely popular and always-informative blog, Dean's World. Mr Esmay reveals that when he started the blog, the name was somewhat of a joke; and further, his blog has evolved considerably since he named it such. Plus, he thinks the name cheesy.

We feel compelled to advise Mr Esmay that, in our humble opinion, he ought keep his blog named "Dean's World." After all, he does have six thousand visitors per day, which is no joke; and as such he has developed a rather well-known brand around the "Dean's World" name. Therefore, we don't think he should change the name at all. Rather, he should trademark it.

Then, to top it all off, Mr Esmay could develop a Nifty Catch-Phrase to go along with it. We mean, just think of the merchandising and promotional opportunities which the Dean's World (TM) name offers. T-shirts! Hats! Mouse pads! Tip jars! All branded under one cohesive, well-recognized label -- with the Added Marketing Power of a Nifty Catch-Phrase. Hey, it worked for Emeril Lagasse (R), didn't it? And he's got at least two Nifty Catch-Phrases.

So we would encourage Mr Esmay to keep the trusted "Dean's World" mark, just as we here at The Rant have kept Benjamin Kepple's Daily Rant as the title for our blog. This despite the fact we hardly post daily anymore, and don't rant nearly as much. But then, we have to keep it. Changing the name would be a major hassle with the regulators, and we'd suddenly have all our e-mails rerouted to Fiji, and we'd miss our earnings targets and we'd get a nasty call from the home office. These would not be good things.

So again, we would strongly encourage Mr Esmay to keep the "Dean's World" name. But he is encouraging comment from readers about the idea, so go over and chip in your two cents.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 08:11 PM | TrackBack

It's Like Some Kind of Bad Joke

READERS OF THE New York Daily News will find themselves either horrified or snickering at the tabloid's latest "exclusive" report, which informs us that New York is getting "dramatically shortchanged" in the annual appropriations game.

Well, perhaps "shortchanged" isn't the correct word to use, but as both The Rant and the Daily News are family publications, we shan't mention the more precise terms which some might prefer. We shall, however, note the downright hysterical tone which the Daily News uses in its story. Indeed, the newspaper uses words like "robbery," "outrage" and "ripped off" to describe the fact New York didn't get everything it wanted this year. It goes on to complain that New York sends $11 billion more to Washington than it gives back this year, and -- worst of all! -- this "injustice" was perpetrated by "hicks (and) yokels."

This is like some kind of bad joke.

We do not disagree with the Daily News' main contention: in the aggregate, New York has long been used as a piggy bank for Washington. It has also long been used as a piggy bank for Albany, and we wait breathlessly for the Daily News' expose on Upstate New York's Fiscal Treachery. But, that said, a closer look at the numbers shows that perhaps the Daily News ought have kept quiet about the whole thing. And quite frankly, New York was a fiscal cesspit for so long that the paper's outrage boggles the mind.

For instance, we do seem to recall that only federal loans kept the city from going broke in the mid-Seventies. These federal loans were to the tune of $2.3 billion per annum, or roughly $10 billion in today's dollars. These were needed because New York was, well, a wretched, corrupt, inefficient, badly-run hellhole.

Oh, yes it was.

We quote from Robert Hargreaves' "Superpower: A Portrait of America in the 1970s" to make our point. Mr Hargreaves' work is a useful resource for our long-standing thesis that almost everything which happened in the Seventies was bad, and his section on New York helps confirm it.

Mr Hargreaves writes:

By combining the old commissions into ten federal-style administrations, (Mayor John) Lindsay attempted to streamline the rickety machinery of government. But according to his critics, the main result of the reforms has been to add one more layer to an already unwieldy administration, so that the city now employs over 413,000 workers, an increase of more than a quarter since Lindsay took office.

Whether the city is any more efficient now is a moot point. "Genghis Khan conquered Asia with an army only half the size of New York City's civil service," one of Lindsay's opponents has said. And in 1972, New York state auditors reported that what they termed "underutilization of employee time" was widespread in the city. Welfare employees, they reported, waste about two-thirds of their time, while the productivity of water-meter readers was less than half that of workers doing similar jobs in private industry; this cost the city about $2 million a year more than it should have done. New Yorkers pay per capita half as much again for police protection as the average American and two thirds more for their garbage collection .... it now costs more to collect a ton of New York garbage than it does to mine a ton of Kentucky coal.

We could go on. For in his book, Mr Hargreaves wrote sixteen pages about New York's innumerable failings when it came to matters of Government, as well as its civic corruption and its criminality.

Now, readers will reasonably point out that Mr Hargreaves was writing in the Seventies, and things have changed much since then. Mayor Rudy Giuliani's impressive reforms, especially in terms of crime, did not merely make New York livable again -- they made the city a desirable place to live, even to outsiders. Later, Mayor Michael Bloomberg also oversaw major reforms, such as his Initiatives Outlawing Fun. No longer would New York face widespread national mockery for its failings, such as in the famous Saturday Night Live skit which encouraged tourists to read pamphlets such as "So You've Been Shot."

Yet one thing hasn't changed: New York continues to suck money from the domestic fisc like nobody's business. You see, as the writer Steven Malanga elegantly noted in the City Journal some time back, the reason New York sends more cash to Washington than it gets back is purely defense-related. Take out defense cash, and the true picture is revealed.

Mr Malanga writes:

New York perpetually has what is known as a balance of payments deficit with Washington, because the city sends far more in taxes to the federal government than it receives in federal spending. Over the years, New York politicians have argued that the federal government should redress that imbalance by funneling ever more money to the city for domestic programs. But the argument has mostly been a loser down in Washington, becausedespite the overall balance-of-payments deficitNew York already gets more than its share of most domestic programs.

For example, New York receives an astounding $1,285 per capita from Washington in Medicaid spending, compared with a national average of just $425 per capita, and average payments in big cities like Chicago and Los Angeles of just $514 and $468, respectively. The city also receives about twice the national average on spending per capita for food stamps, and four times the average on welfare. In all of these categories, New York also receives substantially more per capita than other large cities. For years, in fact, the city ranked first in average domestic spending on the late Senator Patrick Moynihans well-known studies.

Federal officials and representatives who oversee these and other programs know this, which is one reason why the balance of payments argument never gets any traction in Washington and why, on some programs, like Medicaid, its likely New York will receive less of the federal pie over time, not more.

What actually causes the citys payments deficit with Washington is the fact that the Defense Department spends so little money here in the cityan average of just $75 per capita, compared with defense spending of about $835 per capita nationwide ...

This is just a portion of Mr Malanga's devastating analysis, and he goes on to address New York's unwillingness to accept cash inflows which are defense-related. Perhaps the Daily News ought have considered this before it condemned the "hicks" and "yokels" who balked at serving up New York's demands on a silver platter.

It is this last point, however, in which we shamefully take pleasure. As a proud Midwesterner, we admit we are downright gleeful watching certain New Yorkers wail about getting the shaft from those duplicitous and untrustworthy types in Kansas and Indiana and Tennessee.

Yes, in terms of sheer regionalism, it is indeed quite sweet to watch those same New Yorkers -- who sneer at and mock their less sophisticated and urbane brethren -- squawk when they think Flyover Country has been taking them for a ride. What, one wonders, will happen when they discover it is something folks in Flyover Country have become quite good at over the years, and in more ways than they can imagine?

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 12:18 AM | TrackBack

December 14, 2004

The Socio-Economics of Speech and Writing

OLIVER WILLIS has kicked off an interesting discussion about the prevalence of "ebonics" usage in society today. Mr Willis makes the sound argument that "ebonics" is not a dialect per se, but rather flawed English, and his comments have struck quite a chord with people. His first entry on the matter drew some 58 comments and several track-backs, while his second entry has thus far produced more than 100 comments.

Many of the comments have apparently driven Mr Willis to despair. He writes:

We've got some folks making the crazy argument that ebonics isn't just bad grammar and horrible English, but an honest-to-goodness "dialect" that has to be translated for people.

Is it any wonder why so many black kids think the way they do? These kids aren't speaking properly, and people are encouraging it. Wait until reality smacks them in the face.

We must say we agree with Mr Willis' argument. That said, though, we think the problem he discusses exists on a societal basis -- among people of all races, all colors, and all backgrounds. "Ebonics" is merely one facet of it. The overall concern we have is that a seemingly ever-growing number of Americans, no matter their race, do not have fundamental command of the English language -- either in speech or in writing. This is horribly problematic for myriad reasons.

On an individual level, of course, the problem manifests itself through lost opportunities at both school and work. One who lacks mastery in English will not only not succeed in a university-level academic environment, they will find doors slammed in their face both when looking for work, and when seeking promotion in an organization. Nor do we think we are exaggerating this problem: a recent New York Times article found that many otherwise intelligent people could not construct a simple sentence in business correspondence. As such, many corporate offices were sending their staff to receive remedial writing instruction as a result.

That in itself is astonishing, quite frankly.

After all, the standard move in such a case would be to cashier the unlearned staff, because they appeared hopelessly incompetent. But because firms are spending money on writing courses, it suggests in part that their employees' potential replacements would be similarly unskilled. And that's not good on a societal level, either in the present or the far future.

In the present, of course, it means our workers are less competitive and less qualified to do their jobs compared with their better-educated foreign counterparts. It is unfortunate many jobs in manufacturing and the services are being shipped overseas; but, it does not help things when the foreigners can write better English than the natives. Therefore, a lack of English mastery among American workers eats away at the nation's competitive advantage.

But the future problems this state of affairs may cause are even more frightening.

Look, we already know that income inequality is increasing: the Gini coefficient doesn't lie. (The coefficient measures inequality on a scale of 0 to 1 -- at 0, everyone makes the same amount, at 1, you have one winner and infinite losers). The U.S. Census Bureau has found that between the years 1980 to 2001, the Gini coefficient in America rose from 0.365 to 0.435.

Now, there are plenty of reasons for why that number jumped so high in the past two decades (the historical low was in 1968, at 0.348). Here are a few of them.

First, America's tax structure fundamentally changed in the early Eighties. However, this is not to say the wealth wasn't being handed out prior to that switch. You see, because the prior regime was punitive (with top rates ranging from 91 percent in the Fifties to 70 percent in the Seventies), the switch to our present system made it better for people to accept cash renumeration as opposed to perks (the company car and such). Therefore, this shows up in the results, and is why we made 1980 our initial comparison point.

Second, our economy moved away from an industrial focus to a service-oriented focus. Manufacturing was once a middle-class occupation, and more people worked in the field; now, fewer such jobs can be truly described as middle-class, and only 14 percent of our workforce holds jobs in the field. Conversely, 16 percent of the workforce engages in selling things to others on a resale or wholesale level, and even more workers provide services to others. As these jobs often require less skill and there is more demand for them among workers, they do not pay nearly as well. (Demand here is in the economic sense, i.e., "I need a job," not "Gee, I'd love to work at a call center").

Third, a "winner take all" compensation culture took root in American life. One often hears of chief executives making ridiculous amounts of compensation; but it was not always this way. Consider one example we once heard about, which we paraphrase here:

Back in the late Seventies, there was a chief executive who did a masterful job at turning around his company. It was a truly amazing feat, and made oodles of money for shareholders. So upon the CEO's retirement, the Board of Directors gave him a special bonus for carrying out his mission so well over the years.

The chief executive was awarded -- wait for it -- ONE MILLION DOLLARS.

Conversely, successful chief executives these days do very well in comparison. One outrageous example we would note is that of Dick Grasso, the former head of the New York Stock Exchange, who had a salary package in the NINE FIGURES over several years. And even if CEOs are unsuccessful, they'll still reap several millions or tens of millions of dollars for their bumbling.

And yes, these things have a way of filtering down -- but only so far.

After all, the Executive Team must also be compensated well as a result of the CEO's bloated salary, or else they'll get angry and go somewhere else. The same applies to their subordinates too. But while even a low-level vice-president will likely do quite well for himself, the middle managers will get fewer crumbs, and the rank-and-file will only get whipsawed from a vicious labor market.

Now, we do not intend to condemn such compensation schemes here. The Rant of the Angry Shareholder will have to wait. But the reason we bring this up is simple.

The guys at the top make more money because they're at the top. They got to the top through hard work and effort and sweat and tears. But they also got there because they were quite good at what they did. In business, being very good requires certain core skills -- such as being able to communicate effectively in speech and in writing. Without those skills, one cannot advance; and without advancement, one is finished.

To all this, we must add that many of these core competencies are first developed at home and in school. It stands to reason that a better-educated and richer worker, who does everything he can to ensure his children learn the same skills he has, will give his children a better chance at succeeding in life. Conversely, if a less-educated and poorer worker does little to encourage education among his children, then his children will have a lesser chance at succeeding in life.

Now, obviously these things have a way of reversing themselves: there are plenty of children from poor families, in which education was highly valued, who have done very well. There are also plenty of children from rich families, in which the parents could care less, who end up accomplishing nothing.

But still, the trends worry us. Unless people do something -- and individual effort is where things will be won or lost -- they face a horrible vicious cycle in which they are trapped in relative poverty and despair, wanting to get out of it but having no way to do so.

And we can assure you this vicious cycle will entrap people of all races and colors and creeds. Indeed, it does not discriminate. The Gini coefficient numbers show that inequality between rich and poor blacks and Hispanics is even worse than it is between whites.

One big broad conclusion we can draw from those numbers is this: that the educated, regardless of race, are leaving their less-educated peers far behind in the great race. And if their peers do not realize quickly the need for catching up, they will have a devil of a time all the way to the finish line.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 08:56 PM | TrackBack

December 12, 2004

The Joys of Parenting

WE MUST APPLAUD Harlan and Cat Barnard, of Enterprise, Fla., for their recent judicious use of the nuclear option in dealing with their indolent progeny.

As many readers may know, Mr and Mrs Barnard were sick and tired of having their children refuse to help out around the house. Therefore, they went on strike and told the kids to pretty much fend for themselves. While we do not know if Mr and Mrs Barnard were expecting such a frenzy over their action, we do believe they've managed to humiliate their children on a national scale. For typical American parents, this is an unrivaled accomplishment -- far outshining the "ride to school in the jalopy" trick.

We do feel slightly sorry for the Barnards' two children, as they're probably not enjoying all the attention. However, we must still applaud the Barnards for their strong stand. After all, they're treating their children like adults. That's not only good parenting, it's something which teenagers are constantly demanding. And we further have no doubt that around the Enterprise area, teenagers are suddenly rediscovering the joys of honest work. ("You'll mow the lawn, son, or I'm calling the Investigative News Squad at Channel Eight!")

We are displeased about one aspect of the story, however. The Associated Press informs us that one "well-intentioned" neighbor saw fit to call the authorities about the situation. We're sorry, but anyone who calls in the Government on family matters ought have a pretty high degree of proof -- or at least a very reasonable suspicion -- before doing so. Would it have really been too much to waddle on over to the Barnards' driveway and ask them what was happening?

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 10:04 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack

December 03, 2004

Quick Cinematic Notes

SOLON, Ohio -- OVER Thanksgiving, we can assure you we spent much of our time simply watching movies. Some of these movies were quite enjoyable, while others were merely tolerable and still others, putrid wastes of the celluloid on which they were printed. What follows is a quick summary of each film:

DAS BOOT: Grim guy-oriented film about depressed, neurotic German sailors who very much rue their decision to sign up with the Kriegsmarine. Stock characters include the Battle-Hardened Captain, the Embittered Officers, the Initially Fanatic Nazi and the War Correspondent. All soon learn they should have spent more time writing their wills. (Forty thousand men served on U-Boats during the Second World War. Only 4,000 managed to avoid death or capture).

The movie lasts some three-and-a-half hours, but we do wonder if the director just used the same footage again and again at points. For over and over again, we see the U-96 attack British merchant convoys. Then the sub dives, and gets a fierce pasting from British destroyers. The sub escapes, and rises from the waters in triumph. Rinse. Repeat.

Still, this is our only complaint, as the movie is amazing in terms of its cinematography and its depiction of submarine warfare. Plus, the famous ending remains a True Cinematic Masterpiece. If you haven't seen it, you ought do so. And root for the Brits if you like.

THE FRENCH CONNECTION: Kickass. Kickass. Kickass.

Y TU MAMA TAMBIEN: Shockingly gratuitous coming-of-age story set in Mexico, featuring unsympathetic and dislikable characters throughout, except for a few isolated exceptions. Still, the scenery makes it worth watching, and it cleverly attacks the PRI, which mollified us somewhat. It also has a depressing yet realistic ending that adds to the film, although in general we considered it slightly anti-capitalist and more-than-slightly nihilist in its outlook.

THE HUNTER: It's Steve McQueen's last movie! Watch as Steve McQueen portrays a bounty hunter who goes after bad guys, including LeVar Burton. Watch as Steve McQueen kicks ass and takes names. Did we mention Steve McQueen? He is, of course, the only reason worth watching this otherwise mediocre movie.

THE LONGEST YARD: In this hideous 1974 film, Burt Reynolds offers More Empirical Proof that America must treat its Seventies-era cultural relics with proper handling. By this, we mean we ought put nearly all of them in Yucca Mountain along with the radioactive waste.

Yes, we realize such a suggestion might upset people. After all, what if the Seventies-era stuff escaped? Think of it: you're driving along Nevada Highway 375, minding your own business, and you're attacked by an army of mutated, self-aware leisure suits. That would be bad. In "The Longest Yard," Burt Reynolds wears a leisure suit, and it is bad. Plus he has that Seventies-era mustache thing going. With these as indicators of American culture back in the day, no wonder the rest of the world hates us.

Anyway, though. We could only get through the first 15 minutes of this movie. The plot, if one could call it that, was that Burt Reynolds' character went to prison after stealing his girlfriend's Maserati. Here we have more proof that the Seventies sucked. We are sure the Maserati was a masterpiece of design at the time, but it reminded us uncomfortably of a Datsun coupe. Of course, all the other cars back then were crap too. But we digress. Florida's authorities soon deal with Burt Reynolds' character, and send him to the hoosegow to cool off for a while.

Soon, ol' Burt finds himself dealing with a crooked warden and sadistic guard captain, who demand he take charge of a prisoners' football squad. It was at this point that we realized "The Longest Yard" would be even MORE craptacular than we had initially expected. Lacking the mental fortitude to withstand such an awful feature, we withdrew from the family room and went in search of Diet Cherry Coke. Yet we remain bothered, for we understand that "The Longest Yard" was actually quite popular.

How America got through that decade, we don't know. We just don't know. We suspect "The French Connection" acted as a cultural opiate.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 08:39 PM | TrackBack

November 23, 2004

Potomac Fever Caught Again

WASHINGTONGOD. WE LOVE Washington.

As certain of our readers know, we were recently in the nations capital for a long weekend, and during those delightful four days we fell in love yet again with the District. We lived there briefly as a younger man, and came to treasure it; and although that experience seems as if it was a lifetime ago, our recent trip brought those memories into the forefront of our conscience. And we were pleased to note that seven years later, we experienced nothing which would sully the memory of those grand times.

We realize our view is not something which all of our readers might share, and this is understandable. For there is no denying that certain parts of Washington are a bit dicey. Still, though, we are not convinced that even these areas are particularly worse than those one would find in any major city. Further, when one performs a cost-benefit analysis of what Washington has to offer, we see the benefits it offers as unparalled when compared with other urban centers.

Thats an argument with which we realize most of our readers wont agree either. After all, many in our readership will make the case for New York and Chicago and Los Angeles and Boston and any one of one hundred cities. But in our heart, all those come up short when weighed against the District.

We respect New York and all it offers, but we do not particularly care for it: it is too crowded and too expensive for our liking, and grim and dingy to boot. Furthermore, we cannot imagine living in a place where Making It involves trading up an overpriced set of rooms with no view for an extremely overpriced set of rooms with a half-decent view.*

Los Angeles also comes up short in our analysis: for it too suffers from many of those troubles. It is certainly not as self-important a place as New York, and socioeconomic matters seem politely swept under the rug, except when criminals make their presence known; and, of course, once in a while a great cauldron of seething societal rage boils over in an orgy of self-destruction. But based on our three years of living on that citys west side, wed argue consumerism and a general state of decadence have triumphed in the extreme, one result of which is the amazing shallowness one too often finds among the citys wealthier classes.

And then there are the other cities of which one could speak: Boston, a city which to us clings desperately to its past glory; San Francisco, great to visit but not to live; Detroit and Cleveland, which despite some improvements still seem worn out and tired; Las Vegas, so wonderful and horrible at the same time. We could keep going down the list, to the cities of the third rank in we have visited and lived, but theres no point in that. They have neither the resources nor the population to support what Washington does; and as such they must be judged separately and alone.

We will say, though, that in our mind Chicago does come very close to Washington. It has been forever since we have visisted, but we have only fond memories of the Windy City, and we can only think it has continued to improve, just as all cities seem to have done over the past decade. If we had to rate American cities that we personally liked, Chicago would certainly rank second in our list. And to soften the blows of our criticism, we should note that all of the cities we mentioned do have a lot going for them. Well, maybe Detroit needs some work, but you see our point. Boston has its history and New York is the center of finance; Los Angeles is the capital of entertainment and San Francisco has its cheerful, easygoing hipness. Even Cleveland is making a bit of a civic comeback. But in the aggregate, we give top honors to Washington.

This, naturally, leads to the question of why we like the nations capital. We have a dreaded three-part answer for this.

In the first instance, we know these things could apply to any major city; but they still hold nonetheless. Simply put, Washington has critical mass it has great restaurants and bookstores and a large population of educated people, many of whom are snappy dressers. It is the center of the action when it comes to politics; and as a result, one can have plenty of intelligent arguah, conversationsabout any matter under the sun. It is an expensive place in which to live, but not absurdly so; and we looked upon our friends abodes with quiet longing.

In the second instance, Washington is a well-designed city. Consider: after we left Ronald Reagan Washington National Airport, it took us all of thirty seconds to embark upon a Metro train for the city itself. In twenty minutes, we emerged to find our hotel standing less than one block away from the stop. The Metro, of course, is the best subway system in America; but even the city bus system seems both competently run and reasonably safe. We would submit that when a public transport system is convenient enough to make even a fervent devotee of Americas car culture believe that system superior, it has done its job well. We only hope more resources will be put into expanding it.

But not only is Washington well-designed the city-street grid system alone is proof of that it is architecturally pleasing. Even the bloody National Airport is rather soothing, with its old-style architecture. But one can find much more there that is simply awesome: most notably, the Eisenhower Executive Office Building, which will take ones breath away. (It is right next to the White House and to our eyes, more impressive architecturally. The EEOB used to be the OEOB, O standing for Old, but they changed the name. A pity they couldnt have revamped the New Executive Office Building while they were at it, as this structure down the way is built in craptacular late Sixties style).

Finally, though, we think the people of Washington are what puts the city first on our list. Everyone we encountered was incredibly helpful and polite during our trip there. Really, we mean, it was downright astonishing. The service we received was generally impeccable; people on the street were cordial; even the teenagers we encountered did not engage in uncivil behavior. Perhaps this is because Washington draws people from all over this great nation to its door; perhaps amidst the rushing about, its citizens have acquired some grand sense of perspective. But God! whatever the reason, we hope and pray Washingtonians keep it up. They do credit to their city through it, and we look forward to the day when we can return there again.

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* Yes, New York is bloody well over-priced. Apparently, its City Council lost the memo from back in the day about the war news. As such, it remains in fear of warlike aggression from Nazi Germany and the Empire of Japan, and has thus kept in place its emergency rent regulations enacted some six decades ago. As a result, the market rate for apartment homes is artificially higher than it would otherwise be, and we suspect this filters through the citys entire economy accordingly.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 08:01 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack

November 13, 2004

South Beached

DEAR GOD, please -- we're begging You -- deliver unto us a box of cupcakes, or a dozen donuts, or just a really big chocolate bar. For we are on the second day of strict adherence to the South Beach Diet, and we are going mad.

We do hope readers will forgive us if our entries over the next few days seem a bit confused, but our body is screaming for carbohydrates something fierce. We mean, it is really, really angry with us. As such, it has created a rather awful drumming in our head as it orders us to provide it with carbohydrates. Yet we have resisted for two full days now.

Readers will recall, of course, that we were first ordered to start the diet some two weeks ago. At that point, we resigned ourselves to doing it; but we subsequently held off because we knew we were in for a few tough weeks at work. Now that that's over with, though, we have jumped in full-bore.

We can assure readers the South Beach Diet experience is as bad as we thought it would be. However, we are proud to note we've managed to adapt to this invalid's diet pretty well, even though we are a bachelor and as such pretty useless in the kitchen.

For instance, last night's dinner and today's lunch was that sea scallop recipe we talked about (see below); you know, the one that takes seven minutes from start to finish. Half-a-pound of sea scallops provided us with roughly 350 calories and a total of perhaps 5g of fat, one-eighth our daily allowance under our Medically-Approved Nutritional Scheme. We also enjoyed, on both days, an excellent field-greens salad with crab-flavored haddock or some such; and for dressing, we used fish sauce, the Sugarless Condiment of the Gods. For snacks, we have relied heavily on a jar of kim chi (another Sugarless Condiment of the Gods) we had in our fridge.

The lesson we have learned from this is that it's easy to eat healthy, as long as one doesn't think too much about where one's healthy food came from, or how it was processed before arriving in one's home. That said, we must say we take great issue with some descriptions of the South Beach Diet which we have seen on-line. Here is one of them:

From great meals to losing inches around the waist, read about how people just like you are enjoying the South Beach Diet, eating better, exceeding their desired weight loss goals, and regaining their lives!

We don't mean to be flippant about this, but dammit, we're nil-for-four at this point. Our life was perfectly fine before we started this -- we were a happy and well-adjusted person blessed with an abundance of good things, like pasta with meat sauce. Along those lines, we can assure readers that we are damn well not "eating better." A more accurate statement would be to say we are "eating for the sole purpose of sustaining life and getting absolutely no joy out of it whatsoever." As for weight loss, we haven't noticed any yet; and as for "regaining our life," the diet people can take that and shove it up their --

But we digress. Happy thoughts. We need to think happy thoughts. We're becoming ... healthier ... with each passing second! If we think that enough ... will somebody get us a frickin' muffin or something? Please! We're begging ya ...

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 11:22 PM | Comments (4) | TrackBack

November 09, 2004

Our Hometown is ... Frickin' Dangerous

WELL, SO MUCH for the idyllic memories of our youth. FBI statistics prove that our once-glorious hometown of Kalamazoo, Mich., (as the T-shirt said: "There's nothin' to do in Kalamazoo") is a more crime-prone place in which to live than -- wait for it -- New York.

Admittedly, we haven't set foot in Kalamazoo since 1995, but still -- what the hell happened to the place? It's Kalamazoo, in God-fearing and traditionalist western Michigan. It's the Celery City, famed for its muck fields. It's the Bedding Plant Capital of the World. It's not supposed to be a haven for degeneracy and criminality. Yet the statistics do not lie, as a selection of them shows:

POPULATION:
New York, 7.75m; Kalamazoo, 76,000.

VIOLENT CRIME RATE per 100,000 citizens:
New York, 977.8; Kalamazoo, 1,066.5. (+9 pc)

PROPERTY CRIME RATE:
New York, 2,744.8; Kalamazoo, 6,780.6 (+147 pc)

AGGRAVATED ASSAULT:
New York, 527.7; Kalamazoo, 683.4 (+30 pc)

BURGLARY:
New York, 479.1; Kalamazoo, 1,567.6 (+227 pc)

LARCENY:
New York, 1,802.9; Kalamazoo, 4,576.8 (+154 pc)

About the only crime in which New York is more dangerous than Kalamazoo is robbery: there is considerably less on a per-capita basis back home. Michigan law allows people to pack concealed firearms, so it could be robbers are a bit more shy about conducting their trade. Then again, perhaps there's just less opportunity for robbery.

We also compared Kalamazoo with our present city of residence: Manchester, N.H. We refuse to publish the comparison data because it is downright embarrassing. Plus, our hometown's outright criminality might cause people at work to start avoiding us in the parking lot. ("How do we know Kepple's not a thief? I've got FILE FOLDERS to protect!")

Again, we must ask: what the hell happened?

We mean, this is Kalamazoo-fricking-Michigan we're discussing. When did it become such a cesspit?

We remember one big crime during our time in Kalamazoo: a rather nasty domestic murder several blocks away in a different subdivision. More typical was the time a neighbor discovered a prowler casing her home, and that prompted such an overwhelming police response we can only assume that nothing else was going on that night in our section of town. Oh, and one time a neighbor boy got knocked over the head for his Halloween candy.

That's three incidents in all of fifteen years. Yet apparently things are so bad that one would think twice about moving to the place. Even with our native's perspective, we certainly would. After all, it's one thing if there's nothin' to do, and another entirely if one gets mugged while doing it.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 09:13 PM | Comments (3) | TrackBack

November 08, 2004

Booknotes

WE'VE HAD the joy of picking up two fabulous works over these past couple of days, and we thought Rant readers also might find them particularly interesting.

The first is Bradley Martin's Under the Loving Care of the Fatherly Leader, which examines North Korea under Kim Il-sung and Kim Jong-il. It is a fabulously researched book and a must-read for anyone interested in North Korean affairs.

It is not a perfect work, for as reviewers at Amazon.com have noted, Mr Martin seems a bit too optimistic about the DPRK's Dear Leader. On the flip side of that coin, though, Mr Martin did much in the way of telling defectors' and escapees' stories, and he has done a damn fine job in total. We can assure readers that the $30 we spent on Mr Martin's book was definitely worth it, and we would encourage all Rant readers to pick up a copy.

Tonight, meanwhile, we picked up the third volume of Victor Klemperer's famous diaries. The first two volumes recounted his experiences as a Jew living in Nazi Germany; the third ("The Lesser Evil") focuses on his post-war life, covering the years 1945 to 1959. We have not yet delved into the book, but we are very much looking forward to doing so.

We must say, though, that even a glance at the cover has given us that same terrible sense of foreboding that we felt throughout reading the first two volumes. Those who have read them know what we mean. For things get worse and worse for Prof Klemperer over the years, and it is heartbreaking to read. We wonder if we will be thinking along similar lines as the years pass in the third volume.

You see, Prof Klemperer stayed in East Germany.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 11:25 PM | TrackBack

November 06, 2004

Za Vashe Zdorovye, Ya Dumb Yuppie

WE GOT A KICK out of an article, published on Halloween in The New York Times, which discusses the rather strange popularity of high-end vodkas among the fashionable set. It seems they are regularly and voluntarily spending upwards of $40 per liter for the stuff. As they're buying when they're not anywhere close to smashed -- an acceptable excuse, that -- we don't see why they're doing it.

After all, it's vodka -- a drink that is generally colorless, odorless and tasteless. Further, as the Times notes, the fashionable types never drink the stuff straight up. This makes it even harder to discern what characteristics actually do exist in the vodka they're drinking. Despite this, though, we note with amusement that there's still plenty of snobbery in this emerging market. The Times writes:

Inside one of Manhattan's monuments to vodka consumption, the Pravda bar in SoHo, Mike Lee orders a vodka on the rocks, letting the bartender choose among the esoteric collection of bottles lined up behind the bar.

Mr. Lee, 30, a stockbroker, usually drinks expensive vodkas like Belvedere, Chopin or the new Absolut brand, Level. But at Pravda, he can't order those mainstream brands.

"The bartender just rolls his eyes when I ask for one of those," he said.

Those vodkas, and even Pravda's more obscure imports - like Jewel of Russia and Zubrowka Bison Brand, from Poland - are gaining popularity as the vodka market grows. Vodka accounted for 26.6 percent of all spirits sold in the United States in 2003, up from 24.2 percent in 1998, according to the Adams Beverage Group. And sales of superpremium brands, those costing $30 a bottle or more, were up 21 percent in 2003 over the previous year, according to the Distilled Spirits Council.

Distillers would not release specific figures, but high-end vodkas are clearly profitable. "There is more margin involved for everyone'' for high-priced vodka, said Monsell Darville, vice president and group marketing director at Bacardi, which owns Grey Goose, a French vodka.

Translation: "Say -- if we charge more, we can make more money."

We would submit this state of affairs is not good for you, the end-user and consumer of spirits. What to do about it, you ask? Well, from a personal-economy standpoint, one can do quite a lot.

Now, our own thinking on vodka drinking is based on Andrew Tobias'* theory that, because no one will notice anything amiss, one ought buy one bottle of Absolut and a 99-cent plastic funnel. As we ourselves detest vodka, we would have no qualms about pulling off such a stunt. However, as we think it not entirely fair to submit our friends to a confidence trick, the Benjamin Kepple Variant Theory is as follows: buy two bottles of good vodka and a 99-cent plastic funnel.

Our thinking is this: as everyone will probably be a bit tipsy or outright shit-faced after the first few rounds, there's no harm in secretly switching to some down-market brand in the middle of one's drinking session. After all, no one's going to notice, except in the morning. But at that point, our friends will likely have spent the night on our couch, and they can't exactly complain after we offered them shelter and took them to breakfast and such.

The lesson, therefore, is clear.

First, if one is going to spend money on drinking, one ought buy drinks where one can readily discern the quality improvements that come with increased expenditure; that is, beer and wine and champagne and whisky and gin.

Second, if one is ever over at our place and wants a drink, ask for gin. Since that is our hard liquor of choice, you know there is no chance that we're going to skimp on the stuff. (Two words: Bombay Sapphire). And therefore, the night (and following morning) will go well for all concerned.

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* Mr Tobias, as it turns out, has today posted a seven-minute recipe for cooking sea scallops. That's seven minutes all-inclusive. You can see why we like the guy's work.

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November 05, 2004

Total War (Denouement)

FEELING FATIGUED and a bit bored this past Saturday, we splurged on a copy of Rome: Total War, the latest strategy game from the good, fine people at Creative Assembly Ltd. Our reaction to the program can be summed up in one word: wow.

The game is so good that declaring it the best strategy game of the year does not do it justice. This is a game on par with the various installments of Civilization, and in some respects, it may just surpass it. For Rome: Total War is a downright brilliant game, breathtaking in its scope and complexity, and a fascinating window on a world long consigned to the mists of time.

The gist of the game is as follows: you are in command of a major Roman house, the Julii, the Brutii, or the Scipii. Your objective is to lead your house and Rome to greatness during the later years of the Republic: from roughly 270 B.C. to 14 A.D. In short, help build a great nation, and then take it for ones own when the time is right. Along the way, one takes part in epic battles, builds up cities, leads armies, and engages in diplomacy with the nations unfortunate enough to find themselves in Romes way. As one might expect, we are very much enjoying all this; and we are quite gratified to note that we are thus far ahead of schedule.

In our first campaign which we admittedly set on the easy setting the clock has only reached 188 B.C., yet we have done much to spread civilization throughout the known world. We have thrown mighty Carthage down to the ground, and led our armies to victory against the barbarian hordes in Gaul. We have forced Spain to bend its knee and have managed to box Germania into a corner. With our legions holding the line from the English Channel to the Black Sea, it is only a matter of time before we achieve total mastery of the known world. Theres only one problem our friendly Roman colleagues have been busy crushing Greece and subduing the rest of Northern Africa, and it is going to be a royal pain getting them out of the way.

Thus far, we have had few problems with the game: the only glitch is that it taxes our eight-month old machine to play it (we believe it a RAM issue) and as such the video (but not the game) is sometimes a bit stuttered. We also would have liked a customization option, where one could have fun with customizing each faction to certain particulars. What can we say -- we like the idea of the great B. Iohannes Kepplus leading his troops to victory.

But God! those things aside, though one really couldnt have asked for anything more. One really couldnt.

* * *

WHAT? You were instead expecting something about the election? Oh, God. We can assure readers they will find precious little about that here at The Rant American politics is not something we discuss. However, we would make a couple of very general observations about America as a whole.

We note with dismay that certain writers in the foreign press have, in writing about our election, cavalierly referred to the United States as an Empire, instead of properly referring to it as a Republic. For America is not an empire, has no aspirations to become one, and makes no pretensions that it is already such a thing. It may be the United States had those once; but we would argue that whatever aspirations it had in that respect disappeared shortly after the Spanish-American War wrapped up. After all, when we attempted to pacify the Philippines, it was a most unpleasant experience; and we wisely granted that nation its independence some three decades later. An empire would not have done such a thing, and the continued independence of Germany, Japan, the Philippines, Cuba, Haiti and Panama stand as testament to that fact. The eventual and true independence of Iraq, which will soon come, will stand as further evidence.

We Americans do a lot of things well. Were pretty good at making money, were awfully creative, we work really hard, and were good-hearted people. The first three things, we would submit, explains a lot about why America has achieved such power in this world. The last item, we reckon, explains a lot about why an American Empire will remain a fantasy in the minds of the sullen and deluded.

For instance, consider Fallujah. As we write, there are thousands upon thousands of insurgents and foreign fighters girding for battle against America in that miserable city. Yet what have we done about this? Were patiently waiting on the outskirts. Soon, we shall conduct a carefully-coordinated assault upon these elements, designed to minimize civilian casualties even when it puts our own troops in harms way.

This is not how an empire goes about things. An empire would have immediately dealt with these malcontents. An empire would have also fired the city, salted the earth outside it, and forcibly relocated the populace those who survived, that is. An empire would have delivered pain without consideration and death without mercy. For that is how empires work when they face opposition. They do not last very long otherwise.

Of course, empires also dont generally put much stock in elections. And it bears noting, we think, that Americans once again not only elected a Government in a peaceful and orderly fashion, but went about their business the next day with no ill effects on their persons. There were no proscriptions, there were no riots, there were no personal repercussions -- the worst that can be said is that people had to stand in line for a while. Even then, the lines were orderly. All in all, these are not the traits of an empire.

But enough; it is finished. The holidays are coming up, and along with them, the joys of family and togetherness and well-deserved rest. And we look forward to eventually conquering Rome.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 08:49 AM | TrackBack

October 30, 2004

That Unbearable Fragility

WE READ with interest this morning some excellent posts about the latest trend in reality television, which has to do with chronicling the "makeovers" of regular people. Such shows basically throw those appearing on them through a ringer of plastic surgery, counseling and other things, and examine how the contestants fare in the end.

Now, both the posts we reference take rather a dim view of the phenomenon, as the writers of each worry about the influence such programming will have on the shows' young and impressionable viewership. We ourselves tend to think such feelings are justified. For instance, on one of the shows referenced, a participant is asked whether she has any advice for teenagers considering elective plastic surgery. That's a bit troubling, and not merely for the message that sends about plastic surgery. Since the human body often doesn't stop development until one is in one's twenties, such surgeries can prove a bit tricky.

But we will leave the discussion of messages to others. What really strikes us about this whole phenomenon is that everyone involved with these shows seem to possess what one might call an unbearable fragility of self. That is, they feel compelled for some reason to insist they are Happy With Themselves and are Strong in Spirit and such. Hugo Schwyzer notes this as well. He writes:

This is the contemporary (and nonsensical) cultural gospel: changing yourself in order to make yourself feel better about yourself is acceptable as long as you already love yourself. The sin lies in admitting that you don't really love yourself; the sin lies in admitting that you aren't autonomous and self-sufficient and all of those other things our culture tells young women they need to be.

Here, Mr Schwyzer stops, but he is certainly on to something, and it is not something limited to young women. There exists in our present culture a syndrome -- made up of envy and pride and avarice and anger -- that propels many people to make a point of proving themselves to others. It explains much about what drives some people to buy expensive automobiles and get plastic surgery and demand really nice appliances and so on -- they do so not merely because these things are inherently good, but also because they want to show the rest of the world that they've made it.

But here's the awful joke -- no one who has made it needs to do that.

We imagine that our readers probably know of at least one person who has made it in this life, under whatever definition one wants to use for that term, yet is very humble about this. We would also submit that many Rant readers are in that position themselves.

For such people are not hard to find. They exist across the social spectrum: the small businessman who owns the corner store; the construction worker who looks at his family and his life, and realizes he's got it good; the rich man who makes a point of being private about his wealth. Not only do these people not particularly give a damn about keeping up with the Joneses, they think the Joneses can go to hell if the Joneses don't agree with how they see things. And in living this way, they have thrown one more trophy onto their own walls of success.

So, given that, why do some of those who have made it feel the need to flaunt it? We can't say we really know. Perhaps it is insecurity which drives them. Perhaps it is vanity or cruelty or anger. We do know, though, that we have always felt saddened when we've met folks in this situation. We've met a lot of good people in our day who are pointlessly making themselves miserable; and at the center of that misery is pride.

Interestingly enough, we would submit one can see an example of this in a work from one of these shows' creators: namely, the preface to some official show companion. This preface is a rather stunning piece of work. It's not really arrogant per se, but it is conceited; it contains paragraph upon paragraph of how accomplished and wonderful the writer is. As such, the writer comes off as the type of person one prays to avoid at a dinner party. Consider this gem of wisdom:

Becoming a Swan requires faith. And I don't mean religion. I mean the faith that you'll be taken care of in the universe if you do your work.

This might have been considered insightful, had people not been saying this for close to three thousand years. But one quickly learns that such examples are not isolated. For instance, the creator told this to The Washington Post:

But I am saying, pick whatever you want. If you want to become a vegan, knock yourself out. If you've had a bunch of kids and your stomach sags, it's not a big deal if you want help with that. Life is really short and really hard for women, and whatever is going to make you feel better about yourself, do it."

We suppose now would be a bad time to mention that this "really short" life is, on average, roughly six years shorter for men. But we digress. Before we close, we do want to return to one of Mr Schwyzer's points, and that has to deal with the fact there are many folks out there who aren't happy with themselves. That, of course, is at the heart of why people agree to appear on these shows. The trouble, though, is this: it gives these folks hope they can run away from their problems, and we fear they will eventually find that an impossibility.

In the end, though, we have to wish them all the best. For they do seem awfully sad, and awfully consumed by that unbearable fragility of self. One can't cast aspersion on someone who has desperately hoped for a way out of his or her present circumstances, and thinks he or she has found the way to do so. We do think it acceptable, though, to wish these reality-show participants would see the inherent goodness which exists inside them -- and always has.

(via Camassia)

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 05:32 AM | TrackBack

October 25, 2004

Affliction

Winter is nature's way of saying, "Up yours."

-- Robert Byrne

WE HAVE NOTICED over the past few years that many people, upon learning we originally hail from the fading industrial city of Kalamazoo, Mich., think a result of our upbringing is that we're "used" to New Hampshire winters. We would like to take this opportunity to refute, once and for all, such idle assumptions.

'Cause we ain't used to 'em. Never have been. Never will be. That dog won't hunt, day late and a dollar short, can't get from here to there, nada, no way, No. No, No, No.

For let's face it: winter brings with it disease and misery and inconvenience and physical pain, and we can practically guarantee we shall fall prey to all of these things over the next six months. Certainly the first has already arrived: we are presently fighting something rather awful, a nasty respiratory illness which is clogging our throat and lungs and causing us to ache all over. It's generally a bad sign when one can feel one's lymph nodes, no?

But we are not unused to feeling badly -- our last Gee We Feel 100 Percent Day was in September -- so we can kind of shrug this off. It's the rest of winter's agonies that really get to us, viz.:

* Misery. Remember that episode of "The Twilight Zone" where the Earth gets knocked out of its orbit and the weather changes and everyone goes insane contemplating their impending and inevitable demise? ("Panic? Who's left to panic? Heh. Ladies and gentlemen, I'm told my departure from the script may cause ... hey! Let go of me!")

OK, so we don't suffer anything like that. But still -- on Dec. 21, we here in the city of Manchester will receive all of nine hours and four minutes of daylight. That's it. And this really gets to us; we cannot stand having such little sun. Even worse, we're on the wrong end of the Eastern Time Zone. When we were Back Home Years Ago, the unpleasant winter darkness in morning was offset due to a reasonable sunset time. Here, it's backwards -- it is light when we get up, but the sun sets in the middle of the afternoon. By the time we leave the office it is pitch black. The end result is that we only get direct exposure to the sun during our morning commute.

We are sorry, but these ten minutes do not do it, especially if it's cloudy out. So we go home and turn on the lights and try to avoid sinking into gloom. It's just not a recipe for happiness and good cheer, that's all we're saying.

*Inconvenience. In an amazing stroke of good fortune, the long-range weather forecasts show we are not expected to deal with snow until Nov. 5. This past year, snow first fell on Oct. 23, so we are pleased about this.

Yet we know, deep in our heart, that when November rolls around, there will be much in the way of personal injury and property damage. This is because people forget how to drive when winter starts. They never take it easy and they never go slow and they never allow for extra time to get to their destination. It will happen every place north of the Sun Belt, and we doubt our fair city will be an exception.

But that's just the start of it. For with the snow comes ice and sleet and the Dreaded Wintry Mix. And lo! The people WILL lose much time, and WILL have to get up early to get the driveway plowed. And the COMMUTE will take 35 MINUTES, longer if the people FORGET to buy decent SNOWBRUSHES for their cars. Thus it is written; thus it will be. Kyrie, elesion.

* Physical Pain. But the misery and inconvenience of winter are not the worst things, we think. For we can assure readers that our winters in Michigan pale to New England winters when it comes to cold, wind and general physical hazards.

In Kalamazoo, the most snow that we ever received in a day -- to the best of our memory -- was 13 inches. That was an exceptional occurrence. The coldest it ever got was perhaps 10 to 12 degrees below zero, that during the night. This again was exceptional.

Here in New Hampshire, we routinely receive a foot, a foot-and-a-half, two feet of snow during a good storm. It is relentless. And the cold! Good God! We had several nights down near 20 degrees below zero last winter. And this is southern New Hampshire. Up north, it became so cold that if you wanted your car to start in the morning, you had to keep it running all night.

But what really does it is the wind -- the bone-chilling, awful, miserable wind. It is not Chicago, but it does seem awfully like Ann Arbor, Mich., -- where what got you was not the snow, but the wind chill. The wind here cuts through you like a knife, and we're not looking forward to yet another year of it.

We do believe C.S. Lewis said it best, when he wrote that people didn't so much like winter, they instead liked the feeling of protection from it. We agree. And the way we see it, we can get some pretty good protection down in Miami.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 07:53 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack

October 22, 2004

It's Not Over Yet

WE MUST ADMIT we feel a bit chagrined about the Boston Red Sox's glorious, history-making pennant win. This is not, we hasten to assure readers, because we were not incredibly enthused about the Sox throwing the Yankees down to the ground. We thought that kicked ass. Rather, the reason we feel chagrined is because we have only been a Red Sox fan for roughly one year.

As such, we feel somewhat similar to a soldier brought in to a combat zone near the very end of hostilities. The battle was won, but we did precious little fighting in it. And now, all the soldiers who have been in combat for years upon years are looking at our clean uniform and our shiny shoes and thinking, "Oh, Christ. Look at the new lieutenant."

Still, though, we must say we're not completely green. We did, after all, watch last year's horror of an American League Championship Series, in which we and our fellow members of Red Sox Nation received a sharp stick in the eye courtesy of New York. It was in this series where we first learned to appreciate baseball; to appreciate the game had strategy, to appreciate that there was far more to it than hitting a ball with a stick. The pain and anguish which we felt, upon watching the Red Sox lose that series, may have paled compared to that which so many Red Sox fans have felt over the years. But we suffered it nonetheless. And so this year, we watched the games on TV and grew to love this fine game of baseball.

And this year, the Red Sox did it, and have put themselves within striking distance of the World Championship for the first time in some two decades. God! how great it would be if they won -- not so much for us, but for all those who have long believed in the Boston Red Sox.

But there is much more to do. We have scaled the cliffs at Normandy; now we must press on to Berlin. It is only then that our victory will be complete. So over the next several days, we shall cheer on the Red Sox without guilt -- and enjoin them to give the Cards hell.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 08:39 AM | Comments (2) | TrackBack

October 16, 2004

America. Yeah!

THIS PAST EVENING, our good friend Scott Rubush joined us here in Manchester for a viewing of "Team America: World Police." We can assure readers that this film is crude, naughty, and very disrepectful of established authority and opinion. We can also assure readers that both we and Mr Rubush laughed our asses off.

We suppose our favorite thing about "Team America" was watching Kim Jong-il get mercilessly mocked throughout the entire picture. This was not only funny, it was practically a public service, given that not enough people in the United States are familiar with the DPRK's "Dear Leader." We also liked the mockery directed at various entertainers, as it was brutal and unrelenting.

We do wonder how "Team America" will go over outside of the United States. We would have to think it would not do very well in Europe, primarily because the Eiffel Tower is accidentally destroyed and the Europeans might not like the anti-Arab-terrorist aspect of things. However, we were glad to see the film was made without considering all that. That's why it's funny. Plus, the low-brow aspects of the film's humor will ensure everyone gets the joke. So we would encourage all readers to go and see "Team America" -- it will brighten your day considerably.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 11:18 AM | Comments (3) | TrackBack

October 13, 2004

Whoa!

FOR THOSE readers watching the Red Sox-Yankees game ... did you just see that guy sitting behind home plate get bopped in the head with the foul ball? He was talking with some lady, when all of a sudden ... WHAP! Now he is complaining mightily to the guy next to him.

We can't believe it took us so long to discover this sport.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 09:47 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack

Blip on the Radar Dept.

TONIGHT, the valiant Boston Red Sox are locked in combat with the New York Yankees, and the third and final Presidential debate is being held in Arizona. Our question: given these events, is anyone paying attention to the National Hockey League lockout?

Apparently not. That's pretty pathetic when you think about it -- for if the baseball or football leagues had faced such an event, Americans would be wailing and rending their garments. It also speaks to the challenges facing the premier professional hockey league. Aside from the economics of it all, both the owners and players face the possibility that Americans -- especially casual fans -- will simply give up on hockey if the lockout carries on too long. And if that happens, everyone loses.

Hopefully, though, both sides will see reason eventually, and come up with an innovative revenue-sharing agreement that ensures both owners and players get their fair share. Personally, we like the idea of profit-sharing; that in addition to a reasonable base salary for players, they'd get a cut of total revenues above a certain agreed-upon point. It seems to us that'd make everyone on both sides work harder to make bank for a team.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 09:19 PM | Comments (3) | TrackBack

Back Again!

OOOOOH. The guys at JibJab Media ("This Land is Your Land") have come up with a new bipartisan political film. It is almost as good as "This Land," so go have a look.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 08:51 PM | TrackBack

Didn't This End Two Centuries Ago?

WE HAVE LEARNED this evening that The Guardian, a once-respectable British newspaper, has embarked upon a scheme to give its readers "a say" in the upcoming US elections. This scheme consists of having its readers send letters to unsuspecting American voters residing in Clark County, Ohio, with entreaties in an attempt to sway these voters' choices -- one way or the other --on Election Day.

Now, we see their game perfectly clear. First they'll start sending letters. Then it will switch to phone calls. The next thing we'll know, there'll be squads of Hessian mercenaries roving the landscape, demanding quarter in our homes!

For it is bad enough when any foreign group attempts to meddle with our domestic affairs, but far worse when an English group does so. After all, when we wanted to have a say in how England was run, Parliament passed the Intolerable Acts. That, of course, led to a series of unfortunate events in which we were forced to run roughshod over England -- first in 1776, again in 1812.

Please, lads. Don't make us do it a third time.

We suppose now would be a good time to mention that The Guardian, and its Sunday Observer, may be contacted at 119 Farringdon Road, London EC1R 3ER, United Kingdom. Remember that the English are unfailingly polite, so feel free to blast the Loyalists something fierce.

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As an aside, we would note that due to The Guardian's set-up, only one voter address is being sent to any individual e-mail address. This is to prevent Clark County voters from being deluged with mail. We would only say that this evening, we paid the tiniest bit of homage to our great ancestors who fought in the American Revolution.

(link via Emily Jones, who is similarly appalled).

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 08:30 PM | TrackBack

October 11, 2004

"In the Long Run, We Are All Dead"

YOU CAN SAY what you like about Lord Keynes and his economics, but we would submit to you this evening that his famous quip was spot on in dealing with the business of life.

We have noticed over the years that many otherwise right-thinking and responsible people get very much bothered at events and circumstances which are meaningless in the long run. As recent evidence of this, we would present a New York Times article about the state of youth soccer in an upper-crust suburb of that city. This suburb, you see, is apparently in an honest-to-God furore over how their youngsters ought take part in the sport.

It is a fascinating read, because it highlights the acedic and sclerotic nature of such places: many things that truly matter are left ignored, while any attempts to rock the boat are considered threats on par with root rot, criminality and Bolshevism. And while we would not condemn people for speaking their minds on issues of import to them, we do feel compelled to say, "For God's sakes. It's youth soccer." And really -- could there be anything less important in life than youth soccer?

Consider our own experience with the sport as indicative. We can assure readers that we spent eight full years taking part in youth soccer matches. During this great and storied career, we scored all of four goals, one of which was against an empty net. Our main contribution to our team was to act as a defenseman, by which we mean we kicked the ball back up the field whenever it came into our territory. Also, whenever we went after the ball, we sometimes ran into opposing players and knocked them down. The lessons we learned from this experience were as follows:

1. We're not very adept at playing soccer.
2. Perhaps we ought work at something at which we're more competent.
3. Orange slices are not adequate incentive for an hour's time on the pitch.

Now, we are proud to say that Mr and Mrs Kepple Were Not Especially Worked Up About Youth Soccer either. Oh, they came to the games and cheered us on, and they sometimes brought the orange slices. Other than that, though, they were perfectly fine to let us go about doing our thing. There was no complaining about the injustice of a coach and no whining about so-and-so being a favorite or what not. They had far more important things to worry about, and focused on those things.

The brilliance of this strategy hit home years later when we realized we had internalized a lot of things surrounding those important issues (such as what the closing tick was) and were applying them in our daily life. Also, as a boy, we were encouraged to focus on things we liked, which eventually led to our happy and pleasant life today. In short, our parents focused on the long run.

Now, we realize that some critics may point out Lord Keynes' quote was intended to denigrate all long-term thinking, as he was greatly focused on short-term solutions. However, we have always thought his words were more meaningful under our contrary interpretation. Short-term problems generally don't last; but God! to think of all the time and energy wasted on dealing with them! How much better it is to focus on the long run, and not worry about the short-term problems. We may eventually all be dead, but at the least we can enjoy things in the meantime.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 10:56 PM | Comments (3) | TrackBack

October 06, 2004

The Humiliation of Doom

EARLIER THIS EVENING, we were playing a bit of multiplayer Doom 3, the popular "first-person shooter" game. We can assure you this enjoyable, but often-frustrating pursuit, has proven instructive for us in many ways.

What are some of these lessons, you ask? Allow us to explain:

One. It is galling when one's player gets shot, finds himself fried, or meets the wrong end of a shoulder-fired missile. It is especially galling when one's player does so thanks to the actions of one's own teammates.

One-B. It is gratifying to turn said teammates into ashes with heavy weaponry, even if it does cost the team a point. They have to learn sooner or later.

Two. That said, it is mortifying to see teenagers with such proficiency at kicking our ass on a regular basis, especially with the rocket launcher. We are sorry, but it's not exactly helpful for our own morale if an opposing teenager is able to jump up, dodge our fire, ready and aim his rocket launcher, and successfully turn us into dog food with a thousand-to-one shot.

Three. Fortunately, teenagers generally haven't figured out small-unit tactics. This evening, we were able to deal out much pain and suffering to our opponents simply through teamwork. Three of the players on our side monopolized an area of the game map chock full of weapons, and then blasted any of the opposition that so much dared to challenge us. Yeah. Move. Get out the way.

Clearly, we can see it's simple for a player to win "Doom 3" on a multi-player setting. Work together with your teammates, keep an eye on your back, and always -- always -- let the teenagers rush into situations first.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 12:06 AM | Comments (1) | TrackBack

October 01, 2004

Like Watching a Train Wreck

WE SUPPOSE we should start the morning off with a sincere apology -- again -- for not blogging much this week. We have been busy with the business of life as of late, and it's kept us from writing in this space. And boy! have there been things we've wanted to write about.

First on that list would be Minneapolis Star Tribune columnist Nick Coleman's essay on the blogosphere. Wow. If there was ever a work which could be summed up in the phrase "particularly unfortunate," this is it.

We can assure readers will find Mr Coleman's column akin to watching a train wreck: it is awful and appalling, yet one can't tear oneself away from the event at hand. It is an excellent primer on how professional journalists ought not respond to the bloggers in their midst. For Mr Coleman's work is not simply badly written, something that would make it merely forgettable. It is a petulant and juvenile whinge-session, a work which gives the impression that Mr Coleman, in writing it, reverted to his nine-year-old self being beaten on a playground. All in all, it's actually pretty embarrassing.

Based on such an analysis, we know our readers now expect us to engage in an old-fashioned line-by-line Kepple Special fisking, so we shall. However, we would encourage readers to read all of Mr Coleman's essay, accessible via the above link. The excerpts we publish below will be in italics, while our response will immediately follow in plain text.

Mr Coleman writes:

But here's what really makes bloggers mad: I know stuff.

I covered Minneapolis City Hall, back when Republicans controlled the City Council. I have reported from almost every county in the state, I have covered murders, floods, tornadoes, World Series and six governors.

In other words, I didn't just blog this stuff up at midnight.

We would submit Mr Coleman ought not engage in such self-flattery, as it is unseemly and gauche. While we have not seen the work in question which criticizes him, we must say we would be greatly surprised if the blogosphere was truly gnashing its teeth and rending its garments at Mr Coleman's sermons delivered from on high. But if it was -- we do not discount this possibility -- than we suggest this would not be due to Mr Coleman's store of knowledge.

Herein lies Mr Coleman's first error; he defensively sets forth his qualifications. Mr Coleman, you are a journalist working for a major metropolitan daily. You do not need to do this. If you wish to attack, attack; don't parry. And as for the blogging at midnight comment, we might remind Mr Coleman that bloggers do generally hold gainful employment, which means they may not have the luxury of pursuing their craft on someone else's dime.

And as for being a political stooge, unlike the bloggies, I don't give money to politicians, I don't put campaign signs on my lawn, I don't attend political events as anything other than a reporter, I don't drink with pols and I have an ear trained to detect baloney.

Mr Coleman, if a blogger has a motivation like you describe, a reader will probably figure it out. And if a blogger is foolish enough to cavalierly discount his opposition, said opposition will pester him in the comments, and portray his work in an unflattering light on their own blogs, and so forth. Hence the blogosphere is the ultimate bulls -- uh, baloney -- detector.

Do bloggers have the credentials of real journalists? No. Bloggers are hobby hacks, the Internet version of the sad loners who used to listen to police radios in their bachelor apartments and think they were involved in the world.

Real journalists. Heh. Sloppy! Real reporters, you mean, Mr Coleman; real newsmen, you mean. There is something to be said for precision.

After all, there is a difference between a reporter and a journalist, in that all reporters are journalists but not vice versa. After all, opinion writers and syndicated columnists and analysts are journalists, but they may often or completely rely on someone else's shoe-leather to do their jobs.

But even after clearing up that inconsistency, Mr Coleman, you're wrong. If you knew where to look in the blogosphere, you'd find real reporting -- whether on major issues of the day or on happenings around someone's neighborhood. Oh, and that reminds us: don't the folks who like listening to the scanner out in East Wherever also call your newsroom once in a while? Maybe it wasn't bright to insult these conscientious and good people.

Bloggers don't know about anything that happened before they sat down to share their every thought with the moon. Like graffiti artists, they tag the public square -- without editors, correction policies or community standards. And so their tripe is often as vicious as it is vacuous ...

We have pondered long over Mr Coleman's incomprehensible first sentence in that paragraph. We have no idea what he is talking about. But as for the rest of it, let's examine it.

Among his many duties, an editor has three key functions: first, he reads over the copy and improves it, or tells the reporter how to improve it; second, he canes his reporter across the knees for screwing up; and third, he keeps an ear to the ground and determines if his reporter ought work on something.

Now, these things are vitally important when one is producing a publication for the purpose of making money. One needs clear copy and one needs accurate copy and one needs relevant copy. A blogger, working for free, only needs pay extra-special attention to the second item, that is, not screwing up. A blogger can self-edit and decide for himself about what he wants to write, and if the copy is sloppy or not relevant, that is his loss alone. And even with the second item, there is an Editing Function at work -- after all, if the blogger screws up, he hears about it from his fellow bloggers. And that sucks.

As for correction policies, we would submit that bloggers are pretty smart about this too. When they screw up, they say so -- and quickly. Mr Coleman has apparently forgotten that libel and slander laws do apply to bloggers, and bloggers know it.

Lastly, as for community standards -- oh boy. Mr Coleman. Dude. It's the Internet. If you don't like something, you don't have to read it. And bloggers follow the same standards as newspapers do -- they're going to say what they think, but they're not going to print something if they think their audience would find it horribly objectionable. For instance, Mr Coleman, you write for a family newspaper, which children and the elderly and the religious read. This is why you had to use the word "baloney" instead of a certain other word. Bloggers often don't have those same self-imposed constraints.

... We are not dealing with journalism, people. We are dealing with Internet chat rooms: sleazy and unreliable, with no accountability. Most bloggers are not fit to carry a reporter's notebook.

This, quite frankly, is crap. One question immediately springs to mind: how are bloggers unreliable if they rely on the media to do much of their blogging? But that aside, Mr Coleman could have done a much better job at addressing this and his many other points, such as they are, throughout his column.

For one thing, Mr Coleman could have pointed out that bloggers are free of two constraints that journalists do face: namely, space and time. After all, it is no joke to reduce, let's say, a 200-page GAO report to 500 words -- and do that within an hour or two. It is not as easy as it seems, and it takes a lot of practice to get good at it.

But that said, Mr Coleman should have recognized one simple truth about bloggers: they make reporting better. It is no longer the dressing down from a furious editor which reporters must fear; they must now expect furious and public criticism from the outside. But Mr Coleman has forgotten that these critics are reading the work, and quite frankly, what better thing could a reporter ask for? Some of that criticism may be off-base, yes. But much of it will help him improve -- and constant improvement is as vital for the reporter's trade as it is for any other.

Well, that's it. Thus endeth the lesson. For an excellent example of the style in which Mr Coleman should have written his column, we would direct readers to the blog of Mr Coleman's fellow Star-Tribune columnist, James Lileks. Mr Lileks focuses on many of the same topics we did, especially regarding editing and the space issue. And if one is looking for a gleeful romp, we would direct readers to Australian reporter-journalist Tim Blair's excellent blog.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 10:10 AM | Comments (6) | TrackBack

September 26, 2004

Uh Oh

MOUNT ST. HELENS is apparently going through the volcanic equivalent of gastric distress.

The advisory, from the U.S. Geological Survey and the University of Washington, reads as follows:

Seismic activity at Mount St. Helens has changed significantly during the past 24 hours and the changes make us believe that there is an increased likelihood of a hazardous event, which warrants release of this Notice of Volcanic Unrest. The swarm of very small, shallow earthquakes (less than Magnitude 1) that began on the morning of 23 September peaked about mid-day on 24 September and slowly declined through yesterday morning. However, since then the character of the swarm has changed to include more than ten larger earthquakes (Magnitude 2-2.8), the most in a 24-hr period since the eruption of October 1986. In addition, some of the earthquakes are of a type that suggests the involvement of pressurized fluids (water and steam) or perhaps magma. The events are still occurring at shallow depths (less than one mile) below the lava dome that formed in the crater between 1980 and 1986. The cause and outcome of the earthquake swarm are uncertain at this time. Several causes are possible, but most point toward an increased probability of explosions from the lava dome if the level of current unrest continues or escalates. During such explosions the dome and crater floor are at greatest risk from ballistic projectiles, but the rim of the crater and flanks of the volcano could also be at risk. Explosions would also be expected to produce ash clouds that drift downwind at altitudes up to several thousand feet above the crater rim. Landslides and debris flows from the crater that are large enough to reach the Pumice Plain are also possible. Such events occurred at Mount St. Helens between 1989 and 1991.

(via Instapundit)

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 10:59 PM | TrackBack

An Open Letter to CBS

TO: The Columbia Broadcasting System

FR: Benjamin Kepple's Daily Rant

RE: Football

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To whom it may concern:

You may dimly recall that due to weather-related problems, the National Football League game between the Pittsburgh Steelers and Miami Dolphins was postponed from 1 p.m. to 8:30 p.m. today. It is now after 8:30 p.m., and there is absolutely no football on Boston's CBS affiliate. It is readily apparent that no football will be forthcoming this evening.

Instead, CBS foisted upon its viewers an hour-long family drama about the trials of a batboy for a team that looks very much like the New York Yankees. The Yankees. Surely the good people of Greater Boston deserve better than this? Couldn't you have held off until after the World Series?

But as if that wasn't bad enough, at 9 p.m., instead of airing the game, CBS showed its Sunday movie, "Revenge of the Middle Aged Woman." You must be kidding. You are going to show "Revenge of the Middle Aged Woman" as opposed to an important AFC inter-division matchup?

Wretched, miserab -- why don't you just broadcast "Heidi" and have done with it?

In anguish,

Benjamin Kepple

UPDATE, 9:12 p.m. Oh, God. The Steelers are even winning.

UPDATE, 9:20 p.m. Now we're reduced to watching Tampa Bay vs. Oakland on ESPN. Swell. Just swell. Well, as long as the Raiders lose ... oh, wait. They just took the lead. Gaaaaaaah.

UPDATE, 9:42 p.m. OK, they just showed footage from the Pittsburgh-Miami game, and they're playing in a downpour. It is fundamentally wrong that we have no way to watch this.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 09:05 PM | Comments (10) | TrackBack

September 23, 2004

The Trials of Juror Number Ten

GREETING! We must apologize for the lack of posting as of late those of you who have mentioned this, you know who you are but we can assure readers that we have a perfectly good excuse. Namely, we were in court.

We can assure readers we were not in court due to any real or alleged actions of our own, but rather because the Government ordered us to appear for jury duty. As such, we dutifully trudged down to the county courthouse last Monday to do so. Much to our surprise and amazement, we were then selected at random to serve on a jury judging a criminal matter. At first, we were merely a backup for the people whom Fate had decreed would serve, but peremptory challenges soon caused us to become Juror Number Ten. In all, fourteen jurors were chosen for this particular case, but out of those, only twelve would decide the outcome. Two would become alternates via the same method we were all first chosen: a lottery.

We became Juror Number Ten at about 12:30 p.m. last Monday, some five hours after we arrived at the court. The orientation session and jury selection processes were about as dull as one might expect, because even the most obvious legal points must be spelled out to prospective jurors. We must say we thought these sessions could be Made More Fun in several ways. For instance, it would be a lot more fun if swimsuit models were allowed to read the voir dire questionnaire. Also, instead of having kindly court personnel simply read out the rules of conduct, we think a multimedia presentation along with the lectures might help hammer those points home. There are two options we can see for this.

The first would be a short film, like the announcements one sees in the movie theatres prior to the featured films. The rules could be made perfectly clear through humorous skits. For example, a juror whose mobile phone went off in court could be dragged off in handcuffs, followed with hearty laughter from all in the chamber. But even if that wasnt feasible, something with PowerPoint might prove useful:

KNOW COUNSEL? CONFLICT!
KNOW WITNESS(ES)? CONFLICT!
BREAKS: MORNING, AFTERNOON
PAY: $20 PER DAY, $10 PER HALF-DAY

It used to be $30 per diem, one of the bailiffs told us, but it got cut back in the early Nineties. Such is the legacy of great Pericles.

The Wheels of Justice

THE TRIAL started three days later, and despite our joking above, we can assure readers that matters of law are no joke. One indication of this: in that courthouse, jurors had guards every step of the way.
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Hence, while we jurors all had access to restrooms and vending machines, and were provided all the free coffee and water we could drink, we could only leave the jurors area of the courthouse if we were under guard. At every step of the way, court officers would hand us off to their colleagues, and we would proceed from station to station under the watchful eye of these personnel.

That had to be done, of course, to keep the jury pool free from taint; and we all found humor in it. For instance, a break outside for a cigarette or fresh air was known as a 1099, which we all found quite funny. Thats the number of the tax form used to report miscellaneous income, such as pay for jury duty. But although the officers and our fellow jurors were great and friendly people, and we kidded each other about this or that, on that first day we felt a bit of relief when our assigned officer finally radioed, Jurors going home.

As it happened, we did not go immediately home that night. Instead, we followed our normal Thursday night routine: stop at bookstore, pick up The Economist, go out for cheap but fulfilling dinner. At the bookstore, we picked up some books and a movie as a special treat for when the trial had finished. We picked up a novel and a history book and an expensive movie; this last being an old foreign film which was reincarnated on DVD with Plenty of Unneeded Extras and Bonus Materials. Among them: an English-dubbed soundtrack. Anyone who has seen this particular movie knows that is treason to cinema. But we digress.

When we did get home, we knew we couldnt think about the case after all, more would be presented in the morning. How we hated the prohibitions against asking questions and taking notes! We recognize the legal principles which stand behind those, of course, but God! it was just aggravating to work against instinct like that. As we had to be back at court pretty early, and knew well how our mind works, we realized there was but one thing we could do: go to bed, and early. Well, that and watch some mindless prime-time entertainment. The case could wait.

The Case in Question

The trial was held over three days, and it was really rather strange. Perhaps the best way to describe it is to recall the words of Dickens' old foil, Thomas Gradgrind: Now, what I want is Facts. Teach these boys and girls nothing but Facts. Facts alone are wanted in life. Plant nothing else, and root out everything else. The trouble was that there were damn few Facts with which to work, and we jurors had to separate the wheat from the chaff.

Anyway, heres the summary. The defendant whom we shall not name here was charged with burglary, as well as a lesser and included charge of theft. The defendant was alleged to have broken into the apartment where his then-wife and three step-children lived, and stolen goods from inside. Seems simple, right?

How wrong you would be to think so.

For one thing, there was the relationship between the defendant and his now ex-wife, who was one of the complaining witnesses in the case.

Attorneys on both sides spent much time showing these two would not soon be named Citizen of the Year. It was not merely that the defendant and his ex-wife were in the waning days of their marriage when the incident happened. It was not merely that the defendant and all the complaining witnesses had no love for each other. That would still, well, be expected.

It was rather unexpected when the defendants ex-wife said, under oath and apropos of nothing, that a key reason she married the defendant was because he had health insurance. If we recall correctly, she did not use the word love even once. She could not even remember the date of their wedding. Now, we know readers will likely be shocked and appalled at such an account, but we assure you it is the truth.

We can also assure you it gets worse.

For the defendants former wife was also previously his aunt through a prior marriage. This, therefore, meant the defendants step-children were also his cousins. At this point, we were half-expecting to learn Polonius got run through with a sword on the honeymoon.

Now, we bring all of this unfortunate stuff up not because we wish to shock our readers, but because we hope you are thinking the question we thought during the trial. Namely, what the hell does all this have to do with it?

Pretty much nothing, when you boil it all down.

We had to do a lot of such boiling down with this case. God! Eight hours listening to arguments in court, and at best half of those hours were actually meaningful. What we wanted were Facts, and when we got Facts, we focused on them.

Now, there were a few Facts which were common to both the defendants and complaining witnesses stories:

* There was no denying that on one day last summer, the defendant arrived at a certain city apartment about 7:30 a.m., this being (or once being) his home, where his then-wife and his step-children also lived.

* The defendant had been at work since 7 p.m. the prior night. On the prior night, his then-wife had dropped him off at work. The defendant arrived at the apartment after he was finished with work. Upon arriving, he banged on the front door repeatedly. After a short while of this, the defendant left. He then returned at a later time and removed items from the apartment, as well as a secondary storage closet accessible from outside it.

The prosecution, via its complaining witnesses and others involved in the matter, set forth the following account of the days events. We present it to the best of our memory, and believe it to be an accurate depiction of the prosecutions case, although we caution that we may have left some of the innumerable details out:

* As the defendant and his then-wife were in the waning days of their marriage, the defendant agreed to move out for good some three days before the incident. The complaining witnesses, those being his then-wife and two of her children, testified the defendant had taken most of his stuff from the apartment before the incident happened. They testified that only a few boxes with his stuff in them remained. On the night prior to the incident, his then-wife took the defendant to work.

On the day of the incident, the defendant arrived at the apartment around 7:30 a.m., banging about the door and causing great consternation among those inside the residence. They, seeking to avoid unpleasantness, did not open the door to him. Later in the morning, the defendants then-wife and some of her children, including the then-wifes grand-daughter, left to visit family in Maine.

In the early afternoon, the defendants step-daughter was at home asleep due to tiredness. She awoke to hear an awful din from immediately outside her room, as if someone was breaking into the secondary storage unit. She then heard similar violence being used against the front door of the apartment.

The step-daughter, by this time, had hidden in the closet of her bedroom. She heard two men talking in the apartment, and testified that one of the voices was that of the defendant. The two men were in and out of the residence for roughly an hour and a half, removing goods from it, and then left. She had also heard other voices from outside.

A short while later, the step-daughter emerged to find that much had been taken from the apartment, including her brothers computer. She testified she had heard the defendant instruct the other man to remove a computer. Also taken was a small television set, a video-game set-up, and other items, which had been in her brothers bedroom. Her brother corroborated this account. As the step-daughter had no way to contact the authorities, she waited at home until her family returned to the apartment. Some time later, the family called the authorities.

The officer who responded to the scene testified he saw evidence of tampering with the front door, that is to say, it had been severely damaged about its hinges, and the damage could have been done either from the outside in or the inside out. However, had it been done from the inside out, a very strong person would have had to have done it.

The police detective who followed up on the case testified he found items not at issue in the case, such as a lawn mover that had been in the storage closet, at the residence of the defendants mother. None of the items the detective saw were among the stolen goods. The detective also testified that he received from the defendant a key to the apartment, and when he went to test the key, the front door of the apartment opened up.

The defendant set forth the following account of his actions, with the appropriate witness testimony to back it up. We present it to the best of our memory, and believe it to be an accurate depiction of the defense, although we caution we may have left some of the innumerable details out:

* Upon ending his shift at a local factory, the defendant waited for his wife to pick him up. She had not arrived at 7 a.m. as scheduled, so he called her to see why. She told him she would not pick him up, because he had failed to apologize to her children about something said in an argument. He then enlisted the aid of a coworker, who dropped him off at the residence about 7:30 a.m.

The defendant returned home to find no response from inside it. Being worried about this, he tried to raise an alarm to ensure everything was all right inside. He did not enter the home, he said, as he did not wish to get involved in a confrontation with his wife. He then phoned his mother, a resident of this city, and asked her to pick him up.

As the defendant had belongings (known in court parlance as "musical items") worth a considerable sum in the apartment, the defendants mother advised her son to remove those belongings that day. The defendant called the city police to ask for a civil standby, that is, an officer who would ensure he could remove his goods without trouble. The police informed him his wife would return from Maine at a later date, and he could recover his goods then. However, he arrived at the apartment alone in the morning, entering with a key, and started packing his things. There were many boxes, perhaps as many as 20, plus the musical items.

A friend who owned a trucking firm testified he sent two of his employees to drop off pads and other things to help with the move. The friend arrived a short while later, and these two employees did not enter the apartment. Once the truck was loaded, the defendant and his friend left, dropping the things off at the defendants mothers house. The defendant testified he locked the front door with a key, and denied taking the stolen items. He also pointed out he had a computer of his own.

The businessman testified that he had not removed, nor seen removed or packed, any of the stolen goods. The defendants mother testified that she witnessed the unpacking of most of the boxes, which were placed in her living room for weeks prior to their unpacking. She did not see any of the stolen goods, in those boxes or outside of them. The defense also presented the testimony of a downstairs neighbor, who reported seeing three people but not the defendant move goods from the apartment. The neighbor did not see the entire move, but attested to the fact the musical items were removed from the apartment. The neighbor also did not see any of the stolen goods removed from the apartment.

Follow everything?

We are glad we had our eleven fellow jurors to help us remember all this during deliberations.

High Drama in the Court

There were a few moments of High Drama throughout the trial, for instance, when the defense attorney cross-examined the defendants stepson.

The defendants ex-wife was not following the line of inquiry which the counselor was taking. Therefore, she saw fit to loudly ask what it had to do with the matter at hand. She was summarily escorted out of the court, but according to other jurors with a better view of the matter, she made a point of glaring through the courts door-windows at the proceedings.

But the key instance of High Drama was when the defendant, ah, may have exaggerated his resume on the witness stand. Then testimony was later presented which suggested that. Obviously, there can be mistakes in records, but God.

The defendant had told the jury he had received training in electrical engineering through a local universitys computer-engineering program. He also told the jury he had received a bachelors degree in computer engineering from this school. A records-keeper from the school was summoned, and testified the defendant had only completed three semesters there, and had not in fact graduated from the institution.

We would submit only that this was not a confidence-builder when it came to the defendants account of how things transpired.

Immediately afterwards, closing arguments were made. Because of a delay in the case, Juror Number Eleven had been excused. Juror Number Seven found himself the alternate-designate. We the jury then retired.

Benjamin Kepple, Jury Foreman and a Verdict

Now you should know the first order of business, after we the jury retired, was to take a break. The second was to order an adequate and nutritious lunch, which the court provided to us free. Then we all went about the business of picking a foreman.

There were no volunteers, so we offered to do it. It is actually a surprisingly easy job, we found. Basically, one makes sure the deliberating jurors follow the judges instructions, and makes sure order is kept, and what not. Also, we got to announce the verdict in court.

We deliberated for a total of an hour: twenty minutes on the burglary charge, and forty minutes on the theft charge. In both cases, we the jury individually and collectively found the defendant Not Guilty on the charges.

Heres why.

To prove a burglary charge, the prosecution must show the defendants actions met several criteria. That includes the following: that the defendant was not licensed or privileged to be in a building or occupied structure occupied here simply meaning lived in.

We the jury found the prosecution did not meet this burden. Not only were there no legal restrictions preventing the defendant from being in the residence, the defendants then-wife dropped him off at work the night before the incident. The first point shows he could still legally abide at his marital abode; the second strongly suggests he was still resident at the apartment on the day of the incident.

Therefore, we the jury found a man cannot burglarize his own home. So you see that business about the key and the door was irrelevant after all, as was whether he ordered a civil standby, and what have you.

And what about the theft, you ask?

We the jury found there was no proof that the defendant had stolen the goods. No witness in the case reported seeing the defendant with the stolen goods, and without any sort of recovery, deciding on a not guilty verdict was the only option. It was as simple as that.

So What Really Happened?

What really happened is what we the jury decided happened.

Now, that seems an odd thing to say, perhaps even a bit Orwellian. We obviously dont know what happened, and we will never know, unless we get a working crystal ball in the mail. Did we have a lot of unanswered questions, even after hours listening to both sides? Yes. Did we wish both sides had explored more avenues? Absolutely. But to reach a fair and impartial decision, a jury cant engage in idle speculation. All we can do is sift through the Facts at hand, decide those that are relevant and those that are not. Based on those Facts, we found the defendant Not Guilty and so he is.

An awesome power, really, when one thinks about it to determine the truth like that.

And so, after delivering the verdict, we ate our lunch and departed the courthouse, leaving behind our jury badge and all of the rest of the paraphenelia which we received over the course of our service. We got in our car and drove home, and opened up that DVD we had bought back on Thursday. We were very much looking forward to watching "Rashomon."

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 11:33 PM | TrackBack

September 13, 2004

Everybody Have Fun Tonight

OVER AT SHEILA O'MALLEY'S excellent site, her legions of commenters are busy discussing songs from the Eighties which might be considered intolerable, unless they were played at roller-skating rinks during the decade.

Now, we admit we are not experts on such matters. When we were growing up back in western Michigan, we only knew of one roller-skating rink in our local community. As roller-skating was a pastime which had peaked in popularity a bit before our formative years, we never went to such places. Instead, when we were young kids, our idea of Big Fun was to spend time at various horrible establishments which existed to separate parents from their hard-earned. This transfer of wealth was accomplished via buying "tokens" for play in expensive video games, as well as pizza of such low quality that it would today garner warnings from public health agencies.

But we digress. Having grown up in the Eighties, we are somewhat familiar with the tunes of that era. So we must register surprise at one thing.

As of this writing, it is now 5 p.m., and 25 comments have been left on the subject. NONE have mentioned ANY SONGS from this great British duo:

We would submit that while Wang Chung had some pretty good songs -- "Dance Hall Days" in particular -- the former chart-topper "Everybody Have Fun Tonight" has not become a timeless hit. For, as a different duo once put it:

"What's that guy in the back doing?"
"He's Wang Chunging."

But enough of my ranting about. Go check out the rest of the discussion -- it's good stuff. Plus, there's more on Wang Chung mentioned. Read the whole thing, and the comments.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 05:27 PM | Comments (4) | TrackBack

September 08, 2004

Be it So Noted ...

... THAT DOOM 3 is the best computer game of all-frickin'-time. Wow, wow, wow.

That is all.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 10:49 PM | TrackBack

Yankees Suck

STEVE SILVER, if we recall rightly, is a fan of the Minnesota Twins baseball franchise. As the movie put it, we have to think this is like getting hit in the head with a crowbar every week. That said, though, we would point readers to Mr Silver's commentary on the New York Yankees:

Nearly blowing their huge lead over Boston, losing 22-0 at home to Cleveland, and Kevin Brown punching a wall were bad enough. But to demand a forfeit from the Tampa Bay Devil Rays -- who were prevented from traveling by a hurricane, has to be a new low for the 2004 Yankees.

Steve? Give it time. They might just top all that -- provided, of course, they actually make the playoffs.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 10:46 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack

September 07, 2004

Unfortunate Moments in Popular Culture

WE WERE driving home one recent night when the radio station to which we were listening began, without any warning whatsoever, to broadcast a song by The Eagles. As we have always found this particular Eagles song a bit silly, it got us to thinking: did this unfortunate mess of a tune represent some kind of watershed in American cultural history? And even if it didnt, what in hell were these people thinking when they wrote it?

Therefore, we thought it fitting to pick a few Unfortunate Moments in Popular Culture and put them before our readers, so that our readers could help us understand things and events which we dont entirely understand. We know that life was radically different in the decades before we were born, but still we had no idea how much so.

In any event, let us commence:

UNFORTUNATE MOMENT No. 10
The Eagles Release Lying Eyes
1975

The chorus to this unfortunate song, which grates on our nerves something fierce every time we hear it, is as follows:

So she tells him she must go out for the evening to comfort an old friend who's feeling down.
But he knows where she's going as she's leaving, shes headed for the cheating side of town.
You cant hide your lying eyes, and your smile is a thin disguise.
I thought by now you'd realize, there ain't no way to hide your lying eyes.

Our question: what in hell is the cheating side of town? We mean, come on. Are we to believe some sort of weird socio-economic divide separated a municipality into sections for its respective adulterous and non-adulterous residents? We could believe such a thing were it 1875, and adultery was not something one formally acknowledged in polite society. But in 1975, polite society was on the verge of drowning in its own decadence, due to a horrible combination of social and economic problems.

Its one thing to suffer some weakening of the traditional family unit, or to face society-wide issues with social disease. But in the Seventies, those things were just part of the problem. In 1975, according to the Government, unemployment was at 9 pc. So was inflation. The bear market of 1973-74 played havoc with stock holdings, and inflation added to the pain that came with that downturn. And as if all that wasnt bad enough, people couldnt even buy gasoline. Clearly, social and economic forces drove this unfortunate soul whom, we learn from the song, is looking desperately for monetary security to a life of moral turpitude. Therefore, we can determine the song is a Cultural Watershed, as the womans behavior clearly points to general societal malaise as a whole.

The songs still crap, though. Theres a great way to hide ones lying eyes, and that is with a good pair of sunglasses.

UNFORTUNATE MOMENT No. 9
Alanis Morrissette Releases Ironic
1996

An oft-mentioned criticism of Ms Morrisettes song is that the events she describes in the song are not in fact ironic, but merely unfortunate. For instance, in one line, Ms Morrisette clearly depicts the agony and trauma which exists when one buys a particularly messy item at Taco Bell: all one needs is a knife, but one ends up with that useless plastic spork thingy. (The proper phrase, we have learned, is runcible spoon, but never mind). As it turns out, a Massachusetts firm trademarked the word spork in the Seventies, thus proving that all bad things may have a common ancestry.

In any event, it is clear that whomever wrote Ironic did not know the meaning of the term. After all, our above example is not an example of irony, but rather a hideous descent into a maelstrom of suffering not seen since Tantalus was cast into the underworld. It is true that one could interpret Ms Morrisettes lyrics as an indictment of certain Canadian societal trends. Ms Morrisette, after all, is Canadian, and while Canada claims to have a health care system, it is not really a health care system at all. However, the fact that Canada failed to do anything about this immediately after her song was released is prima facie evidence that Ironic is not a Cultural Watershed. Instead, it is just crap.

UNFORTUNATE MOMENT No. 8
Dragnet Attempts to Get Pretty Cool and Far-Out
1967-1970

This is a tough example for us to bring up, because we quite like the old Dragnet show, which is not really the old Dragnet show, but never mind. After all, how can anyone not root for Joe and Bill, guardians of the Swell Post-War Order, as they fight a tough but losing battle against the forces of nihilism, despair and sloth?

The only trouble was when they fought a little too hard.

We are sorry, but it was quite jarring for us to watch as Joe and Bill would foil smugglers and murderers in one episode, and then in the next spend the entire thirty minutes arguing about pot with the Church of Groovy Psychedelic With-it-ness (Reformed). Perhaps we are being a bit harsh after all, the show did try to let God-fearing adults know what they were up against but we have to think this episode and others like it prompted lots of groans during rerun season.

Speaking of groans, from exactly what department store display did they find the actors to play the teenaged characters? We recall one such episode that so appalled Mr Kepple he spat out the word robots! at the screen in disgust. (That would be the episode with Blue Boy, who before you get any ideas, suffered from a different affliction than one might think.) We know they didnt spend a lot of money putting on the show theres a reason why Joe and Bill were hardly ever out of uniform but even we cant believe they set out to find actors who had trouble managing even one dimension of a character.

But we digress. Clearly, these episodes of Dragnet which we have no doubt were once thought pretty cool and far-out, son were a Cultural Watershed. Arguments which would have convinced people back in the Fifties no longer held any weight, and the end result was that Joe and Bill couldnt seal all the holes in the dam. Had Joe and Bill realized this would happen, they might not have smirked when the protesting hippies told them they would be the ones someday writing the laws.

UNFORTUNATE MOMENT No. 7
Captain Planet and the Planeteers First Airs
1990

The writer James Wolcott recently confessed that when hurricane footage is shown on the television, he finds himself rooting for the hurricane. This is a particularly unfortunate thing to say in public, and similar to us saying that if Mr Wolcott -- God forbid -- contracted dengue fever, we would root for the plague seeping through his veins. But of course we would not ever say or do such a thing, because that would be rude and insensitive. Indeed, we wish Mr Wolcott lives to be 110.

In his badly-thought out post on the subject of hurricanes, Mr Wolcott refers to Gaia, which in our book is a Key Sign that a writer Has Strong Views when it comes to environment matters. As for the popularity of this neopagan Earth-spirit concept, we blame it solely on Captain Planet and the Planeteers.

Captain Planet was a regrettable attempt on the part of a certain businessman to raise awareness about environment issues. The plot, readers will recall, centered around the fact that Gaia who was incarnated as an actual spirit could not stomach the devastation being wrought upon, well, Gaia. Clearly the best thing to do was send a set of power rings to impressionable youngsters, who when they werent acting like a mini-United Nations, used these rings to summon some green-haired Communist from somewhere. Anyway, Captain Planet would then run around unlawfully hindering industry and progress, while the kids would lecture adults about the proper balance between development and conservation.

All that said, though, we must classify Captain Planet as a Cultural Watershed, as it was in the late Eighties and early Nineties that people got really concerned about environment issues. Plus, the show somehow stayed on the air for six frickin years. How the devil did that happen?

UNFORTUNATE MOMENT No. 6
The 55-mph Speed Limit Introduced
1974

Our theory about the 55-mph speed limit is that someone who always took the bus to work thought this brilliant idea up. Either that, or they were frustrated that they couldnt get any action despite having sunk a high percentage of their salary into that puke-colored AMC Gremlin. And even though folks back then should have noticed these things, we have no doubt this 55-mph speed limit proposal was undoubtedly given Considerable Official Support before it got kicked up to The Powers That Be.

Therefore, on behalf of everyone here at The Rant, wed just like to say, Way to go, wide-lapel pleather-wearing Seventies-era policy-wonk team! Thanks for all those wasted hours spent in the back of our folks car as we drove from Michigan to Pennsylvania! Thanks for letting our insurance firms charge us more money when we were caught boosting the speed up to a sinful 65 or even gasp 70 miles per hour!

A friend of ours did note today, however, that the 55-mph speed limit did prompt Sammy Hagar to write a song about the idiotic idea. Also he -- Mr Hagar, not our friend -- jumped around in some kind of weird yellow jumpsuit. Therefore, we must say this was a Cultural Watershed.

UNFORTUNATE MOMENT No. 5
Bad Rap Music Gains Popularity
Mid-to-Late 1980s

While we are not music historians, we have to think the increasing popularity of rap music which began in the Eighties kicked off a particularly unfortunate trend in the music itself. By that, we mean popular rappers began to focus on the fact they were making significant sums of money from their music. Therefore, instead of actually writing lyrics that told a story or spoke to their listeners, many rappers focused on the fact they were making bank something fierce. Worse yet, the popularity of rap made it possible for incompetent morons to make rap records, despite having absolutely no talent whatsoever. Ice, ice baby, you you got what I need. But you say he just a friend.

Now, while we recognize that many Kepple-haters may attack us for our position on the issue, we can assure readers that we actually kind of like rap music. Good rap music. In fact, we would go so far as to say Dr Dres California Love is the best rap song ever written. But California Love has a good beat, and has good background music, and has good lyrics. Much of the rap music today does not have any of these things. Instead, the music often well, lets just say it comes up a day late and a dollar short, because you dont want to hear our twenty-one questions. Fortunately, however, there is enough good rap music to ensure this is not we hope a Cultural Watershed. However, if the trend continues, there is danger of this happening. Get on the floor.

UNFORTUNATE MOMENT No. 4
Wall Street Decides Greed is Good
Mid-1980s

Back in the Bad Old Days, before disclosure requirements and all that, we learned a few pointers about investing. One key lesson we learned was that we ought take analysts recommendations with a great deal of salt. Another lesson was that whenever we saw a stock touted in the press, we had to assume the person touting it and all of his friends already owned shares and were waiting for the thing to shoot up. A third was that hype was just often that: hype.

Unfortunately, back in the Eighties, not enough people on Wall Street saw fit to mention these things to all the small investors. Even worse, few of the small investors were listening to the people who rightly shout Mayday about such things once every couple of decades. Then all the Wall Street types became like rock stars once the market started to pick up, and people started earning insane salaries, and lots of folks thought cocaine was a good thing. We have to think this irrational exuberance helped create the conditions which led to all that regrettable stuff in the late Nineties and afterwards. So we must, by necessity, term this a Cultural Watershed.

UNFORTUNATE MOMENT NO. 3
John and Yokos Bed-in for Peace
1969

There are plenty of moments in time when celebrities saw fit to damage their careers by sticking their noses in politics. But if we had to pick one point where this trend started to get out of hand, it would be John and Yokos bed-in for peace. Not so much for the event itself, but rather the example it set.

It used to be that celebrities were only political when it came to supporting a war effort. Then it got to the point where you had some overtly political but annoying celebrities, but the majority remained apolitical. We would suggest that John Lennon was one of the first to truly bridge the gap: a formerly non-political celebrity turned anti-war activist. Sadly, Mr Lennon did not write up an essay on how to do the job correctly, as a lot of todays celebrities couldve used it.

Readers will recall that in video of the bed-in, John seemed to have a great time with it all, while at the same time making his point pretty effectively. Plus, he and Yoko didnt get defensive and upset whenever someone else criticized them; a big contrast between todays spoilt stars, many of whom run around whining about censorship when people disagree with them. Why exactly later generations never realized the effectiveness of Mr Lennons tactics is beyond us, but we have to say: its a Cultural Watershed, darling Sean.

UNFORTUNATE MOMENT NO. 2
Logans Run debuts in theatres
1976

Christ, if this is how people in the Seventies saw the far future, no wonder everyone engaged in so much anti-social behavior. No amount of condemnation can truly provide justice for the movie-going public who spent their hard-earned to see this miserable, wretched, horrible waste of celluloid. Everything in it sucks. Everything down to the horrible Seventies-era dcor and frickin escalators escalators, for Gods sake makes us recoil in disgust and horror. It is a mockery of science-fiction.

The worst part is that theres talk of a remake. Oh, God. Not a Cultural Watershed. Definitely not.

UNFORTUNATE MOMENT NO. 1
Government Imposes Wage and Price Controls
1971-1974

We need some help from our elders about this one. What exactly were otherwise reasonable people thinking when they thought wage and price controls would end up cutting inflation in peacetime? We know that wage and price controls were somewhat helpful in curbing it during the Second World War, but that was, well, during the Second World War. Spending 40 pc of GDP on a war for the nations survival, and borrowing most of that money, necessarily caused inflation. (Thats roughly the equivalent, in this day and age, of having the Government spend $20 trillion over four years). But during peacetime? To fight inflation running at six percent? What the hell?

Now, we like to think we are educated; and indeed, we have a years worth of economic training under our belt from a top university, plus a lot of self-study we have done on our own time. That said, it was not until tonight that we ever heard of this Cost of Living Council, which apparently went about telling people what they could pay workers and what they could charge for goods. It was not until tonight we heard of bare store shelves and farmers drowning their chickens rather than send them to market. And then they kept the price-control system for oil and natural gas, which was the big concern anyway, when the wage and price controls didnt work? What the hell? Werent people trying to Whip Inflation Now or something?

We just dont get it. We dont get why people thought it was a good idea, why people went along with it, and why no one apparently got all that upset with it. Wed have spent our increasingly-worthless dollars on a steady supply of pitchforks and torches. Ah well. In any event, this is definitely a Cultural Watershed, because this truly represents the Giant Economic Malaise that existed in the Seventies a wretched and horrible decade that, as we have hopefully shown in this little exercise, contained much that we ought bury in historys dustbin, and bury deep.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 10:14 PM | Comments (8) | TrackBack

September 06, 2004

Big Sky Country

WE'RE HOPING that if we look long enough at this Photoshopped picture we made this evening, our seasonal allergies will go away and leave us alone.

UPDATE: 8:15 p.m.: We now have proof that nothing, and we mean nothing, ever happens in Wyoming. The two top stories on the Wyoming Tribune-Eagle's Web site are: "Familiarity can help patients catch errors, cut costs" and "Health bills got you confused?" (Our reactions: "You don't say," and "No.")

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 08:05 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack

August 22, 2004

The Horrible Relevancy of Pop Culture

WE READ with interest James Lileks' recent commentary on the state of American popular culture, in which he largely condemns said culture as useless and gauche. His thoughts mirrored our own in many respects, except on one point. Mr Lileks argues the Internet represents true American popular culture, and says the democratic aspects of the Internet will eventually cause the present "celebrity paradigm" to become irrelevant.

How we wish we could agree with Mr Lileks' analysis; we would like for it to happen as much as he would. Yet we cannot. Instead, we fear the opposite reaction will eventually take place -- that popular culture, already horribly relevant and meaningful to a significant portion of the populace, will become an even more entrenched and powerful force. Even now, those uninterested in it cannot escape its influence, and we see no reason why this state of affairs should suddenly change for the better.

Now, readers should know that in his essay, Mr Lileks takes the most recent issue of People magazine and deals with it masterfully. The cover of this magazine, a publication which we have never read except when waiting for a dentistry appointment, features the singer Britney Spears, her fiance Kevin Federline, and a little girl who looks a bit confused at the whole spectacle. We learn from Mr Lileks the girl in question is Mr Federline's daughter with a woman he did not marry, and Mr Lileks rightly proclaims immense contempt and powerful disgust at Mr Federline's behavior:

Plus, look at that guy. These are our celebs. Not exactly a Hurrell portrait of Cary Grant, eh? He knocked up one woman, produced the little girl you see here, and now hes sauntering off to bed another doxy. Men like this make me ill.

Now, earlier in his essay, Mr Lileks defines popular culture as follows: "I mean the stuff some people think we care about Paris Hiltons dog, reality shows designed to humiliate Amish youth, etc." It is this definition, we would argue, that is the crux of the matter.

Mr Lileks, in our view, is correct -- but only if one clarifies the meaning of "we." It is true there are many people who care little about such things, and instead focus on other interests. But here's the thing. We are like that, and all our friends are like that, and pretty much all the people we know are like that. But the fact there are several magazines and television shows devoted to celebrity matters, all of which are extraordinarily profitable, is prima facie evidence that a large contingent of Americans find the trials and tribulations of Paris, Nicole, Britney, Brittany, Lindsey, Kevin, Nick, Justin, Ryan Seacrest, That Guy Who Played A.C. Slater, Dave Coulier, Susan Sarandon and Roseanne Barr, et al., extraordinarily interesting.

Hence, we do not see any reason to believe these magazines and television shows will eventually wither and die, especially since the content being vomited forth grows ever stronger in its intensity. And despite the complaints and hand-wringing over it, the popularity of that content has not waned; instead, it has increased. Therefore, we can only think things will get worse -- perhaps even far worse -- as time goes on.

It is a troubling situation, and not because we particularly care what people watch, or what they do in their spare time, and so on. That is their own business. Yet it does concern us a little that a lot of folks might be more concerned with the travails of Paris Hilton than the far crueler and more pressing issues of the day. We would hope, if any of those folks read this essay, they would consider rebalancing their portfolios in this regard. Certainly issues like famine and war and slavery deserve as much consideration as a lost chihuahua?

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 11:34 PM | Comments (8) | TrackBack

August 17, 2004

Spamming Mistake of the Year

WE QUOTE VERBATIM from a spam e-mail we received in our inbox today. It is the typical drill: great sum of tainted wealth can be yours if only you send us your account numbers, &c. &c. Anyway, it would appear that one spammer is not as clever as he might think:

"Dear Friend,

Your first reaction to this mail will be total rejection, scare and may be unbelief, owing largely to the atrocities people commit these days.

You're right so far, pal.

But this mail comes from a devastated, sorrowful and emotional laden soul that needs compassion from a kind and good spirited person to wipe away my tears, perhaps when I am gone beyond this sinful world.

A kind and good-spirited person, eh? Gee, you're just batting zero, aren't you?

As an international subject, therefore, with due respect and apology, I want you to handle it very discreetly, confidentially and with utmost secret.

We can do that.

As you read this, I don't want you to feel sorry for me, because, I believe everyone will die someday. My name is Bob Dole a merchant in Dubai,in the U.A.E. ... "

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 11:02 PM | TrackBack

Once Bitten ...

ONE WOULD THINK, given the unfortunate scandal which plagued Paris Hilton some while back, she would have realized the importance of caution in matters relating to her personal life. Yet one would be mistaken.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 09:40 PM | TrackBack

Not the Brightest Bulb in the Lamp Store Dept.

WE WERE DISMAYED to read The Washington Post Magazine's Jessica Cutler profile which appeared this weekend. The ex-Capitol Hill staffer, as most people know, was struck off for using her office computer to write a blog detailing her sex life with other employees of the Federal Government.

We suppose our dismay stems from incomprehension. You see, we just don't understand the attention paid to Ms Cutler. We mean, not at all.

For one thing, we do not understand why the Post's writer holds up Ms Cutler as a symbol of modern womanhood. We think this would be insulting to women. For another, we do not understand why Ms Cutler's publishers have offered her a significant advance on her forthcoming tome about the scandal. Everyone already knows the details, and Ms Cutler is not a sympathetic character. As for Ms Cutler's involvement with Playboy magazine, we would only note that Playboy Enterprises Inc. is now trading at a mere $8 per share, and today it hit a 52-week low. As such, we would leave it to readers to ponder the ramifications of their decision.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 09:35 PM | TrackBack

August 15, 2004

What a Trip

LAST MONDAY, we can assure you it took us twelve hours to travel from Manchester, N.H., to New Stanton, Pa. As a result, we would like to thank the New York State Thruway Authority for their efficient and productive use of taxpayer resources. Yes, thanks to the New York State Thruway Authority, we spent more than an hour last week in a traffic jam near the Tappan Zee Bridge -- and all for no apparent reason.

So we salute the New York State Thruway Authority for its Strategic Traffic Cone Placement Decisions and its Well Thought Out Plan to Put Construction Vehicles in Inconvenient Places. It appeared to us that a full six construction workers were on duty at the time these plans were implemented. Five of them were standing around watching the sixth simultaneously dance on the pavement and smoke a cigarette. No, that's not a joke.

* We have read with interest the news reports detailing instances of alleged corruption in certain Northeastern states. Having recently passed through Connecticut and New Jersey on our trip back to western Pennsylvania, though, we can assure readers that not one dollar in kickbacks came from the managers of road-construction or driving-instruction companies.

* We submit the tourism people in Hartford weren't thinking when they came up with the Nutmeg State's tourism slogan: "Connecticut. We're full of surprises." That said, they weren't just whistling Dixie, either. Boy.

* In an unfortunate error, the good people at the car hire firm from which we rented gave us an automobile with Massachusetts plates. The car, we can assure you, was fine: it was a Chrysler Sebring sedan which handled quite well, even if we found the engine slightly underpowered for our tastes. Still, it had Massachusetts plates.

This proved to be both horribly embarrassing and strangely liberating at the same time. It was embarrassing in that our relatives Back Home, who already consider New England one amorphous morass, made plenty of jokes and couldn't remember where in New England we were from:

UNCLE BILL: So how're things going up in Massachusetts, or wherever it is?
US: I'm not from Massachusetts.
UNCLE BILL: Connecticut?
US: No!

However, the experience was strangely liberating in that we could drive our automobile however we wanted, and without fear or guilt. Therefore, we were able to just glide all over the roadway without using our turn signals, and merge aggressively, and generally act like crazy people. Yes, we knew full well that no matter how much that angry lady from Pennsylvania wanted to ram us with her sport-utility vehicle because she thought we "cut her off" on the Mass Pike, she could not hope to do so, because we were from Massachusetts, and such. Yeah. Move. Get out the way.

* We are proud to note that we had dinner again at Trainer's "Midway" Diner in Bethel, Pa. Also we had shoofly pie for the first time. We consider this a good diner pie for diabetics such as ourselves. True, diabetics ought not eat pie in the first place, but no annoying infirmity is going to stop us from having pie at a diner once in a great while. Besides, it has brown sugar and molasses as its key ingredients, and we have to think those have less sugar than refined cane sugar and commercial pie filling.

* We had one particularly different experience on this twelve-hour trip, which took place at the North Somerset rest area on the Pennsylvania Turnpike.

OK, so dig this. Here we are, stretching our legs and relaxing after spending a few hours in our rental chariot in the rest area's parking lot, and we notice this guy sitting in the driver's seat of a car a few spaces distant from us. Said guy is sitting in a car which had its back bumper torn clean off in an accident. Said car is a rental.

Dude. Now you know that just had to suck -- being stuck like that out in the middle of frickin' nowhere, with a bumper-less car and very much wishing one had signed up for the Collision Damage Waiver Insurance. We have no idea how this guy's journey ended up, but we can imagine that somewhere, a battle royale between claims adjusters is going on.

* One last point before we close. We would like someone to explain to us how exactly we were able to get from Manchester, N.H. to New Stanton, Pa., without once looking at a map. You see, on the morning of Grandma's funeral, we got lost on the way to a Bob Evans restaurant in New Stanton -- a restaurant that was within sight of our hotel.

Hey, we still can't understand how it happened.

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August 14, 2004

Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil.

-- Psalm 23

REAGANTOWN, Pa. It turned out to be the last visit after all.

Two months ago, on a weeks vacation from work, I stopped in western Pennsylvania to visit my grandmother. On Wednesday, her family laid her to rest in that same small cemetery where a year ago we buried my grandfather. The suddenness of her death was a shock to everyone, and while I am thankful she was spared the agony that so often accompanies the end of life, the pain the news caused me is hard to bear.

However, the operative word in that last clause is me. For that, I would care to venture, is the trouble with death it is hardest on those left behind, those who suffer the loss and who pick up the pieces when all is said and done. As my grandmother lived a virtuous life, one marked at every turn by her faith in God, I cant see why she would have ever feared it. Such are the ways of the world: you are dust, and to dust you shall return.

In the eighty years she lived, I know my grandmother touched the hearts of many people. It was evident from all the people who attended her funeral, folks from her church and her friends from over the years. It was evident in the list of all the jobs which she had done at that church over a lifetime. It was evident from the stories people shared during the wake and the eulogy which my great-aunt Judy delivered at the funeral. Truly my grandmother served God in the ways she could, and under the circumstances which life had ordained.

Grandma was also, I might add, a crack shot with a rifle.

Heh. I have to give Aunt Judy credit for including this in her eulogy.

I can assure you that, long before your correspondent was a gleam in his fathers eye, outside my mothers familys home one day appeared a nasty black snake. As I understand it, such snakes are poisonous, so this was quite a concern. (I later learned they're not poisonous, but they're really, really big and not something one would want in the kids' play area). Anyway, according to various retellings of this story over the years, Grandmas first reaction was to make sure Mom and Aunt Carol were indoors and safely away from the treacherous reptile. Then she armed herself with a .22 caliber rifle. When the snake made the tactical error of trying to scout out the landscape, Grandma shot its head clean off from the porch from some insane distance.

But as Aunt Judy pointed out, Grandma was a country girl at heart all her life, and this hit home to me as she listed all the things which Grandma did over the years things like canning vegetables and making clothes and managing a home. As a sedentary citified type myself, some of these things seem downright amazing not only because this modern age has removed any chance of my doing these things, but because much of what she did involved amazing sacrifice. Grandma was quite a bright woman both my grandparents were and she worked hard enough at her studies to become valedictorian of her high school class. Yet despite clearly having the aptitude to go to college, she instead worked to help my great-uncle Earl her younger brother and also a high-school valedictorian get his degree.

That to me speaks volumes about what kind of woman my grandmother was: a hard worker and someone who helped others before herself. But one thing I especially remember was just what a caring person she was. Even after I left home, she was always interested in how I was doing and what was new in my life it was just unconditional support. My parents were always great about this too, dont get me wrong; but it was always neat how Grandma would want to read some of the things I had written and so on.

But that was the type of person she was, a fundamentally good person.

After I left Pennsylvania on that trip two months ago, I had lunch with a friend of mine and we got into one of those great long discussions, about the illness from which my grandmother was suffering. Midway through the conversation, my friend made the quite astute observation that no matter what one suffers when ones body gives out, ones soul remains intact throughout the ordeal. It was a comforting thought as I drove back home to New Hampshire from Pennsylvania after Grandmas funeral knowing that even though Grandma had not been well for a long time, the fundamentally good person I knew was still there. She now exists in a place beyond time and space and matter, but I have no doubt that in that Heaven, she is experiencing great joy; joy which her wearied and worldly grandson could not hope to comprehend.

Aug. 7 Aug. 14

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August 02, 2004

Bestill Our Beating Heart

FROM TODAY'S Hollywood Reporter:

Men's cable channel Spike TV is stepping onto the dance floor with "The Club," a reality series that will chronicle the goings-on at a dance establishment in Las Vegas...

Yep, not gonna watch that one either. God's truth -- can't anyone in la-la land come up with a frickin' original idea any more?

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July 30, 2004

Surreality

WE HAVE LEARNED, via Simon From Jersey's blog, that South Carolina's agriculture commissioner has been arrested for allegedly taking bribes to protect an illegal cockfighting ring.

Okaaaaaaaaaaaaay. That's, well, different.

There are many news stories that have the potential to get weirder and weirder as time goes on, and we submit this might just be one of them. In the meantime, we expect to see a LOT of naughty jokes about the whole affair.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 02:47 AM | TrackBack

The Art of Tipping

WE NOTE WITH AMUSEMENT this Web site, Bitter Waitress, which names and shames people who tip their waiters and waitresses badly. We would gleefully add that many popular entertainers are listed in this cheapskate hall of fame, and as such stand accused for all time of being ungrateful, arrogant and generally wretched people.

That said, though, we are skeptical of one claim which the person behind Bitter Waitress has made vis-a-vis The Shitty Tipper Database. Namely, this is the idea that anything less than 17 pc -- that is, one-sixth -- of the tab constitutes a shitty tip when adequate service is provided for a meal. Adequate service, to be perfectly clear regarding her definition of the term, means that the service is minimally competent: the orders are correct, special requests done right, etc. Therefore, we think this tipping point is set slightly too high.

Why, you ask? Well, we think that, although America has turned into a service-oriented economy, some Americans remain disaffected and bitter at the fact they are doing service-oriented jobs. This goes double if they are jobs on the front lines, such as waiting tables. Hence, we would argue that while great opportunity exists for service workers who are cheerful and dedicated to their jobs, a contingent of these workers may approach their jobs with contempt and scorn. This contempt and scorn is then transferred onto honest God-fearing Americans who on paydays treat themselves to a dinner out. And quite frankly, we're not giving 17 pc to a waiter or waitress who is sullen and acts like a zombie.

On the flip side, we will say we have long recognized the hard work and dedication which most workers in tip-dependent industries (restaurant work, hotel work, transport, etc.) put into their jobs. So we're always very cognizant of the fact these workers earn their living through tips, and further cognizant they are doing very hard work. Therefore, we tend to be overly generous in tipping, across industries. And, as we've done a bit of traveling over our years, we've worked out sort of a tipping schedule, as follows -- although, admittedly, much of it is the "standard" stuff you would find in other tip guides. We have classified the table by employee category and tip; with rationale immediately following, where appropriate.

for VARIOUS SERVICE PERSONNEL

HOTEL HOUSEKEEPING: $1 per day, sometimes more, especially if we're staying at a cheap hotel where the housekeeping staff get very little in the way of tips.

TAXI DRIVER: 15 pc; but only 10 pc if he nearly killed us. Always 15 pc for livery drivers.

SHUTTLE DRIVER/HOTEL PORTER: A buck a bag, generally.

VALET PARKING: $3, but $5 if we know the place and go there frequently.

CAR WASH ATTENDANT: $3, but $5 if he really did a great job taking care of the car's insides. That one place on Sepulveda Boulevard, we can't remember the name, but the one where you could get an oil change and a car wash? Their guys did a great job.

At RESTAURANTS

WAITER:

TIP: 1 pc

MESSAGE:
Your service was so shitty that only our overwhelming desire to get you out of our sight prevents us from creating a nasty scene in front of all the other diners, your coworkers and your boss. You are a parody of a waiter; everything about you disgusts us, you stinking, worthless, miserable wretch. Also we hope you contract diptheria and the plague.

FREQUENCY: Once in our lives, at a pizza restaurant we do not wish to remember, in Ann Arbor, Mich., in 1998.

TIP: 10 pc

MESSAGE:
Boy, you really put in a lot of effort, didn't you? Yeah, thanks a lot for putting us back near the kitchen, where we could see you loafing about and talking with your friends while our drinks remained empty, our food remained under the heat lamp, and our patience grew thin.

FREQUENCY: Very rarely.

TIP: 15 pc-ish

MESSAGE:
You did a good job given the circumstances which prevailed in this establishment at this time. Also, thank you for keeping all that crap about being-our-server-and-such to a minimum. You have no idea how much we approve.

FREQUENCY: Often.

TIP: 18 pc-ish

MESSAGE:
Say, you helped make this evening a bit of fun. Thanks for all your hard work, and we will certainly return in future and make sure to order plenty of expensive drinks. Also, we'll make sure to bring our friends along and make a good night of it.

FREQUENCY: Standard.

TIP: 20 pc

MESSAGE (choose one):

A) Hi! We're on a date!

B) IF server = female, THEN 18 pc + 2 pc

C) Thank you for noticing we were on a date, and making sure that everything went smoothly. We will take care of you very well now and in future.

D) You really, really, really went above and beyond tonight, and we shall be eternally grateful for your hard work. How do we make sure we get you as a waiter or waitress next time, as opposed to the other people in this place?

FREQUENCY: Generally infrequent.

TIP: 50 pc or more / if alone, round up check to $100.

MESSAGE: OK, so not only were you an absolutely perfect waitress, you also happen to be a major fox not wearing a wedding ring. However, our sense of decorum and manners -- plus the fact it would likely creep you out something fierce -- forbids us from asking for your telephone number. As a result we will never see you again. But still, we're going to put this $100 bill inside the bill sleeve, and leave it on the table for you to pick up later. Just because we want to, that's why. If all goes well we will be getting back on the freeway by the time you happen to pick up the check, but in the event you do happen to stop by, you'll be set and no! don't open it and force us to explain ourselves! -- just -- God! -- just take it back to the till or whatever you do with the checks once they've been dealt with. There. Phew. Yes, everything was great, thanks for asking. Thanks. Gotta go. Bye.

FREQUENCY: Twice in our lives, with two different waitresses, at a Manchester restaurant we won't mention. We haven't been back for a year.

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July 28, 2004

Yeah, No Denying This

HASH(0x888270c)
You speak eloquently and have seemingly read every
book ever published. You are a fountain of
endless (sometimes useless) knowledge, and
never fail to impress at a party.
What people love: You can answer almost any
question people ask, and have thus been
nicknamed Jeeves.
What people hate: You constantly correct their
grammar and insult their paperbacks.


What Kind of Elitist Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

WE SUPPOSE NOW would be a bad time to ask whether anyone knows how to get an English copy of Giovanni di Pagolo Morelli's Ricordanze. Still, we will anyway. It has to exist; we've seen excerpts.

(via Sheila)

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July 27, 2004

Hi Bob!

"THEY UNVEILED A BOB Newhart statue in Chicago? ... well, I'm sure it was very impressive ... wait, what happened? ... all of Michigan Avenue flooded? ... mmm hmm ... Good Lord .... well, I'm sure they had the scuba gear ready ... oh, I see ... herding cats .... White Sox promotion ... OK. Goodbye, Howard!"

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July 10, 2004

Reading and the Future

WE NOTE WITH CONCERN a report which recently appeared in The New York Times, which informs us that fewer Americans are reading books than in the past. A Government study found that only 56.6 percent of Americans bothered reading a book on their own in the past year, a decline from 60.9 percent ten years ago. It also found that only 46.7 percent bothered to read any literature, a drop of about eight points since the last survey.

It is an interesting survey for many reasons. For instance, the National Endowment for the Arts produced it. We are shocked to learn the agency spent money on writing this -- just think of all the graduate students whose sacriligeous, pornographic visual-art projects were left unrealized! Also, the survey reveals that young people were least likely to read books compared to their older peers, and the pool of American literature readers was 96 million. That last figure truly puts things in perspective. For if there are 96 million adult literature readers, there are 110 million American adults who do not read literature. We can extrapolate these figures and find there are approximately 89 million American adults who do not read at all.

Good God, that's almost frightening. How the hell can people not read books? What do these ninety million people do with their time? Do they watch television? If so, how?

We are hopeful that some of our readers can provide some insight into these questions, as we know that no one in our circle of family, friends or acquaintances falls among those ninety million. And the last time we watched television for fun -- that would be the Lakers-Pistons series -- we caught previews for some of the new shows and soon became nauseous.

One show featured a clip of a horse throwing off and trampling a noisome and obnoxious girl. Another show featured musicians moving into a quiet suburb and the zany hijinks which ensued; a third apparently served as a casino advertisement. God. People watch this stuff? Voluntarily?

Now, we will concede the situation may not be as dire as the statistics suggest. After all, one can function in daily life if one only reads, say, newspapers and magazines and blogs in the course of a year. There may be, and probably are, people who because of their work only find the time for that.

Still, we would think that people who read newspapers and magazines and blogs also read a lot of books too; the things just go hand-in-hand. At dinner last night, we read a magazine; this morning we are reading our favorite blogs; this afternoon we shall read a book. Tomorrow morning we shall read the Sunday paper.

The trouble comes when one considers the contrapositive: that people who do not read newspapers and magazines and blogs also do not bother reading any books. How many of those ninety million people fall into this category? And what, one wonders, will become of them?

The thing about reading is not merely that it is fun or enjoyable, although that's reason enough to pick up a few books. The thing is that one learns when one reads. It does not matter what one is reading or why; people who read improve their skill sets in doing so. That improvement may be small (if one reads a historical novel) or it may be large (if one reads a book on economics, personal finance, or similar subject). But the point is that there's improvement.

To succeed in American life, it is imperative that a person not only has a strong knowledge base, but also the ability to adapt as circumstance warrants. There are two sides to this same coin of knowledge.

The first is street-learning. After all, being the most-read person in the world will not save you, for instance, if you picked a bad partner for your overseas venture and he ends up robbing you blind. It will not save you if you make a horrible mistake in politics or operate on the wrong side of a patient's body or get caught down-limit on sugar futures.

But here's the thing. If you don't have the other side of that coin -- book-learning -- you'll never get to the point where you can really put your street-learning to practice. You just won't. And if you don't get to that point, you put your future and your family's future at risk -- perhaps for generations to come, until some far-off day when your great-grandchild breaks that vicious cycle.

Of course, we realize that Rant readers know these things already, which may lead readers to question why we even bothered writing this. After all, our warning is not aimed at them. They would be right in making this argument, except for one small thing, that being it is they we hope would pass on the message. For in the end, we realize the cruel truth: that those we would most want to read these words will never do so.

(link via Ambra Nykol)

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July 02, 2004

Americans Blamed for Canadian Election Snafu

AS MARTIN PLANS FOR MINORITY GOVERNMENT,
ANGER AIMED SOUTH OF THE BORDER
------------
MACHIAVELLIAN SCHEMING ALLEGED
------------
Washington Responds: They Had an Election?
------------

By MacKENZIE LAURIER
Rant Canada

OTTAWA Relations between Canada and the United States are at a new low after prominent Canadians accused America of influencing its election, and an advertising campaign launched immediately following the race hasnt helped matters.

The diplomatic donnybrook will also cause a new headache for the new Martin Government, which is already reeling from what many Liberal Party insiders said was an uninspired and weak victory speech from Prime Minister Paul Martin earlier this week.

"We as Liberals have lost votes," Martin told supporters on election night. "The message in this regard was unmistakable - Canadians expect more from us, and as a party and a Government we will do better. Of course, I dont know how were going to do that with just 135 seats in Parliament. David Prattis David here?no?well, anyway, David had the great idea of setting up a suggestions box down at party headquarters. If anyone has any good ideas, Id love to hear them. Please. Please, for the love of God, help me.

However, there is good news, Martin told the now-concerned crowd. I just saved a whole bunch of money by switching my car insurance to GEICO.

But while things didnt go as well as planned for the Liberals, their main rivals were also forced to admit the election was a botch.

I'll admit I feel some disappointment," Conservative Party leader Stephen Harper told supporters in Calgary after polls closed. "You should feel disappointed also. God. We did so badly you know, Martin could have walked out of Parliament with bales of banknotes on his head and we wouldnt have won this election.

What the hell happened? Harper continued, referring to the Tories win of 99 seats, a gain of 26 seats, but far less than most polls showed they would win. Did we need a better slogan? A better platform? Was my deodorant not working during the campaign? Good Lord, its just embarrassing.

Shut up! Harper screamed, as his supporters began a rousing chant of Bring Back Mulroney!

With neither the Grits nor the Tories having the votes to force their own legislation through Parliament, real power in the new assembly may very well rest in the hands of two men. The first is Jack Layton, head of the New Democratic Party, while the other is Gilles Duceppe, head of the separatist Bloc Quebecois. Some independent observers say this could pose trouble for the new Government.

Oh, theyre screwed, said Dr. Harris Wilson, head of the Institute for Canadian Political Studies in Niagara Falls, N.Y. Did you see what Layton wants from the Liberals in return for his support? Dont get me started on Duceppe either I know he gave his standard stump speech after the results were in, but trust me: he still has that Je mappelle Gilles, et je ne canadienne speech lying around somewhere.

Wilson was referring to a popular Quebec-oriented version of an advertisement for Molson Canadian beer, which was run on a Toronto radio station some years ago.



ABOVE: Canadian political leaders react to election results.

Adding to what Wilson called complete chaos in Ottawa was the launch of a tourism-advertising campaign by a shadowy American-backed group. Its not immediately clear who is behind the campaign, but analysts agreed that it couldnt have come at a worse time.

What lame-brain gave the go-ahead for running these ads? asked Dalhousie University Prof. MacKay Clark. Im sorry, but its not exactly helpful to launch them the day after an election.

The advertisements, which appeared on broadcast and in print media throughout the nation, make specific reference to Canadas bad weather and its taxation and regulatory schemes, among other topics.

Also vexing were ads featuring a hospital operating room with the legend, Look! No Lines, ads showing a rock band with the legend, You Can Listen to Them All the Time Down Here, and ads featuring 72 cents in U.S. funds with the legend, Shouldnt a Dollar Be Worth a Dollar?

The ad about the ease with which one could obtain quality Canadian beer was really below the belt, Clark said.

Those damn Americans, said Liberal MP Carolyn Parrish, in a well-received speech made in Ottawa yesterday. I hate those bastards and with good reason. I think we all knew it was only a matter of time before those imperialist warmongers turned their cannons at us, eh?

It may very well be the Americans were behind these awful election results too, Parrish added. Thats clearly the only rational explanation for what happened. Its all part of their scheme to seize our oil wealth and claim it for their own.

Canadas former Heritage Minister, Sheila Copps, echoed Parrishs comments.

Clearly it was the Americans who were behind my loss at the Liberal Partys nomination convention for Hamilton East, Copps said. The Yanksve never forgiven me for my brave stand to keep their tawdry, worthless magazines out of our fair nation. And if we cant have magazines to call our own, whats next?

Reactions from Washington were mixed.

They had an election? a senior administration official said. The senior official, when informed about the angry accusations from north of the border, then added: Well, theyre divided thats kind of par for the course, isnt it?

Another administration official, speaking on condition of anonymity, also dismissed the Canadians allegations. The official pointed out that the Canadian miltiary was ranked above Denmark, but below the Mara Salvatrucha street gang, in terms of its efficacy, reach and firepower.

We do hope our Canadian friends realize that no one down here and we mean no one had any idea they even had an election, the official said. Therefore, the idea that we would seek to influence it is completely ridiculous.

Heh. This might actually make that fisheries summit Im supposed to attend this fall somewhat interesting, the official added.

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June 29, 2004

Grits: It's What's for Government

OUR ENTERTAINMENT this past evening was to watch the Canadian election returns via the only live feed we could get: the French-language arm of the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation. What follows are our observations from a night of watching election returns in a language we couldn't understand:

* There really is a rather European-like nation on our northern border. As Americans, we ought be cautious.

* We do not care if it makes perfect sense for the CBC to send its French feed onto cable systems here in New Hampshire. For election returns, please throw Peter Mansbridge on the set and have done with it.

* Where was Paul Martin watching the election footage? From roughly 7:30 p.m. to 10:30 p.m., we saw all of one clip featuring the Prime Minister. He didn't appear all that happy, but that's probably understandable given the results from last night. Also, it appeared as if he and his wife were watching from a badly-furnished condominium. In short, this was not what one expects from a head of Government.

* The CBC instead spent a lot of time focusing on someone called Gilles Duceppe, whom we understand is a former Communist in charge of the French separatist party. We guess he had a hell of a night -- 54 seats is rather a lot -- as the TV showed all sorts of happy Quebecers cheering for Mr Duceppe at some kind of election event.

* One of the CBC reporters in the field had a startling resemblance to Zonker Harris.

* It would prove helpful for American viewers if the CBC would put marquees up to identify their anchormen once in a while. Not once did we see the French broadcaster -- the guy with the receding brown hair -- identified for the audience. Nor was the analyst guy with the bright gold tie ever identified, as far as we could tell.

* We would ask that the CBC only count seat figures when an MP has actually won his riding. Americans watching might think that when a party's total goes down for a moment, it's the Canadian equivalent of having the networks take back Florida from Al Gore, and this is not so. In that vein, noting returns when only dozens of votes have been counted in a riding isn't all that helpful.

* Does this result mean the Canadian dollar will drop back to a reasonable level against the greenback? It's no fun going to Canada when the exchange rate is over 70 cents.

* We switched off the results and went to bed not long after an exchange between the unnamed French broadcaster and someone called Peter MacKay, who is an MP for the Conservative Party. This led to the only exchange of the night which made it clear to us how the election turned out, as the Tories were expected to do better than they did. The French broadcaster issued a variety of questions in Canadian French, and when Mr MacKay hesitated, the broadcaster helpfully followed up with the only English we heard the entire evening: "What happened?"

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June 25, 2004

Today's Important Life Lesson ...

... NEXT TIME, as Woody Allen might have put it, why not have William F. Buckley kill the spider? As opposed to trying to flambe it yourself, starting a blaze which pretty much destroys your place of employment and causes the evacuation of a major shopping plaza?

Police in upstate New York have charged a worker at a sporting-goods store with doing just that.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 01:18 AM | TrackBack

June 07, 2004

The Ethics of the Mundane

WILLIAM GRIMES, the former restaurant critic of The New York Times, has written a thoughtful and only quasi-snarky essay looking at the morality of spending princely sums of money on dining out. It would appear that some of Mr Grimes' readers were regularly inspired to extreme passion when reading his reviews, and as such condemned him for spending to excess; Mr Grimes responds that he felt not one jot of guilt.

Nor should he have. We have no doubt that Mr Grimes worked very hard to gain his position at the Times, and we salute him for his achievement. Besides, while we have no knowledge of how the Times compensates its food critics, we'd still be quite surprised if any of the money he spent was actually his own. For a Times scribe is well-paid, but not well-paid to the point where he could afford to spend hundreds of dollars per evening on dinner. Furthermore, Mr Grimes does live in metropolitan New York, which means that his check goes considerably less than ours out here in the provinces.

In any event, we must say we generally agree with Mr Grimes' rationale:

The first is utilitarian. The food that goes into my mouth comes out of someone else's. In this Malthusian view, the total food supply is seen as a large pie. Rich people push forward to the table and cut big slices for themselves, leaving their poorer fellow citizens to slice the pie thinner and thinner until, in the end, the truly desperate fight over a single cherry. On an international scale, it is greedy Westerners who load up at the expense of everyone else ....

... There is something amiss in this reasoning. Disparity of incomes and national wealth might or might not be unjust. I'll leave that to others to sort out. But the $500 Manolo Blahnik shoe, the $50,000 car or the $3,000 television set is not, in and of itself, a wrong. And I'm willing to bet that a thorough audit of my impassioned letter writers would turn up one or more of the aforementioned items. For the record, I drove a Honda Civic to many of my dinners, rather than an S.U.V., which means that any potential food guilt should have been prorated by a formula calculating miles per gallon saved. I might also point out that restaurants employ people.

The second objection to fine dining is moral. It boils down to this: It is all right to enjoy food, but not too much. It is all right to eat out, but not to spend too much money doing it. There are two moral impulses intertwined here, the ancient prohibition against gluttony and the more modern Puritan objection to indulging pleasure for its own sake. Add to this ethical cocktail a twist of American pragmatism, the belief that money not spent usefully is money wasted. And what can be more useless than several hundred dollars applied to a six-course French meal that lasts four hours?

Why, eating the French meal in France, of course. Oh, wait. Mr Grimes was asking a rhetorical question. Never mind.

Anyway, we thought Mr Grimes' essay quite interesting, and especially so since he fails to mention a third potential objection to dining out at fine restaurants. Namely, that doing so does have the potential to breed a real nasty behavioral hybrid in people: that strange cross of gluttony and lust and pride that crops up in folks once luxuries become staples. No, really, it's true. Remember that scene in The Screwtape Letters when Screwtape is describing the man's mother, and going on about how nothing is ever good enough for her? There's too much food or too little of it, no one can make a good poached egg anymore and so on? The same behavior, we would argue, can become ingrained in anyone once they do it enough.

Now, we do not intend that as criticism of Mr Grimes' essay; he was the food critic for the Times, and as such it was his job to make judgments. We merely wish to note that for the typical citizen, there is a larger difference than one might think between praising something which is far and away the best in its class, and denigrating something because it does not come up to an inordinately high standard. That, of course, is where the spiritual danger lies, for that latter path leads to lust and gluttony and self-conceit and all sorts of other evils. Also, it's crass.

As an example of this, we would present one traveler's review for a hotel at which we are staying on our upcoming vacation. This negative review was published on a Web site which deals with travel bookings; it came as a surprise to us, as we had stayed at this hotel before and found nothing wrong with it. This is not to say that we thought the place was an oasis of luxury either, but quite frankly, you're not going to get that for $65 per night.

What, may we ask, was Margaret G., of Boston, expecting when she checked in?

--------

WORST HOTEL EVER

Submitted by: Margaret G., of Boston MA USA; October 26, 2003
Date of visit: 10/03
Traveler's Favorite Destination: Paris
Traveler's Rating: (one out of five smiley faces)

This was the worst hotel I have ever stayed in. The driveway has a plywood hand-lettered sign directing traffic. Open the doors to the lobby, and breathe the scent of commercial disinfectant. The hallways have greasy carpet smelling like the Thai restaurant on the first floor. The stairways are littered with overflowing wastebaskets. Our room smelled so badly of smoke that we had to leave the window open all night. I put a towel over the bedding to keep the smell of tobacco in bedspread away from my nose. My request for a non-smoking room was denied.

Best Feature: Location

Needs Improvement: Cleanliness, maintenance

Amenities rated on a 1-5 scale: Rooms, 1; Dining, 1; Public Facilities, 1; Sports/Activities, 1; Entertainment, 1; Service, 1.

This hotel is good for: Students.

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

We're sorry, we just don't get it. What, was Margaret G. of Boston expecting a quaint little college inn, or a bed and breakfast? Was she expecting a bidet in the toilet? For God's sakes, it's a cheap motel by the freeway, whose prime virtues are 1) it's by the freeway, 2) it costs $65 per night, and 3) fancy extras like blankets and an alarm clock are thrown in free. Also, we suspect the management won't mind if we stumble in three sheets to the wind and throw up in the bathroom, at least as long as we leave a decent tip for the housekeeper.

Really, now. We can assure Margaret G., of Boston, that this is not the worst hotel ever. Oh, no. We remember one lodging establishment where we actually put furniture against the door while we slept; and another motel in particular, which was fine except we misjudged its location, and found ourselves wondering if the sounds we heard from off the premises were gunfire. Those were grim experiences. This place is not grim. Rather, it does the job: clean room, clean bath. That's all one needs. As such, we're going to enjoy staying there no matter what.

But we do not mean to end on a down note; we just think that folks like Margaret G. of Boston ought maintain some frickin' perspective when it comes to these types of things. It is a good rule for living life -- or at the very least, it makes life more enjoyable.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 12:35 AM | Comments (2) | TrackBack

June 06, 2004

A Somber Weekend

GAD. WHAT A WEEKEND. It was a somber and gloomy time for all of us, wasn't it? Before we get back into the thick of things, we ought express our sincere sympathies to the family of President Ronald Reagan, who as all now know passed away Saturday at the age of 93. It is one thing for all of us, as Americans, to lose a leader; but it is another thing entirely for them, to lose a husband and a father. May the President rest in peace.

We also would like to salute those soldiers who, sixty years ago, took the first steps in liberating Western Europe from the Nazi yoke. As long as Man walks on God's Earth, your courage and sacrifice shall never be forgotten; and the whole of civilization stands in your debt.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 11:13 PM | TrackBack

June 03, 2004

Bradbury on Moore: "(Blank)(Blank-blank)"

TODAY'S LESSON for aspiring filmmakers: do not mess around with Ray Bradbury in any way.

We here at The Rant have long considered Mr Bradbury one of America's finest writers, not merely because he is fantastic at his craft, but because he's never been one to pull a punch. Well, in an interview with a Swedish newspaper, Mr Bradbury offered his opinion on filmmaker Michael Moore, whose "Fahrenheit 9/11" will apparently soon be in U.S. theatres.

Mr Bradbury, the author of the excellent "Fahrenheit 451," is not happy with Mr Moore's appropriation of his title. Secular Blasphemy has provided its readers with a translation of the article in which he makes his views known. Go there to see the whole thing:

Mr BRADBURY: Michael Moore is a screwed asshole, that is what I think about that case. He stole my title and changed the numbers without ever asking me for permission.

Mr Bradbury goes on to say that no one will see Mr Moore's film, and the newspaper says that Mr Bradbury considers Mr Moore a dishonest thief. Also, Mr Bradbury argues that Mr Moore received the Palme d'Or at this year's Cannes Film Festival because the people there hate Americans.

We realize Mr Bradbury might not approve of our characterization of his words, but we do believe that in the creative world, this is what one could describe as a "project beating."

(link via Steve Silver)

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 07:21 PM | TrackBack

May 22, 2004

The Old City v. Suburb Debate

MEG McARDLE HAS a good discussion going over at her site about the merits of raising children in the city versus raising them outside of it.

We must say that having no children ourselves, we are glad we haven't any need to worry about such things. All we can do is look at our own experience growing up -- which, in retrospect, was pretty idyllic -- and compare accordingly, now that we've had a few years out in the world.

We grew up in Kalamazoo, Mich. As a student and then an adult, we have lived in Ann Arbor, Mich.; a suburb of Cleveland, Ohio; Washington, D.C.; Los Angeles; and now, Manchester, N.H. Of all these places, we can say hands down that our favorite was Ann Arbor.

For university towns really do offer the best of both worlds. They offer some semblance of urbanity, while still maintaining the higher quality of life one generally finds in a suburb. You'll find great restaurants and cultural events and good bookstores and a cinema that actually shows old or off-beat movies and sporting events and everything else. And if you're lucky, you'll live in a university town where you can walk to everything, but it's not prohibitively expensive to keep your automobile.

This, as we see it, is good not only for adults but their children as well. For the kids will have plenty of things to do, and they won't face many of the dangers or drawbacks which are unfortunately a part of city life. Los Angeles was a great place to live when we were younger, but the unfortunate realities of life which we experienced there (crime, congestion, bad air and an insane cost of living) made it a completely unpalatable place to raise one's children. Oh, don't get us wrong, one does the best one can, no matter where one lives. But that doesn't mean there aren't places which offer a better quality of life for families.

Now, certainly Kalamazoo and Manchester offer a great quality of life for families, particularly Manchester. We must say we consider our present city of residence a fabulous place to raise a family. (If only we had one!) The schools are good, there is virtually no crime, housing is still affordable, and it is easy to get around. But even for a younger person, the Queen City isn't all that bad, and it's getting better with each passing day.

Now, we note that much of the discussion over at Ms McArdle's site discusses living in the City, with a capital C. To us, it is an interesting exchange, but not one that really hits us on a gut level; we couldn't imagine living in New York for any amount of money. It is not that the place is too large or too expensive -- that's something with which we could deal -- but it is simply too different, even when compared to our life in Los Angeles and Washington.

Perhaps it is our Midwestern upbringing, but the idea that one can live in or near a city -- but still not have a house -- is just odd, at least in terms of raising a family. If God ordains that we remain single for our entire life, we have no doubt we'll end up in a condominium. But good heavens! we can't imagine raising our kids in an environment without a yard. Perhaps if we actually lived in New York for a bit we could adjust to such a concept. But until that happens, we'll stick with a plan of action we know works.

That said, we do note that one aspect of the conversation deals with having one's kids become maddened at living in places which to them, are quite boring. When we were growing up, the old joke about our city was There's Nothing to Do in Kalamazoo.

That's funnier if you know the city's de facto motto was "Yes, There Really Is a Kalamazoo!" Still, it is a fair point. How we wanted out of the place by the time we were finished with high school! But, as it turned out, we did in fact get out of there -- and went about as far away as we could get.

That's a typical reaction for many kids, we think, and in our case it was expected. We have long believed that one must go where the work is; and if that means we stay here in Manchester for the rest of our days, or end up in Memphis or Richmond or Ann Arbor ten years hence, then so be it. We further have no doubt that our kids, when we have them, will eventually come to understand.

Someday, at any rate.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 09:04 AM | Comments (3) | TrackBack

May 21, 2004

Here's the Truth: That's Just Wrong

WE SHOULD START by saying that we have never much cared for the word "fired." It is a relatively inelegant term for unfortunate circumstances, and as such, we have often preferred other terms in place of it. Others have as well, of course, but these terms are also imperfect. "Let go" is a euphemism; "downsized" is jargon; "rightsized" compounds the sin, and "uninstalled" is just silly. But that last word was actually used back during the tech boom, e.g., "uninstalled vice president."

No, the best word to use in such circumstances is "cashiered."

You see, the word "cashiered" makes perfectly clear to others that one has been drummed out of one's job for cause, yet does not sully the person doing the drumming. So our question is as follows: who, might we ask, is going to get cashiered for this?

For we would very much like to know who in the Hooters restaurant chain is going to get handed his last check, plus severance pay, on Monday morning. We don't need to know names; titles and positions will do. But we would like to know that one or more people will end up without gainful employment due to this, which is so appalling, so wretched, so ... just plain wrong ... that it can only bring shame and condemnation upon those responsible for it.

Click on the links. Go read the stories. Send an e-mail. Then reflect on the moral depravity which caused people to organize such things.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 07:06 PM | TrackBack

May 11, 2004

Horrible Insect Swarm to Ruin Trip

THIS IS TYPICAL. We finally get a decent summer vacation -- an entire week -- and we find our planned drive around the eastern United States may be affected by billions upon billions of evil cicada bugs, rising from the ground like some kind of satanic pestilence. While we're very glad our trip won't involve any camping, we're still a bit perturbed at this; after all, one can't have a nice week in the country if bugs as loud as automobiles are chirping throughout the nights.

Now, the scientists say that starting around today, these horrible swarms of insects will rise up from beneath the surface, mate frantically and then have the good form to die off en masse. Yet one question we haven't seen answered is how long it takes for this process to happen. Will it take one week? two weeks? three months?

Hence, if our readers happen to know the answer to this question -- either from personal experience with the dreaded swarms or via some scientific analyses -- we would very much like to learn it. Our vacation -- our first real vacation in some fourteen months -- may depend on it.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 10:41 PM | Comments (6) | TrackBack

May 09, 2004

It's Not an Advertisement, It's ... um, a Pre-Movie!

WE THINK WE HAVE REALIZED why we no longer go to the cinema as much as we once did. Part of it, of course, has to do with the films which our local theatre chain shows. We would not describe them as bad movies, but rather, things which hold little interest for us: comedies which look for the lowest common denominator; predictable high-school films aimed at teenagers; action films in which the film-makers do their best to blow stuff up, and thus don't develop an interesting plot or pay their screenwriters to write a quality script.

Indeed, in the last year, we have seen perhaps two films in the theatre which were not deemed fodder for "Bad Cinema With Ben" -- these being "The Passion of The Christ" and "Lost in Translation." And the second of those we saw in California!

But, as we noted, the dearth of films which we happen to like is only part of why we very rarely go out to the movies. It is because the movie-going experience is no longer especially fun.

We don't know about you, but we are not exactly excited about going to the movies when a seemingly-growing percentage of The Movie-Going Public conducts itself with an appalling lack of comportment. One would think the helpful reminders flashed on screen before each show would convince people to turn off their mobile phones, to not talk during the firm (at least, not during a good film) and otherwise act as if they belonged to a civilized society. Sadly, as these reminders do not seem to work very well, we think movie-house ushers should be given truncheons and the freedom to use them on unruly patrons. At least then, when the ushers came in with their flashlights and distracted you during a crucial point in the film, it would serve a purpose.

But even if such a modest proposal were to be adopted, it would not stop the movie chains from doing their part to make shows less fun. A movie ticket up here in New Hampshire will generally run you around $8 for an evening show; we understand it is more than $10 in New York. This, of course, does not include the cost of over-priced and excessive consumer goods, which are so appalling that even the theatre clerks are embarrassed by it:

CLERK: A small Diet Coke? That'll be $3.75.
US: $3.75? Wait a minute. How small is the small Coke?
CLERK: That's 32 ounces.
US: Thirty-two ounces? God, I'd hate to see the large.
CLERK: Oh, that's $5.75. 64 ounces. It comes in this plastic cup!
US: Whoa.
CLERK: You get free refills with that one.

Quite frankly, we needed about 12 -- maybe 20 ounces -- of Diet Coke during "Van Helsing" yesterday; not 32 and certainly not 64. Sixty-four ounces -- good God. That's a half-fricking-gallon of Diet Coke. We don't even want to know how many ears of corn are sacrificied for each small bag of popcorn.

But perhaps most annoying are what we think could be called pre-movies: not the previews for upcoming films, but the advertisements. We first noticed these when we lived out in Los Angeles. Readers from there will recall those really annoying advertisements for the Los Angeles Times, you know, the ones with the guy monitoring the temperature of the popcorn kernel before it popped and the goofy-looking popcorn jerk? Ah, you DO remember them! We knew you would! Forgive us for bringing them up, though.

Now, we don't deny that such things work: after all, we remember the Times ads, even if they made us even less likely to buy the paper. But back then there was only one ad before the film. Today there are oodles upon oodles of advertisements before a feature, which essentially gets rid of any chance to hold a decent conversation during that time. Indeed, we walked into the theatre ten minutes early for our movie, and we were confronted with several advertisements for television shows we wouldn't watch and products we would not buy unless we under extreme duress.

We have no doubt we were as excited as our fellow movie-goers to learn the Fanta line of sodas -- the red-headed stepchild of fruit-flavored soft drinks -- was still being produced. After all, like most people, we had thought Fanta had gone the way of Eastern Airlines. That said, we did not need to watch minutes upon minutes of a bad short film which, from what we could tell, was dedicated to praising Fanta's powers as an aphrodisiac. We were also forced to watch a lengthy film full of clips from "Sex and the City" -- and while we certainly do not deny that this might have been of interest to some viewers, the clip in which the main character goes into orbit over a pair of Manolo Blahniks only conjured up our Inner Scotsman.

Now, it would have been different if we could have escaped the ads; but there was no doing that. After all, a movie-screen is damn nigh impossible to ignore, and the sound was comparable to a jet engine in intensity. This might be acceptable when watching things blow up, but it is not acceptable when listening to Sarah-Whats-Her-Name's Character Go On About Her Apartment. It just isn't. And when you add in the rest of the ads for upcoming movies, and the filler pabulum about various celebrities, and a seemingly ever-expanding list of previews for upcoming feature films, most of which go over like a lead balloon ...

Well, it's enough to make one very strongly consider Netflix, or whatever it's called.

RELATED: Oliver Willis also addresses the issue.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 01:46 AM | TrackBack

May 04, 2004

Quicker Than a Sarcastic Quip

SHEILA O'MALLEY has written an essay -- of which we very much approve -- which in part condemns the pop star Madonna Ciccone/Ritchie/Whatever for having a most annoying public persona.

Hence, you should go to Ms O'Malley's site and read it, as Ms O'Malley has captured perfectly the emotions which we have long felt regarding Mrs Bermuda Accent. Also, there's some interesting stuff about Hollywood's infatuation with the Kabbalah movement. So go have a look.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 11:45 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack

April 30, 2004

As We Say Up Here, Live Free and Drive

SHEILA O'MALLEY has posted a fabulous essay on the subject of owning one's automobile. The gold in this essay, as it were, would be her stories of car failure in wretched circumstances -- the blown tire in Death Valley (!), the breakdown in the San Fernando Valley (!!), etc. Hence, we must insist that all readers go and read Ms O'Malley's essay. If only because the last car she owned was a Volkswagen Westfalia van -- talk about True Motorist Grit. Wow.

We have been fortunate to only have two instances of Major Vehicle Failure while on the road. Well, actually, we have had three. But this last incident was not due to a mechanical defect, but rather a head-on collision with an empty car-carrier and a simultaneous incident with another eighteen-wheeler, on I-94 in Detroit. So we would like to apologize again to all residents of southeastern Michigan -- and commuters living in southwestern Ontario -- for closing the major eastbound artery in the Detroit area for over two hours afterwards back in April of 1998. We can assure you we still feel greatly ashamed at screwing up the drive for 100,000 people.

Fortunately, however, no one was hurt in that collision, even though we impacted with the grill of the car-carrier at about 50 miles an hour, after our car spun wildly out of control and ended up facing oncoming traffic in the freeway's No. 3 lane. That said, we must say we remain amazed at how calm we were when the end seemed -- as the movie put it -- extremely fucking nigh. (We did not scream and we did not panic; indeed, our sole thought was, "Lord, I'm checking out.")

We might add this incident made us a Ford Taurus driver for frickin' life -- or at least until they're done phasing out that car.

But anyway -- back to the first of these two former incidents. Now, this took place some years earlier, back in 1995; and there is a good story here.

For this story explains how we ended up spending a night in the honeymoon suite of the Exit 3 Motel in Wauseon, Ohio.

Now, the first incident happened on the Ohio Turnpike. We were heading from the Cleveland area back to Kalamazoo, Mich., our home town, on our very first road trip when we noticed that the engine in our 1987 Mercury Sable was running a bit hot. Nothing to worry about, we thought; it would simmer down eventually. But after a bit, we found the engine was NOT in fact simmering down. This leads to Mistake No. 1.

As it was a blisteringly hot day, you see, we made the rookie mistake of turning on the air conditioner -- instead of turning up the heat full blast. This led to steam pouring out of the vents into the cabin; the radiator was bubbling over. This prompted us to panic in a most unseemly fashion, and we pulled off to the side of the road with that classic response of OhGodohGodohGod running through our head. Clearly the car was broken, and broken irreparably; and we were shit-out-of-luck; and there would be hell to pay, etc.

Now we were lucky in that we had a mobile phone with us. Mrs Kepple had insisted we take one, and insisted we take a couple hundred dollars of cash (we had been going to embark with about $40 on us, if we recall correctly); and had insisted several other things before our trip that, in the end, proved to be amazingly beneficial. (Mrs Kepple's first car was an AMC Rambler, so she had experience with cars falling apart).

So, we called home, and got Mr and Mrs Kepple on the phone, and told them in a bit of panic just what our problem was. (Car! Overheated! Steam! Pouring! From! Vents!). Mrs Kepple advised us to call a towing service, which was not AAA, to which she had subscribed. This towing service -- through no fault of Mother's and which we shall not name -- was entirely useless and the help they provided was merely asking if we needed a tow-truck.

Well, how in Christ's name were we supposed to know if we needed a tow-truck? Gawd. We were out in the middle of Bloody Nowhere. We had no idea what was wrong with the car. We had no idea where we were on the Turnpike, only knowing that we were somewhere in the vicinity of Exit 3. We didn't need a tow -- we needed help. For with the weather -- it was like 90 degrees and humid -- we were clearly going to die out there.

After another phone call home, we got advice to wait for the car to cool down, and then limp it off the highway. This we did, and we made it all the way to the tollbooth before it overheated again.

TOLLBOOTH OPERATOR: Hi, that'll be $2.50 ... what the!
ME: The car's overheated!
(steam pours from engine)

Thus followed some unintelligible directions for a repair shop from the toll operator, who did not seem particularly pleased with us and as such was not as helpful as we had hoped. Hell, why should she have been? She had a TV commercial happening right in front of her.

Now, consider our situation: soaked in our own sweat, with a dying car out in the middle of nowhere. The first order of business, clearly, was to find lodging for the night.

Problem: A tractor-pulling event was being held in Bowling Green, 40 miles south. Despite this distance, it meant that every bloody motel was pretty much booked for miles around.

We couldn't believe it. Our car breaks down and we can't find a room because of a tractor-pulling event? To our young mind, we were clearly suffering woes not seen since God killed off Job's mode of transport, and we were convinced He was putting us through similar tests. So we limped the car from motel to motel in this tiny little town, having no luck whatsoever -- until we came across the Exit 3 Motel, the fifth motel we tried. If we recall correctly, they had one room left -- the honeymoon suite.

So we took it. Sadly, we were without a bride to share the honeymoon suite, but the place did have beer left over in the fridge! (The Exit 3 Motel was the type of place where one could pay by the week and get mail and such). Plus it had a double bed and high ceilings, even if the decor was straight out of 1978. Perhaps things were looking up after all, we thought.

Hey, we were 19. Beer was still noteworthy, all right?

Being rather thirsty, we cracked open a Budweiser and quaffed it most quickly, and again called home. We were not in good emotional shape, but in short order our folks had gotten on to a repair shop, which actually sent out a mechanic to look at our car. We do wish we remembered the shop's name, because the people there were a prime example of everything good about America. Anyway, the mechanic came out, looked at it, told us where the shop was, and to bring it by in the morning.

Then came dinner. Fortunately, there was a Country Restaurant right by the motel, so we went over there for some chow. How to explain this -- well, did y'ever walk into a place and everyone in the joint turns and stares at you? This literally happened. We don't know if we had a neon sign over our head that said "CITY BOY," but we do know that we very much wished we had a John Deere trucker's cap.

The next morning, we limped the car down to the repair shop and had a look at it. As the car was being fixed, we had the following dramatized conversation with one of the mechanics, a fellow about our age:

MECHANIC: You've got a blown coolant hose.
ME: Oh, God! What's the damage?
MECHANIC: All total? $43.50.
ME:. I'm sorry, what?
MECHANIC: Yeah, sorry about that. It's a lot, but we had to go get the part.
ME: $43.50.
MECHANIC: It'll be about an hour or so.
ME: Wow!
MECHANIC: Are you feeling all right?
ME: $43.50!

We still can't believe it. They send out a mechanic on his off-time and they did 90 minutes labor the next morning and it came to $43.50. If only we could remember the name of this shop! But in the off-chance that Tom, the mechanic who came out to have a look at the Sable on that hot night, reads this -- thank you. Thank you thank you thank you.

As for the next story -- well, a few months later, we were driving back from school and the Sable began overheating again. This time, though, we made it home safely. Oh, sure, the radiator had failed completely and we had no heat in the car and the rear defroster had failed and it was 10 degrees outside. But as we were on the freeways for all of our drive, the frigid air cooled off the engine so much that it stayed at "C" on the temperature gauge the whole trip, except when we had to stop and warm ourselves up. There are many humbling things on this Earth; and one of them, we would submit, is drying off one's socks over the heater in a gas-station bathroom.

But looking back, it was worth it.

------------
RELATED: Mr James Anchower has written a startlingly coherent essay on Important Pre-Trip Planning for Road Jaunts. Hence, we would direct readers to Mr Anchower's "Here's My Road Map to Road Trips."

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 02:23 PM | Comments (6) | TrackBack

April 28, 2004

And Now, a Bitter Poetry Interlude

EDITOR'S NOTE: REGULAR BLOGGING for The Rant will not be seen tonight, so that we may bring you this special bitter poetry interlude.

----

REGULAR READERS know that we generally have a tin ear for modern poetry. As we work in prose and enjoy it more than poetry, the ensuing years have seen us neglect the older of those two arts. The end result is that modern poetry generally passes over our head; for when we read it, the text lies dead on the page, and when we hear it, we too often hear the droning of a low C note played over and over again.

This is not the first time we have remarked on this unfortunate state of affairs; we did so in an entry some four months ago. However, reading some recent poetry -- as well as looking into several of the old volumes which we have in the back bedroom we never use -- has caused us to realize that we are not entirely tone-deaf to poetry. Certain works can indeed still hit us in the gut and chill our soul and make us think -- and even -- laugh.

The trouble we have noticed is that all this poetry is bitter in one way or another.

Indeed, we revel in smart-alecky haikus and corrupt limericks. We love bawdy verse and poems which exude scalpel-sharp wit.

So, with that in mind, it gives us great pleasure to present one of the funniest poems we have read in a very long time. It is bitter -- but only slightly. And if you are in our line of work, it is something which you will print out and paste to your wall.

We have borrowed the text of this wonderful poem from Meg McArdle's Web site, which posted it in full after Terry Teachout referenced it in one of his entries. We waited a day after she posted it, figuring and hoping that might atone for the sin; but quite frankly, this poem is so good, it could not stay bottled up forever. We look forward to picking up one of Mr James' collections.

In any event -- the lights, if you'd please ...

* * * * *


The Book of My Enemy Has Been Remaindered

by Clive James

The book of my enemy has been remaindered
And I am pleased.
In vast quantities it has been remaindered
Like a van-load of counterfeit that has been seized
And sits in piles in a police warehouse,
My enemy's much-prized effort sits in piles
In the kind of bookshop where remaindering occurs.
Great, square stacks of rejected books and, between them, aisles
One passes down reflecting on life's vanities,
Pausing to remember all those thoughtful reviews
Lavished to no avail upon one's enemy's book --
For behold, here is that book
Among these ranks and banks of duds,
These ponderous and seemingly irreducible cairns
Of complete stiffs.

The book of my enemy has been remaindered
And I rejoice.
It has gone with bowed head like a defeated legion
Beneath the yoke.
What avail him now his awards and prizes,
The praise expended upon his meticulous technique,
His individual new voice?
Knocked into the middle of next week
His brainchild now consorts with the bad buys
The sinker, clinkers, dogs and dregs,
The Edsels of the world of moveable type,
The bummers that no amount of hype could shift,
The unbudgeable turkeys.

Yea, his slim volume with its understated wrapper
Bathes in the blare of the brightly jacketed Hitler's War Machine,
His unmistakably individual new voice
Shares the same scrapyard with a forlorn skyscraper
Of The Kung-Fu Cookbook,
His honesty, proclaimed by himself and believed by others,
His renowned abhorrence of all posturing and pretense,
Is there with Pertwee's Promenades and Pierrots--
One Hundred Years of Seaside Entertainment,
And (oh, this above all) his sensibility,
His sensibility and its hair-like filaments,
His delicate, quivering sensibility is now as one
With Barbara Windsor's Book of Boobs,
A volume graced by the descriptive rubric
"My boobs will give everyone hours of fun".

Soon now a book of mine could be remaindered also,
Though not to the monumental extent
In which the chastisement of remaindering has been meted out
To the book of my enemy,
Since in the case of my own book it will be due
To a miscalculated print run, a marketing error--
Nothing to do with merit.
But just supposing that such an event should hold
Some slight element of sadness, it will be offset
By the memory of this sweet moment.
Chill the champagne and polish the crystal goblets!
The book of my enemy has been remaindered
And I am glad.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 09:21 PM | TrackBack

April 26, 2004

A Seasonal Study in Despair

WE HAVE BEEN IN A perfectly good snit all day, for no particular good reason, and this troubles us greatly.

After all, we are not generally like this; we are usually happy and optimistic types, to the point where we are downright annoying and invite great malice from those suffering around us. For after all, we have been long schooled in various life lessons which serve us well in this regard, viz., Keep Things in Perspective, The Most Powerful Force in the Universe is Compound Interest, and One Ought Not Let Little Things Get One Down.

So it is to an eye with all three of these guiding principles that we pen the following, knowing full well that this wretched miserable gloomy gray day will pass onto a wonderful spring, and that we should earn 8 pc on our investments this year, and that the combined maladies we suffer on this April 26th, 2004, will mean nothing by Oct. 15, 2007.

But still, we feel like crap.

We do believe this is a seasonal thing; the rotten winter here has transformed into a rotten spring, turning everything gloomy shades of grey and brown. The rain pours forth, seemingly always during our off-time. We stare up at the overcast sky and take pleasure when our eyes hurt; it shows that at least we're picking up a few joules of energy from the forgotten sun. These things are, of course, assuming we go out -- there are few places that have piqued our interest around here as of late; and even if we did, our jaunts would quickly prove to mirror those mentioned in a recent sociological study. It is not so much that we have few personal connections here; it is that we have lost the desire for making any new ones.

To elaborate on that, it is as if the tapestry of our interests -- books and music and blogging and good movies and eating out and travel and private writing -- has had a bottle of bleach poured upon it. The brightness and vibrancy and color and enjoyment of those things have very much faded away. We had a good idea for a book once and have not written a word for it in three months; we have not bought a compact-disc in ages; it has been weeks since we went out for dinner. The furnace has long run out of fuel. And time marches on.

Of course, that leads us to Life Lesson No. 4, which is that This Too Shall Pass. How long it will take to do so is uncertain; it may simply be an evening, and on the morrow we may yet awake feeling refreshed and ready to take on life's challenges again. We have long known that it is a bad idea for us to blog when we are in one of these moods, anyway. So we'll see.

But what concerns us is that it has been a long time since we've woken up feeling refreshed and with that give-'em-hell attitude. At the very least, though, writing about this has made us feel a bit better -- and hopefully we'll be able to jump to the other side of the curve sooner rather than later. Of course, some sunshine would certainly not hurt things!

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 09:27 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack

April 24, 2004

Clothes Make the Man (and Woman)

LOUISIANA HAS LONG BEEN KNOWN for its miserable education system, shocking levels of criminality and a generally abysmal quality of life. So we were quite glad to learn recently that its civic leaders are taking Bold Action to correct the wretched state of affairs there. Namely, a state legislator has proposed a bill which would ban people from wearing low-slung pants.

No, we are not kidding, and neither is Rep Derrick Shepherd, the bill's sponsor. Under his proposal, people would face up to six months in jail and a $500 fine if they wore their pants in a lewd and laviscious manner:

"I'm sick of seeing it," said Shepherd, a first-term legislator. "The community's outraged. And if parents can't do their job, if parents can't regulate what their children wear, then there should be a law."

The bill would be tacked onto the state's obscenity law, which restricts sexual activity in public places and the sale of sexually explicit items.

According to the Associated Press, Rep Shepherd comes from some place called Jefferson Parish (formerly Jefferson Airplane). As this happens to be near the city of New Orleans, we can't help but wonder whether Rep Shepherd lives in a very remote part of Jefferson Starship Parish. After all, New Orleans is not known for modesty in anything; and if people there were to tone down various forms of naughty behavior, the pressing issue of the way people wear their pants might prove less of a concern.

But we do not mean to be overly critical of Rep Shepherd's proposal. After all, we do think he is on to something when he says this wanton disregard for proper pants-wearing is troublesome. In fact, we will go further and say we have never understood why people insist on wearing their pants so that nothing is left to the imagination. It is an unseemly and gauche trend, and one which we hope soon warrants attention from the fashion police.

Now, we can assure you that as a former resident of Los Angeles, we are not unaccustomed to seeing such immodesty in dress. Indeed, it was a practical impossibility for us to go out in the evenings and find people our age half-dressed for the occasion. We were especially amazed when we would see men our age engaging in such practices, as we never thought it conducive to the mating process for a man to advertise he is an ill-educated lout incapable of coordinating one decent outfit. After all, as the old saying has it, clothes make the man.

Of course, in the interest of fairness, we should note that as a writer, we are prone to not caring all that much about such things -- even if we are the type who always wears a collared shirt and owns approximately zero pairs of jeans. Still, that said, we have had enough of the social graces pounded into our head so that we know when to dress properly should the occasion call for it.

If we know we have an extremely important work meeting, for instance, we'll wear a suit. We would say we consider ourselves quite fortunate that we must only do so on the rarest of occasions; but if we worked in an industry such as accountancy, we would realize that one ought wear formal business dress as a matter of course.

It would appear that at least one person in the United Kingdom did not get this memorandum. And because Britain has fallen quite far from its heyday, people in Old Blighty are taking the wretched affair seriously:

A century after Emmeline Pankhurst and her suffragettes began their struggle for universal equality, a 36-year-old lawyer went to court yesterday to fight for the right to wear a short skirt or expose a bare midriff in the office.

The case is expected to have implications for what all women wear to work and could lead to the abolition of the corporate dress code.

Maxine Kelly, who is bringing the legal challenge, was one of 50 women working at a Midlands law firm to be sent a memo last year forbidding them from wearing dresses and skirts that were "revealing" or "suggestive" ...

... Yesterday Ms Kelly, who is suing the Burton-on-Trent law firm Advance Legal for sex discrimination and victimisation, said: "I was astounded to receive a memo which I saw as a clear affront to women. I made my objections known and I feel this led to my being dismissed unfairly."

Ms Kelly was particularly angered that the memo only applied to women and that a few weeks later the men in the office were sent an e-mail giving them permission to loosen their ties and pull up their shirt sleeves in hot weather.

The case - adjourned yesterday to be heard later in the year at a Leicester employment tribunal - is the latest in a long line of sex discrimination claims brought by professional women who feel that their conservative employers are out of step with modern working practices.

The first paragraph in this story is just delicious -- so much so that one wonders if the writers behind it were consciously aware of the point it makes. (We think they were). After all, there is a bit of difference between being denied the right to vote and being denied the privilege to wear whatever one wants to the office, even if said outfit is improper for an office envrionment.

Before we continue, we should note that when it comes to clothes outside of the office, we have never personally been one to judge people badly on the clothing they wear. Certainly not women, at any rate; we are more far more prone to having a knee-jerk reaction to an underdressed man, or if we notice that we ourselves are underdressed for some social occasion. However, we will fully admit that when it comes to professional situations, we are a bit less tolerant. Sex, as we see it, has no place whatsoever in an office environment; and we are rather unimpressed with clumsy attempts to change things.

To expand on that, we believe that in an environment in which men and women must work together, sex should be taken out of the equation entirely. No distractions, no suggestive remarks or actions, no horseplay, no asking a coworker out to dinner, nothing. A firm's employees are there to work and toil and suffer accordingly, not play footsie during the Q3 earnings meeting.

Now, given that, it stands to reason that men and women face different challenges in this regard. After all, when it comes to wardrobe, men have much fewer options than women do when it comes to office wear; and a man's sex appeal will not be affected if he wears a suit and tie to the office one day and a collared shirt and khakis on the next. It just won't -- but more on this in a bit.

However, because men and women are fundamentally different when it comes to sexual attraction, a female office worker can enhance her sex appeal by wearing certain outfits. Women figured this male weakness out a long time ago. And if the worker in question is particularly striking, she can prove quite a distraction to her colleagues by wearing such things.

What women like Ms Kelly do not realize -- although we should note we think most women have also figured this out -- is that since 1970, many men have evolved defenses against this. For most professional men know full well that in business, sex can be used as a weapon against them; and in response, they have established a hard-wired disdain for such tactics. As such, a woman who dresses improperly for work, even if she has no ulterior motive for doing so, will instantly set off alarm bells in the brain of a male client, colleague or vendor.

At the very least, improper dress will make it even more difficult for her to accomplish her aims; at worst, it will cause a man to wrongly discount her, as he assumes she is making up with her outfit what she lacks in competency. Besides, there is one other clear and present danger with such a strategy -- what if the client, colleague or vendor is female?

We would submit that this does not help one sell widgets or win clients.

Hence, a dress code which enforces certain standards among employees is appropriate. One will note the firm mentioned above required its male workers to wear jacket and tie to the office; one would also imagine that its dress code for men forbids visible tattoos, earrings, and other accessories. Indeed, we have known some offices in which men are directed to wear only white shirts with their jackets and ties. Again, the reasoning is simple -- in business, men are judged by a certain wardrobe standard, and differently from women. And in business, a man who wears a jacket and tie to a client meeting will automatically gain more respect than a man who wears shirt-and-slacks.

However, we are glad to report that despite all this, things really aren't all that dire for women. For a woman who dresses conservatively and fittingly for business will find she makes an excellent impression on others -- particularly if, as the saying goes, she has it. And if the woman adds into the mix an acute competency in her line of work, we daresay that for her, the sky will be the limit.

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Things We Have Been Meaning to Address

OVER THE PAST WEEK OR SO, we noticed several newsworthy items which we saw fit to comment upon; but sadly, we did not have the time in which to do so. Hence, we're going to play "catch up" and take a look at various cultural trends ranging from the admirable to the, well, weird.

We shall start by addressing Andrew Sullivan's modest proposal to increase the federal gasoline tax by $1 per gallon. This is not a subject we shall address directly, as we realize gasoline taxes are a contentious issue for many folks.

However, we shall note that the Capitalist Lion -- a recent addition to the blogroll, we might add -- has weighed in on Mr Sullivan's remarks. We were particularly interested in Mr Lion's words regarding the subject of automobile preference.

It seems that Mr Lion takes grave issue with the idea that one should feel guilty for owning a sport-utility vehicle instead of a small compact. This is a sentiment with which we generally agree, as we consider it right and proper for Americans to not feel guilty about their cars. After all, unless one lives in New York or Washington, owning a vehicle is a practical necessity; and in some parts of this nation, one spends almost as much time in transit as one does at home. It therefore stands to reason that Americans must be allowed to purchase the automobiles they want to drive. So we here at The Rant have no complaint with anyone driving the vehicle of one's choice, even if it is something silly.

However, we must say that we do not understand why people purchase silly vehicles. Again, we do not have any complaint with the purchase of said items; we just don't understand why people do it.

What defines a silly vehicle, you ask? Like so many things in life, this term is an elastic one; it depends on a vehicle's driver, where the vehicle will be driven, the make and model and type of vehicle, even the cost. But let us take our own example as an illustration of this principle.

For our personal situation, a Ford Taurus would be a practical and socially-acceptable vehicle purchase. A Ford F-250 pick-up truck, conversely, would be silly. This is because owners of pick-up trucks, according to established convention, use their vehicles to actually haul things from one location to another. They also use their trucks to frequent construction sites, traverse difficult terrain, tow heavy items, and bring home the spoils from a day's hunt. As if that wasn't enough, we also understand that pick-up truck owners use their vehicles to express pride in certain auto-racing teams and woo country-music fans of the opposite sex. Clearly, one can see that all these things are legitimate uses for a pick-up truck, while also recognizing that our personal purchase of such a vehicle would be extremely silly. For we do not do any of the aforementioned things; and, as such, our involvement in such a transaction would prove to be an unfortunate social blunder.

Indeed, we would submit that any purchase of a vehicle other than a sedan on our part would be silly. For we are sedan people. They are our thing; they fit us. They provide all that we need in a car: reliability, long life, easy handling for parking in urban areas, and the capability to get from Point A to Point B via established roadways. Also we look quite refined in them as we cruise along the freeways.

Yet many people, sadly, seem unaware of the principles which we have set forth. There are many examples we could cite of this unfortunate happenstance, but we shall focus on one we think drives the point home quite well: our trip last fall along the Mount Washington Auto Road.

Now, you should know that in New Hampshire, Mount Washington is the highest elevation in the state; and that people often visit the mountain's peak to take in the spectacular views and other-worldly scenery. One can reach the summit in one of two ways, either through a train ride to the top, or by taking the eight-mile long auto path. If you go, we would add, you ought go in fall; the hours-long drive to Mount Washington will take you through some of New Hampshire's amazing woodlands.

We would also add one tiny bit of advice: DON'T TAKE YOUR BLOODY ROAD TANK UP THE FRICKIN' MOUNTAIN*. This would be silly. Instead, take your smaller family car or a pick-up truck; most Americans have them.

Yet, as we saw with our own eyes, many people do take really large vehicles up on that road. The road which in many places is unimproved; the road which in many places is very steep and very narrow; the road which in many places has nothing preventing a vehicle and its occupants from plummeting to an unfortunate end.

Now, we made the trip up to Mount Washington along with our good friend Simon From Jersey. As Simon From Jersey is a more accomplished motorist than we are, and drives a car with a manual transmission, and our car was in the shop at the time, we took his Volkswagen Jetta to the top. We personally thought this was a fine idea. It wasn't merely that the trip down the mountain would destroy our automatic-drive sedan's brakes; it was that Simon From Jersey's car is endowed with Fahrvergesozialismusgeschlechtanklang -- perfect, we thought, for any nature-type activity.

Sadly, though, the German engineering of Simon From Jersey's car did not prevent a few near-disasters along the way. We of course do not hold him responsible for any of these. It was not his fault that one tire blew out all of 0.8 miles into our 127-mile trip up north. It was also not his fault that some of the other motorists on the Auto Road were careless drivers who bounded along like they were on a country jaunt, oblivious to the fact their lack of caution could send others plummeting to a fiery death in some canyon.

Gad. We mean, come on. Here we both are, somewhere about mile four, going up a wicked-high grade, and along comes some road hog who has overtaxed his brakes and passes by us with inches to spare. At first, both of us didn't think anything of it; then it started to grate on our friend's nerves. So he responded in a polite and proper fashion.

We do not recall his exact words to the other drivers, but given his tone and bearing, we believe an accurate paraphrase of his remarks were: "Hey, moron -- yes, you. Your car's too big."

As this went on, we found the situation hysterically funny; almost to the point where we forgot about the really steep, really unpleasant drop to certain doom just inches away. But we would submit that the lessons we learned from our Mount Washington trip are applicable in many other circumstances. So, in short, we would say to folks: buy whatever car you wish, unless you would be silly to do so.

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* Actually, certain varieties of large vehicles -- and sedans, too -- are in fact prohibited on the Mount Washington Auto Road due to safety concerns. Don't have your trip ruined; check out the official vehicle restriction information here. Remember: you can't visit America's oldest man-made attraction OR put on the neat "This Car Climbed Mt. Washington" bumper sticker unless you follow all the rules.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 09:55 AM | TrackBack

Support Our Troops

WE MUST APOLOGIZE to Dean Esmay for not posting this sooner -- things came up this week which prevented us from doing any blogging. But we do want to direct readers to a fine site which lets Americans here on the home front support our reconstruction efforts in Iraq and Afghanistan.

Now, note our wording: reconstruction efforts. For these are projects which transcend politics, and causes which spring solely from the fount of human charity. They are about reducing conflict; about teaching men and women productive trades; about helping the most destitute. Best of all, donors can choose the projects to which their money will be directed; and all funds, minus credit card fees, will go directly to the projects themselves.

Besides, your entire contribution is tax-deductible. So we strongly encourage readers to get a head start on their FY 2004 tax planning and take part. Visit Mr Esmay's site for more information on the Spirit of America program. Plus, if you donate a lot of money, you can get Mr Esmay to offer his opinion on anything you want! Or you can get added to his excellent and comprehensive blogroll!

In any event, we hope you'll consider supporting this fine effort -- and we would again thank Mr Esmay for his tireless dedication to efforts which both support our forces overseas, and their humanitarian efforts.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 09:47 AM | TrackBack

April 10, 2004

Report: Ex-Enron CEO Hospitalized for "Bizarre Behavior"

NYPD Cites Sincere Apologies for Stock Losses
Among Reasons for Detaining Skilling

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City Man: Skilling Gave Newsboy Half Crown
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by HARRIS SCHWED
Financial Rant

NEW YORK -- FORMER ENRON CHIEF EXECUTIVE Jeffrey Skilling was taken to hospital after performing what Manhattan residents called "bizarre" and "unusual" acts of common decency, the Financial Rant can reveal.

Skilling, whom police found at 4 a.m. Friday in the intersection of Park Avenue and East 73rd Street, was taken to New York Presbyterian Hospital for observation following an alleged spree of niceties in Manhattan, authorities said. Skilling -- who faces a litany of charges for alleged fraud and insider trading, among other things -- was reportedly acting so out of his element that police and citizens feared for his health.

"I couldn't believe it. Here I am, walking towards the subway, and all of a sudden Jeff Skilling pops out of nowhere and starts buying the bums pizza," said 38-year-old Brian Kennett, of Manhattan. "He must have bought pies for -- God, at least fifty of them."

"Then, after that," continued Kennett, "I saw Skilling pay for a couple's cab fare home, stop traffic to let an elderly lady safely cross the avenue, and give a newsboy just starting his route a half-crown."

"This city's too weird for me," Kennett added. "I've got to get back to Peoria."

But Kennett was not the only eyewitness to Skilling's reported good streak. Jack O. McArgyle, a 61-year-old human resources administrator from Islip, said he spoke to Skilling as the disgraced ex-CEO retrieved a cat stuck in a tree.

"I was stunned," said McArgyle, who lost approximately 20 percent of his retirement savings when Enron's stock fell from $81 to just pennies per share. "So I went over and said hello to Mr Skilling, informing him that I wished he would contract bubonic plague. Also, I told him I wanted a pack of wild dogs to chase his sore-ridden, festering person through the streets."

"And he apologized," a shaken McArgyle said. "He said things seemed to be going fine and then they just got out of hand. Then he gave me $50 to get a bottle of wine, as sort of a little way to make up for it."

McArgyle added that he now only wished Skilling would contract "diphtheria and the whooping cough."

According to McArgyle and other stunned onlookers, after Skilling freed the cat, Skilling also let a squeegee guy wash his car's windshield without complaining, used a coat-hanger to unlock a door for a hapless motorist, and put $100 bills into the baskets of every street musician, soapbox preacher and charity solicitor within a three-block radius.

An NYPD official, speaking on condition of anonymity, said the apologies about the losses were one reason why authorities took Skilling into protective custody.

"It just didn't make sense," the official said.

"This is certainly not the type of behavior one expects from a disgraced former Enron executive," confirmed city psychologist P. Nelson Crabb. "Usually, such people do their best to hide from the glaring eyes of the world, all while spending their cash reserves on a high-priced legal defense team."

"Clearly, Mr Skilling is under a great deal of stress," Crabb continued. "However, I am confident that after a few days of solid bed rest and proper meals, Mr Skilling will return to normality soon enough."

However, not everyone was a fan of Skilling's sudden generosity.

"So Jeff Skilling thinks he can simply skip along without a care in the world, handing money out to folks on the street?" asked Marvin G. Upshotte, a Bend, Ore.-based securities litigator.

"The hell he can," Upshotte continued. "And it's not going to save him anyway, that's for sure; he's up against half the securities lawyers in America. When they're through with him, he'll be damned lucky if he's got a pair of cuff links left, to say nothing of anything convertible into cash."

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 02:10 AM | TrackBack

April 09, 2004

A Compendium of Craziness

GAD. APPARENTLY THE WAXING MOON has been working its evil magic in force this past week, as I have never in my life seen as much complete madness on the news wires as I have this early morning.

I can assure you there is no way I can properly do justice to all of these happenings, as they are too weird and too numerous to fully document. However, I am going to give it my best shot. It's just ... well, in volume terms, I just haven't seen anything like this, all right?

Item. A London resident is betting everything he owns on one spin of a Las Vegas roulette wheel.

No, really. You read that right. Reuters reports that 32-year-old Ashley Revell -- that's not a woman, that's a man, baby -- is putting up approximately 75,000 GBP ($138,000) on just one spin of the wheel. This is his net worth after he liquidated all his assets; he will watch the spin in a rented tuxedo. As is fitting for such a suicidal move, a camera crew is shadowing Mr Revell in the weeks prior to and after his wager.

Now, those of you who have played roulette may wonder how exactly Mr Revell intends to wager his cash. He is not, like the young Romanian in the old movie, putting it all on 22. No. Instead, he is limiting himself to a wager between rouge et noir. But do not think the man's chutzpah is somehow limited by this hedge -- examine the following copy:

Revell, recently a professional gambler, said he decided to take a big plunge while he was still young and raised the stakes as high as possible, including selling his clothes.

"I like to do things properly," he said.

He had not decided yet whether to place his money or red or black on Sunday afternoon.

"I don't know, man," he said. "One of them is going to be the right thing to say and one is going to be the wrong thing."

While I certainly wish Mr Revell the best of luck, students of his diabolical art know his odds are not as high as he might hope in this matter. Besides, given the amazing laws of irony that govern wagers of chance, I think the end result will mirror Mr Revell's existence more than he might like.

Namely, when the ball drops, it will land not on red or black -- but on Zero.

Item. Speaking of mad Britons, note the sad case of one Mr Colin Sadd. The unfortunately-named Mr Sadd faces six years in the boot after being convicted again for stealing cars ... and then cleaning them to amazing effect. He has 155 prior convictions for doing the same thing, the poor man.

While I feel very sorry for Mr Sadd, I feel especially sorry for the long-suffering Mrs Sadd, who has put up with this for years. I firmly hope that she is made a candidate for sainthood:

Sadd's modus operandi is to dress up in a suit, go to an auto dealer and ask for a test drive. The car never returns, but is abandoned after being spotlessly cleaned.

"He looked after the cars he stole better than me," said his wife, Mary, who added that Sadd has never owned a car.

Item. Speaking of sainthood, I also hope that Mrs Michelle Duggar of Springdale, Ark., is nominated for a similar honor; if Protestants can indeed become saints under Church law.

Mrs Duggar, you should know, is 37 years of age. She has borne FOURTEEN children and is expecting a fifteenth with her husband -- wait for it -- former state Rep. Jim Bob Duggar. As if this wasn't interesting enough, look at this part of the AP story:

The offspring include two sets of twins, and the parents have stuck to the letter "J" when it comes picking names. There is Joshua, 16; Jana and John-David, 14; Jill, 12; Jessa, 11; Jinger, 10; Joseph, 9; Josiah, 7; Joy-Anna, 6; Jeremiah and Jedidiah, 5; Jason, 3; James, 2 and Justin, 1.

The new baby is due in two months and is most likely a boy. They plan to name him Jackson.

I almost hate to say it, but ... Jeeeeeee-sus!

Fourteen kids! No wonder Arkansas gave her an award. They ought to have given her a second for the mere fact she and her husband have raised them in a house with just two bathrooms.

Item. Clever streetwalkers in Lithuania have figured out that Western soldiers generally have more cash in their pockets than those from the former Soviet Union. As such, they are charging different rates based on the nationality of their customers. NATO troops pay thrice the price for action.

That's not the real story here, of course. The real story is the reaction of the police general in charge of the district:

He said that the sex workers were hiking their rates for the Western troops, who come from Belgium and Norway.

"Prostitutes take $35 an hour from Lithuanian citizens, while NATO troops are asked to pay $125 an hour," he said, calling it a clear case of discrimination.

Item. A 2-year-old in Louisiana has mastered all the skills needed to run a Chinese restaurant, The Daily Iberian has reported.

Gordon Tan can run the cash register, take customers' order tickets, correctly count out change, and swipe debit or credit cards accordingly. He keeps track of customers entering the Formosa Gardens restaurant and knows where to seat them.

It's impressive and touching, and very very cool. I do have one question, though: will young Gordon be able to figure out how to deal with the almost certain regulatory crackdown that will come following the story? Now, that would be really impressive.

Item. A Connecticut man has demanded compensation for a coat he says an "I Voted Today" sticker ruined. Stamford resident Robert Bonoff wants the city to buy him a new $106 suede jacket -- plus sales tax.

My question: are Mr Bonoff's neighbors snickering over the fact he paid just $106 for what seems to be a sport jacket? After all, it is Stamford. But what I really want to know is this: where did he manage to find a jacket for just $106?

Item. Eyeball jewelry.

Now, here's the truth -- that's just wrong.

Item. Finally, I must note this particularly disturbing article out of Germany, which reveals that a Croatian woman phoned in a bomb threat to Duesseldorf Airport so that -- wait for it -- she could get out of a vacation with her boyfriend.

She's damned lucky she didn't do this in the United States -- that type of stunt here will get you up to twenty years in prison. However, as she is in the heart of old Europe, she was dealt with leniently. Heck, the Germans let that real al-Qaeda terrorist out of prison recently, so why not give the fake ones a pass?

The woman was given a suspended sentence after admitting in court that she called authorities and, in a hoax, made an al Qaeda bomb threat because her parents disapproved of her boyfriend.

"I didn't know how I would be able to tell my parents about a holiday with him and I couldn't really say to him 'Listen, my parents wouldn't approve'," the woman, 28, identified only as Marina B., told the Duesseldorf state court Wednesday.

Yes, you bloody well could have.

I don't know; maybe it's just me; but isn't it common courtesy to be upfront and honest about things in a relationship? Things like, say, using his cell phone to call in the threat -- an act, it should be noted, which led to his arrest upon the couple's return?

But ah well. Anyway, that's it for now. See you in a bit and hope everyone is having a good Friday.


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NOTE TO STAFF: This post is in compliance with Company Style Memorandum No. 226, posted on all internal bulletin boards.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 02:51 AM | Comments (3) | TrackBack

April 07, 2004

It's Relentless Self-Criticism Day Here at The Rant!

SAY, EVERYBODY! As part of The Rant's patented quality-assurance process, we are inviting all readers to share in the comments section everything they don't like about The Rant!

The way we see it, this process will allow us to see what we need to change so our blog may draw ever-greater traffic and acclaim from others. So if you would prefer that we tone down our hubris a bit, rein in our self-conceit, cut out our overbearing pedantic tendencies, or what have you -- just let us know!

(Actually, some feedback about what we're doing right would be helpful too. Obviously we're not going to change certain things or our long-held beliefs; that would ruin the site, which is a distillation of our personality. However, we very much want suggestions about what does and does not work. We would greatly appreciate any input you have, as we are very much aware of the fact that we are writing for an audience.

With that said, we would also like to sincerely thank the legions of Loyal Rant Readers who have made this effort a joyful one over the past three years. We do not do that enough. Thanks for sticking with us, and we'll do our best to keep everything humming along).

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 11:35 PM | Comments (10) | TrackBack

Let's Give EW a Second Chance, Shall We?

BECAUSE OUR MIDDLE NAME IS IRONY*, we have again found ourselves in the position of doing something we previously had assured others we would never do. In the past, this tendency of ours has led to embarrassing situations, such as telling our friends we were moving to Los Angeles two months after vowing we would rather eat glass than do such a thing.

You would think we would have learned by now -- but thanks to Stephen Silver, who linked to this really great article about the 34th season of MTV's "The Real World," we find ourself in this position yet again. As it turns out, Entertainment Weekly hit the frickin' nail on the head:

"Mind you, I don't think that someone with Frankie's problems should be kept off the airwaves. In the right hands, a documentary on Frankie could be very sad, touching, and enlightening. But after this show has spent the past few months fetishizing dumb people drinking, humping, and generally being irresponsible, then any random, serious Life Lesson moment seems comically discordant.

Especially when it's such a one-shot: As the coming-attraction segment showed, next week we're going to go right back to seeing Brad dry-hump some girl while the rest of the roommates peek into his room. It's like splicing an afterschool special into the middle of a ''Girls Gone Wild'' marathon. ''Show us your boobs! Show us your boobs! Hey, wait, that girl's got bulimia, and she needs therapy. But hey, girl behind the girl with bulimia, show us YOUR boobs!''

Oh, and it continues:

"Here's a thought: Why not cast one of the other 400,000 kids lined up at the door with a slightly less serious problem. Like, say, just being an ordinary idiot? I assume that when Brad showed up for an audition, he brought a friend who wanted to see how the producers could shrink Brad to fit him in a TV: Why not cast that friend?

I'm not saying ''The Real World'' can't be a force for good. How about this? Before every episode, have Drew Pinsky appear and gravely warn: ''Lazy-ass kids who lack any kind of work ethic are a serious problem. Hopefully tonight's episode will raise awareness of the terrible epidemic of tragic self-absorption.'' Then again, MTV can't risk possibly solving that epidemic: it would mean the end of ''The Real World'' forever."

Attention Entertainment Weekly editors: if you keep this up, we might just buy a subscription for The Rant.

* Our middle name is not actually Irony, Danger, The Intrepid, or any other sobriquet. It is Biblical, however.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 11:21 PM | TrackBack

The Public's Vices

WE SUPPOSE WE SHOULD START by saying we originally intended this post to solely address the issue of sexual vice, given the Blogosphere's collective gasp of horror over the Government's plans to strike hard against pornographers.

But then we got to thinking about things, and we realized this was merely one facet of a much larger issue: namely, America's regulation of vice in the aggregate. Like most Americans, we have indulged in pretty much all of them at one time or another in our life, so why not take a broader look at the whole enchilada?

Should Government try to outlaw things or rather regulate them? How has technology played a role in the proliferation of vice? And lastly, what is the best way for society to combat vice -- not merely sexual vice, but smoking and drinking and narcotics and gambling along with it?

Those things are, we could say, The Big Five these days. We admit that it is a broad classification, but for now we are operating under a broad premise: that it is better and healthier for people to abstain from these things than to indulge in them. Furthermore, to deal with such things piecemeal -- focusing solely on, say, sexual vice -- is to necessarily dilute the questions at hand.

Now, some readers may wonder why we use the word vice to describe all these activities. Our thinking is this: we are using the word to describe behaviors that were once thought -- and which many still consider -- to be generally bad things. After all, in polite society one does not afford respect to a pornographer or a narcotics dealer or a professional card-sharp. For despite the fact these three occupations are fulfilling roles which the free market has created, no one engaged in these three trades is the type of person one would want one's child going out with on a date. It is as simple as that.

In that vein, we must admit we are a bit baffled at one line of thought sometimes implied in arguments over regulating such things: that the vices in question are actually good. We honestly don't know what to make of that. Perhaps we simply need to get out more on the weekends, but we don't fundamentally get -- for instance -- the celebration of pornography for pornography's sake. This is somewhat like praising the wonders of cocaine, or the restorative powers of tobacco.

It seems to us there is a difference in saying one does not want the Government to have any say as to whether we read and watch pornography in the privacy of our own homes, and cheering the fact the stuff exists. Were a distinction between the two arguments made more often, we would be more able to accept the former on an intellectual level.

The Question of Moderation

Of course the tricky part to all this is that so much of it is a matter of degree. After all, one or two glasses of wine with dinner is not going to hurt anyone, unless the person having the wine is pregnant. The occasional quarter poker game is not going to drive anyone into bankruptcy. A person who has a cigarette during an evening out will suffer few health consequences, and the same goes for the person who tokes up in his living room. Finally, we sincerely doubt that the guy who goes to the tiny back room of his local video store on the odd Saturday night is in real danger of developing unnatural sexual impluses. And we can see where some would find, if not virtue, a bit of good in all of these things. But we'll get to that in a bit.

On the other hand, we note that when all these doings are taken to the extreme, bad things do happen. A person who smokes two packs of cigarettes a day is pretty much asking for a respirator and chemotherapy later in life. A person who drinks to excess faces a whole host of problems, ranging from health concerns to broken relationships. A person who gambles too often faces the same consequences, and also deprives his family of the money they need to survive. A habitual narcotics user has a whole host of the same issues; so too a person addicted to sex and/or pornography.

So we think it unfortunate that people who are partial to pornography -- or any of the above things -- tend to paper over these very real troubles. Now, roughly a quarter of Americans smoke; roughly six percent have a drink problem; perhaps three percent are addicted to narcotics; six percent have a gambling problem; and roughly six to eight percent are sex addicts, the last according to these folks.

Of course, as one might expect, there is often an overlap of these things; but our point here is merely to show that all this is no joke. What for most is merely a harmless activity or even a petty vice puts others on the road to self-destruction.

The Question of Prohibition

So then. If millions of Americans are running about engaging in risky behaviors all the time, what do we do about it?

This is a tough question, and admittedly not one for which we have a pat answer. On the one hand, we know that if the Government makes something illegal, it may make it less likely for a person to engage in or consume that something. On the other, we know that if a vice is illegal, no petty law will stop one from fulfilling one's desire for that vice.

So in this regard, we are at a crossroads.

Obviously, there are some activities which are illegal for a reason, because they are so beyond the pale that all well-adjusted people find them abhorrent, unnatural and thoroughly immoral. Examples include pimping, the production of pornography involving minors, and bestiality. Then there are those things which are illegal because the dangers to society overwhelm any possible benefits, such as heroin.

But of course those extreme activities are not the issue here. The questions at hand, rather, are these: should the fact some folks are alcoholic prevent others from drinking? And should the fact some folks are gambling addicts prevent others from playing cards, and so on for pornography, etc.?

Of course not. The poor unfortunate enslaved to his addiction will not hesitate to find extra-legal ways to sate his habit, so to us it doesn't make sense to forbid these things to others. Furthermore, at the end of the day, the addict is the only one who can get himself out of his addiction. Then, after he has excised it from his soul, it is his responsibility to avoid that which got him in such trouble in the first place. We would add that it would help matters if society as a whole had a bit more compassion for such folks, but we have been glad to see that on an individual level, folks who need help get support.

The Question of Regulation

Technology, of course, has done more than anything to minimize the Government's effectiveness at suppressing vice. New York may want smokers to pay $7 per pack for cigarettes, but a smoker can simply off-shore his order to a duty-free outfit. A city's police might bust up the occasional private casino, but the Internet now lets one gamble from one's home. The VCR had the amazing effect of decimating both the local vice squad and the pornographic theatre; and now, the Internet has made it possible for people to get their hands on pRon*%# any time they want.

However -- we do think, even in this day and age, there are plenty of effective ways to prevent folks from engaging in bad habits. Obviously, there is the law; but we question how that can truly do anything other than knock out the most egregious violators of it. To us, the success of vice-suppression efforts rests on de-glamorizing the institutions causing all the problems.

Thus far, such efforts have failed -- and will continue to fail -- because they are lame. For instance, we can assure you that when we lived in California, those goddamned anti-smoking advertisements only served to annoy us. Such public-service efforts must not be cutesy. They must be graphic and they must be raw and they must be brutal if they have any chance at getting through.

The movie "Trainspotting," for instance, instilled a life-long fear of heroin in us because it was so raw in depicting the ravages of that poison. Therefore, we don't see why the Government doesn't apply the same principles to gambling (showing a casino floor at 7 a.m. on a Tuesday), to alcohol (showing the problems of family life with an alcoholic) and lastly, to pornography (showing its most hard-core consumers instead of those portrayed in it).

Now, we realize this is not a perfect solution; it may not even be the right one. After all, we certainly don't want to demonize these things so much that we force them entirely underground; that would not do folks much good at all, as we see it. Nor is that something we particularly want, because we enjoy our vices as much as anyone. But if we were somehow able to push these activities into a purely private and purely adult sphere, we do think the social health of our society would be vastly improved.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 09:31 AM | TrackBack

Disquiet Perfected

IN THE EXTENDED ENTRY BOX below (click the link), we have placed what we consider a truly masterful piece of writing. The words come from C.S. Lewis; the book in which he wrote them is "That Hideous Strength," published in 1943.

We do believe that this is one of the best -- if not the best -- written descriptions we have seen of the feeling of disquiet: that nagging feeling that something is horribly wrong. The descriptions are so vivid that the work gives us the creeps something fierce -- perhaps especially so, given that we know the position in which the character has found himself. But give it a read; we can assure you the excerpt contains no spoilers.

God! Now we'll be thinking about this for a good hour -- and just before we went to sleep too.

---------


"IT APPEARED TO BE AN EMPTY COMMITTEE ROOM with a long table, eight or nine chairs, some pictures, and (oddly enough) a large step-ladder in one corner. Here also there were no windows: it was lit by an electric light which produced, better than Mark had ever seen it produced before, the illusion of daylight -- of a cold, grey place out of doors. This, combined with the absence of a fireplace, made it seem chilly though the temperature was not in fact very low.

A man of trained sensibility would have seen at once that the room was ill-proportioned, not grotesquely so, but sufficiently to produce dislike. It was too high and too narrow. Mark felt the effect without analysing the cause and the effect grew on him as time passed. Sitting staring about him he noticed the door -- and thought at first he was a victim of some optical illusion. It took him quite a long time to prove to himself that he was not. The point of the arch was not in the centre: the whole thing was lop-sided. Once again, the error was not gross. The thing was near enough to the true to deceive you for a moment and to go on teasing the mind even after the deception had been unmasked. Involuntarily one kept shifting the head to find positions from what which it would look right after all. He turned round and sat his back to it ... one mustn't let it become an obsession.

Then he noticed the spots on the ceiling. They were not mere specks of dirt or discolouration. They were deliberately painted on: little round black spots placed at irregular intervals on the pale mustard-coloured surface. There were not a great many of them: perhaps thirty ... or was it a hundred? He determined that he would not fall into the trap of trying to count them. They would be hard to count, they were so irregularly placed. Or weren't they? Now that his eyes were growing used to them (and one couldn't help noticing that there were five in that little group to the right), their arrangement seemed to hover on the verge of regularity. Their peculiar ugliness consisted in the very fact that they kept on suggesting it and then frustrating the expectation thus aroused. Suddenly he realized this was another trap. He fixed his eyes on the table.

There were spots on the table too: white ones. Shiny white ones, not quite round. And arranged, apparently, to correspond to the spots on the ceiling. Or were they? No, of course not ... ah, now he had it! The pattern (if you could call it a pattern) on the table was an exact reversal of that on the ceiling. But with certain exceptions. He found he was glancing rapidly from one to the other, trying to puzzle it out. For the third time he checked himself. He got up and began to walk about. He had a look at the pictures.

Some of them belonged to a school of art with which he was already familiar. There was a portrait of a young woman who held her mouth wide open to reveal the fact that the inside of it was thickly overgrown with hair. It was very skillfully painted in the photographic manner so that you could almost feel that hair: indeed you could not avoid feeling it however hard you tried. There was a giant mantis playing a fiddle while being eaten by another mantis, and a man with corkscrews instead of arms bathing in a flat, sadly-coloured sea beneath a summer sunset. But most of the pictures were not of this kind. At first, most of them seemed rather ordinary, though Mark was a little surprised at the predominance of spiritual themes. It was only at the second or third glance that one discovered certain unaccountable details -- something odd about the positions of the figures' feet or the arrangements of their fingers or the grouping. And who was the person standing between the Christ and Lazarus? And why were there so many beetles under the table in the Last Supper? What was the curious trick of lighting that made each picture look like something seen in delirium? When once these questions had been raised the apparent ordinariness of the pictures became their supreme menace -- like the ominous surface innocence at the beginning of certain dreams. Every fold of drapery, every piece of architecture, had a meaning one could not grasp but which withered the mind. Compared with these the other, surrealistic pictures were mere foolery. Long ago Mark had read somewhere of "things of that extreme evil which seem innocent to the uninitiate," and had wondered what sort of things they might be. Now he felt he knew.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 12:08 AM | Comments (1) | TrackBack

April 04, 2004

Sketches of a Lost Economy

MANAGER: "Why is the logo on fire?"
TECH: "Because it's a, you know... a burning... logo."

-- ad copy

WE WERE RE-READING Dinesh D'Souza's "The Virtue of Prosperity" over the weekend and we must say we found it a fascinating experience. It was not merely that we are fond of Mr D'Souza's writing, but rather that Mr D'Souza based some parts of his book on interviews with whom society once thought were the emerging technocratic elite; those New Economy oracles who smugly intoned that the Internet would change business, change finance, change economics.

Publication date? November 9, 2000.

Now, we certainly do not intend this as criticism of Mr D'Souza's excellent work. The lessons he imparts in "The Virtue of Prosperity" are as timeless as ever, particularly with the still-present debates over such things as executive compensation and the changing nature of American capitalism. We are merely saying we found his book even more interesting now because it featured some of these high-flying Internet types.

We wonder what has happened to a lot of the folks with whom Mr D'Souza must have met and spoke. Not so much the early Internet pioneers; almost all made their piles early on enough so as to be forever insulated from the pitfalls of modern life. Nor are we interested as much in those who weren't as wildly successful, but who still saw the writing on the wall. No. We are interested in what happened to all the others -- the true believers who saw their options drown and their holdings crumble and their jobs disappear, only to find themselves finished off by the tax laws. And boy, do those laws suck if you're on the wrong end of them.

Indeed, looking back, we should have guessed something was wrong in 1999. For it was then that we spoke with a good friend of ours regarding one such Internet company, which our friend informed us had an excellent technological innovation. After doing some research, we found it was trading at about $5 CDN on a low-level regional exchange, and hence we could purchase a great deal of its shares for just a few thousand Yankee dollars. However, the next day it had jumped to $6 CDN, and we were very leery of sinking such a portion of our limited capital into this particular equity. So we gave it a pass.

The stock went to roughly $95 CDN in a year.

Dear God in Heaven. A fifteen-bagger. Enough to buy a Mercedes and take a month-long vacation in the islands and still have plenty left over for investment elsewhere. We daresay we could have had anything our then-23-year-old heart would have wanted.

We offer this example merely as prima facie evidence of how wacky the market was back then. Can you imagine if we had actually bought? Oh, the very idea, a 23-year-old kid making that kind of cash on a long-shot trade -- it boggles the mind!

Still, we're glad we didn't in a way. The lessons we learned from not buying may prove more valuable in the coming years.

Of course, the stock in question is now back around that $5 CDN price, and the markets' workings dictate there were probably many more losers than winners in the aggregate with that particular equity. One could say the same for the broader tech sector, unfortunately.

We are sorry to say that, out in Los Angeles, we knew a few people who lost in that market -- and when we say lost, we mean lost. Ninety percent lost. From comfortable to barely-getting-by lost. And while we were not one of them, we saw how widely it cut -- from one fellow who lost hundreds of thousands to one friend of ours who lost but a few hundred; but still, a considerable percentage of his investment in a particular equity at the time. And then the whipsaw really came down -- when the secondary effects of the crash started affecting people we knew ... it was not a pleasant thing.

Of course, that's not to say there weren't winners -- and we knew some of those as well. But the real winners, as we see it, were those who simply bought and held. Not the Internet stocks, but the old stand-bys, the safe stuff. And when the money flowed out of the tech sector, that's where it went.

So why tell you all this? No reason, really; it was just flowing through our mind, and we thought we'd get it out. But we would say we learned three things from those heady days of yore. First: long-term thinking really, really does pay off when all is said and done. Second: this may have been the first speculative bubble we saw in our short life thus far, but we have a feeling it won't be the last. This leads us to our third and final observation:

Sometimes, caution is truly a virtue.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 10:38 PM | TrackBack

March 28, 2004

The Canadians Must Be Stopped

SO! CANADA IS EXPLORING whether to form some kind of formal union with the Turks and Caicos Islands in the Caribbean.

Oh, no they didn't.

We believe this perfectly good tax haven island nation must not be allowed to fall into Canada's clutches -- no matter how much plotting and scheming they do.

For one thing, we know full well that the Canadians will take this virtually tax-free island and impose the Canadian brand of socialism on it. This means that not only would everything in the islands have to have French language signs, folks would pay vast percentages of their income in all manner of taxes.

Secondly, we also know that the Turks & Caicos Islands use the US dollar, the world's most respected currency. If they joined Canada, they'd end up using the rouble Canadian dollar, and as such the value of their income and holdings would be subject to the loonie's rise and fall. We submit this would probably suck.

Lastly, if any country is going to start running around and colonizing places, the United States ought to be the one to do it. Thus we should get first dibs on any Caribbean nation thinking about signing up with a northern neighbor.

However, this is not to say we do not understand our Canadian brothers' motives -- we just think they should consider dealing with a nation with which they're more in tune. Like, say, Castro's Cuba.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 11:11 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack

March 26, 2004

Maximum Overdrive

MACH SEVEN? We're working on a plane that goes Mach SEVEN? Gad.

Of course the prototype is only twelve feet long, but still ... that's fast enough to cross the continental United States in something like forty minutes.

Oh, we've got to spend more on this. Any project that could potentially keep people -- especially us -- from having any more layovers in Newark is worth doing.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 07:30 PM | TrackBack

March 24, 2004

Now, It's Time for Breakdown

WE MUST APOLOGIZE AGAIN for the dearth of posts as of late. As it turns out, we have had yet another bout with our sinuses, and as such were patently miserable for much of this week. This latest bout was particularly ominous, as it came with fever, chills, and assorted pains throughout the rest of our body. That and we had the strangest dreams, the crazy full-fledged technicolor dreams which end badly and leave you in a cold sweat (1).

As such, we have been walking around the last few days looking like Richard Conte in that one episode of The Twilight Zone." You know, the one in which his character is exhausted and has a bad heart; the one where you can tell he has serious issues because his necktie is loosened. That is kind of how things are going here. Still, now that the anti-biotics are kicking in to combat the sinus infection, we thought we would share some observations we made over the past week or so:

* Here in America, there is some great news: the welfare caseload is lower than ... well, practically since we started the program. No, really.

As it turns out, a mere 4.9 million people approximately 1.6 percent of the American public are presently on the dole. This is just 34 percent the number who were on the dole back in the early Nineties the peak in both numerical and percentage terms and the lowest percentage since 1960, when they first apparently started keeping track. In fact, using other figures, one sees that this is about equal to the percentage of people on welfare in 1950.

You know, that's really impressive for a nation. It says something about American culture, and something good: that we're willing to help people out if they're really in a jam and need assistance, but in the end, we recognize that they -- and only they -- can get themselves out of that jam. Of course, there are a few cases in which those receiving aid are truly unable to do that; but even then, we provide for them. So, working from that low 1.6 percent rate, we will soon get to the point where we literally won't be able to improve it.

Germany, by way of comparison, has a population of just 82 million and approximately 4.2 million on the dole. That's roughly five percent, and most are there not because of bad luck or circumstance but simply because they can draw a check. Of course, Germany has an 11.1 percent official unemployment rate, but ... Gawd.

11.1 percent. Could you imagine it? (2)

* Again on the domestic front, we note with displeasure that necessity forced us to shop at a certain large retailer, and we were underwhelmed with its commitment to quality.

This complaint has nothing, we can assure you, to do with the firm's low prices or volume purchasing nothing to do with the fact the savings exacted out of their suppliers are passed on to us, the consumer. No. This has to do with the fact that we waited a full 15 minutes in line because no one could find the price on a pink bath towel which the nice elderly woman in front of us was purchasing.

Really. This was an amazing display of retail incompetence, the likes of which we have not seen in many a year. First, the cashier asked the lady what the price was, and she naturally didnt know. However, because she was brought up in a moral era, she did not respond with instinctive savvy that is, underpricing it, but still being reasonable (Why, I think its $1.99.). Not that she should have done so anyway, but hey.

In any event, this led to the cashier having to perform a price check, which apparently involved calling eighteen different departments in a vain attempt to get one of the employees to pick up the phone. Then, after an employee finally did pick up the phone, they had to actually find the towel and that employee seemed to have as much trouble as we do in finding what we want in the place. The minutes ticked by, and there was no response. A similar situation took place in another line, which aggrieved one customer as it was apparently the only line in which one could purchase cigarettes. Tick. Tock. Tick.

By now, the nice elderly lady had that fussy look common to many senior citizens; not that she was fussy, just that she was kind of embarrassed that her transaction was bogging things down so. Not that it was her fault, of course; but as we said, she was brought up in a moral era, and this transaction had taken every principle of scientific management and wadded them up into a tiny ball. Tick. Tock. Tick. We looked around for a magazine we could read.

Finally, the towel arrived, and this firm could be assured that its $2.97 would be properly booked and accounted for. On the other hand, there is no telling how much in sales it lost because we vowed to try a different store next time -- even if they do have those carbon-flourescent light bulbs we like because they save on utility costs. And cheap, too.

* We recently made a dinner without even thinking whether it was healthy, and now we fear it is going to come back to haunt us.

A while back, we had unthinkingly purchased one of those easily-prepared meals where everything comes in cans or packets and all you do is add water. You do have to bake it, but even we can manage that. In any event, this was sitting on the shelf, and we realized we had probably best eat it before whatever was inside the box developed sentience and started leading the other canned goods in a revolt.

So we made it. It tasted fine, if by fine we mean it was barely adequate, even for someone in our line of work. Still, we realized halfway through that we were basically eating fat: complete, utter, total fat. Gravy and potatoes and chicken and biscuits = fat. Yes, even in the chicken, because on second reflection we dont think there was any meat in it at all.

Ugh. Now we have to eat Subway for a week to make up for it.

* OK, so that last part bit the wax tadpole. We don't care.

We're in a feisty mood again as of late, a situation which ... well, we haven't decided whether our sinus infection caused it, or whether killing off the infection has caused a return to our natural perpetually-annoyed state. What we will say is that we wouldn't wish a sinus infection on our worst enemies.

Then again ... no, we still wouldn't. For those of you who also suffer such problems know how patently horrible they are: the blinding pain, the watery eyes, the crushing and merciless pressure that seemingly envelopes all points in one's head.

We do readily admit that there are far worse things from which to suffer in this life. However, as the veteran of several surgeries, the odd medical trauma and other ailments, we can readily say that we have never suffered such misery as we have with our sinus problems. That's probably because we knew that with all those other things, they'd eventually come to an end.

And speaking of which, it is time for us to get some sleep. So, again, sorry for the lack of posting, and we'll be back to normal soon enough.

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(1) We hardly ever remember our dreams; and even worse, we seem to very rarely have pleasant dreams. Rather, the dreams we do remember always seem equal parts of Bradbury, Serling, and Edward Gorey. They are generally very nasty affairs in which we are inevitably the victim: we get thrown out of airplanes and end up trapped in deadly situations and find ourselves in horribly byzantine bureaucratic struggles. We face financial ruin and despair, hellfire and brimstone, fear and terror, all "beyond the wall of sleep."

Interestingly, we have found we are prone to recalling these nightmares when we eat heavily before going to bed; which would explain the heartburn we sometimes have in the mornings. This is one reason why we no longer snack before turning in for the night; it helps to ensure our experiences during sleep are walled off into our subconscious. It is a true pity we haven't found the secret as to which foods, if any, prompt good dreams.

We have also found that a key factor behind remembering our nightmares is whether we wear the air mask we have to treat our sleep apnea. When we don't wear it, we spend our sleep fighting to breathe, and we think this may explain why our brain gets so feisty. For when we do wear it, we are dead to the world. We've slept through earthquakes while wearing it.

However, to present a balanced picture, our good dreams are amazing. The last which we remember may have been ... oh, about six months or so, but we still recall it. We should point out that it was nothing erotic or manic, and that it did not otherwise depict some amazing success which we have little hope to achieve. Rather, it was calm and peaceful and quiet; and we awoke refreshed, committed to facing the world on a bright sunny morning. In the end, one can't complain a bit.

(2) God, would that suck. 11.1 percent? That's like Seventies-era unemployment, or something. Actually, we don't even think it was that bad then; so the last time we as a society experienced that was probably back in the Thirties.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 11:37 PM | TrackBack

March 20, 2004

Legal Grind

WE HAVE NOTICED that as blogging becomes ever more popular, more and more bloggers are facing threats of legal action because of something they have written. Many times this writing is a parody, which mocks either words or images to make a satirical point.

As far as we can tell, such parodies are protected under the First Amendment. However, it seems that many people in America do not realize this. As some of these people have managed to gain positions in industry, they have access to highly-skilled legal professionals. Hence, when they get annoyed at something they read or see, they can call these attorneys at 5:30 p.m. on a Friday just as the attorneys are about to leave for Maine, and order the attorneys to deal with the alleged offenders forthwith. The attorneys, knowing that their pals from law school are already on their way up to Ogunquit for the lobster bake, will quickly dash off a threatening missive to placate their angry client all the while wondering why they didnt join the Peace Corps instead.

Now, this has led to some pretty funny legal filings, such as the notorious Global United Rayon and Cosmetics Corp. v. Bobs Blog case, 673 U.S. 1198 (2003). In court filings, plaintiffs alleged that in October of 2001, one Robert X. Udall of Old Rochelle, N.Y., had committed offenses including trademark infringement, patent infringement, defamation, intentional infliction of emotional distress, loss of consortium, making plaintiffs counsel miss his flight, and causing plaintiffs counsels hospitalization after suffering cardiac arrest as he was trying to get to his dinner reservation. Plaintiffs alleged these offenses were in connection with Mr Udalls on-line complaint that his wife didnt like the Global United Rayon-brand lipstick he bought her for their anniversary.

While such sloppiness might have led to the suit being thrown out, Mr Udall made the mistake of thinking it was a joke, and he did not pursue the matter. This resulted in a default judgment against Mr Udall. Despite his subsequent appeals, the Supreme Court had no choice but to agree to the plaintiffs demand that Mr Udall be drawn and quartered at daybreak.

As you can see, these things are serious business. But fear not! We here at Benjamin Kepples Daily Rant offer for your enlightenment an Actual Sample Letter* which we sent in response to one of these dunning letters. It follows:

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8 January 2004

Benjamin Kepples Daily Rant Inc.
Your Hometown Nostalgia Source
901 Burnaby St., Suite One
Hamilton HM 11
BERMUDA

Mr. Upshaw P. Belvedere IV
Attorney-at-Law
Somehow, Passed & Thebar PLLC
590-C Avenue of the Americas, Suite 8997-2
New York, New York, 10021
U.S.A.

SENT VIA FACSIMILE

Dear Sir,

Please be advised we are in receipt of your letter, dated 6 January 2004, regarding your clients CLM Cyclosis Inc. and Chinese Wall Zombie Bond LLC, each of which is a New York-based market analysis firm.

We understand your clients (The Bastards) are upset with our American subsidiarys depiction of their work on 4 January 2004, to wit: Alls Fair in Love and Business, (http://www.benkepple.com/archives/000240.html). We also understand that as counsel, you are obligated to act on behalf of The Bastards interests, no matter how contrary to established case law and general principle their complaints (Damned Nonsense) are. That said, you are advised that The Bastards Damned Nonsense is completely unwarranted, given long-established legal principles governing works of parody, farce, satire, and the like. Hence, we are sure you or your intern (Indentured Servant) will find Hustler Magazine v. Falwell, 485 US 46 (1988), fascinating reading. We would also remind you of Campbell v. Acuff-Rose Music, 510 U.S. 569 (1994), which clarified that a satirist may create parodies for profit. Were sure you remember it from your days at law school (That Diploma Mill.)

Again, though, we do understand that your job is to defend The Bastards interests; so we would never accuse you personally of vexatious litigation, barratry or the intentional tort of abuse of process. However, please do be advised that any Further Legal Action (Harrassment) on The Bastards part will be met with a measured and warranted counter-response (Scorched Earth Policy). We would consider it most unfortunate if we had to implement a Scorched Earth Policy, and hope we havent any need for that. It would be quite regrettable (A Public Relations Nightmare) if we were forced to go to major media, various Internet sites, and take other counter-measures to help ensure we received appropriate relief from a Court in this matter.

We are confident that after careful consideration of the facts and relevant case law, you will agree that this was all merely an unfortunate misunderstanding. As such, we consider this matter closed. However, if you have any further questions or concerns, please do not hesitate to contact us.

Cordially,

TAD MURCHESON
General Counsel
Benjamin Kepples Daily Rant Inc.

BENJAMIN KEPPLE
Chief Executive Officer
Benjamin Kepples Daily Rant Inc.

Cc: File
Style section, The Washington Post

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*IMPORTANT LEGAL NOTICE: Anyone who actually faces this or any other type of lawsuit in real life should NEVER send a letter like this, especially to a practicing attorney. They should instead contact a respectable lawyer immediately, and pay him or her write something that actually can stand up on its own two feet. We are not lawyers and cannot help. Furthermore, the preceding is intended as parody and entertainment only, and should not be construed as legal advice, assistance, or opinion, even if we did send something similar although not as nasty once to a collection agency that screwed up our medical bills. Offer void in Puerto Rico and Vermont. Call now and you can get the amazing Stain-B-Gon scrub-brush ABSOLUTELY FREE. Many will enter, few will win. Certain terms and restrictions apply. By reading the above essay, you agree that you have waived any and all rights to sue for damages, injury, or other claims that may result from reading this article. It's a dessert topping AND kills germs! Estoppel doctrine aggravated damages injunction pray for relief wherefore ordered.

Wow. You got all the way down here?

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March 18, 2004

Nomenclature

OVER AT HIS SWELL NEW SITE, Steve Silver has penned a short commentary on the question of women keeping their maiden names after marriage, as well as the recent bawdy trendiness surrounding hyphenated names. Mr Silver works off an essay by the feminist Katie Roiphe.

We'll admit we have mixed feelings about pretty much all aspects of this.

Like Mr Silver, we would have absolutely no problem if our eventual wife wanted to keep her own name; although that said, we must admit we'd prefer if she took our last name. Everyone else in our family has done this, and it'd be less confusing, and besides, we think being a Kepple rules. On the other hand, we would understand it perfectly if our eventual wife were to keep her name for professional reasons, and in that regard, it is such a small issue that it is not worth arguing.

As for any eventual children, though, we must say we would never permit our children to have a hyphenated last name, with one exception: if we happened to marry into European nobility. Then it would be perfectly acceptable (even if Kepple-Saxe-Coburg-Gotha would be wordy). Although, we note that even then, it would be unnecessary since surname and house would be differentiated. Also, there is that tiny matter of the fact there is no chance of this happening.

So we can stand with our original assertion that our children will be known as Kepples, whether they like it or not. Besides, our ancestors did not suffer through centuries of war, oppression and famine only to have their descendents screw things up. We owe them that much!

But -- again, the caveat -- we do think it a good idea to pay homage to the mother's family in naming one's children, as has been done in our family. It's not difficult to do; one can easily use names of maternal relatives, or the mother's maiden name as a first or middle name.

That said, we think making up a name solely because a man and his wife think it cute is ... No. This is most certainly not cute. This is silly. As such, we would rather eat glass than change our name to "Kepwell" or some such absurdity. Really, the very idea strikes us as being so damned collegiate -- which, as it happens, is the place we first heard of someone doing such a thing.

That is what we consider the "all-time low" -- and on this, we differ with Mr Silver, who argues that for a man to hyphenate his last name along with his wife is the ultimate indignity. We must say we find that practice a bit odd -- but it is more understandable than actually destroying one's name and effectively severing a man's ties with his ancestors.

One last thought on this matter: Ms Roiphe takes note of the problems that cropped up when women kept their names back in the old days. In doing so, Ms Roiphe quotes from a 1925 newspaper report about these "Lucy Stoners," as they were once known:

"Some of its resulting confusions are indelicate and therefore may merely be hinted at. Many moral hotel clerks are troubled at the assignment of rooms to the traveling Lucy Stoners and their husbands."

Absolutely priceless. Of course, in our experience, we have found that in this day and age the moral hotel clerks merely assume a couple is man and wife, and write up the bills accordingly. Without going into further detail, we would merely say that when we first discovered that "Mr and Mrs Kepple" were listed on the register, we found the idea very, very nice.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 12:10 AM | Comments (3) | TrackBack

February 25, 2004

Channeling Our Inner Ex-PFC Wintergreen


You're Catch-22!
by Joseph Heller
Incredibly witty and funny, you have a taste for irony in all that you see. It seems that life has put you in perpetually untenable situations, and your sense of humor is all that gets you through them. These experiences have also made you an ardent pacifist, though you present your message with tongue sewn into cheek. You could coin a phrase that replaces the word "paradox" for millions of people.
Take the Book Quiz at the Blue Pyramid.

Irony? Oh, dear readers, if only you knew. If only you knew!

(via Sheila)

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 12:08 AM | TrackBack

February 19, 2004

Hometown Takes Brave Stand v. Girlfriend-Serenading

OH, WELL, THANK GOD FOR THIS: it is apparently illegal in our home town of Kalamazoo, Mich., to serenade one's girlfriend.

Now, admittedly, we were at first a bit skeptical that the authorities in our home town had enacted such a useless and stupid piece of legislation. After all, our home city had plenty of other problems with which to deal, such as narcotics trafficking, murder, and so forth. And this was before the place really went to hell, as we understand has happened since our departure.

However, apparently they have. For Section 21-11 ("Yelling, Whistling, etc.") of the city's Code of Ordinances clearly states:

Yelling, shouting, hooting, whistling or singing at any time or place, so as to disturb the quiet, comfort, or repose of any person, is prohibited. The occupant or person in charge of any building emitting such noise and the person owning or operating any vehicle or device emitting such noise shall be deemed responsible therefor and shall be in violation of this section.

Well. We are proud to see that the City of Kalamazoo has taken Bold Action in stamping out this public menace. We also note that other sections of the city code prohibit the playing of musical instruments should they disturb the quiet, comfort or repose of any person. That'll teach those damned student guitar players!

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 09:28 PM | Comments (3) | TrackBack

February 17, 2004

Mr Silver Hits the Bulls-Eye

WE WERE QUITE PLEASED to learn that Stephen Silver, a blogger for whom we have the utmost respect, has denounced the appalling tendency of female Hollywood celebrities to become dangerously thin.

Mr Silver also decries the trend for popular magazines to put these "allegedly hot" celebrities on their cover, moves which he argues force other female celebrities to also lose weight. As an example of this, he notes the attention paid to Christina Aguilera and Drew Barrymore, who are respectively an entertainer and an actress:

Drew Barrymore is on the cover of this week's People Magazine, trumpeting her recent loss of 20 pounds as she promotes her new movie "50 First Dates." The movie was filmed prior to her weight loss, and Barrymore is now apparently every bit as skinny as her boyfriend, Strokes drummer Fabrizio Moretti.

There's just one problem with all this: Barrymore looks better in the movie than in the magazine. Like many other actresses, most notably Renee Zellweger and Kate Winslet, Drew was about a hundred times sexier when she had curves, such as on a Vanity Fair cover last year, before apparently succumbing to pressure to starve herself down to People Magazine-approved levels. It's almost as bad as last fall's US Weekly expose of "How Christina Lost the Weight," published after the truly vile Christina Aguilera dropped from 90 pounds all the way back down to 80.

What sort of message does it send when these very attractive women -- who are still thinner than most people as it is -- are expected to drop even more weight, in order to "compete" with the likes of Paris Hilton?

After a bit more, Mr Silver then continues:

By putting allegedly "hot" women like Paris, Christina, and Brittany Murphy on one magazine cover after another, the publishers of the world are not only driving countless young girls to bulimia, but they're encouraging other celebrities who aren't rail-thin to go in that direction, to the detriment of both their attractiveness and, more importantly, their health. I've always heard women make this argument, but I'd really like to start hearing more men say it as well. I mean, does any guy think Sarah Jessica Parker is hot?

Now, we can only speak for ourselves in this matter, but our answer to Mr Silver's final question is a decided Not Really, No. So there you have it, sir; your opinion seconded.

Long-time Rant readers will recall that back when we lived in Los Angeles, we once found ourselves in the same elevator with Mrs Parker and her husband, the actor Matthew Broderick. For whatever reason, they had decided to visit the Century City-area building* in which we worked at the time; and we can assure you their identities were confirmed by the other gentleman on board the elevator with us -- after Mrs Parker and Mr Broderick had departed, of course**.

Anyway, this meant we were approximately two feet away from both Mrs Parker and Mr Broderick for roughly forty-five seconds. As both were dressed rather casually, we were able to see them without the benefit of stage makeup, klieg lights, and so forth. We will say only that we found both rather thin, shorter than we expected, and otherwise physically unremarkable. We could tell, though, where both would light up the camera in terms of their facial appearance. They were better looking in that regard than the average person, although even then, it wasn't as if one would suddenly take notice.

That said, we must say we wholeheartedly agree with Mr Silver's argument: this long-running and horrible trend towards extreme thinness on the part of female celebrities is awfully disturbing.

To be perfectly blunt, we are simply not turned on by women whose physical appearance instinctively makes us think they've been checked into a methadone clinic. Conversely, we certainly fancy women with curves -- we have long considered actresses like Kate Winslet (Oh God!) supremely foxy -- and especially so if they have a great personality and a remarkably high intelligence quotient to boot.

We have not seen Ms Barrymore act in a movie since we saw "The Wedding Singer," a movie which we particularly enjoyed***. As such, our memory is not good enough to make an independent analysis of Mr Silver's argument. However, we further have no reason to doubt his words, and certainly we believe that Ms Barrymore was thin as is in "The Wedding Singer." If she has lost any more weight since that time, we would consider that particularly unfortunate.

In addition, we are frankly appalled to learn that Miss Aguilera, who stands approximately five-foot-three, weighs but 80 pounds. This equates to a rough density of approximately 1.3 pounds per inch. Were Miss Aguilera the same density as we were -- we stand six-foot-four -- we note with alarm that she would stand all of two feet and one inch tall. We are male, of course, and we are somewhat overweight; but even still, this indicator should suggest that Miss Aguilera is underweight at the very least.

Now, we do not know if these celebrities are attempting to compete with Paris Hilton and Miss Hilton's ilk for the public limelight. One would think that since they are each celebrites in differing media, competition would be generally limited in this regard. Further, the entertainment media seem to take a very "flavor-of-the-month" stand towards celebrities these days, thus ensuring that only the most popular celebrities gain lasting fame and glory. We would argue (pray?) that Miss Hilton does not rank in such a group -- and we certainly hope that in two years' time she will be but a distant memory; a scar, if you will, on America's cultural psyche.

That said, we must admit we are positively amazed that anyone finds Miss Hilton attractive at all. Everything we have read regarding her public persona suggests that she is not particularly intelligent or educated, and we can detect little trace of a noteworthy personality in her. We admit that we could be wrong in this assessment -- we don't know her, after all -- but we have not seen anything to change our mind. Furthermore, to be cruel about it, she's scrawny. Gad! Were she in far different economic circumstances, we would half expect to find ourselves on some street corner giving her a buck and wishing that her life changed for the better -- that's how abnormally thin she appears. It's supremely off-putting, and we would go so far as to say we consider it downright ghastly.

As for the impact which the marketing of these dangerously thin celebrites has on American girls and women, we would very much hope that American girls and women pay it little mind.

Sadly, though, we can imagine this set of circumstances likely has an influence on many women and especially teenaged girls -- especially if they do not realize the great lengths which are taken in terms of packaging the celebrities in question. Furthermore, the enduring popularity of the "heroin chic" look likely does cause many celebrities to engage in "fad diets" and other such weight-loss techniques; hence causing them to get dangerously thin, and perpetuating this unfortunate cycle.

We aren't entirely sure what can be done to right this situation; although we would like it if a cacophony of male voices from the blogosphere would scream out and assure the women of America that yes, we do very much like curves. If enough men do this, it would get noticed; and perhaps it would help shift the attitudes on this issue. In time, one might hope, this would filter into the fashion and entertainment worlds.

It is not something about which we are overly optimistic. But at this point, anything is worth an attempt.

--------------
* This building, on W. Pico Blvd. near Century City and the Beverly Hills Country Club, was popularly known among many workers as "the building someone's son-in-law designed."

** It is generally considered impolite and gauche among Angelenos to accost a celebrity or otherwise act in an annoying fashion towards them. Hence, if we remember right, we did not address any words to Mrs Parker and Mr Broderick. Besides, what were we supposed to say? "Godzilla really bit the wax tadpole?" "First floor! Anyone? Anyone? Bueller?"

*** This should not be considered an indictment of Ms Barrymore's acting abilities: it's just that we haven't seen her in anything since "The Wedding Singer."

**** And who the deuce is Brittany Murphy?

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 11:26 PM | Comments (5) | TrackBack

February 15, 2004

It's All-Out War Over "Star Wars"

IT WOULD APPEAR THAT a considerable number of Americans -- at least 53,371, anyway -- are rather upset with George Lucas.

As we understand it, folks are upset because Mr Lucas, the filmmaker behind the "Star Wars" movies, is releasing the DVD versions of the first three films in their "lame-o special edition" format, as opposed to their "pristine theatrical" format. This means that instead of watching the movies in all their original glory, "Star Wars" fans will instead be forced to watch the not-so-special special effects, editing changes, and other annoyances thrown in when the films were re-released in theatres some time back.

Yet despite this fevered opposition, LucasFilm Ltd. is sticking to its guns:

----------

"We realize there's a lot of debate out there," says [LucasFilm VP Jim] Ward. "But this is not a democracy. We love our fans, but this is about art and filmmaking. [George] has decided that the sole version he wants available is this one."

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Oh. Well, if it's about art and filmmaking! Perhaps we are just a bit cynical, but when we hear the words art and filmmaking in the same sentence, they are processed in our brain as the word ego.

Now, of course, such a pejorative does not hold if one is paying another a particularly nice compliment; but when it's self-referential -- as it is here -- it strikes us as a bit much. It reminds us of a line C.S. Lewis put in the mouth of one of his diabolical characters: "No man who says I'm as good as you believes it. He would not say it if he did."

For Mr Lucas is not a great artist, nor is he all that good of a film-maker. Let's be plain here: in both cases, he is pretty middling when compared with his peers on the cinematic scene.

Now, this is not meant as critically as it might seem. There is no denying that Mr Lucas is, or at least was at one time, a hell of a great storyteller. It was his mastery of this aspect of the creative arts which propelled him to his success. That, combined with his extraordinary foresight relative to the business side of moviemaking, turned Mr Lucas' efforts into an incredible franchise. Happily for him, Mr Lucas became extremely wealthy in the process.

Sadly for us, though, Mr Lucas' skill set only exhibited itself in the first two films. Why this was, we cannot say, but let's face it: it's been downhill ever since "The Return of the Jedi." And until Mr Lucas "gets back to his roots," we fear that this slide shall continue.

What really surprises us, though, is the business thinking behind Mr Lucas' move. True, as others have already said, Mr Lucas may decide to release the original films at some later date, as a way to sell more product. Still, it would seem Mr Lucas now runs the risk of alienating the "Star Wars" fan base, especially the casual fan base; thus depressing the potential market for sales of his films. Certainly we would not buy the "special edition" movies on DVD, and if people feel strongly enough about the issue, we would point out that nothing prevents them from also not buying them. And just think what would happen if everyone took this to heart!

"THIS IS NOT A DEMOCRACY:" At left, LucasFilm official J.Q. "Fritz" McConnell informs the public of the firm's decision at a January 2004 press conference. But in December 2005, with sales of the "special edition" movies not up to desired results, Mr McConnell is enlisted in the firm's "personal marketing effort" to disaffected "Star Wars" fans. At right, he is shown attempting to cajole Romney Schmidt into buying the movies at Mr Schmidt's Muncie, Ind., residence.

Of course, the above is a joke; a joke made possible through the use of video-captures from "The Obsolete Man," an episode of "The Twilight Zone" which aired back in 1961. For those of you who have not seen it, we can assure you it is remarkable television -- just as one would expect from Rod Serling, who wrote and produced the episode in question.

Now, in a way, Mr Serling was somewhat like Mr Lucas: both were extremely successful in their lines of work, and both weren't pleased with some aspects of that work. In Mr Serling's case, he hated the fact that commercials would chop up his show; in Mr Lucas's case, he apparently wasn't pleased the original "Star Wars" movies were somehow -- in his mind -- limited.

The difference, though, is that Mr Serling did not pick up his football and go home. That to us is both telling and admirable, but we would expect no less from someone whose work we hold in such high esteem; someone whom we believe had more art in his pinky finger than Mr Lucas has in his entire being.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 09:09 PM | TrackBack

February 07, 2004

Oh, The Places We'll Go

WE MUST ADMIT that our post about the states to which we have traveled, a post which was first intended to be nothing more than a "one-off" or space-filling device, has sparked a serious case of wanderlust in our soul. After all, one can see from the map that our experience is by no means complete; and even in the states in which we have managed to spend time, our travels have sometimes been limited.

For instance, let's look at the state of Oregon. We hated Oregon. Indeed, we can assure you that our trip there some years back caused us to develop a visceral and open dislike for the place. So much so, in fact, that Oregon immediately earned a spot on our "weird" list of states; and we pledged never to return unless there was some dire emergency forcing us to go there.

We had flown in on business to Eugene -- yes, Eugene -- and arrived on a particularly cold and rainy weekend, in which the temperature never rose above 45 degrees and the sun never deigned to show its face until the morning of our departure. After checking in at our particularly uninspiring motel -- the type of place which only minimally meets the guidelines set forth by its franchiser -- we were able to wander around this miserable city for a while, and see what it had to offer.

Gad. At first glance, we don't think we've ever seen such an odd third-tier city in our life.

On one hand, you had the University of Oregon and the population it attracted, the hippies and professors and bohemian students, which supported what to us seemed an amazing number of coffee shops and health food stores and establishments selling narcotics paraphenalia. On the other hand, you had the rest of Eugene. There was a loggers' convention in town that weekend, and the rest of the city seemed full of tired and grim people, which the immutable forces of economics were slowly grinding down into poverty and despair.

Now, obviously, this picture of Oregon was merely a snapshot of one place at one particular time, and clearly not a full picture of one place in particular. But it was sufficiently off-kilter to raise serious questions in our mind about it. And as the annoyances of the weekend grew -- the constant rain, the aggravating idealism, the horrible green-and-yellow color scheme everywhere and the fact we couldn't pump our own gasoline -- made us dislike the place even more. By the end of the weekend, we were convinced Eugene was a small outpost on the edge of The Twilight Zone; and we were glad to return to Southern California, which in comparison seemed sane and normal.

However, we have mellowed over the years, and we realize that our initial impression of Oregon may have been a bit unfair. After all, we never did get to Portland or to the eastern scrub country; and there was no denying the country around Eugene was awfully beautiful. So unless Oregon does something that really puts us in a bad mood, we are more than willing to give it a second chance.

We would like this second chance to come in the form of a really bitchin' road trip.

This, we think, is how America ought to be experienced, and we only wish that we had the time to see all that we wanted to see. For we have never traveled to the Great Plains; never traversed the Deep South; never experienced the Pacific Northwest. But one cannot do these things when one can only take one week in vacation at a time.

So we must wait until we can get a few weeks' vacation -- 2006 or 2008 seems the earliest bet in this regard -- and then have at it. We can already imagine it: that wonderful first leg, from New Hampshire to Chicago, and then the trip would really begin along the plains -- from Minnesota all the way to Seattle. That would take one week. Then, we'd head south from there -- to Southern California, and east to Utah, along the 15 and the 70. Then, once deep into Utah, we'd take the old US 666 route down to Gallup, N.M., where we'd pick up the 40 and high-tail it east. There's another week, by our reckoning.

Now we'll get back to Gallup in a moment, but let's continue on for a second. We would take the 40 east, but instead of doing as usual and picking up I-44 to head home, we'd continue on, swinging south at Little Rock and heading for Louisiana. Then, it would be across the Deep South in a wide arc, heading to Columbia, S.C., and then heading north back home to New Hampshire. Upon our return we would have lobstah to celebrate.

By our reckoning, this whole trip should take about a month's time -- and we think we can eventually get that month's time if we are judicious about our vacation use. We would have to go sparingly with time off this year and next, but gee! wouldn't it be worth it to have an entire month to see the country!

We admit that this might seem an odd sort of "dream vacation." But for us, you see, it represents kind of a rite-of-passage. For our parents (Mr and Mrs Kepple) once had an entire month of vacation time when they were young, and they traveled around the country just as we hope to do. They had the fortune to live through what we can only imagine -- and this is where Gallup, N.M. comes into play.

You should know that we have been lucky enough to experience cross-country journeys twice in our lives -- once, going West when we moved to Los Angeles, and once returning East, when we left Los Angeles. It was this second trip, which we made along with Dad, where we really had a great deal of fun.

Indeed, it is from him and from this trip that we learned some hard-and-fast rules about road-tripping. Some of these lessons were explicit, others implicit, but we learned them just the same. So, without further ado, here they are:

LESSONS WE LEARNED FROM DAD ABOUT ROAD-TRIPPING

One. Never eat at a fast-food restaurant while on the road.

We can assure you that in the week we spent traveling from the Pacific to the Atlantic, that we did not eat one fast-food meal. No. We ate actual sit-down meals along every stop of our journey, no matter what the time and place.

Now, the beauty of this system was not merely that fast-food is generally crap and one shouldn't eat it. And we do think that if the fast-food in question is particularly noteworthy (e.g. "In-N-Out Burger"), one can make an exception to this rule. But it must be really good fast food. Because it would be a damnfool thing to do were one to miss out on all the glories of regional cuisine; the spicy food of the Southwest and the diners along the Plains; good Southern cooking and so on. And there's something refreshing about going into some old-fashioned diner, sitting down at a booth or the counter, and ordering good food. It takes your mind off things, lets you relax for an hour or so.

But there was something just amazing and wonderful and lovely about getting up so very early out there in the New Mexico desert and going to breakfast, and waking up over a good cup of coffee and a fiery omelette. Instead of rushing about, you could talk and laugh and relax and really look forward to your day. And that's one hell of a thing.

Two. Even if your day entirely involves driving, always have a goal at the end of it, or even in the middle of it.

There is no reason why one should have to miss one's favorite television show or rush by some famed landmark when one is road-tripping. Indeed, it will make the drive -- especially if it is a tedious stretch -- go much quicker.

Three. There is no need to be a spendthrift whilst on a road-trip; indeed, part of the fun to it is getting all that you can out of it, while spending as little as possible.

We learned that on our cross-country journey, there was no need to stay at extravagant or even middling hotels; indeed, the Best Western motel guide was very much our friend and loyal companion. (It still is today). Why we stayed at Best Western motels the whole trip became clear as time went on: they were clean, they had a shower, a bed, and a television, and they were surprisingly inexpensive much of the time. That's a hard combination to beat. Save your money for the fun stuff, like a side trip to New York or something.

Four. Plan accordingly. You always want to make sure that you have a place to spend the night, enough gas in the car to make it through Arizona, and enough time to get where you want to go. We can assure you that Dad planned out our trip meticulously and we had no problems along the way. Of course, this does not mean we would plan the big trip TOO far out in advance; God knows the car might give up the ghost in Tulsa or something. But we would give it at least four days' to a week's lead time.

Five. Never set one's eyeglasses down in a spot where your traveling companion can sit on them and break them, causing one much grief and consternation and a furious search for a repair shop in the phone book. Not that it was our fault anyway.

We would add a lesson Six, which we did not learn from our father but which we consider smart anyway. Namely, when driving cross-country, don't pick up any hitch-hikers wearing shabby suits. Even if they are going your way.

Now, we must say that we have given some thought to the logistics of our trip other than merely the time quotient. We do realize that since the trip would put a good 8,000 miles on our car, it would do for us to have a relatively new automobile. We further realize that the trip would require a significant amount of ready cash, just in case the car gave up the ghost in Tulsa. We figure five thousand would be about right, although it could conceivably run even more than that.

Finally, though, there is the question of whether we go with a traveling companion. Our initial assessment is to say No; as one must take into account the question of cabin fever. After all, a man certainly does not want to break up with his girl because of an argument they had in Dubuque; and a man certainly does not want to have a long friendship tested because of a quarrel over who gets to drive through the Petrified Forest.

But on the other hand, we know full well that things could get awfully lonely on those long drives to nowhere, and so we might just chance it. For it is difficult to have a good conversation when one's only companions at breakfast are a cup of coffee and the New Mexico sun.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 09:15 PM | TrackBack

February 01, 2004

This Explains Much, We Think

THE STATES WE HAVE VISITED are in red, whilst the states we have not visited are in olive green.



create your own visited states map
or write about it on the open travel guide

A picture is worth a thousand words ...

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 09:12 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack

January 29, 2004

They Say It's Our Birthday

SO IT IS OUR BIRTHDAY next week. We can assure you that as in years past, we will have a quiet and simple celebration of the day. Indeed, it will be even simpler now that the Coca-Cola Co. Inc. has introduced Diet Coke with Lime, a drink which practically screams "Just Add Rum!"

We are hesitant to mention our age, primarily because doing so prompts jeers from our younger readers and disgust from our older ones. For this latter group of readers, we know that whiny, petulant griping about our age is the last thing they want to read. Indeed, as our father (Mr Kepple) put it, "Think how I feel." So we can assure you that we aren't going to carry on like some angst-ridden musician. This we promise. After all, we're only going to be 28, which in the grand scheme of things is a fine age to be.

Rather, we're going to look at this past year and the years to come. Oh, aye, that's a dangerous game; but it is fun to play, primarily because it gives us a written record to examine in the far-off future. We can assure you, though, that what ever we write here shall almost certainly bear no resemblance to how events actually play out.

For if you had told us eight years ago that we would soon find ourselves living in Los Angeles, we would have laughed at you uproariously. Had you mentioned future New Hampshire residency during our time in southern California, we would have similarly guffawed. So for all we know, despite our grand plans and dreams and hopes, five years' time shall see us living in some Memphis flophouse.

IN ANY EVENT, though, we can say one thing: we are better off than we were one year ago -- better off financially, better off physically, better off in terms of our soul. In some ways, it's hard to believe how well things have gone -- and we must say we feel a bit like Marco Polo in terms of blogging about it: ("I have not told half of what I have seen!") But we can say that all the moments of happiness and despair, excitement and frustration, bliss and misery -- they left us wiser.

And that, we would argue, is the accomplishment here -- we learned quite a lot. Not so much in terms of book-learning, although we have kept active with that; but rather in terms of learning about how life works.

For instance, we fell in love for the first time this past year. We are sorry to say that it did not last; but still, the experience was nothing but good in all respects. To this day we are still a bit dazed by how it all happened, but we would say this: there are few things more wonderful in life than knowing someone else loves you regardless of temporal things; when all the things on paper count for naught. And when this relationship eventually came to naught, we did our best to act with honor, and to act like a man should. By that, we mean that we accepted it, and we were thankful for all the good times along the way.

We also had some professional success as well, or so we thought; just because we felt like we were working like men are supposed to work. All those late nights and work-sleep-work cycles proved nothing but good, we think; not merely for the temporal benefits they provided, but the spiritual ones as well. Yes, there was that sense of laborare est orare, but there was also a sense that with our labor, we were doing right by our family. Perhaps we are not expressing this as well as we ought, but we hope that serves as an adequate distillation.

Finally, though, we would say that over this past year, we grew up a bit. Whether there was one key event that sparked this, we cannot say; but we notice that we've taken an eye to more serious matters as of late. We can assure you we have started taking Our Actual Future into account instead of living for the moment.

Consider: we actively save for our retirement. We regularly do preventive maintenance on our car. We have started taking vitamins and try to get a good rest each night. Hell, we've even started eating breakfast (although, in true Ben Kepple fashion, we're decidedly un-hip about it. It's bad enough we drink Tab; but starting our day with Product 19?).

Of course, on a mental level we are fully prepared for all these things to turn out badly. We are ready to deal with the market crashing and the car catching fire and for Kellogg's to replace Product 19 with some hideous kid-friendly sugar derivative touted by one or more talking birds with Serious Freakin' Issues. But even if all these things came to pass, we could rest easy knowing we have had a hell of a life -- and that the best things are yet to come.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 11:41 PM | TrackBack

January 24, 2004

There's No Accounting for Taste

JOSHUA ELLIS HAS WRITTEN an article examining the concept of like tastes, in which he puts forth a few arguments on the concept, some with more merit than others.

Mr Ellis makes the point that people with like interests will congregate together, which seems a rational observation on American life. He then argues that the Internet has caused this dynamic to change. Now, he says, more people than ever can find others of like mind through blogging. Finally, Mr Ellis charges that this state of affairs is great for content producers, i.e. writers and musicians, but problematic for content distributors, i.e. publishing houses and recording companies. In this vein, Mr Ellis rants about Britney Spears' success.

Mr Ellis writes:

"Ms. Spears has precisely zero talent at anything, except possibly for the hardly-challenging skill of shaking her ass. Her songs are wretched parodies of everything that makes music great and vital. She cannot hold a key without production effects. In effect, she is little more than a Junior League lap dancer with a karaoke backing track.

And yet, she is one of the best-selling pop stars in the world. Why? Because record labels promote the ever-loving hell out of her. It is impossible to walk into a chain record store without seeing her face (or more likely, her ass) plastered up on every surface. MTV plays her videos on an endless loop, because the record labels have created artificial demand for her work.

And yet, the likelihood is that Ms. Spears herself is making most of her money not from record sales, but from merchandise sales t-shirts and handbags and training bras. As profitable as these items may be, they are worthless without the heavy hand of her record label. Without the label's promotional efforts, without the album it distributes around the globe to giggling teenage girls and the videos it gets played on MTV and the singles it pays "promoters" to push on radio stations, a Britney Spears t-shirt would be no more a commodity than a t-shirt with my face on it. If you took the record label out of the equation, Britney Spears really would be nothing more than a Junior League lap dancer with a karaoke backing track. She would certainly not become successful on the merits of her music, because it has none."

You know such criticism is over the top when even we think it is sour grapes.

Regular Rant readers know, of course, that Ms Spears routinely appalls us. One day, we are inadvertently exposed to one of her horrid new songs; on a second, we are bombarded with stories about her quickie marriage; on a third, we learn about something particularly idiotic she has said, such as claiming she wasn't a role model. However, we think the sick Hollywood culture contributes to these happenings; and for us to agree with Mr Ellis' argument in this regard would be foolish.

We mean, really. The record companies are promoting their musicians? Gad! The nerve these people have! To think that these otherwise fine corporations would actually attempt to make money!

The truly funny part about the whole thing is that Mr Ellis has bought into the trap. After all, in criticizing her so harshly, he merely adds to the publicity that she receives (hey, it prompted us to write about it). His argument would have been stronger had he simply criticized the music business in general.

Oh, and we love the argument about "artificial demand" too. We could see such an argument applied if the situation involved a rumored (or contrived) shortage in oil or bauxite; for buyers would drive up the price of such goods on those rumors (and sell on the news). But the idea of artificial demand in the music business does not apply -- at least not to compact disc sales. There, the demand is very real; even we cannot deny that millions of people really want Ms Spears' albums. And since the cost-per-disc of producing a compact disc falls the more one produces of any particular issue, Mr Ellis' argument is just not sound on an economic basis.

In that vein, we also can't agree with Mr Ellis' argument that Ms Spears has no talents at all. Aside from the singing and prancing about on stage bit, she clearly she has a talent for separating Americans from their hard-earned money, and in our capitalist society that counts for quite a lot.

Had Mr Ellis applauded Ms Spears for this instead of criticizing her, that would have helped us buy into his schtick. But he did not, and as such we find his arguments greatly diminished. For in attacking the success of one particular segment of music, he undermines the essence of his own argument: that in this world, there's no accounting for taste.

(Via Dean Esmay)

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 11:11 AM | Comments (3) | TrackBack

January 15, 2004

Wisconsin Case May Herald End of Decent Society

BACK IN THE EARLY NINETIES, when we were but an out-of-sorts high school student growing up in a small Midwestern city, we sometimes made the common mistake of considering something cool when it was merely outside of our normal experience. Thus it was that we would occasionally watch "Catastrophe!", a particularly bad 1977 disaster film, with some of our friends.

How bad is the film? Well, consider that William Conrad (of "Jake and the Fatman" fame) is the narrator. Consider that all it contains is footage of such events as the infamous 1974 Xenia Tornado and 1969's Hurricane Camille. Consider that it contains some real howlers for lines, such as: "Auto racing: America's #1 sport!" Yep. It is that bad.

Anyway, because this movie was made in the Seventies, it will be no surprise to know it ended with a screed against the nuclear power industry. If we remember right, viewers were informed that -- despite the presence of a massive fault line underneath -- Actual Nuclear Power Stations operated in the general area of Northern California. Hence, the film argued, it was only a matter of time before a tremendous earthquake leveled the area, and spilled our precious nuclear fuel into the environment. Our civilization, Mr Conrad warned, could end "not with a bang, but with a whimper."

Well, as it turned out, Mr Conrad wasn't just whistling Dixie.

For we have learned of an incident so small that it could be considered a whimper on the news cycles; yet we believe it heralds trouble for decent society in the United States. But don't take our word for it. Let's turn to the Fond du Lac (Wisc.) Reporter for more details:

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Cable TV made a West Bend man addicted to TV, caused his wife to be overweight and his kids to be lazy, he says. And hes threatening to sue the cable company.

Timothy Dumouchel of West Bend wants $5,000 or three computers, and a lifetime supply of free Internet service from Charter Communications to settle what he says will be a small claims suit.

Dumouchel blames Charter for his TV addiction, his wifes 50-pound weight gain and his childrens being lazy channel surfers, according to a Fond du Lac police report.

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We'll let that sink in for a bit before we continue. Besides, we're out of drink and are saving our leftover pain medicines for special occasions; so we personally need to give it some time ---

(Typesetter's note: at this point, the two minutes immediately following were redacted from the finished transcript on the request of Mr Kepple. At the two minute one second mark, it picks up as follows).

-- FRICKING KIDDING. GOD ALMIGHTY, IS NOTH -- oh! you're still here. Um. Hi! Anyway, back to this fellow in West Bend, Wisc. We will be charitable, and say only that we believe he is not the sharpest nail in the drawer.

It's not simply that he blamed the cable company for the problems in his life. It's not just that, according to the story, the fellow's alleged actions at an earlier date got the police involved in the matter. It is that he has further alleged openly that his children are indolent and his wife is overweight. This, as the saying goes, was dumb. For it is hence very likely that none of them are all that happy about being described as such not only in "the paper," but to urbi et orbi.

Of course, the story gets better. From the Reporter:

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Charter employees called police to the local office at 165 Knights Way the evening of Dec. 23 after Dumouchel showed up with a small claims complaint, reportedly intimidated an employee and made low-level threats to employees safety, according to a police report.

The report states Dumouchel gave an employee five minutes to get a supervisor to talk to him or their next contact would be in the ocean with the sharks.

According to the report, Dumouchel told Charter employees he plans to sue because his cable connection remained intact four years after he tried to get it canceled.

The result was that he and his family got free cable from August of 1999 to Dec. 23, 2003.

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There are no words in human speech which can convey our reaction to that. Well, there are, but let's just say things are still sinking in. Hence, we shall again turn to the Reporter:

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I believe that the reason I smoke and drink every day and my wife is overweight is because we watched TV every day for the last four years, Dumouchel stated in a written complaint against the company, included in a Fond du Lac police report.

But the reason I am suing Charter is they did not let me make a decision as to what was best for myself and my family and (they have been) keeping cable (coming) into my home for four years after I asked them to turn it off.

According to the police report, Dumouchel called Charter to stop his cable service in August of 1999 and was taken off the billing but not the cable service.

In a written statement, he said he put the family TV in the basement in 1999 after he had called to get cable disconnected, but soon thereafter, his wife had moved it back and hooked up the cable connection, and it still worked.

He stated he made a deal with her that she could watch TV as long as the cable worked.

He then went back to Charter and asked that they disconnect his service, which they reportedly never did.

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Now, we do not argue that this fellow's statement does not have some element of truth to it. After all, if you watched a steady diet of "MTV's Newlyweds" and the Game Show Network, "Manimal" reruns and syndicated episodes of "Jake and the Fatman," you'd have gone to pot faster than Brian Wilson too.

However, millions upon millions of Americans enjoy cable television on a daily basis, and show no such ill effects. This is because they still practice what was once known as personal responsibility. Antiquated though it may seem, this practice could have helped out this fellow and his family. Yet, instead of following this time-honored tradition, this fellow wants to sue instead -- even though there's clearly no civil wrong present, even though he has not exhausted all his options, even though it's bloody insane.

This, we would submit, is the rub. In this case, an everday average citizen has abjured his personal duties to the point of ridiculousness. But not only has he completely refused to accept that his own actions brought about the state in which he now exists, he seeks to blame a wholly innocent party for his own troubles.

What's important is that this case isn't isolated; it seems as if a growing number of people sue someone else as the cause of their problems, instead of looking in the mirror to find the culprit. Perhaps this facet of our modern-day existence may not truly be worthy of inclusion in "Catastrophe!" But it is not something that we think bodes well for life in America either.

(link via Damian Penny)

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 02:29 AM | Comments (1) | TrackBack

January 14, 2004

Colder Than Hell

ACCORDING TO THE LATEST weather reports, the city of Manchester is entering that horrible time we politely call a "deep-freeze." By this, we mean that the temperature has fallen below 32 degrees Fahrenheit/0 Celsius, and will not rise above that point for days if not weeks.

Last year, this was bearable. Then, the temperatures were not particularly extreme; it was simply a very long cold snap that lasted for weeks during the dead of winter. This year, however, things have gotten much worse -- so much so that our only venturing out over the next few days will be for A) essential errands and B) warming up the car.

Tonight, as temperatures hovered around the -1 F/-18 C mark, we know we will be in the thick of it over these next few days. On Thursday night, Manchester -- in southern New Hampshire -- is forecast to see a low of -13 F/-25 C, and that's without the wind. Wind chills are forecast to fall as low as -45 F/-43 C. This is in the city, mind you; a place where the ambient temperature is always a couple of degrees warmer than the surrounding country; and a place that looks tropical compared to destinations farther north.

For instance, Whitefield, N.H., is a few hours' drive north of us. Right now, it is -21 F/-29 C in that town; and windchills there are expected to fall to 55 below. And as for Mount Washington --

Well, you don't want to know. We'll just leave it at that.

We will say this, though. There's a reason we Michiganders call highs of 40 degrees "shorts weather."

RELATED: Sheila O'Malley on Chicago weather.
RELATED: Dean Esmay is getting buried in snow.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 08:33 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack

The End of Poetry

SHEILA O'MALLEY has posted an interesting passage from the poet Brad N. Haas about the import of poetry in this day and age. She lets the argument, the beginning of an article which Mr Haas wrote here, stand for itself.

The quote in question reads as follows. Mr Haas writes:

"The poet in our current time is complacent, maintaining an air of respectability or is the creator of outrageous manifestos -- in either case is benign. In times past poets were leaders and creators of reality; they were respected and entrusted with the keeping of cultural inheritance. Somehow this has changed, and poets now are non-entities for the most part; sure, they are politely applauded by small audiences, they sell a few volumes; they put their private lives on display to make others feel human. But this is all 'culture', a word which now seems to mean, not the whole of society, but entertainment for the few -- dividends received for living in a 'civilized' society. Furthermore, poets generally believe that they are effective, believe they make an impact on society; and who is responsible for this misconception is a great mystery -- some influence outside the poetic community, or worse yet, the poets themselves -- an important question that will not be answered here. This, for us, is the important fact: the poet has somehow been marginalized, and there is no sense that our society would die without the presence of poetry or poets. Perhaps this is the gravest sign of cultural coma."

Interestingly, Mr Haas goes on to examine how another poet dealt with these very same issues; but to our very untrained eye, the poet in question seemed a middling talent, and as such we abandoned reading the essay. Mr Haas' opening statement, though, suffices for our needs. And after mulling his arguments, we would say we agree with him entirely -- except for his last point. For it is not our culture which has become lifeless, but rather poetry itself.

For the majesty of the old epics will never die; the power, the craftmanship inherent in them has ensured their immortality. From the earliest epics (Gilgamesh) through the classical era (Homer, Vergil, Ovid) to medieval times (Dante), the meter and rhythm of poetry has produced some of the loveliest written works of man. Later generations (Milton, Burns, to name a few) kept up the craft, and their work will stir a man's passions today just as much as it did in the years when they walked this earth.

Prose, on the other hand, long held a different position in life: as the language of history and business and tax documents, honorable but also practical. Despite some successes (Petronius Arbiter, The Satyricon) it is only in the past few centuries that prose has truly taken its place as the supreme medium for a writer to do his work. One does not remember the Quixote for Cervantes' ballads within; and perhaps one could say that it was with Cervantes where prose first truly got the attention it deserved from the world.

Now, God knows that reams of bad prose have poured forth from the minds of men since that time. Indeed, we recall perhaps the best criticism of one such effort, from H.L. Mencken. He began his short review with the opening paragraph of a novel, a piece of writing so abysmal it made one gag. After reprinting the paragraph in question, Mr Mencken stopped -- and wrote, "Thus the book begins -- God knows how it ends!"

Still, though, the bad prose has not been overwhelmed by the good; indeed, well-written prose has poured forth from writers since Cervantes, and in such quantities that if one wanted, one could read all one's life without touching upon anything considered sub-par. This is not something one could say about poetry -- and especially poetry today.

Indeed, when the fabulous English writer Anthony Burgess wrote his series of books featuring the irascible poet Julius Enderby, one writer -- we forget who -- noted that a major popular question about the books was that no one could tell if Enderby's poetry was good or bad. And while we readily admit we do not have a natural ear for poetry, we don't think any of today's poets have the skills of Dante, Whitman, Hughes, Owen or Sandberg.

Now, this assumption of ours may be due to a lack of knowledge about modern poetry; as we have said, we don't very much care for it, and don't go out of our way to read it. But what we have read -- from the famous or notorious among today's poets -- is middling at best and miserable at worst. Actually, miserable isn't accurate -- worthless, stinking, useless, smarmy, wretched hideous drivel is a more accurate turn of phrase for the worst of the work churned out by some poets. For it is almost as if those old concepts of beauty and tradition to which the old poets adhered have been lost. One is no longer left speechless in pondering a line as beautiful as music; one is more likely to curse and ponder what in hell does he mean anyway.

As for why this has come about ... well, we can say we think technology has played a part in it. For with the rise of commercial music over the past century, the musicians have intruded upon the poets' natural turf, and thrown them off it most roughly. The musicians can never compete against prose writers, of course; the media are too different, the concepts too dissimilar. But can anyone truly listen to an amazing record or a catchy song these days and say the lyrics therein are not poetry?

Indeed, we would argue the musicians have fought the poets, and won. The former bask in the glory and adulation of the people, making millions as they work; the latter are lucky if they get some critical attention and make a few thousand dollars per annum. Perhaps it would not be a stretch to say that those, who in a different era would have been poets, have opted instead for a six-string guitar. And perhaps poetry is the way it is now because its practitioners are those who couldn't make the switch, or who loved poetry so much they couldn't see the rot which had set in.

As for Mr Haas' secondary argument -- that poets today are complacent and labor under amazing delusions of grandeur -- who knows why that is?

Perhaps this is merely a matter of the soul; something that has simply affected poets more than most. For any creative type -- an actor, a musician, a writer, a poet, a painter, a sculptor or a singer -- can easily fall into such a trap, especially if he gets a bit of success under his belt. It is amusing to see how some of the more famous creative types have become so oblivious to the world's workings that they truly believe they're all that important; and that they matter in the grand scheme.

Now, that's not to say such people aren't important, or that they don't matter in some way. We would not be so foolish as to deny that -- especially in this age!

But what we would submit is that they've made the fatal mistake of believing their own public relations. And when that happens, it's very hard to undo the damage. They no longer have that drive and that passion that forces them to work like the devil; they no longer have the all-consuming thought that what they've accomplished is never, ever good enough. And so they slide -- slowly at first but more rapidly as the years progress -- down into that stinking morass we call mediocrity.

We would submit that many a creative type today has found himself caught in that swamp. Unlike the followers of other disciplines, though, today's poets have largely remained oblivious to that dangerous bog -- the bog which has sucked in so many of their recent predecessors. And so, things continue on -- and the vast majority of poets shall find themselves sucked down to a fate which every creative type fears most.

Namely, obscurity.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 12:16 AM | Comments (9) | TrackBack

January 10, 2004

Impulsive Celebs Prompt Impulse Buys

BEFORE WE BEGIN RANTING ABOUT, we should note the initial incident which prompted us to write did not involve an actual celebrity. No, that would have been too perfect. In reality, it involved a bad disc jockey for a bad radio station to which we listen all too frequently because, for some unexplained reason, Manchester has iffy radio reception and this station comes in clear.

During our errand-running session yesterday (see below), we had mentioned that we were scanning through the channels looking for a decent song. In doing so, we hit upon this station in particular. The disc jockey on the air, presumably someone about our age, relayed that one of the station's interns had called him a "metrosexual." He did not know what this meant. He had not even heard the word before.

This got our attention. After all, someone who is young, far out and with it ought damn well know what a metrosexual is. Furthermore, someone who is young, far out and with it knows that everyone else young, far out and with it is sick to death of the term. If one had been too busy doing something actually important, this lapse of knowledge would be acceptable and understandable. But we're talking about a disc jockey here, folks.

Hence, we concluded this disc jockey was a sub-literate moron who likely hadn't picked up a magazine in years. Further, we were appalled that someone of such limited intellectual acuity could hold such a position. But this did not apparently matter, as he was able to carry on for minutes about both the vigor of his heterosexuality and the importance of primping his hair.

Anyway. We don't know how to entirely explain our reaction, but we think we just kinda lost it right then and there. We officially became Sick and Tired of Dealing with Our Popular Culture.

For we have had it with the constant bombardment of supposed news stories about celebrities' joke weddings, incredibly poor judgment and ... um ... well ... you know. Perhaps we could actually stand it if these celebrities came across as intelligent, but they've had a really bad run at that lately.

And so, cursing that disc jockey and all for which he stands, we drove like a man possessed to our local bookstore. There, in a frenzy of consumer spending which pumped nearly $200 into our local economy, we bought a book on medieval history, a decent folk music album, and the first half of "War and Remembrance." The second half is on order.

Ah. War and Remembrance. Now that's got everything -- an epic backdrop, an amazing story, and fabulous acting. Plus, one never gets distracted because the folks in it had said something in private life so stupid that one couldn't help but remember it when seeing them perform. We're sure folks have their opinions about actors like Robert Mitchum, Jane Seymour and John Rhys-Davies -- but they damn sure knew (or know) the acting came first. If only the rest of our entertainers would hold up to their example.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 11:59 AM | TrackBack

Kepple's Applied Theory of Popular Music

WE WERE LISTENING to our CD collection today -- it is mostly older popular music, with techno, instrumental and some of "today's hits" included to round out the mix -- and we got to thinking about how the quality of popular music Back in the Day compares to popular music now.

Clearly, when it comes to American music, there's some sort of weird inverse relationship between economic and social stability and popular music's quality. Now, we should say we don't think this is a new idea -- we've had so many conversations with our friends and others about this, that we can't believe someone else hasn't noticed this trend. Still, even if it's only for our own benefit, we'd like to "throw it out on the stoop" and "see if the cat licks it up."

Now, earlier in the day, we were out doing some errands; and, as such, were scanning through the radio channels trying to find a decent song. After a long slog through some truly awful rap songs (1) and overproduced popular crapola, we finally found some great music. In about thirty seconds, we transformed from our normal stolid, sober analyst-type persona to -- well, let's just say Gene Wilder in Silver Streak (2) had nothing on us.

That great piece of music was 1967's "Can't Take My Eyes Off of You" -- sung by none other than Frankie -frickin'- Valli, folks.

What is wrong with this picture?

Consider: we are not yet thirty years old; we do enjoy a wide variety of music, particularly music which has a "phat beat" to which we can dance; we are not loathe to accept new artists or new musical styles. Yet the popular music of our growing up -- the music of the late Eighties, the Nineties and today -- can't hold a bloody candle to this Frankie Valli song.

Some might say we are being a bit too harsh. After all, tastes and styles differ over the years; few of our peers or the younger kids have even heard of Frankie Valli, much less this song in particular; and we are a bit eccentric. We can accept all these points of contention, except we would note one thing:

It's not just Frankie Valli who, on a popular music basis, still kicks the collective ass of the younger generation. The Beatles certainly do; so do The Rolling Stones; so do Crosby, Stills & Nash and variants; so do -- hell, let's really throw down the gauntlet. When it comes to popular music, Jefferson Airplane kicks the ass of the younger generation.

It's not merely on a group basis, either. No young popular artist today even comes close to Paul McCartney or John Lennon or George Harrison or Jimi Hendrix. Cass Elliot was a far superior vocalist compared to, say, Christina Aguilera; and Michelle Phillips (3) was too.

"But Bennnnnnnnnn," some younger readers may say. "What about N'Sync? What about The Backstreet Boys? What about O-Town? They've been popular bands!"

Well, the Dave Clark Five was popular too, weren't they?

The Dave Clark Five. You know. The British band with no British fans. Ah! Now you remember! Faintly.

Anyway, here's one VERY IMPORTANT caveat before we continue. We're NOT saying that all music from modern times stinks, all right? Let's be clear on that. The aforementioned pop artists do have some catchy tunes, and in general, there's a lot of fantastic music being performed today.

Sarah McLachlan, for instance, is a fabulous singer and musician; there have been some great bands over the years: Soundgarden, Smashing Pumpkins, etc. But even though they have done/did do very well, and achieved some airtime, there hasn't been that level of popular success that one might have expected, given the success of the Sixties' great bands and performers.

But why is this, we wondered? Well, here's our thinking on the matter.

One can't entirely explain the changes by saying, "Oh, the recording industry's just different today." We are not convinced that it really is. In the Sixties, for instance, the music had as much to do with sex and narcotics and rebellion as it does today. Indeed, as many Baby Boomers enjoy telling us, their children try to rebel -- but they can't hold a damn candle to how the Baby Boomers rebelled back in the day. So here's our theory:

The quality of the most popular music in American society is inversely proportional to the amount of societal and economic stability in the U.S. at any given time. Or, in formulaic terms, MQ = (1/(S+E)).

Let's examine how things have gone throughout various time periods in American history:

ROARING TWENTIES: Despite this decade's economic prosperity, there was clearly a great level of social instability present. After all, drink was outlawed, people were buying everything on margin or credit, and syndicate men were running the cities. Result: great jazz music popular.

GREAT DEPRESSION: Everybody out of work. Runs on the banks. Germany and Japan causing trouble. Result: great swing music popular.

MID-SIXTIES TO EARLY SEVENTIES: Massive societal instability soon combines with major economic recession. Rampant free love and narcotics use encouraged. Participation in protests and things called "be-ins" frequent among people called "yippies." Angry students and faculty take over universities. Massive crime increase. Marked rise of materialism, as opposed to religious belief, as a way of life. Erosion of the family unit. The Vietnam War divides society on one front, while on a second front, backward people still oppose civil rights for all in society. Wage and price controls. The American Motors Corp. introduces the 1967 Rebel Rambler Regional Stationwagon. End result: rock music, folk music, blues music, jazz music -- everything -- is all of top-notch quality during this turbulent period.

MID-TO-LATE SEVENTIES: Society stabilizes due to acceptance (and resignation) regarding socialist policies and economic malaise. Result: the most popular music, disco, generally bites the wax tadpole something fierce. Things do begin to improve, however, when instability rears its head at the 1979 Disco Sucks riot at Comiskey Park in Chicago.

THE EIGHTIES: Economic upswing causes disenchantment among some, as the Eighties' expansion is not as broadly-oriented as that which took place during the Fifties. However, with most of society happy and content, the most popular music is generally grim: sappy songs abound. (Two words: REO Speedwagon).

THE NINETIES: Brief recession makes grunge music all the rage -- and some was quite good -- but long prosperity leads to slate of forgettable and mediocre bands being most popular (Spin Doctors, Hootie and the Blowfish, etc.)

And finally, of course, we have today. America has certainly been through a hell of a lot over the past few years, but we feel pretty confident in saying that as of today, our society remains both socially and economically stable -- perhaps even as much as it was in the late Nineties. We feel it could explain a lot about the present state of music today.

Could, of course. That's the operative word. We haven't, for instance, figured out how Eminem plays into the whole equation ("he's just an outlier!" said our statistician). And as the financial types always say, past performance isn't indicative of future results!

For our generation's sake, we certainly hope not.

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NOTES:

(1) We do not intend this as a blanket criticism of rap music; far from it. We just can't understand why 50 Cent gets all the air time, to say nothing of this latest song about the "milkshake." Gad.

(2) To quote Mr Wilder in his role as George Caldwell, editor of gardening manuals: "GET DOWN! I'M A MACARONI! BWA-DOO-BOP-BOP, BAH-DAH-BOP-BOP-BOP ... oh. Oh, no. It's not what you think ..."

(3) We would suggest that Mrs Phillips -- the other female vocalist in The Mamas and The Papas -- could well be considered the Britney Spears of her day, at least according to the photos of her which we have seen. Gad, we tell ya, we were born too late. (For more on Mrs Phillips and her band, see Matthew Greenwald's "Creeque Alley: The Oral History of The Mamas and The Papas," Cooper Square Press. Mr Greenwald, for his part, says Mrs Phillips would top any female pop performer -- past or present -- in the looks department).

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January 04, 2004

To Mars!

NEAT PICTURES OF THE RED PLANET abound, thanks to the complete and utter success of our exploration rover mission.

We consider this a stunning achievement for our space program, which has had an awfully good week given that its comet fly-by mission has also proven successful. Still, there's a lot more to be done -- specifically, we'd like to see a manned mission to Mars happen by 2020, if not earlier.

It's not just that there are untold worlds in this universe, and there is no reason for mankind to stay stuck on this one. It's not just that a mission to Mars would electrify the nation, and give people hope about the future. It's that space travel is, at its core, about freedom. So let's hope that we have continued successes in these endeavors.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 11:57 PM | TrackBack

January 02, 2004

Hey, Redskins Fans: Consider Yourselves Lucky

WE HAVE BEEN AMUSED to see all the analysis, the shock, the hand-wringing coming from fans of the Washington Redskins football franchise following the resignation of Steve Spurrier, the team's head coach. We are informed that Mr Spurrier's departure throws that squad into crisis, that his potential replacements largely fall short of the mark, and so on.

Now, given Washington's tendency to reach the blissful state of maximum suckage each season, perhaps this is all understandable. However, we have little sympathy for Redskins fans in the matter.

First, Redskins fans knew what they were getting into; that, to borrow a line, following the team would be like getting hit in the head with a crowbar each week.

Second, Mr Spurrier was a lousy coach (7-9 last year, 5-11 this year). Now, arguably, that is an unfair statement to make, but we do not care. We have long detested the University of Florida's football team, which Mr Spurrier coached for many a season, and by extension have long disliked him too.

Third, Redskins fans are largely not acting as they should to the news, by which we mean they are not down on their knees praising Almighty God and His angels and saints for letting this happen. Gad. At least Redskins fans can get rid of lousy team coaches. We here at The Rant must live with ours.

MEET BILL COWHER: Shown here angrily yelling at a player for again failing to reach the Super Bowl, the Pittsburgh Steelers coach last did a decent job with the team in 1997.

For we have long believed that Mr Cowher should be cashiered. We realize that for many Steelers fans, this may be heresy. But we will not forgive Mr Cowher's long support of Kordell Stewart, the erratic former Pittsburgh quarterback known for throwing many Immaculate Interceptions.

Even when everyone else in the United States knew that Mr Stewart should have been benched, Mr Cowher failed to do so. And because Mr Stewart's ineptitude was not as well known in the late Nineties, Mr Cowher could have gotten a great deal had he traded Mr Stewart then. Instead, the team ended up releasing Mr Stewart, who went on to do a lousy job for the Chicago Bears.

Of course, we write these words knowing that Mr Cowher will never be sacked. This is not how things are done in Iron City. But we do hope that if things do not improve over this year's abysmal performance, Mr Cowher finds it in his heart to retire soon. For nothing -- nothing -- must be allowed to stand in the way of Pittsburgh winning "one for the thumb."

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December 31, 2003

Short Notes on Culture, Language, &c.

WE OUGHT CLOSE THIS YEAR with a rather light-hearted yet serious post, and we found the inspiration for it over at Sheila O'Malley's site. Ms O'Malley, you see, has directed her readers to a particular site explaining the behavioral traits of Rhode Islanders.

We found this site particularly interesting, because it confirmed our inner belief that after close to three years living in New Hampshire, we are starting to learn a bit about how New England works. Indeed, we did know what coffee syrup was, we know what quahogs are, and we know what "ProJo" stands for (but never mind that).

Now, hailing as we do from the Rust Belt, we realize that folks Out West may not realize why this is so significant. After all, most Midwesterners consider "New England" synonymous with "Massachusetts." We realize that will appall many of our friends from New England, but it's true. However, we can assure our readers that in our years here, we have learned that this is very much not the case. Indeed, we don't merely value the differences inherent in each state's culture and ethics, we cherish them.

There's a lot we have yet to learn about the other New England states, true; and we will admit we still don't understand certain things, such as why people from Massachusetts are really, really bad drivers. But we have seen a lot of New Hampshire over the past few years, and we can say that on the whole, it is a very, very good place to live.

One final point: we found the comments about language very interesting as well. While we know few readers have actually heard us speak, we can assure you that we have pretty much* erased any trace of an accent from our voice: it is as Standard American as one can get. However, what we have not lost are all the words and phrases we have picked up along the way.

So I-93, a highway, is rendered as "the 93" or "the freeway"; we sit not on a sofa, but a "davenport;" we drink not pop but "soda," we don't have cravings, we're instead "jonesing;" we refer to all bad traffic accidents as "Sig Alerts," and so on and so forth. This may be why our speech comes off as incomprehensible to most people; but hey. Life needs a bit of variety.

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* While likely difficult to notice, we tend to think we retain a minor part of a Western Pennsylvanian accent, as our family is from there. We have found, to our surprise, that we can place a Pittsburgh-area accent despite infrequent visits to the area.

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December 25, 2003

Fa-La-Frickin'-La (Our Temporally-Oriented Christmas Entry)

WE CAN ASSURE OUR READERS that we spent this Christmas Day in the time-honored tradition of bachelors everywhere: namely, we slept in late, we went out for dinner, and we went to the cinema, where we watched a relatively decent film. It was not how we would have preferred to spend the holiday, but it did suffice.

"GAD!", PERSONIFIED: In this still image from the 1983 film "A Christmas Story," Darren McGavin carries himself in a manner astonishingly similar to how we looked and acted immediately after waking up today.

We had originally planned to spend the day at home, on the assumption that practically nothing would be open on the holiday. However, after arising at the sinful hour of 12:30 p.m., we decided that we would at least decide to make a day of it. So after a few hours on-line, we got ready and ventured out. And we can assure you that we learned many things this fine day:

* For instance, we learned that even on Christmas Day, people will look at you rather oddly should you forget to comb your hair before going out in public.

* Chinese restaurants, in addition to 24-hour filling stations, perform an important public service to the nation. Targeted tax breaks for these businesses might not be such a bad idea.

* Peking Duck really is all it's cracked up to be. Even though duck meat can be quite fatty, we would argue the combination of hoisin sauce and a lot of vegetables make it quite a healthy dish. Further, since the only carbohydrates come from the pancakes, it would probably fit in with anyone trying to stick with an Atkins Diet. If you can't stand duck meat, go for the chicken variant.

* The waiter at the Chinese restaurant will not chop off the duck's head at tableside; indeed, one will not even get the duck's head. Despite this disappointment, we found our waiter did prepare the dish expertly.

* Movie theatre concession stands offend our sense of ethics. We did not appreciate the clerk's repeated insistence that we purchase a soft-drink larger than the 32 oz. "small" size. Paying $3 was bad enough, but we rationalized this based on market forces. But nothing can justify paying close to $5 for soda, bad CD embedded in the lid or not.

* Speaking of bad, we noticed that the movie theatres around town have replaced their hideous, pre-show slide-style advertisements with hideous, pre-show video advertisements. Now that's unpleasant. With the old advertisements, one could at least ignore them. But it is impossible to ignore packaged pitches for bad movies, bad music, and most of all bad products, when the pitches are as loud as some jet engines.

* Again speaking of bad, we noticed -- couldn't help but notice -- that a couple sitting a few rows in front of us started making out at the show's start, even though the house lights were still on. It wasn't the making-out which bothered us, mind you. What struck as odd was the fact they were making out at a showing of The Last Samurai.

* The Last Samurai was actually a pretty good film, except for a few minor points.

(WARNING: IN THE FOLLOWING, WE SPOIL THE PLOT).

The first point with which we took issue was Tom Cruise, whose acting ability continues to underwhelm us. He was not aided, of course, by an annoying and preachy script that did its best to mock modern life. That was our second big gripe: as a student of history, we were biting our lip watching old-style bushido held up as some pleasant, rustic alternative to the cruel workings of industrial civilization.

This, of course, is pure and unadulterated crap. We are sorry, but we just can't buy into the idea that an oppressed peasantry -- taxed to the hilt by a parasitic warrior class, and whose sole right was to work the land their fathers had -- really had it all that great in pre-Meiji Japan. Further, we nearly gagged at the end, when we saw the actor playing Emperor Meiji proclaim that while modernization was good, so was old-style bushido -- for Japan could not forget its identity or from whence it came. And lo! the Kwantung Army was born!

The battle scenes were very cool, although this was our third point of complaint: for we must say we were amused at the tactical simplicty which the script gave them. Gad. It was as if the Emperor's generals woke up in the morning and said to themselves, "Gee, I'd really like to be cashiered for my own incompetence today."

Watching as a four-star general sent his entire forward force after a fleeing enemy was bad enough -- but to then have thousands of trained men thrown into a panic because of a simple flanking maneuver nearly caused us to knock over our overpriced drink onto the floor.

But still, it was a fun movie and we enjoyed it -- and there were certainly worse things we could have done on Christmas. Like, let's say, nothing at all.

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December 24, 2003

... And on Earth, Peace Among Men

GIVEN THAT THIS IS CHRISTMAS EVE, we naturally recall the words of the heavenly host which so long ago announced Christ's birth: "Glory to God in the highest, and on Earth, peace among men." Unfortunately, because Man has fallen from Grace and has a knack for ruining a good thing, Christmas today does not focus on such a message. Instead, society's preparations for the holiday seem to embody a different Biblical message: "I bring not peace, but the sword!"

OK, so that's a bit over the top. However, the thought did flash through our mind today, twenty minutes after we made the foolish decision to venture out into the muck on Christmas Eve Day. Good Lord. We have never seen our local mall so packed; have never seen traffic there that bad; have never seen so many otherwise-intelligent people driven out of their senses. (And all we wanted was lunch and The Economist!)

At least that's the only rationale of which we could think to explain just WHY so many drivers decided they'd go ahead and BLOCK A FREEWAY OFF-RAMP INTERSECTION. It also, we thought, explained why people were driven to anger upon learning a mall kiosk was out of Britney Spears calendars; explained why people waited until the very last minute to buy their gifts.

But we were heartened to see that despite the crowds and malaise and exhaustion, that people still seemed to have the right idea when it came to the holiday itself. For in the afternoon, as behind its veil of clouds the sun crept lower in the sky, something wonderful happened:

People started going home.

We can assure you that this was not merely a few tired shoppers leaving the establishment; this was a veritable exodus. Hundreds of drivers, forming a line of cars stretching what must have been halfway around the mall in question, patiently waited their turn to leave the grounds. It was the first moment of order, pure and blissful order, that we had seen the entire day. And it was good.

So perhaps our commercialism hasn't screwed up Christmas entirely. Yes, we focus too much on the shopping and the presents and the fourth-quarter numbers and the omnipresent sales which desperate retailers grant the multitudes at this time every year. But when all was said and done, folks still seemed to remember the things that mattered: their family and their friends, the time they would share together this evening, and the small joys of simply going home for a nice long weekend.

And, as midnight approaches tonight, we think they will probably also remember the force behind the Christmas holiday itself. Not St Nicholas, but his Superior.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 05:03 PM | TrackBack

December 22, 2003

And Now, It's Earthquake Season

FIRST THE FIRES, now this. I'm just feeling very thankful that - to the best of my knowledge - everyone I know out in Southern California is all right.

I haven't heard yet from two people I know near Los Angeles, but as there haven't been any reports of real trouble in that part of the state, I am confident that all is well there. However, I did hear from a former colleague of mine who works in San Luis Obispo. He and his family are unhurt. Their house swayed and shook -- it was quite a quake -- but it is still standing and apparently undamaged.

So thank God for that. And Tony -- if by chance you're reading this -- stay safe out there, and best of luck over the next few days.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 08:10 PM | TrackBack

December 21, 2003

An Insult Which Cannot Be Borne

WHILE WE WERE ORIGINALLY PLANNING to resume posting tomorrow, we should note that -- thanks to Sasha Castel -- we have discovered a fine blog about pizza. The problem is that this fine blog unfairly castigates and maligns the Chicago School of Pizzamaking. As such, we are appalled.

Now look. Everyone knows* the best pizza in America is made at Gino's East in Chicago -- the original Gino's East, where there's graffiti all over the place and you'll wait two hours in a blocks-long line to get a table -- that Gino's East. It has been 15 years since we ate there, but we still remember how bloody good it was -- and how one pizza was more than enough for our family of four.

Now this is not to denigrate the New York School. We appreciate the sheer goodness of a proper New York slice -- grease and all. We appreciate that there's some sort of magic to folding the slice and throwing oregano and hot peppers all over it (because there's no flavor in the slice itself, perhaps?) and all that. We further appreciate the fact that New York pizza cannot be made properly outside the greater New York area. As our friend G.T. told us once in a drunken fit, it's the water. So we're fine with that. And -- in all seriousness -- when we have a yen for thin-crust pizza, we agree that New York is the only place to go for it. Especially if the establishment we buy from has a really good sauce and doesn't drown the thing in cheese.

However, we would humbly say that when all is said and done, we prefer our slices to be substantive. Go ahead and denigrate our Midwestern roots, but faugh! we refuse to sit idly by as our beloved Chicago deep dish pizza is unfairly criticized.

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* Yes, we realize those are fighting words.

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December 17, 2003

An Exercise in Gleeful Cruelty

IT IS RARE that we observe the pure essence of human stupidity in its raw, primal form, but we have done so this very evening. You see, thanks to the efforts of folks like Tim Blair and Emily Jones, we have discovered a column from George Monbiot in The Guardian condemning the airplane.

Yes, you read that right.

Now, in normal circumstances, we could stop right there, for clearly this Monbiot fellow is an idiot of the highest degree. Furthermore, as Mr Monbiot is obviously incapable of coming to grips with certain realities of modern life, it would be unseemly for us to rhetorically flay his work.

However, we note that Mr Monbiot has amazingly achieved several academic distinctions, and is involved in several British pressure groups. Further, his argument is so beyond the pale, so miserably stupid, and so base and degenerate it shocks even us -- and we are not easily shocked anymore.

Thus, a compromise. We will confine our criticism to two key paragraphs which we think sum up the sheer lunacy of his argument. They are as follows:

The $1,000 (the Wright brothers) spent on developing their beast is just about the only expenditure on this doom machine that has not been state-assisted. All over the world, the aircraft industry was built by means of government spending. All over the world, it is sustained today through tax breaks and hidden subsidies. Mysteriously exempt from both fuel duty and VAT, airlines in Britain dodge some 10bn of tax a year. The aeroplane, in other words, is still treated by governments as a social good.

This might have something to do with the fact that prime ministers and presidents use it more often than anyone else. Or it might reflect the perennial male obsession with the instruments of control.

Or, Mr Monbiot, it just MIGHT have something to do with the spread of GLOBAL COMMERCE, which RAISES THE LIVING STANDARDS of everyone on God's green Earth -- you dull-witted, progress-hating, neo-Luddite hippie oldthinker.

Gad. It's a true pity that Marshall McLuhan isn't around to rhetorically skewer this stupid get, because McLuhan would be perfect for the job. We think he would be the first to say it's amazing how Monbiot got to teach a class in anything.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 02:42 AM | TrackBack

December 16, 2003

We Have Officially Written Off Seattle

WE HAVE LEARNED THAT the city of Seattle has decided to make recycling mandatory for all city residents and businesses, starting in 2005. Since this was done for no real reason, we at The Rant have officially written Seattle off.

Thus, Seattle joins cities such as Eugene, Ore., Berkeley, Calif., and Burlington, Vt., as places which we consider too weird for right-thinking people to live. While we have no animus towards recycling if it is done on a voluntary or incentive basis -- we grew up in a state where empty soda cans were almost a substitute currency* -- we think a little justification should be given if recycling is going to be imposed.

Now, it is true that forced recycling would cut the city's garbage costs by $2 million per annum. No matter what one's view on the idea, that's at least a good rationale for it. But the main impetus for the move, according to a Seattle Post-Intelligencer report on the matter, is apparently because Seattle is supposed to be an environmentally-conscious city. As such, its citizens are going to be forced to live up to that image whether they like it or not. We find that pathetic.

A sign of how important this is to Seattle is evidenced in the P-I report, which proudly notes that Seattle is a leader in water conservation. With all the rainy days that place has, what the devil's the point?

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* Any Michigan resident knows full well the value of an aluminum soda can, which there is redeemable for 10 cents at any grocery. Indeed, we recall that as college students, we and many other folks would save cases upon cases of soda cans in the event we needed ready cash. It was further deemed decadent and wasteful to throw out soda cans, which might explain why Michigan has the highest rate of aluminum can recycling in America.

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December 12, 2003

Dreaming of the Past

"WHEN I WAS YOUNG I, too, had many dreams. Most of them came to be forgotten, but I see nothing in this to regret. For although recalling the past may make you happy, it may sometimes also make you lonely, and there is no point in clinging in spirit to lonely bygone days. However, my trouble is that I cannot forget completely, and these stories have resulted from what I have been unable to erase from my memory."

-- Lu Hsun, Introduction, Call to Arms.

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LONG AGO, WHEN WE WERE YOUNG, we picked up for the first time a book of Ray Bradbury's stories, and were enchanted from the moment we set eyes on his work. Actually, to be perfectly precise, we were enchanted from the moment we set eyes on the back-cover copy describing his work, which informed us that Mr Bradbury wrote stories of Man's "glorious past" -- and his "dismal future."

As we thumb through a collection of Mr Bradbury's stories this evening, we find that stories of both types are very much in evidence. There are, of course, the stories of small towns and baseball games and endless summers. But there are darker stories as well -- the stories where men fought against their newly-automated life, and sought refuge from cities and worlds ruined by nuclear devastation and leprosy bombs. Indeed, we recall that in one story, Mr Bradbury portrayed a couple who tried to escape into the past itself from a nightmarish future.

They failed, of course. They could not escape the world into which they were born. Perhaps Mr Bradbury's message is that we cannot do so either, no matter how much we try. But, by God, some of us in this life keep on trying anyway.

Now, of course, anyone who has read Mr Bradbury's work in detail knows full well that he is not a fan of Puritanism. Aye, he most certainly is not a fan of those whom he so memorably called the Spoil-Funs, those whom he accused of having mercurochrome for blood, those who would despoil his work in the name of what we now call political correctness.

Sheila O'Malley is not a fan of Puritanism either. Click on the link; read her whole essay; ponder it for a good long time. For if you're like us, it will make you do rather a lot of thinking.

Ms O'Malley writes:

I do believe that there is such a thing as morality, I do believe in a morality that is not subjective and not relative. There is such a thing as Good, and there is such a thing as Bad.

But yearning after the legendary good old days when children respected their parents and families ate dinner together and people went to church and had the "right" values seems foolhardy, ahistorical, and downright simple-minded. People in the 1940s had tormented family lives. You just never heard about it! Parents beat their kids. Girls got pregnant in high school. But nobody talked about it. There was a muzzle over the mess of life. Staring at the past thru rosy "those were the days" goggles seems like a waste of time.

Read Catcher in the Rye. Hell, let's go further back. Read Tess of the D'Urbervilles. Read Wuthering Heights. Read Anna Karenina. Read Oliver Twist. Read The Bible, for God's sake! People behave HEINOUSLY in the Bible, on occasion. There is no utopian past. It does not exist ...

At a later point, she continues:

"So I get very impatient with people who scold me. Who take it upon themselves to scold the entire world. Whose reason for living is to scream at other people, "This world is going to hell in a handbasket!"

Dude, if you'd just stop screaming about that handbasket, then maybe your schedule would clear up a little bit, so that you could actually have some FUN. Why do you care so much about how other people live their lives?

I basically care if people murder people, if people run a crackhouse on my block, I care if people break the law, I care if children are abandoned or abused. But I do not care what music they listen to. I do not care who they have sex with. I do not care if they are married or unmarried. I do not think that it's my business to teach the rest of the world the proper way to live. Plenty of people probably disapprove of MY lifestyle, but that's THEIR problem. ..."

And she finishes with the following:

"Also - as a coda: Little red flags go up in my mind when I hear people say stuff about "these days", or "what'sa mattah with kids today" or "whatever happened to concepts like honor or family?"

Enforced nostalgia. Willful romanticization of the past.

No thanks. I'm not interested."

SO THERE YOU HAVE IT. We should again note that we have merely excerpted certain sections of Ms O'Malley's essay, and we very strongly encourage our readers to look over it in its entirety.

As for our thoughts on the matter, we certainly agree that when it comes to people's personal habits or lifestyles, a good scolding is far less effective in changing them than it used to be.

For as the world has gotten "smaller" with the introduction of new technology, it has also gotten much more disconnected. No longer do people worry about what The Neighbors or Folks Down at the Club think about how they live their lives. Gad, we at The Rant don't even know our neighbors, and we doubt that many people our age have more than a cursory knowledge of what goes on in their neighbors' lives -- or in the lives of the guys or gals they see down at the bar each payday. In short, the old aphorism that honey attracts more flies than vinegar is really appropriate in this day and age.

That said, we do think nostalgia can be a force for good. But before we continue, let us say that we are not taking issue with what Ms O'Malley wrote. She's focusing on scolds, not nostalgia. Besides, we made our complaint the last time, and she was very pleasant about the whole thing, and gave us a nice hyperlink and said some very complimentary things about our work, etc. etc. But we really don't intend to be critical; we're just spelling out our own thoughts on the matter.

Ms O'Malley is right that there were things wrong with the past. We didn't treat everyone equally -- that's a big one right there. We accepted familial violence, a point which Ms O'Malley specifically notes. We didn't talk about issues as thoroughly or as openly as we do today -- although we did talk about them. As C.S. Lewis noted about one such issue:

"They tell you that sex has become a mess because it was hushed up. But for the last twenty years it has not been hushed up. It has been chattered about all day long. Yet it is still in a mess. If hushing it up had been the cause of the trouble, ventilation would have set it right. But I think it is the other way round. I think the human race originally hushed it up because it had become such a mess."

Dr Lewis first spoke those words in the early Forties. But of course it was a different world then; a world where some things were better. That was, for example, notable in the area of familial stability -- in 1940, there were six marriages for every divorce; now, the ratio is two to one. The rate for births out of wedlock was about five percent back then; now such births are a third of the total. On this subject, we don't think it's a bad thing to want to turn back the clock. It may be unattainable, we admit; but we think it's still worth trying to do.

So, how do we as a society do that, and many other things for which we ought strive? We don't do it by being cruel, that's for sure; and that said, please permit us one digression.

Even in this enlightened age we are cruel far too often to those who have made some bad choices, or fallen prey to addiction, or otherwise made a mess of things.

That's not to say we can simply give people pass after pass, or that we can excuse the behavior. At some point we have to let them go; and/or punish them accordingly, if they have done wrong against society. But we can certainly give people second chances if they deserve and want them, and we ought to do so. Furthermore, we can act with compassion and charity -- not only to offer them a helping hand, but to show them that there's a better way to live.

But back to the family stability issue. In this case, we think that if we directed more of our resources -- in every respect -- to promoting the importance of a strong family unit, it would help. And God knows we as a society can't get on our high horse about it. We have to admit to ourselves and those to whom we are reaching out (in this case, teenagers) that we have fallen, we have screwed up, we have made a mess of things -- and we just don't want to see them go through the same troubles we have. Let's leave scolding out of it.

And thus, we return to one key point of Ms O'Malley's argument: that nostalgia, instead of being a useful force in life, can truly become disabling. Instead of dealing with the problems at hand, we focus on the fact that (to kind-of expand on her example) we didn't need no welfare state and everybody pulled his weight and gee! our old LaSalle ran great. Then we go about beating everyone over the head -- look how we deal with smoking and drinking, for instance.

The danger of this tactic, of course, is that it lets nostalgia for the past cloud the reality of the present. And again, we shall have Mr Bradbury enter the picture, for he once wrote a good story about that literally happening.

The spacefarers he wrote about had arrived on Mars one day to find that everything -- everything -- was just like their childhoods back on Earth. Their old friends and family were all there, and the town in which they landed was very much like their old hometowns. It all seemed odd, but no one really paid attention -- until that night, when the leader of that third expedition to Mars finally figured out it was all a ruse:

"Captain John Black broke and ran across the room. He screamed. He screamed twice. He never reached the door."

We very much appreciate the need to remember the past. But even as we appreciate and respect how things were, let's make sure that we can get to the door of the future -- and that we open it!

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 01:44 AM | Comments (1) | TrackBack

December 10, 2003

One Song Gets Played, They All Get Played!

WE WISH TO REGISTER A COMPLAINT about some of the radio stations here in Southern New Hampshire. A full three out of six preset stations on our automobile's FM dial have decided to play Christmas carols on a twenty-four hour basis. This apparent national trend was cute for about the first week after Thanksgiving, but we're starting to get sick of it.

Well, we are sick of it. We'll admit that.

OK, fine. We're now so bloody sick of Christmas music that we get visibly ill whenever we hear some cheap, commercialized, overproduced crap masquerading as a tribute to that holy day.

Now, we do our best to contain our body's horrible, involuntary physical reactions when we hear these Very Special Songs. But we know that, thanks to certain songs, we will one day cause panic when we vomit all over our car's windshield during rush hour traffic. That would be a mild reaction, too -- the type of thing we'd expect if we were inadvertently exposed to yet another bad rendition of "Winter Wonderland" or "Feliz Navidad." And we can assure you that if we hear that frickin' Chipmunks song one more time, we're going to have ourselves forcibly sedated.

And we don't even want to think of our reaction if we hear Paul McCartney's "Wonderful Christmas Time" again. You know the song -- the really bad mid-Seventies cheesy-synthesizer version. The last time we heard it, it got stuck in our head for three hours. Have you any idea what kind of mental torture that was?

The choir of children sing their song
Ding dong, ding dong
Ding dong, ding Ohhhh
Ohhhhhhh

Three hours, we tell you. Three -- hours!

And it gets worse! We are reliably informed that somewhere out in radioland, disc jockeys have in their possession copies of a Christmas album from Destiny's Child.

Now, we can assure readers that we actually like a lot of that band's music. "Survivor," for instance, is a very catchy song. However, in the interest of research, we decided to listen to one song from their Christmas album. That experience leads us to believe that if we listened to that album in its entirety, we would most certainly get in the spirit of Christmas. If, that is, the true spirit of Christmas involved suffering congestive heart failure.

But we do not mean to single out Destiny's Child -- there are a lot of pop music types doing Christmas remakes, and they all seem similarly miserable. We even heard a rumor that N*SYNC had done some Christmas remakes. However, we know there's no truth to that at all. After all, had they done so, it would have signaled the coming of the Apocalypse.

Despite our complaints, though, rest assured that the radio stations haven't been able to ruin Christmas music entirely for us. We still very much enjoy classic renditions of the old standards -- O Holy Night, We Three Kings of Orient Are, I'll Be Home for Christmas. And no one -- not even Destiny's Child -- could ruin the Carol of the Bells, which we consider the greatest and the best Christmas carol of all.

They got pretty close, though.

----
(link via Allison, who is similarly sick of the constant Christmas music)

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December 05, 2003

That Old-Time Morality v. the New Cultural Reality

SHEILA O'MALLEY has written a quite fascinating essay examining what one might call the social outlook of old-fashioned traditionalists like us here at The Rant. Given the nature of the essay, it is perhaps inevitable that there are political overtones to it; but as we see it, such overtones should be considered ultimately superfluous to the deeper questions which Ms O'Malley addresses.

Those deeper questions deal with the very bedrock upon which our society is built: whether we can return to our glorious post-war past; what the impact of societal change will be; how we react to art and deal with human sexuality; and the role of Government vis-a-vis the individual. At their core, such things are not partisan issues.

They are, however, extremely important issues. For if certain points of view carry the day, it may very well mean fundamental changes in how America operates as a society. Undoubtedly, some of these changes would be very much for the best; but many of them might not be. As such, the wheat must be separated from the chaff.

That said, we find it unfortunate that Ms O'Malley paints traditionalists with such a wide brush in her essay. The end result is a skewed portrait, we think, of the traditionalist mindset. But let us present her arguments, for she deserves to have them presented in her own voice. We would also strongly encourage readers to read her essay in its entirety.

In any event -- Ms O'Malley writes:

I do not think there is a past which is so glorious that we should "go back to it". The very concept of "going back" is so ... anti-reality ... that I cannot get behind it, and I cannot countenance it.

If you're a human being, if you are connected to yourself as a part of the human race, then you know, in your heart, that you can never "go back". There is no "back there". You cannot halt change. And wanting to halt change - on a political level, or on a human level - is a sign of dysfunction. Sorry, but it is. It's like an 80 year old woman, wearing deep purple lipstick, dressing in skintight clothes, trying to pick up 24 year old boys. I mean, God bless her for trying! But she has not halted the clock - she cannot halt the clock no matter what she does - she is still 80 years old. You cannot go back in time.

I have a friend who constantly romanticizes what it was to be a child, or a teenager ... "Wouldn't it be great to go back to such a simpler time?"

To my view, she is ignoring huge chunks of reality in order to say that. I say to her, "I don't know ... In retrospect I may be able to laugh at what I thought was tragic when I was 7 years old, or 14 years old ... but at the time, while I was in it, I remember feeling all KINDS of emotions, not just happy ones. I remember feeling insecure, unhappy, scared, intimidated ... I don't want to 'go back' to that time ... because it wasn't all good."

We think this is a particularly acute point, because it is certainly true that not only can one not return to the Good Old Days, the Good Old Days were not as good as we remember them. It is human nature to excise the bad when thinking of the good.

But do traditionalists really want to go back to the halcyon days of old? No more than we would want to permanently move to Maui or St. Martin or some other vacation destination. They are wonderful places to visit, of course, but one would probably not want to live there; it's not home. Even back in the Good Old Days, a fellow named Rod Serling made some quality television examining how folks then wanted to go back to what they considered the Good Old Days.

That said, it is foolish to throw the baby out with the bathwater. For we have lost sight of so many good things that our old society had in plenty: a greater reverence for religion; greater clarity in terms of defining right and wrong; a greater willingness to accept personal responsibility. We have not lost sight of those things entirely, of course; but things have changed. There is no denying that.

To fervently hope that we, as a society, take the good things from the past and really apply them to the future should not be considered foolishness. It should rather be considered thoughtful. And, as we have no doubt that folks who do not think like us in many respects would hold a similar mindset, why is it legitimate for them but not for us?

But Ms O'Malley continues:

Here's a quote from the article I link to above: "Conservatives once defined themselves as standing athwart history yelling Stop! This antiquated thinking doesnt suit (if it ever did) young generations who see the future as promising more freedom, more prosperity, and more potential. We dont want to freeze progress; we want to unbridle it. " ...

... That's why people like me, people not so easily classified, people who think artists should have the freedom to express themselves however the hell they want to, and then let the PUBLIC decide whether or not they like it, people who love art, and culture, and who live on the fringes of normal society, want absolutely NOTHING to do with the social conservatives who try to push this conservative agenda.

Left unsaid in the quote Ms O'Malley references is a particular time element. The quote in question comes from none other than William F. Buckley Jr, who was writing in the Fifties. An examination of the near-collapse of traditional culture during the late Sixties and Seventies shows that this was by no means an unreasonable position for Mr Buckley to hold.

Today, of course, we as a society are in the opposite position we were then. No one in American life today still seriously believes in many of the tenets held dear during what Heinlein called the Crazy Years. No one still thinks Communism is a good idea; no one thinks fondly of wage and price controls and fuel rationing and pleather and the unlimited welfare state. Everyone in authority considers these ideas as outdated as leaded gasoline. We all may have different ideas of what progress entails and how to proceed in future. But, as we said above, those differences are irrelevant to the topic at hand. What we can say is that as a society, we've moved on from that particular way of thinking.

But then we have Ms O'Malley's paragraph.

We were not under the impression that we here at The Rant, traditionalists though we are, were openly hostile to the arts and modern culture. Indeed, we can assure Ms O'Malley that we are appreciate of both things. We enjoy modern music, even going so far as to enjoy rap music.

That admission may very well cost us our membership down at the Old Fashioned Club, but we do recognize the talent embodied in the music of Eminem, and also musicians such as Dr Dre and the late Tupac Shakur. Really. (We think a lot of rap music is patently miserable too, but that is simply because much of it is incompetent rambling, solely dedicated to glorifying irresponsible sexual practices and the feckless purchase of designer goods and other depreciable assets).

In any event, we would argue that liking such music is not incompatible with the shizzle our nizzle dribble down in VA. Word.

But let us move on. After a bit, Ms O'Malley continues on about the subject of art. At one point, she admonishes traditionalists to not confuse propaganda with good art. That is a fair enough point, but our question is this: is art for art's sake always a truly good thing?

For there is rather a lot of bad art out there -- puerile, blasphemous, wretched stuff in every medium of the field. We do not disagree, obviously, with the idea that artists as a class should be allowed to "express" themselves -- even if some would probably be better served by a lot of intensive technical training in their fields. But shouldn't we value good art over bad?

Are we traditionalists supposed to clap and cheer just because some third-rate hack happens to find art in -- for instance -- throwing dung on a representation of the Virgin Mary? Are we supposed to acquiesce in silence if we do not care for something patently offensive? It is one thing if an artist puts such art on private display, but must we as a society give acclaim and backing in our museums to art that is no more than worthless juvenalia?

Finally, we would note that at the end of Ms O'Malley's article, she writes a few blanket generalizations; things that we find astounding taken at their face value. For instance, the ideas that traditionalists are against a clean environment and against the works of Madeline L'Engle --

Now that's frustrating. It really is. And we're just going to leave it at that.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 12:07 AM | TrackBack

November 30, 2003

Quick Thanksgiving Report

SOLON, Ohio -- WE ARE QUITE PLEASED to report this evening that we managed to lose a full eight pounds over the Thanksgiving holiday. We can assure you that, according to the electronic scale which Mr and Mrs Kepple have in their bath, our weight fell from 237 to 229 pounds in the span of about fifty-six hours.

Of course, we were awfully sick during the holiday. For we did have a fever that spiked at 102 degrees, and we largely did nothing but lie listlessly on the sofa as we watched football and movies with our folks. Still, we can't help wonder whether the simple act of going home enlightened our spirits and rejuvenated our being.

For despite our illness, it was absolutely wonderful to be home, even if it was for just three days. It was nice to see our family again, and to share a meal, and to spend time just doing nothing. It was wonderful to watch the news and talk about politics and the economy and everything else. After being gone for so very long, the three days at home made us really appreciate all our blessings in life, and to feel very thankful for everything that we have. Now that all is said and done, we feel pretty good physically, and fantastic mentally.

There is much more we could write -- and we will do so, soon -- but for now, that should serve in terms of an early report. Here's hoping that you too had a great Thanksgiving, and that you were able to spend it with your family and friends. And if for some reason you weren't -- you were working, or you were on duty, or you were serving our nation overseas -- please know that here at The Rant, we very much appreciate the sacrifices that you've made. We also very much hope that when the next Thanksgiving rolls around, you'll have the chance to spend the holiday just as we did this year.

Minus the fever, of course!

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November 24, 2003

That's Right -- HAIL to the Victors!

"It doesn't matter where we go,'' Larry Stevens said before walking into Michigan's boisterous locker room. "We beat Ohio State!''

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November 21, 2003

Homeward Bound!

FOR THE FIRST TIME IN SIX YEARS, I shall be at home next week celebrating the Thanksgiving holiday.

Six years! My God! How I have missed it!

How I have missed all the holidays for which I haven't been home over the years -- the Christmas Eves on which I returned to a dark apartment; the sterile and cookout-less Independence Days, the quiet New Year's Eves spent with a bottle of gin.

It all couldn't be helped, of course. Like nearly all Americans, I must toil for my daily bread; and when work called, I had to follow, whether it took me to sunny California or cold New England. Further, I knew what I was getting into when I took those positions, and I cannot complain. But I can thank all those who have helped make those holidays brighter, whether it was inviting me to a Christmas Eve party or bringing me a plate of turkey on Thanksgiving. They were acts of kindness which I shall always appreciate.

This year, though, it will be so very nice to go back home; to walk in from the cold and damp into the warmth and light of family and great home cooking and good conversation and all the rest of it.

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THANKSGIVING, I think, is one of those holidays which are not fully appreciated until one is an adult.

Most children, if I had to hazard a guess, likely view the day as a bit of a wash. Spending time with family from whom they are not far enough away to really miss, ending up at a wobbly kiddie table with their siblings and cousins, and then watching the Detroit Lions play football -- all of these are experiences which kids are probably too young to appreciate.

For adults, though, it is an entirely different matter. We're old enough to realize how important -- and how nice -- it is to see one's family again; and to really appreciate the meal that was cooked; and all the rest of it. We are old enough to be truly grateful for the traditions which have been passed down through family history.

In my memory, those family traditions are more centered around Christmas and New Year's than Thanksgiving; although I must say I think my memory is clouded because, as a child, I looked forward to Christmas more. It wasn't just because the days were shorter and the weather was worse; there just seemed to be more time to really celebrate the holiday. I guess you could also say there was more of a run-up to the day itself. Besides, I have never been super-enthusiastic about Thanksgiving turkey* -- quelle horreur! -- even if I do very much like the side dishes.

You should know that when it comes to Christmas Eve celebrations, you can always count on a few things at the Kepple house. There will be jumbo shrimp cocktails and the blue cheese dip and pretzels served during the evening, along with a pretty fabulous buffet-style meal; there will be wine and sparkling grape juice and other drinks served; there will be family movie watching, and there will be at least one (1) gift exchange, perhaps more if we can convince my parents (Mr & Mrs Kepple). When I was much younger, my father would add in certain flourishes, such as sneaking outside in the dead of night to ring sleigh bells for a good ten minutes. Soon after, my brother and I would fall asleep, knowing full well that St. Nicholas was well on his way.

This was the highlight of a rather long run-up to the Christmas holiday, and more often than not we would spend a few days** in western Pennsylvania -- where our family's roots are -- with our extended family. I particularly enjoyed that as a child, as it usually meant a really fabulous holiday meal, to say nothing of the annual Kepple ping-pong tournament in the basement of my grandmother's home. I should note that this tourney was sometimes held around Thanksgiving, but no matter the holiday, Dad usually won the trophy -- and there was a trophy.

New Year's Day, meanwhile, is ushered in with the traditional dinner of pork chops and sauerkraut. This is for good luck. Given the way that 2003 largely went, you can be damn sure I'm going to eat that all day this time around. (Mother: please e-mail me the recipe).

Still, that's not to say at all that Thanksgiving was discounted; not in the least. It very much was and is a time of family. There were many glorious dinners with relatives from far and near, both at home in Michigan and in Pennsylvania. Those reunions and those family dinners mean as much to me now as the Christmas celebrations did, and time has made me value Thanksgiving much more than I had in the past.

And this year, I am very much looking forward to walking through the door on Thanksgiving morning and smelling a cooking turkey, and seeing my family again for the first time in almost six months. I am very much looking forward to the cranberry sauce and the green-bean casserole and the potatoes -- and especially the twenty-five pound turkey which Mother has undoubtedly bought!

For a very short while, I will get to come in from the cold.

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* Don't worry. This will not come as a great shock to anyone in the Kepple household, although everyone else likes turkey much more than me. Further, as a gentleman, I can assure you that I *do* eat the turkey without complaint and I *do* like it, it's just not my favorite thing. Furthermore, I most certainly *do not* attempt to have it substituted with some un-American turkey substitute. However, I will say I am psyched about having a "Terducken" for Thanksgiving when I have a family of my own. That should make everyone happy.

** Not only would we spend a few days in Pennsylvania, we'd spend a couple of days traveling for the trip. It was eight hours from our home in western Michigan to see our family, and boy! those were some crazy trips. Horrible snow, white-out conditions, frozen car doors and windows ... it really was unbelievable some years.

That said, if any of you are making a similar trip and there's a bad storm out, stop over at Clay's Family Restaurant in Fremont, Ind. It's right off I-69, near the Indiana-Michigan line. Haven't been there in more than a decade, but the food was always pretty good.

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November 20, 2003

Misery, Delayed

WE HAVE JUST REALIZED that despite the fact Thanksgiving is but just one week away, we remain free of hideous snow here in lovely Manchester. Oh, how sweet it is.

For this is how winter is supposed to be. By rights, snow is acceptable in limited amounts from Thanksgiving until Christmas, with the inevitable deluge tolerated for a six-week period between Boxing Day and our birthday in February. After this, winter must retreat behind the Arctic Circle until it can return next December.

The amazing thing is that it is certainly looking as if this will be the case. What a God-send it is, too! No cleaning off the car in the morning; no warming up the engine; no cursing our cheap $10 snowbrush that we bought at the gas station because we completely forgot to winterize the Taurus and even worse, forgot our gloves were in the trunk.

So while we are not confident things will stay this good, we can say we are cautiously optimistic winter will stay where it belongs: somewhere else.

We so very much hope.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 08:57 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack

More Quahog for All

THE FAMILY GUY is a well-liked favorite here at The Rant, particularly for that one episode where Peter and the Griffin family go on the lam and head down South, only to create much havoc when they interrupt the re-enactment of Appomattox.

And lo! The good people at 20th Century Fox said, "We may make more."

(via Ben Domenech)

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November 17, 2003

Not Yet A Good Role Model, Either

WE HAVE LEARNED THIS EVENING, by way of Allison Barnes' excellent site, that pop musician Britney Spears considers herself a role model for youth. Ms Barnes, we think, has summed up the matter well: "This I don't dispute. She is a role model, but perhaps not a good one."

Ms Barnes also takes note of the key quote in the Associated Press story which she references:

"In a radio interview to be broadcast Monday, the 21-year-old pop star said parents should not be worried if their children want to copy her.

"I probably have more older fans than the younger ones, but I think the reason why everyone talks about the younger fans so much is because the parents are concerned," Spears was quoted as saying. "And in the end they shouldn't be concerned because they should trust their kids and believe in their kids."

We here at The Rant do not have any children. However, we can assure Ms Spears that we have every intention of trusting and believing in our children when we have them. The only caveat is that they will have had to reach the age of majority. Based on the experiences of our own youth, in which we were sullen and passive-aggressive, we have no intention of trusting our children during their adolescent years.

Now, we fully admit that we may very well trust our eventual children at that time, as there is always the possibility that they will be good as gold. However, despite our best efforts in the matter, we consider this possibility a slim one. As such, we fully intend to be watchful parents. We can further say that if our teenaged daughter(s) were ever to dress like Ms Spears does for her concerts, we would have a Conniption Fit, the likes of which not seen since Senator Kefauver grilled the Mafia:

DAUGHTER (in doorway of study): Hi, Daddy!

ME (typing away at computer): Hello! No.

DAUGHTER: What?

ME: No. Just a pre-emptive thing, really.

DAUGHTER: I haven't even asked you anything yet!

ME: Oh, I know! However, I know that you're going to ask if you can borrow my car. Hence the No. When YOU get older and YOU start paying your own bills and YOU sell a book, YOU can spend the proceeds on an outlandishly-expensive automobile symbolizing your own mid-life crisis. Until then, however, the answer is No.

DAUGHTER: That's not even what I came to talk to you about!

ME: Oh! Carry on.

DAUGHTER: I just wanted to let you know I'm going out with Rick, and ...

ME: Oh, OK. Wait a minute. Who's Rick? Have I met Rick? Is this Rick a Humphrey Bogart-like Rick or an ominous be-mulleted Eighties-era rocker-type Rick?

DAUGHTER: Oh, he's the musician at ...

ME: MUSICIAN?!

DAUGHTER: Daddy, he's ...

ME: He had BEST not have blue hair!

DAUGHTER: ... he's going to be here in fifteen minutes, so you can meet him! He's in a swing band!

ME: Oh, well, that's different then! I always knew you had top choice in the fellows. Now, let's ... (turning away from machine) ... SWEET MERCIFUL GOD ALMIGHTY!

DAUGHTER: What?

ME: What! What do you mean, 'What?' You know very well what -- you're half-dressed for the occasion, that's what! Good God. You're dressing like Britney Spears during a concert, for Heaven's sake!

DAUGHTER: Who?

ME: Never mind. Now, sweetie, you know you ought not dress like that. You and I and your Mother had this discussion already, didn't we? Now that I think of it, we also discussed the importance of choosing high-quality guys with which to date, to say nothing of the safety issues. This musician of yours is undoubtedly a Casanova of dubious chivalric qualities, and ...

DAUGHTER: Rick's parents are writers.

ME: Oh. Well, good Lord! Why didn't you say so before?

And so the story closes, with our future self content knowing that our daughter is going out with the clearly well-mannered scion of fellow writers. Hey, they may be crazy, but at least we'll know where we stand. We also hope that Ms Spears will rest easy knowing that we will trust and believe in our kids. Provided we have an awful lot of verification to go with that.

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November 14, 2003

Cultural Disconnect Dept.

THE BBC REPORTS that Boy George's (nee George O'Dowd) musical , which recently opened in New York, has been "savaged" by American critics. We are not all that displeased about the situation, either.

We can assure our readers that this has nothing to do with Mr O'Dowd. Indeed, we fully admit that we once regularly listened to Culture Club, although we can safely say that we have not done so for nigh on fifteen years. Our complaints with "Taboo" are purely modern-day in reference.

Our first complaint about "Taboo," which is admittedly snarky, is that Rosie O'Donnell brought the show to New York. As we believe Ms O'Donnell to be a mediocre person on her good days and an annoying, insensitive, boorish and classless person on her bad days, we aren't all that saddened to see an enterprise of hers fail. Perhaps this will restore some humility to her bearing; a quality which she desperately needs, if the recent trial over the failure of the magazine bearing her name is any indication. Basically, we do not take kindly to people who browbeat others with those others' health problems.

Our second complaint about "Taboo" is summed up in this quote from the BBC's report on the matter:

The musical, which was penned by George, has been rewritten by US playwright Charles Busch to make it appeal more to US audiences.

Perhaps it is just us, but we are constantly amazed that the people in charge of entertainment in this country apparently think it is necessary to Americanize foreign productions, or even make domestic productions set elsewhere in the world so bloody American. One would think that if an American program were shown in Britain, the British would -- we don't know -- realize that it was an American program and watch accordingly. Why the reverse does not also hold staggers us.

Really, now -- can one imagine watching Monty Python with all sorts of American references? Obviously not.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 10:41 PM | TrackBack

November 09, 2003

The Fat of the Land

DEAN AND ROSEMARY ESMAY have posted some great essays (here and here), respectively on the issues of dieting and obesity. They have written some really thought-provoking stuff on those issues, and how we as a society deal with them. In fact, this issue hits so close to home for us here at The Rant that we are going to refer to ourself in the singular for this entry, from this point forward.

SOCIETY HAS NOT DONE AND DOES NOT DO a good job of dealing with obesity. This is for a variety of reasons. First, we have an unhealthy and materialist view of the ideal human form. Second, we then apply this miscast view to everyone within society, whether or not it ought to be applied towards individuals. Third, we are rather beastly to those who fall short of the ideal which we have set. There are certainly personal factors as well, but I shall deal with those in a bit. Let's look first at the issue of form -- or rather, let's have C.S. Lewis look at it:

"The age of jazz has succeeded the the age of the waltz, and we now teach men to like women whose bodies are scarcely distinguishable from those of boys. Since this is a kind of beauty even more transitory than most, we thus aggravate the female's chronic horror of growing old (with many excellent results) and render her less willing and less able to bear children. And that is not all.

We have engineered a great increase in the license which society allows to the representation of the apparent nude (not the real nude) in art, and its exhibition on the stage or the bathing beach. It is all a fake, of course; the figures in the popular art are falsely drawn; the real women in bathing suits or tights are actually pinched in and propped up to make them appear firmer and smore lender and more boyish than nature allows a full-grown woman to be. Yet at the same time, the modern world is taught to believe that it is being "frank" and "healthy" and getting back to nature. As a result we are more and more directing the desires of men to something which does not exist -- making the role of the eye in sexuality more and more important, and at the same time making the demands more and more impossible. What follows you can easily forecast!"

-- The Screwtape Letters (Letter XX)

Now, Dr Lewis wrote the above bit of diabolical advice -- for that is exactly and literally what it was supposed to be -- back during the Second World War. Since then, of course, things have gotten much worse. Advances in medical technology have made plastic surgery possible, letting millions of people get around the course which nature set out for them. Advances in printing and photography have made it easy to airbrush away any flaws which could otherwise blemish a magazine's cover model. And even though such things are regularly pointed out when one of those models suffers a rare attack of guilt, the society-at-large pays no mind to their impassionated arguments: that even they don't look like their image on the cover of such-and-such a rag. And, therefore, Screwtape's dark prediction has come about with a force that not even he might have imagined.

This unachievable ideal, of course, bears down on everyone within society, whether we want to admit it or not. This is inherently unreasonable, of course; most of us cannot spend four hours a day at the gym, or subsist solely on wheat germ and mashed yeast. Furthermore, all of us are just not going to be really thin, no matter what we do. Yet the farther one is away from the ideal, the more grief one gets from others -- and the more grief they give themselves.

Mrs Esmay wrote about this, and better than I could: but it is true that we don't look at a really heavy person and say to ourselves that it might be due to factors beyond their control. I think this is because most folks don't have weight trouble -- or if they do, they don't see it any differently than how they see their own situation, for right or for wrong. Namely, that they could fix their own personal weight issues if they'd eat less and exercise more.

Now you should know that I am six-foot-four inches tall and about 235 pounds. I'm guessing that about 25 of these 35 extra pounds exist in my paunch, and this bothers me.

That said, it doesn't bother me much. Being me, and hence secure in the knowledge that I rule, I know that my wit, charm, intelligence and quiet confidence (arrogance?) will count for far more than some fitness buff's muscularity any day of the week. But still, once in a while I will look in the mirror, and I wonder why the hell I've let myself go. I think I could fix the problem if I went to the gym, and ate a lot better, and did some weight training, but life tends to get in the way of all these things. Especially in my line of work, which often requires long and irregular hours on the job. (I have, to my credit, started taking a multivitamin each day).

Still, it's not something I fret about or even think about all that much. And it just really bothers me that people are so cruel to others because of weight issues, and it really saddens me when people -- men as well as women -- beat themselves up because of it. It's a wrong formula all around. In the former case, it says something about people who are mean about that type of stuff -- it speaks to their insecurities and their fears and just the state of their soul. In the latter case, I just want in my heart for folks to see just how wonderful and beautiful they are -- that they too rule -- and focus on all the good stuff they've got going for them. Let's face it, as Andy Tobias might have put it were he not writing about finance: there are lots of overly thin people out there, but there aren't that many who can quote the classics or fix cars or make a decent tomato sauce. And while the body image will fade with time, those other things will never go out of style.

One other point: do people really find that overly thin look all that sexy? Maybe it's just me, but Gad! I just find the whole heroin-chic thing a bit disturbing.

Finally -- Dean makes some very interesting points about diet and exercise, and how those affect the seriously or morbidly obese. We ought to remind ourselves that for people with severe weight trouble, there may be some serious issues behind it that have nothing to do with how much they eat.

I have absolutely no evidence to back up what I'm going to say here -- this is just my own thinking -- but I have to think that there's something about our diet that has caused us to collectively get heavier. I don't mean in terms of how many calories we take in, but rather of what those calories consist.

I know that the food I eat is pretty carbohydrate-intensive, even though I have to avoid overdoing carbohydrates because of some medical conditions I have. Sometimes you just can't avoid the things.

I also wonder if all the refined sugar put into our food has something to do with it too. In ancient and medieval times, sugar was a rarity -- honey was about all they regularly had to sweeten things, and even that was often tough to get. Now it seems difficult to avoid the stuff.

Consider: this evening I had a healthy high-protein meal. I had two links of very lean chicken sausage (I know a fellow here in town who makes a point of cutting out all the gristle and much of the fat) and some spinach. Also I had a roll, which I only felt quasi-guilty about because it was very good and it was fresh baked, not some packaged crap. For dessert I had a cup of yogurt, which I had thought would be a healthy alternative to ice cream or chocolate. Oh, how wrong I was.

After I ate my six-ounce yogurt cup (see! I'm being good, really!) I looked at the nutritional label and about choked. Twenty-eight grams of refined sugar this stuff had in it! Second ingredient: sugar; fourth ingredient: high fructose corn syrup! It's as if I had a Snickers bar after that healthy meal. No wonder I'm in such a bad way! Even worse, I bought a bunch of these yogurt cups because they were on sale, which means I'll feel guilty about throwing them out. Dammit.

Yet looking at my own adult life, I have to think that eating all this refined sugar and all these carbohydrates -- which one of my relatives, who is as thin as a European and in far better health than I, refers to as "crap" -- has really done a number on my own personal health. And it's funny how people in other parts of the world -- like, say, Europe -- don't have the same issues with obesity that we do here in America. Who knows? Maybe there is something to it all.

So this week -- and in the coming weeks -- I am going to force myself to eat like a European. Or at least I am going to try. Wish me luck.

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(The title to this entry is the same as that of Michael Fumento's book on the subject. One cannot copyright titles, of course, but I thought I should give credit where credit is due).

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 12:32 AM | Comments (5) | TrackBack

November 07, 2003

Chin UP, Man!

KIM DU TOIT has delivered an epic entry on the subject of manliness, and the relative lack of it which he claims exists in modern-day culture. In short, Mr du Toit argues that men have abandoned their manly virtues -- but lays the blame for that at the feet of a supposed years-long campaign of denigration against the male gender.

While we do agree with some of his points -- particularly those decrying the excessive regulation, aversity to risk, and abdication of personal responsibility which seems to have affected American life -- we do not agree with his knee-jerk argument that a long-standing anti-male campaign is much to blame for it. Rather, we see such changes as indicative of the society of the Sixties and the Seventies, which all people now agree put forward a lot of rather destructive ideas now deemed unworkable. We further find Mr du Toit's essay, while powerfully written and passionate in its appeal, to be a bit much. To our way of thinking, it shows a particular lack of what our father calls mental toughness -- and, as such, is un-manly at its core.

Near the beginning of his essay, Mr du Toit spells out a number of disturbing trends which he argues are asymptomatic of the problem at hand. He writes as follows:

"Now, little boys in grade school are suspended for playing cowboys and Indians, cops and crooks, and all the other familiar variations of "good guy vs. bad guy" that helped them learn, at an early age, what it was like to have decent men hunt you down, because you were a lawbreaker.

Now, men are taught that violence is bad -- that when a thief breaks into your house, or threatens you in the street, that the proper way to deal with this is to "give him what he wants", instead of taking a horsewhip to the rascal or shooting him dead where he stands.

Now, men's fashion includes not a man dressed in a three-piece suit, but a tight sweater worn by a man with breasts.

Now, warning labels are indelibly etched into gun barrels, as though men have somehow forgotten that guns are dangerous things.

Now, men are given Ritalin as little boys, so that their natural aggressiveness, curiosity and restlessness can be controlled, instead of nurtured and directed."

We would not disagree with Mr du Toit that many of these things are unfortunate, particularly the decline of the three-piece suit and the warning labels etched into gun barrels. It is rather dismaying to think that some Americans are both so lawsuit-happy and mentally-deficient they force our society to cater to their stupidity (to say nothing of the conditions which led to that happening).

But we are not convinced that, for example, giving one's wallet to an armed thief is a weak decision. It makes little sense to argue with a man holding a handgun, after all. However, we do note that in the United States, a man is still able to defend his home with lethal force; provided he does not do something so cowardly as to shoot a fleeing burglar in the back.

But Mr du Toit continues:

How did we get to this?

In the first instance, what we have to understand is that America is first and foremost, a culture dominated by one figure: Mother. It wasn't always so: there was a time when it was Father who ruled the home, worked at his job, and voted.

But in the twentieth century, women became more and more involved in the body politic, and in industry, and in the media -- and mostly, this has not been a good thing. When women got the vote, it was inevitable that government was going to become more powerful, more intrusive, and more "protective" (ie. more coddling), because women are hard-wired to treasure security more than uncertainty and danger. It was therefore inevitable that their feminine influence on politics was going to emphasize (lowercase "s") social security.

Well, there you have Mr du Toit's argument. What we find odd, though, is that Mr du Toit fails to draw the natural conclusion of his words: there was a time when it was Father who ruled the home, worked at his job, and voted. Well, today, there are plenty of homes without fathers, plenty of men who refuse to work, and plenty of men who don't go to the polls each November. Women have not even entered the equation yet. So, as such, we find it impossible to hold women responsible for the failings of men: men who abdicated their responsibility to their children, who do not engage in productive labor, either at home or outside it; and who can't even be bothered to take an hour to cast a ballot. Men have only themselves to blame for becoming louts.

In short, Mr du Toit has it entirely backwards.

As for women's participation in industry, politics and the media, we do not see this as bad as all. We find it rather stupid for a society to hold back 50 percent of its potential, much less for reasons which could only be described as nostalgia. We also find it a bit specious to argue that women took American society in a particular direction: for it should be clear that, like men, women do not think in lockstep. It should be clear that both sexes had a hand in things along the way.

Mr du Toit continues:

I am aware of the fury that this statement is going to arouse, and I don't care a fig.

What I care about is the fact that since the beginning of the twentieth century, there has been a concerted campaign to denigrate men, to reduce them to figures of fun, and to render them impotent, figuratively speaking.

I'm going to illustrate this by talking about TV, because TV is a reliable barometer of our culture.

In the 1950s, the TV Dad was seen as the lovable goofball -- perhaps the beginning of the trend -- BUT he was still the one who brought home the bacon, and was the main source of discipline (think of the line: "Wait until your father gets home!").

From that, we went to this: the Cheerios TV ad.

Now, for those who haven't seen this piece of shit, I'm going to go over it, from memory, because it epitomizes everything I hate about the campaign to pussify men. The scene opens at the morning breakfast table, where the two kids are sitting with Dad at the table, while Mom prepares stuff on the kitchen counter. The dialogue goes something like this:

Little girl (note, not little boy): Daddy, why do we eat Cheerios?
Dad: Because they contain fiber, and all sorts of stuff that's good for the heart. I eat it now, because of that.
LG: Did you always eat stuff that was bad for your heart, Daddy?
Dad (humorously): I did, until I met your mother.
Mother (not humorously): Daddy did a lot of stupid things before he met your mother.

Now, every time I see that TV ad, I have to be restrained from shooting the TV with a .45 Colt. If you want a microcosm of how men have become less than men, this is the perfect example.

To argue that such things are part of a concerted campaign to denigrate men is ludicrous. As a writer, we can assure Rant readers that television executives and advertising folks care about one thing, and one thing only: making money with a minimum of fuss.

So it is only natural that as the culture changed, television culture would change along with it. In the Fifties and early Sixties, when the nuclear family was predominant, the television shows would feature ... nuclear families. Now that the old-style nuclear family (Dad works, Mom works at home, 2.3 kids) makes up just 10 percent of the American demographic , it makes less economic sense to feature nuclear families on television when it comes time to cast for a new sitcom. (That's not to say there's not a lot of unfortunate stuff happening with the wasteland of modern American television. We're just not convinced it's an evil plot).

As for the Cheerios ad, why Mr du Toit is so appalled is beyond us. It's a goddamned cereal ad. Get over it already.

Now, Mr du Toit writes on at length, but this condemnation of a frickin' cereal ad is what leads us to the crux of our complaint with Mr du Toit's argument. For it is not merely an argument pointing out things wrong with society, or even a reasoned complaint about where those things go wrong. Rather, it has an element of griping and whining added to it. In fact, it reminds us of that scene in "The Godfather," where Johnny Fontaine breaks down in front of Don Corleone.

At one point, Mr du Toit even said that all the male golfers in a tourney which featured a female golfer should have joined a male colleague in refusing to play. What's up with that? A real man would have accepted the female golfer's challenge, and then done everything he could to have beaten her and every other opponent he had in the tournament.

For crying in one's beer does not remove the challenges put before a man in this life, and neither is manliness about firing weaponry, making crude jokes, or fixing automobiles. Rather, it is about acting with honor and distinction in all things, learning from every situation he encounters, fulfilling his duties to his family, and giving the other fella hell at every possible opportunity. We would humbly suggest that if men across America were to step up to the plate in these and many other areas, they would gain back for the gender a lot of the respect which it has lost over the years.

And, as Mr du Toit recognizes such elements of being a "Real Man," we look forward to him joining us in a call for men in society to step up to the plate like they once did.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 01:30 PM | TrackBack

November 03, 2003

Fear, Loathing at Brandeis

STEPHEN SILVER has been all over a controversy at Brandeis University involving that college's student newspaper, editorial oversight, and what one might term a very, very unfortunate choice of words on the part of one student writer.

The end result is that there's wicked fierce infighting going on down in Waltham, Mass.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 10:45 PM | TrackBack

More Cultural Detritus!

LONG-TIME READERS of The Rant know well our deeply-held belief that Everything Bad in Modern American Life is directly or indirectly related to the Seventies. Well, along with fuel shocks, stagflation, wage-price controls, disco music and pleather, we now have an additional indictment to hand down against that decade:

Really, really hideous album covers.

OK, to be fair, there are a few album covers in there from the Eighties, most noteworthy Devastatin' Dave's "Zip Zap Rap" (we don't want to know), and an oldies record showing young people from the late Fifties engaged in what then passed for uninhibited craziness. But to our eye, there's a lot of LP awfulness either from or influenced by the Bad Decade therein.

(Thanks, Lee, for the heads-up.)

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 10:11 PM | TrackBack

November 01, 2003

Neil Cavuto's Really, Really Bad Day

GAWD. IT WOULD APPEAR NEIL CAVUTO is officially sick and tired of being sick and tired vis-a-vis the failings of America's various service industries.

In what we're guessing is about 800 words, Mr Cavuto expresses anger at his local movie-theatre operator, his physician, a restaurant at which he had a meal, and a major airline. Mr Cavuto is upset because all of these people or institutions brazenly lied to him in terms of the time they would provide their services. Actually, upset does not perhaps do justice to Mr Cavuto's writing. Perhaps a better descriptive would be "histrionics not seen since the days of Spiro Agnew."

We do not personally understand why Mr Cavuto is so upset. Of course the service one receives in America is generally bad -- this is, very simply, a function of market economics and organizational dynamics. Any large bureaucracy usually fails consistently in providing services to clients who are marginal to their bottom lines. With many corporations, this is even built into their business models.

For instance, let's look at the practice of banking. Now, large individual depositors with a banking institution -- say, those with account balances of more than $100,000, or perhaps $250,000 -- may avail themselves of a private banker who will attend to all their needs. The reason for this is simple: as banking laws have become more relaxed, said private bankers can encourage their clients to use the bank for more than just a money-market-based checking account.

On the other hand, the hoi polloi will find themselves lucky to speak with a low-level supervisor when a deposit is misrouted or a check is lost, and may even find themselves being charged for services that were previously regarded as free-by-rights (e.g. a charge to use an actual bank teller).
Indeed, small depositors are often looked on as nuisances, although most financial institutions are smart enough to realize that word-of-mouth complaints about their services are not beneficial.

This is not to say that we rank-and-file types do not have some economic recourse -- we can, of course, choose other service providers if we are so inclined. We here at The Rant also use what we call the Jack Ryan Plan in our dealings with firms whose services we buy. By this, we mean that we act as honorably and decently as we can until the company screws up. When that screw-up happens, we make it our mission in life to gain satisfaction from the offending company. We have found that a combination of polite letter-writing and friendly phone conversations often works wonders. And if that doesn't work, we cheerily inform the other party that it would be very much a shame if we had to pursue litigation or inform Government regulators of their transgressions. Not that we would do such a thing, of course. But even the threat usually does the job -- and did in the one time we had to resort to this tactic*.

Furthermore, we would suggest that Mr Cavuto's reaction is exactly the wrong one at that. The answer is not to get mad about things. The reason for this is because the person with which one is dealing, who most likely does not do as well as the complaintant, will react in a passive-aggressive manner and make it his mission in life to make one's problems even worse**. Rather, there are three right things to do.

First, be pleasant and cordial in all one's dealings; second, strive to do everything you can to solve the problem; and third, always, always take care of the people who help you out around Christmas time.

------
* This situation involved late-mailed hospital invoices, an incompetent medical-services provider, an unhelpful collection agency, and bills that went unpaid for more than a year due to said incompetent medical-services provider, who failed to remit its notices to our insurer. After a session of letter-writing and a phone call, we not only managed to have the problems resolved, some current billings of minor consequence were also written off, in error. So we came out ahead on the deal.

** This is especially helpful in dealing with airlines. We recall one situation in which our syrupy-politeness and general cordiality not only managed to get us a most agreeable new flight arrangement, we were given a first-class upgrade on the second leg of our journey.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 08:52 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack

It's a Dead Man's Party!

WELL, HALLOWEEN'S OVER. Not that we took much notice of the whole thing. Oh, sure, we read a good book and quaffed down a few pumpkin-flavored beers along the way, but when all was said and done we came home and went to straight to bed. It was decidedly unspooky, but since the only bit of black magic we believe in comes once a quarter, we haven't been really excited about Halloween since we were thirteen years old.

In a way, this is rather unfortunate, because we always enjoyed Halloween Back Home Years Ago, as Scorsese put it. Now, looking back at things with an adult mind, we can't understand what the devil we were so excited about -- yeah, the candy was fun, and so was tramping about in the dark, as was staying up late on a school night. Still, even in our sanitized adult existence, we do see one redeeming feature of the day: it was the last day of fun before miserable November. As a child in western Michigan, we knew that once Halloween was done, we would not see the sun for six weeks.

That said, of course, we don't see why some folks are so worked up about Halloween as a supposedly evil influence. We never engaged in toilet-papering anyone's home. Neither did we egg someone's mailbox, nor did we soap folks' windows. The only truly un-Godly thing we did on Halloween was raise money for the United Nations, and that was because we attended a friendly but squishy church as a youth.

Yet there are apparently many folks who believe Halloween is a truly evil night, although we find their assertions weird and unsettling. Thanks to bloggers such as Scott Ward, we are informed of these peculiar arguments. Mr Ward does the yeoman's work of fisking one particular example, which tells the story of some otherwise God-fearing children turned into Satan's minions because Beelzebub's servants on Earth have spiked chocolates with razor blades and narcotics. All ends well when a reformed pagan informs the kiddies' parents of the trouble, and exorcises the budding signs of individuality within the children.

Quite frankly, we think such claims are intellectually dishonest and spiritually ridiculous. First, the anti-Halloween types don't pay any attention to April 30, the German Walpurgisnacht and another traditional day of evil. Secondly, we cannot believe that Lucifer is so stupid he would devise a plan that could be easily foiled by watchful parents. In our house growing up, we got no chocolate until our parents checked every last piece of candy, and confiscated all the Milky Ways as their handling fee. Thirdly, and most importantly, one cannot blame Halloween for societal acedia. Gad.

Now look. Beating up on a holiday because its tenets include A) family fun, and B) great third quarters for the world's chocolate firms, makes absolutely no sense. It also makes no sense to single out Oct. 31 as a supposedly evil day, when one could pick days at random -- let's say Jan. 8 and May 1 and June 12 -- and find a similar amount of evil happening on those days as well. So why exactly a minority of Christians continue in this counter-productive caterwauling is beyond us. We would suggest they lighten up -- or at least follow the very smart advice which Mr Josh Claybourn offers on the subject. If they can't do even those things, then they ought to find another holiday to revile. (We suggest Arbor Day).

No matter which course of action they take, however, we would strongly suggest having a few pumpkin-infused beers along with it. Enough of those will put even the most sour fellow in a festive mood!

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 01:17 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack

October 29, 2003

Random Facts, but Expected Result

SHEILA O'MALLEY has a fabulous post up -- a sort of stream-of-consciousness entry in which she lists a variety of facts about herself, in bullet-point style. It is testament to her skill as a writer that she is able to take such a simple form of expression and turn it into art.

I must also say that I have been remiss in waiting until now to thank Sheila for her very kind and generous words about the work here at The Rant.

Recently, as many Rant readers know, Sheila celebrated her one-year anniversary as a blogger. As part of this, she wrote up a list of bloggers whose sites she reads, and thanked them for doing what they do. I happened to be among those listed, and her words left me feeling not merely surprised -- the post came as a bolt out of the blue -- but also very humbled and certainly very appreciative.

And I will say this, too -- her words could not have come at a better time. It had been a pretty tough week here; one of many tough weeks that I've had throughout this young and cruel century of ours. I have had my high points along the way, and they have been truly wonderful; but the low points have driven me to despair more than once. War and death and uncertainty is not a formula which leads to happiness! But to receive such a compliment, as I did, was quite cheering -- and, as it turned out, a small note of goodness that other life events here in New Hampshire have recently compounded into chords and stanzas of goodness. God willing, they will quickly multiply to a symphony. We shall see, I suppose.

In the meantime, I shall very much look forward to reading more of Sheila's work on her excellent site.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 01:09 AM | Comments (2) | TrackBack

October 23, 2003

Uh oh.

WE ARE LOOKING OUT our main living-room window this morning and we must say we're a bit awestruck. We're not awestruck in a good way, though; rather, we're feeling a bit sick. Sick in that George Jump, "God as my witness, I thought turkeys could fly" way.

You see, there is snow falling in Manchester. On Oct. 23. This violates our long-standing policies on weather, which is that snow is forbidden to appear before the first of November ...

but gee! It is awfully pretty. We wish we had a digital camera; but as we do not, we shall have to describe what we're seeing. Across from our window, the leaves are down on all the trees save one. This last tree, which we think is a sycamore or something, is about 90 percent of the way there; it is a glorious mix of red and orange and yellow and green. The snow, which was coming down heavier earlier this morning but is now relatively light, has covered the leaves on one major branch facing our window. It is an astonishingly pretty thing.

That's not the prettiest thing we have seen today, though! We just went into the spare bedroom we don't use to look out and get a glimpse of the car out in the parking lot. And lo! While snow has covered all the OTHER cars in the lot, our car remains free of any taint of snow. Thank God Almighty!

OK, that's it. We are going to go convalesce and take a LONG winter's nap. See you next week!

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 09:13 AM | Comments (7) | TrackBack

October 21, 2003

Oh, HELL No!

With a predicted high of 43 degrees and a low of 33 degrees Fahrenheit, snow showers are forecast for Manchester tomorrow.

This is very disheartening. We had the stuff before All Saints' Day last year, and the whole miserable season saw us dealing with a massive deluge of ice and slush and snowfall. As such, we are patently appalled at the thought of seeing even one snowflake before the first of November. And if General Winter would be so kind as to hold off his forces until Thanksgiving, we'd be all right with that too. Besides, it's not as if Winter wouldn't have five other months with which to work.

But since the chances of this happening are about nil, we are going to take Pre-emptive Measures. Namely, we're going to get out the fur blankets, stock up on frozen and canned goods, and start an inventory of Casa Ben to find things we can easily chop up for fuel.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 09:22 PM | TrackBack

October 20, 2003

Changing the World, One Shipment at a Time

DEAN ESMAY has published an update on Operation Give, a private effort which an active-duty U.S. soldier on tour in Iraq began to give Iraqi children toys, candy, and other sundry items. It is perhaps no surprise to our historically-minded readers that the program is based on a similar effort done in Germany after the Second World War.

However, back in the old days, they didn't have the Internet.

In the three weeks since the publicity effort got underway, the group has raised $8,000, secured corporate sponsorship, has warehouses in Baltimore and Baghdad, and a corps of volunteers in both the United States and Iraq to assist them with shipping and distribution. Last but certainly not least, hundreds upon hundreds of boxes of goods have been sent to needy Iraqi children.

For a few reasons, we think this is an incredible accomplishment. But we would go even farther and say that it is a world-changing one as well.

For this effort is not simply a testament to the goodness of average Americans, and to their senses of compassion, charity and kindness. Were it solely that, it would be powerful in its own right. But more importantly, Operation Give is winning over the hearts and minds of hundreds -- if not thousands -- of Iraqi children and their families.

The people behind it are not merely creating gratitude and appreciation towards our nation and its men in uniform. They are also offering their hands in friendship to a long-suffering and tired people. We would suggest that their doing so increases the chance that Iraqis will respond in kind. We would further suggest that this will lend support to our rebuilding efforts, and that in turn will help the Iraqi people create a nation which will serve as a beacon of freedom and hope to all who suffer under tyranny.

Therefore, we would submit that we and all Americans owe a debt of thanks to Chief Wiggles, the blogger-soldier behind the effort, and all those who have taken the time and consideration to offer their aid.

May God bless you and your efforts.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 10:03 PM | TrackBack

October 17, 2003

Ain't THAT a Kick in the Head

Show me a man without a dream,
and I'll show you a man that's dead
Real dead ...

Once I had me a dream, but that dream
Got kicked in the head
Dream dead ...

I nearly had me that chauffeur
and that black long limousine
E-O-Eleven ...
E-O-Eleven ...

I nearly had me that penthouse
All them stacks of folding green
Eleven ...
Eleven ...

Some judge is gonna say
I'm putting you away
For four score years and seven --
in the meantime, E-O-leven ...
Eleven...

-- Sammy Davis Jr.

DEAR GOD, IT HURTS. It is the next morning and it still hurts.

Loyal readers know that we here at The Rant are not die-hard baseball fans. In fact, we daresay the past few weeks may have come as somewhat of a surprise, since we are usually only this passionate when it comes to America's greatest game -- professional football.

But over the past few weeks, we found ourselves living in the midst of Red Sox Nation, and we were caught up in the frenzy like everyone else. We gleefully chanted along as the Boston radio stations played the "Yankees Suck!" song (chorus: "Yankees SUCK! Yankees SUCK!") and cheered as Our Boys took on the Evil Empire. We were not expecting to lose last evening. Oh, certainly, we always thought it a possibility -- but after we had built up four runs right off the bat, we hadn't expected it. And we weren't expecting the loss -- in the eleventh inning, for God's sake -- to feel like such a kick in the head.

Yet it did. And while we do not feel that we are experiencing one-hundredth of the pain and agony and disappointment which long-time Red Sox fans, both around New England and the world, must be dealing with -- we can say that on this lonely morning, it feels like we've got cleat marks on our back. It is not a good feeling.

We realize that the gentlemanly thing to do is wish the New York Yankees well on their journey, and hope that they prevail against the Florida Marlins in the World Series. It is ONLY this sense of obligation to a higher moral code that lets us write that. For the Yankees may as well win this next World Series. It would seem wrong to let the fickle fair-weather Floridians take it.

But, quite frankly, we do not care. We are not going to watch the World Series. Nor are we going to write about it. A New York-Florida series holds absolutely no interest for us, and we daresay it will hold no interest for anyone north of Tallahassee or west of the New Jersey-Pennsylvania border. For a New York-Florida series is, at its best, a regional matchup. At worst, it is a series between New York and New Jersey and New York-New Jersey's retirement home. As such, no one outside of those areas will very much care. Why should they?

Nor do we think we will get all that excited about baseball again.

We will say that we gained an appreciation for the strategy and tactics of the game, something that we failed to appreciate before this grim October. We will say that we came to appreciate baseball as an athletic competition. No longer will we look at it, and sneer at its glacially slow pace and its unexplainably-long season and its other oddities. We now realize that it rightfully has a place in the pantheon of American sport.

But Gad! to have to go through last night's experience again and again? We do not know if we could take it. We do not know if we want to resign ourselves to living out years of frustration and disappointment. It may just be too painful a thing to bear.

RELATED: Yankees fans react to their victory in the friendly and sportsmanlike manner to which we've all become accustomed. Meanwhile, Red Sox fans who are emotionally over last night's loss* might want to consider buying one of these.

* Trust us. If you're still aching from last night's game, don't click on the link. Or at least don't blame us for not warning you.

------
NOTICE: I wanted this entry on top all day, so I screwed around with the timing feature. I actually wrote it about 9 a.m.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 11:59 PM | Comments (3) | TrackBack

October 16, 2003

Chicago Man Prevents Armageddon

THIS MAN has saved all of us.

Now, we know what you're thinking. The bespectacled dork pictured above is not worthy of such recognition. Not when he grabbed the foul ball that eventually led the Florida Marlins to overtake the Chicago Cubs -- the Cubs, for God's sake -- in Game Six of the National League's championship series. You're thinking that this unfortunate wretch deserves merely scorn, condemnation and a good dousing in beer and peanut shells!

But friends, I say to you -- this man took one for the human team. Sure, he'll never forget the fact that he set in motion that horrible chain of events on Tuesday night -- but consider the alternative! He has prevented a Cubs - Red Sox World Series, and in doing so has saved the world from Armageddon itself.

Now, this is not a new theory -- indeed, many of our colleagues at work were, on Tuesday, discussing this theory set forth by one Mr Stephen King. But we can assure you that we saw the Signs being laid out before us. For lo! we left work today, and storm clouds DID blot out the sun, and there WAS much wind and rain and a general disturbance in the FORCE. And it DID look like that END SCENE in "Donnie Darko." Also there was an angel flying in midheaven, proclaiming: "Fear God and give Him glory, for the hour of His judgment has come; and worship Him who made Heaven and Earth, the sea and the foundations of water."

We here at The Rant were a bit concerned at all this, for these happenings transpired as the Red Sox had just overtaken the New York Yankees in their own Game Six. The hourglass for The End Times had clearly been set in motion.

But, as our Lord once noted, no man knoweth the day nor the hour. This was apparently just a trial run.

And as the Cubs went down to defeat this evening, we have no doubts that folks in Wrigleyville are wailing and gnashing their teeth. We also have no doubts that some folks are hoping for furious anger to come down upon this wretched soul. But we would remind them of the virtues of compassion and charity. Let no man disparage this headphone-wearing schnook. Let no man remind him about what happened five years hence.

Besides. We think he's suffered enough.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 12:15 AM | Comments (1) | TrackBack

October 15, 2003

Reds in Space!

COMMUNIST CHINA* has successfully conducted a manned space mission into low-Earth orbit. We at The Rant consider this development somewhat troubling.

Now, the blogosphere's reaction to the event has been pretty muted. Dean Esmay -- from whom we stole most of the links in this article, with not even a by-your-leave -- remarked that he hoped it would spur more private investment into space, so as to eliminate needing NASA's involvement in getting there. Others, such as Rand Simberg, were unimpressed with the mission. And Andrew Cory said of the taikonaut, "You make me proud to be human!"

However, some folks closer to Communist China than all of us are a bit more concerned, and we think they are right to feel that way. Consider what engineer Frank Kung pointed out to the Associated Press: "Whatever China does, it does to strengthen its defense, so this is not good for Taiwan." Seoul-based designer Lee Won-hak, meanwhile, said much the same: "I feel a bit threatened by the countrys development."

Now, obviously, one space launch is not a sign we ought to panic any time soon. However, we should be prepared for Communist China to advance quickly in developing its nascent space program. We should further be prepared to counter the inevitable military uses for that program, which its armed forces will almost certainly develop. That's not to say we should address this issue itching for a fight, but merely to say that it might be a good idea to have the infrastructure in place to combat any potential threats.

Also: we must get to Mars before they do.

--------

* style note: We realize that the use of "Communist China" may seem a bit archaic. However, we consider the legitimate Chinese government to be based in Taipei. The Beijing-based Government merely happens to lead 22 renegade provinces, five autonomous regions, and four municipalities, in addition to the special zones of Hong Kong and Macao.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 10:13 PM | TrackBack

October 13, 2003

Cowboy Up!

HERE AT THE RANT, we recently received a missive from a good friend of ours who closed his letter with the phrase, "GO YANKEES," followed by a full twenty-six exclamation points.

Unfortunately for our good friend, these twenty-six exclamation points UTTERLY FAILED to bring his beloved Yankees a victory in last night's contest against the Boston Red Sox. While we do not wish to begin "talking smack" -- as we fear that Babe Ruth will claw his way out of his grave, shamble onto the pitch, and proceed to throttle Derek Lowe during the seventh-inning stretch on Tuesday -- we would offer some gentle teasing about last night's matchup. Besides, we figure that doing so will merely "cancel out the karma" and lead to a fair and even matchup between these two fine the valiant Red Sox and that other team.

So, old friend, yippie-ki-yay to your Yankees and their $164 million payroll and that oafish lout of a franchise operator you have down there. :-)

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 11:39 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack

October 12, 2003

Attention New Hampshire Liquor Distributors

Please. Start distributing this. We're beggin' ya.

No, really. Please start distributing it. We need such beer here in New Hampshire. We need a good brown ale with a very clever marketing campaign and a catchy title and social cachet to boot. Besides, the moxie of it all is endearing and heartwarming. I'd order a case.

(link via Catallarchy)

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 11:14 PM | TrackBack

October 11, 2003

Now Here's an Idea

From the Associated Press:

WASHINGTON -- Eager to please a key Florida constituency, President Bush directed his secretary of state and his Cuban-born housing secretary Friday to recommend ways to achieve a transition to democracy in Cuba after 44 years under Fidel Castro.

We have plenty of ideas, but they all involve a pine box for El Lider Maximo.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 02:30 AM | TrackBack

October 08, 2003

And Now on to What REALLY Interests You

THE CUBS.

THE RED SOX.

WOW.

We here at The Rant admit that we care little for baseball, much preferring football to America's traditional pastime. But Gad! the sheer excitement we have witnessed surrounding both the Cubs' and the Red Sox's advancement to the pennant series really makes for an exciting time around here. We were cheering along with the Red Sox fans when they clawed their way back from two down against Oakland.

So we wish both the Cubs and the Red Sox well as they go ahead in the playoffs. We will admit that we are slightly concerned, though. After all, if both teams were to advance to the World Series, we might just consider this a sign that, as in 28 Days, The End Times are Extremely Friggin' Nigh.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 01:01 AM | Comments (5) | TrackBack

October 07, 2003

Other Arnold, Sex Actress Battle for 10th Place

WE HERE AT THE RANT will leave to others commentary on what California's gubernatorial recall election means to the Golden State. We just don't think one key story should be ignored. Namely, how all the candidates who had absolutely no (UPDATE: well, OK, a very tiny) chance of winning the second part of the recall question fared at the polls.

Fortunately, thanks to the State of California's excellent Web site, we can see first-hand just how the other 125 or so candidates performed. And look! With 8.6 percent of the precincts reporting, the ex-child star has a slight lead over the sex actress! The guy who smashes watermelons for a living is close behind ...

1. SCHWARZENEGGER: 50.9 pc
2. BUSTAMANTE: 31.0 pc
3. McCLINTOCK: 12.0 pc ...

10. COLEMAN: 1,642 votes - 0.2 pc
11. COOK: 1,316 votes - 0.0 pc ...
15. GALLAGHER: 918 votes - 0.0 pc

It could be worse, though, for them. Todd Richard Lewis, No. 135 on the list at present, has so far garnered only 15 votes.

---

UPDATE, 11:51 PM With 14 percent of precincts reporting, Todd Richard Lewis is now tied for 116th place with 70 votes. Kevin Richter has fallen to No. 135, with 39 votes. Coleman and Cook now struggling for 11th place, as Van Vo jumps to No. 10 with 2,129 votes.

UPDATE, 12:04 AM: The foxy account-executive girl is beating the foxy computer programmer girl. With 14 percent of precincts reporting, Brooke Adams is in 29th place, while Georgy Russell ranks No. 43.

UPDATE, 12:10 AM: Coleman, Cook still battling it out for 11th place, with 15.8 percent of precincts reporting. Gallagher falls to 17th place. Billboard model Angelyne ranks No. 26, proving the billboards around town still leave the vast majority of Angelenos a bit confused. Richter is still in the basement, with a mere 44 votes.

UPDATE, 12:21 AM: COLEMAN SURGES to 10th PLACE! Van Vo in 11th, Cook in 12th. Cook now has 0.2 percent of the vote, California says.

UPDATE, 12:30 AM: But wait! The foxy computer-programmer girl now ranks No. 38, with Adams at No. 32!

FINAL UPDATE, 12:41 AM: Well, the battle of Coleman v. Cook doesn't appear to be ending anytime soon, as Gary Coleman is still in 10th place and Mary Cook is in 11th. In any event, we are going to bed, and will see how things turn out in the morning.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 11:49 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack

October 05, 2003

New Play on an Old Joke

THEN I SAW another mighty angel coming down from Heaven, wrapped in a cloud, with a rainbow over his head, and his face was like the sun, and his legs like pillars of fire. He had a little scroll open in his hand. And he set his right foot on the sea, and his left foot on the land, and called out with a loud voice, like a lion roaring; when he called out, the seven thunders sounded. And when the seven thunders had sounded, I was about to write, but I heard a voice from Heaven saying, "Seal up what the seven thunders have said, and do not write it down."

-- The Revelation to John, 10:1-4

Verily, we can assure you what the seven thunders said. They said: "The Cubs will again win in the postseason."

(link via Illinigirl)

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 11:59 PM | TrackBack

September 26, 2003

People Castigating People, II

We hesitate to even mention ... you know, those two idiots ... again, but we have to applaud Dan Klores, Jennifer Affleck's publicist, for his sheer chutzpah in dealing with the whole engineered controversy surrounding her and B-Lo. Consider his remark made to ABC News:

"She's not doing great. She's doing good. She's figuring it out," said (Mr) Klores, the actress-singer's New York publicist. "She's 33 years old. Leave her alone."

(blink for a moment)

Oh. Well. We here at The Rant must offer our sincere apologies. Here we were, thinking that Jen, at the tender age of 33, would be capable of dealing with issues and problems like an actual thinking adult. Silly us! Clearly we were misinformed of this fact.

Unfortunately, this gives us a rather uncomfortable dilemma. Since we deal with issues that pertain to actual thinking adults here on The Rant, we are inclined never to mention these two incorrigibles again. On the other hand, we gain a great deal of enjoyment castigating these two individuals for their crimes against culture-in-general.

Gad. Well, it will give us something to wrestle with during our down time, when we are not worrying about national economic policy.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 03:09 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack

People Castigating People

So Barbra Streisand has announced to the world that she finds her own songs boring. We here at The Rant found this very funny. Allison Barnes, of course, had the perfect comment about this state of affairs: "News flash, Barbra. It ain't just you."

We leave it to Rant readers what to make of Ms Streisand's forays into the realm of public policy.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 02:41 PM | TrackBack

September 24, 2003

We're Sorry to Say It, But We Were Right

WELL, THAT WAS QUICK.

It would appear that what we here at The Rant predicted just over a week ago has already come to pass: Ben Damon and Jennifer Love Hewitt, or whatever their names are, have gotten back together again.

Well, that's -- just -- swell. Gad.

We must say that we were pleased to have a short respite -- two or three days, if we remember rightly -- when we did not have news about those two oversexed morons. Yet this brief feeling of relief quickly turned to annoyance when we learned that Bennifer had appeared at a Georgia courthouse for the intended purpose of securing B-Lo a firearms permit.

Oh, Gawd.

Forget what we wrote about those feelings of annoyance: what we meant to write was that we are now officially concerned. Based on our public perception about B-Lo, we believe him to be the last person in the United States who should be allowed to carry a weapon. It concerns us greatly that such a person of amazingly-mediocre abilities and arguably-questionable judgment would be allowed to have, on his person and without any supervisory authority, a loaded and fully-operational device capable of sending the average citizen into the next realm.

It's not just the question of whether B-Lo would actually use it, either. That's bad enough. What's nearly as troubling is that such an act, if God forbid it ever were to happen, would result in weeks if not months of news stories about these two insufferables. That, we would argue, would be more than any civilized person could bear.

RELATED: Matt Labash over at The Weekly Standard declares Jennifer Lopez "a climber," "a spoiled brat," and "materialistic" -- among other descriptives we can't publish here at The Rant. It's great fun!

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 09:06 PM | TrackBack

Incredible New Food Breakthrough

AMERICAN FOOD SCIENTISTS have come up with a radical new invention sure to change eating habits across this great nation -- cheeseburgers and french fries combined into an easily-snackable food product!

Yes, the good people at the Advance Food Co. of Enid, Okla., have successfully welded together these two great American creations into one fat-laden, grease-dripping, artery-clogging snack! It also comes in Jalapeno flavor!

We here at The Rant fully expect our European readership to be appalled at this development. This is because in Europe, such things are considered gauche and nauseating; corruptions, if you will, of pure beef and cheese. We do not deny this fact in the slightest -- but would rather stress the portability and convenience and sedative (lit., "food coma") qualities inherent in cheeseburger fries and other fine American food products.

Indeed, we daresay that if Europeans were to eat one helping of cheeseburger fries per day, they could pull themselves up out of their economic doldrums, solve their pensions trouble, and see firm productivity shoot through the roof! After all, why would one waste perfectly good work time at lunch when one was forced to eat some of those?

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 08:06 PM | TrackBack

September 23, 2003

California in Translation

THEN THE VOICE which I had heard from Heaven spoke to me again, saying, Go, take the scroll which is open in the hand of the angel who is standing on the sea and on the land. So I went to the angel and told him to give me the little scroll; and he said to me, Take it and eat: it will be bitter in your stomach, but sweet as honey in your mouth.

-- The Revelation to John, 10:8-9

SANTA MONICA -- I WAS WALKING ALONG the Third Street Promenade on Thursday night, feeling quite relaxed and with a lovely girl at my side, when I saw something that I now realize symbolizes just how different California cities are from the rest of the United States. It struck me odd at the time, but it wasnt until I returned to a place where the real work of the nation is done that the import of what I had seen really hit.

For those of you who have never been to this city along the Pacific, one of a thousand districts that patched together make up the greater Los Angeles area, you should know that Santa Monicas Third Street Promenade is a three-block pedestrian shopping mall. Its a pleasant place, full of relatively upscale and with-it eateries and retail stores and street performers; and prone to cultural displays infused with diversity and wonderment that seem to matter quite a bit to a few folks, but merit.little attention from most. Yet it was what I took as one of these things which happened to catch my eye.

Strung above the Promenades center walkway at one point was a large banner emblazoned with a pentagram.

Now, I do not wish to disaparage the fine people of Santa Monica, so let me say that I am sure it was a good pentagram, if there are such things. It had lots of runes and other strange mystical markings, things that I do not doubt symbolized peace and love and karmic goodness with Gaia, or whatever it is the neo-pagans believe in these days. Still, it was not something that one would find in Boise, Idaho, or Kansas City, Kan., or Erie, Pa. And I wondered how open the famously tolerant people of Santa Monica would have been to having a banner incorporating the Cross stretched across the Promenade.

Yeah, Santa Monicas different. And so is L.A. and Frisco and Sacto and all the rest. And after seeing greater Los Angeles again, after an absence of over two years, I had quite a bitter feeling in my gut.

BUT PERHAPS DIFFERENT isnt the right word for it. Perhaps things in southern California are simply more pronounced and dramatic than in the rest of America; perhaps things are merely more open there than they are in Boise and Kansas City and Erie. The luster of materialism is brighter; the erosion of traditional values is greater; the corruption is more open; the incivility is more notable and the apathy towards ones civic duties, towards ones civic obligations, is more palpable.

Consider one minor example on that last point.

You should know that for four days, I traversed greater Los Angeles from a point near Los Angeles International Airport all the way up to a point northeast of Ventura. I will admit that I did not spend time in the center city itself, nor in the San Gabriel or San Fernando Valleys. Still, I did spend considerable time in the northern suburbs and western Los Angeles, and was shocked to see just three lonely signs about Californias recall election being held two weeks hence.

Yes, thats right. Three. And, if youre wondering, they were for Sen. McClintocks campaign and involved his pledge to Stop the Car Tax. (Could such a thing be possible in the Golden State?) It was my good friend Chris Weinkopf who noted a few months back that Californias politicians, in their desperation to raise $38 billion to solve the states budget woes, proposed tax increases on everything from diapers to bullets. (As Mr Weinkopf noted, those depressed over the state of taxation in the Golden State ought not shoot themselves).

This state of affairs, by the way, did not at all please the shuttle-bus driver taking me to my rent-a-car, who bemoaned the $261 she would now have to pay in tax on her used Japanese auto. While she appeared to have misheard my state of residenceshe kept talking about New Jersey when I had mentioned I was from New Hampshireshe certainly seemed enthused about a state where there was no income or sales tax. In fact, she seemed amazed that such a place could exist at all.

Anyway, here are some other observations I had about California during our time out there:

* Holy mackerel, has the states economy crashed. I never thought Id see empty spaces on the Third Street Promenade for lease, but there they were. A couple of vacancies were for restaurants, which I suppose shouldnt have been a surprisebut it was quite a shame to see that Teasers, the bar in which I would watch the occasional Michigan game, had closed up shop.

* Seen on Lincoln Boulevard in Santa Monica: a coffee shop called The Legal Grind which proclaimed to offer both coffee and counsel. No, really. It did. It was $25 to speak with an attorney and you could file for bankruptcy or divorce for a few hundred bucks, according to the sign. Againyou know the states economy is bad when an attorney sets up shop and sells coffee on the side. Even in California, theres usually more money in lawyering than coffee.

* Attention wealthy California residents! If you own a high-performance imported automobile, such as a Ferrari, you ought not live in southern California. Especially the person driving the one in front of the car I was inyou ought to be ashamed of yourself for acting all with-it and then idling the dang thing as you creeped around the mall parking lot. Not even you can get a parking space, buddy. Take the thing out on the 58 or something instead.

* I saw unleaded gasoline selling at a high of $2.38 at one store, and the $1.85 Arco station where I did fill up the car was mobbed. Repeat after me: That aint right.

* I saw Lost in Translation at the movies this past weekend. Sure, its no Gi oh, wait, I said I wouldnt mention that really awful waste of celluloid again.

Actually, I daresay Lost in Translation is the best movie I have seen this yearin fact, one of the best movies I have seen in a long, long time.

Since loyal readers of The Rant have continued to check-in despite my vacation to California, as a special bonus I am going to provide you with a mini-cinema review. Perhaps we could call it Good Cinema With

Nah.

In any event, if you have not yet seen Lost in Translation, you ought to do so at your earliest convenience. In fact, I will go even farther and say that it is your civic duty and obligation as a right-thinking American to go see this movie. Thats because we as cinema-goers must use our purchasing power to convince Hollywood to make more movies like Lost in Translation. For the film excels on a variety of levels. It has a fine script, and beautiful cinematography, and a story that will pull at your heart. As for the acting, it is phenomenal.

I dare not spoil the plot for you, but I will share a few things about Lost in Translation.

First, that the performances of Bill Murray and Scarlett Johansson, as two Americans in Tokyo who find themselves trapped in difficult marriages, are simply amazing. One might not expect Mr Murray to act in such a role, given his mostly comedic repertoire; but I certainly hope that he acts in a lot of serious roles in future.

Second, it was nice to see that the folks behind Lost in Translation were given the green-light to actually make a serious film for adult moviegoing audiences. For it is a remarkably intelligent film to come out of Hollywood, and it is a remarkably mature film as well. Its not merely that stupidity is mocked at every turn, either. You see, there are no gratuitous love scenes in which a cinemagoer feels as if he has caught two people in flagrante delicto. There is also no violence of which to speak. Instead, there is a story, and it is told very well.

Third, I am the type of person who very rarely cries at movies. Yet I was this close to openly sobbing at the end of it. God! There are few movies that have had that much of an emotional pull on me; but Lost in Translation is funny and sad and clever and engaging all at the same time. It is a movie, yes, but it seemed like true life on the screen. Like true life.

* I paid $3.75 -- $3.75 for a medium Diet Pepsi at the movie theatre. True, I didn't mind at all, and the container of Diet Pepsi was more than sufficient for two people and required a forklift to moveOK, so Im exaggerating a bit, but Gad. This is a general-principle type of thing. And thats the type of price I would expect to pay if Hurricane Tad hit shore at Portsmouth and barreled inland, North Korean artillery began lobbing shells at Seoul, and there was a breakdown at Pepsi-Cola Syrup Storage Facility No. 16 simultaneously.

* Paying taxes on everything sucks. Paying California tax rates on everything really sucks.

* I wandered around the Santa Monica Pier on Friday morning. Watched a man in a shark costume jump off the pier as part of a radio-station/energy-drink stunt. If you think thats pathetic, consider that about 100 other people also watched the man in the shark costume plummet thirty feet to the ocean below.

* I think I got ripped off down at the rental car agency, and it is probably my fault.

Now, you should know that somewhere along the line, I lost the particular Kepple ability to rent a decent car at an incredibly cheap price. Indeed, I can assure you that when the Kepple family went to Sint Maarten on vacation some summers back, your humble correspondents father did secure a rate much cheaper than those offered by the main-line car hire agencies located at the islands Princess Juliana International Airport. Mr Kepple did this by cutting out the middlemen entirely and renting from a local operation, and haggled with the operations owner in some out-of-the-way, cluttered rental office whose sole source of cooling was from a half-operational ceiling fan. It worked too.

Well, Im sure as hell not my father. For you should know that the good people at the car hire agency did present me with a full range of automobiles, and I had no idea which one to choose. I knew that this was a sneaky attempt to have me pick out the Bradley Fighting Vehicle or whatever the hot car model is these days, and then charge me $80 per day for it. Unfortunately, I overcorrected. I ended up picking out an even cheaper car than the one I had originally intended to rent. The end result was a rental car with no power locks, no power windows, and no power steering. It also had no parking brake of which to speak, and I was half-expecting the thing to roll down any hill I had parked upon.

I may just buy it as my next car.

* Oh, and dont get me started on Los Angeles International Airport. Gad. I am convinced that the operations people there took their cues from the Kwantung Army when they set about designing the place. How exactly they expected that many people (approximately 100,000) to fit into a terminal designed to hold about one-hundredth of that number is beyond me. Oh, and it didnt help that it was the Southwest terminal and there were lines stretching from the ticket counters to Glendale. After the first hour I was annoyed; as time stretched on, I can assure you that Iyour normally cheerful and friendly correspondentwas a seething, angry, generally surly mass of humanity.

Ah, Los Angeles. The place is sweet like honey in ones mouth, and bitter in ones stomach.

BUT THAT IS NOT to say that my trip to Los Angeles was bad; it was a fabulous and wonderful and enjoyable time. In part, that was due to my great friends Chris and Mary Kate Weinkopf. But the main credit goes to the wonderful and lovely and amazing girl that Im dating, and with whom I spent much of my time with there. She is truly a fabulous person, and means so very much to me.

And that, when all is said and done, is what mattered about this trip to the Golden State and the City of Angels.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 11:42 PM | Comments (3) | TrackBack

September 16, 2003

Usual Suspects Face Blame Again

FOX NEWS CONTINUES in its efforts to put us in a gloomy mood all of the time. You see, we learned today that certain American parents are not only spoiling their children to an awful and unheard-of extent, they are even accumulating debt to do it:

From overnight slumber parties at F.A.O. Schwarz to custom-crafted playhouses with marble floors, some children of the new millennium are getting the chance to live out their hearts' desires, thanks to their folks' willingness to overspend and desires to outdo the neighbors.

"Parents are going into debt and taking out loans to satisfy their children," said Dr. Susan Bartell, child psychologist and author of "Stepliving for Teens." "They use their kids as a projection of themselves as a means of impressing people."

Whether it means purchasing a $40,000 motorized mini-Ferrari Testarossa or life-size Lincoln logs from KinderTimber, some parents are taking extreme measures in an effort to top the presents bought by their fellow PTA members.

The Fox story even informs us that there is a Web site entirely devoted to selling such outrageously-priced goods, such as Palm Springs II Crib Linens, a steal at $1,528. There is also a $47,000 children's playhouse for sale.

Yes, that's right. Forty seven thousand American dollars. For a playhouse.

When we were young, back in the Seventies, we also had a playhouse. This particular playhouse was lovingly constructed out of cardboard, and may have cost something on the order of $10. We had many hours of fun with it. Then we moved to Michigan, and our father threw the playhouse away with sundry other unnecessary household goods, such as that inflatable punching doll we had that ended up on the roof one time. Or maybe that was broken earlier; we can't remember.

Anyway, we were rather distraught at losing our favorite playhouse, but Mr Kepple's decision stood. Of course, this was the right decision, as we forgot about the playhouse until this evening. Also it was one of many important lessons we picked up as children. Namely, that life was often unfair and unpleasant and no, we were not going to have our way or get everything we wanted. Also, we ought eat everything on our plates -- including the tiny scraps of meat which we failed to detect as still being on the chicken, but which our parents, using skills they picked up from their parents who had been through the Depression, were able to glean without any extra effort at all.

This is not to say that we grew up in an overly strict household or one in which we were deprived of the necessities of life. Indeed, we can assure you that we had adequate shelter, food and medical/dental care. We were even granted use of an adequate but non-flashy used car at the age of 17 years and six months.

That said, we know that our parents STILL have that old West Bend popcorn popper from the mid-Seventies in use; and we suspect they would STILL have that old plastic furniture in the basement, made by the good people at Syroco, except that it finally broke in the mid-Nineties. Hence, if we had ever asked for a $47,000 playhouse as children, we would have been met with gales of laughter from both our parents. If we had persisted, we probably would have been sent to our room for being so impertinent.

This may help explain why we are so befuddled at the idea of any rational adult spending $47,000 for a playhouse. The sheer amount for the product makes such spending wasteful and decadent, even though we fully realize that plenty of people (plenty being about 50,000 in all of the nation) could afford or justify buying such a thing. In fact, it is so wasteful and decadent that we found ourselves grinding our teeth into powder, and recalled the bitter words of rightfully-forgotten German poets, and generally stewing in our own discontent.

This is not to say that we agree with von Selchow, the writer we had in mind, as we find what little we know of his work anti-democratic and quite disagreeable. But we do know that no matter how well we do in life, we will teach our children the same tenets our parents taught us. Namely, that if one wants something, one has to work for it.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 10:42 PM | Comments (4) | TrackBack

September 15, 2003

The Answer is Yes; By Which I Mean, No.

Sheila O'Malley, the New York-based blogger whom you ought read on a daily basis if you are not presently doing so, recently took a look at a pressing issue to the American people.

Namely, Ms O'Malley wrote about whether Ben Lopez and Jennifer Affleck, whom we are told are popular entertainers, had ended their romantic relationship. We here at The Rant are a bit "out of the loop" about this development in their personal lives, as we were more focused on the collapse of the World Trade Organization talks in Cancun.

That was quite something, actually, because there was a glorious row when the North American delegations had the Indonesian delegation impaled on their own cut-rate steel. Heh. Then Pascal Lamy, Europe's chief negotiator, had this really impressive hissy fit, in which he kept lapsing into French like some peasant, and ...

OK, so that didn't happen at all. But few people in America would have noticed if it had, because few people anywhere care about cool things like global trade talks. In general, people are more interested in whether some actor married some musician. We have a theory that this is because trade talks aren't "with it" or "sexy." We must say, though, that we hope folks are following those goings-on out of a true interest in "Jen and B-Lo." It would sadden us if they were following that situation because they wanted to avoid thinking about things like the WTO debate.

In any event, Ms O'Malley echoed the thoughts of bloggers everywhere when she asked the questions we thought when we were informed about the breakup between Ms Affleck and Mr Damon. These questions were:

Is it actually true that Ben and J-Lo have split?

Do I dare get my hopes up that I never ever ever ever ever have to hear about that couple again?

Is it too soon to rejoice, to breathe a thankful sigh of relief?

We are glad Ms O'Malley asked these questions, as we were wondering the answers to them ourselves. For answers, we first turned to Edward "Ted" Callahan, our unpaid intern and popular-culture expert who mistakenly thinks he can use his internship to get credit towards his studies at UC-Davis. Heh heh heh. Oh, is he in for a shock.

Unfortunately, "Ted" wrote us and said he was being sued by the recording industry, and as such had fled to Belize. So for answers we had to turn to Quinn Quimbley, our latest vice president of marketing here at The Rant.

Mr KEPPLE: Sheila wants to know whether it is actually true that Ben Cocktoasten and Jennifer Grey have split up. Is that true, Quinn?

Mr QUIMBLEY: Sir, it's Ben Affleck and Jennifer Lopez.

Mr KEPPLE: What?

Mr QUIMBLEY: You recall, sir. They were in that bad movie, Gi--

Mr KEPPLE: Oh, yes. You will note, Mr Quimbley, that Interoffice Style Guide Memorandum No. 26 forbids employees from even mentioning the name of that really horrible film. Instead you must call it "that insufferable waste of celluloid."

Mr QUIMBLEY: Heh. Yeah. They were in that really insufferable waste of celluloid.

Mr KEPPLE: Thank you, though. My therapist will thank you also. You see, now I'm going to remember just how bad that movie was, and I'm probably going to have to go back into analysis again.

Mr QUIMBLEY: Crix nix doubleplusungood awful vehicle stop greenlight ridiculous verged on crimethink stop bellyfeel crapwise prolefeed.

Mr KEPPLE: What the devil?!

Mr QUIMBLEY: Oh, that's just marketing talk. Anyway, the answer to Sheila's question can best be paraphrased in a line from "The Simpsons" -- "The answer is yes, by which I mean no." The International Herald Tribune, which ought not report on such things, noted that the two "have split, at least temporarily." So we can clearly say that it is a sure permanent thing. Unless it isn't.

Mr KEPPLE: And this means what for Mr Damon and Ms Fuentes?

Mr QUIMBLEY: We -- namely, the marketing staff -- give it six weeks to three months before they're back together again and it makes the cover of People magazine again. Also we predict they will get married on Minorca.

Mr KEPPLE: Minorca.

Mr QUIMBLEY: Yep. Oh, not because it's especially out-of-the-way or anything like that, just because we think one of those two will get the idea that Minorca is authentic or happening or some such.

Mr KEPPLE: Minorca.

Mr QUIMBLEY: Minorca, Tegucigalpa, beats the hell out of us. But we're pretty sure this breakup will be temporary. Not that we know. But we're guessing.

Mr KEPPLE: Quinn, that doesn't seem to bode well for Sheila's other two questions about Mr Wilson and Ms Knowles.

Mr QUIMBLEY: Absolutely not, sir. Absolutely not. Let's say they really did break up and that's the end of everything. It will still be in the news for weeks upon weeks. We think Ms O'Malley may get two or three days without hearing about them at some point, but once "Jersey Girl" his theatres you can forget about it. However, there is an upside. We predict that movie critics, having enjoyed giving Gi -- er -- their last movie a beating so bad that it was left for dead, will take a renewed interest in criticizing "Jersey Girl." Thus, Ms O'Malley will have to deal with renewed stories about Mr Affleck and Ms Lopez.

Mr KEPPLE: Who?

Mr QUIMBLEY: Never mind. Anyway, it is probably too soon for Ms O'Malley -- or anyone who could care less about Mr ... oh, forget it -- to breathe any sighs of relief. At all.

Mr KEPPLE: Swell.

So there we have it. A continual and unceasing cacophony about Bennifer will persist throughout the land, and lo! the LORD sent thunder and hail, and fire ran down to the earth. And the LORD rained hail upon the land of Egypt; there was hail, and fire flashing continually in the midst of the hail; very heavy hail, such as had never been seen before in all the land of Egypt since it became a nation. Yet the multitudes would NOT give up their file-sharing, and the LORD did harden the RIAA's hearts. And the people trembled, for a plague of process servers was UPON the land.

And only God knows what's going to happen with Ben Affleck and Jennifer Lopez when all is said and done.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 11:55 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack

September 10, 2003

Independent's Man in L.A. Can't Hack America

ANDREW GUMBEL, The Independent's man in Los Angeles, may have done more to damage Anglo-American relations than any incident in recent memory with his latest essay on life in the United States.

Mr Gumbel, it would seem, does not like patriotic songs. Specifically, the patriotic songs being sung in his first-grader's elementary school classroom. These offend Mr Gumble because -- shock fury horror -- they actually portray the United States in a positive light. He finds this disturbing because to his point of view, the United States is usually in the wrong.

But let's turn to the videotape, as they say. Let's see what Mr Gumbel has to say on the matter:

Sooner or later, anyone who lives abroad reaches a defining moment when the desire to understand and fit into the foreign culture hits a brick wall of absolute resistance. In my case, living in California, it came a few weeks ago at my son's elementary school open house.

We leave it to our readers' imagination as to why Mr Gumbel did not hit this moment when he was forced to cover the recording industry for the first time, or when he was undoubtedly caught in a traffic jam on the Santa Monica Freeway, or when he was given an obscenely expensive parking ticket, or found he always had to valet-park his automobile.

The first-grade classroom was transformed into a showcase of art projects, spelling bees and mini-science workshops on the life cycle of insects. So far, so good. But then the children of Room 63 started to sing, and my internal refusal mechanism went haywire. In unison, they launched into "America I Love You": ...

We have no words to describe our fundamental incapacity to understand how any sane human being could be disturbed at this development. We mean, we have none.

Granted, I'm not a big fan of patriotic sentiment in any context. But this got my goat in ways I just couldn't shake.

Kids, this is Mr Gumbel, the trans-national socialist!

First, there was the niggly matter of historical accuracy. (What are black, Asian or Native Americans supposed to make of that line about welcoming all the races?)

We are going to give Mr Gumbel the benefit of the doubt and assume that those two sentences were written without either racial animus or sly cleverness. We are also going to say how surprised we are that the sub-editors at The Independent did not catch it. If you're wondering why we wrote that, read the above selection again. Closely.

However, to address his point: the Asian, American Indian and black children singing the line are first-graders, i.e. six years old. Hence, they probably still haven't had adults like Mr Gumbel fill their heads with empty nonsense yet!

One also had to question the dubious taste of singing about a "do or die land" in the wake of a controversial war in Iraq that many parents in our liberal corner of Santa Monica had passionately opposed.

No, one does not have to question it. It's a children's song. CHIL-DREN'S SONG.

What really riled me, though, was that the song had absolutely nothing to do with education. The words were lousy, and the music wasn't a lot better. It bore no relation to the rest of the classwork on display. So what was it doing there? I might have understood better if my son's teacher were some raving flag-waving patriot, but she isn't. She, and the other parents, beamed proudly and generally acted as if the song were a normal part of the American school experience.

Mr Gumbel -- please take note that you're living in Santa Monica, Calif. You are living in a city where the people are considered flaky and weird by other Los Angeles-area residents. If the other parents don't have any problems with it, maybe you ought not have any problems with it either.

Which, as I quickly discovered, it is. Patriotic songs are sung up and down classrooms at Grant Elementary, just as they are at every other school in the land. Mostly, they go without challenge or critical examination.

Well, having lived in the United States for 27 years compared to Mr Gumbel's five, we'd say they always go without challenge or critical examination, except when some moron foreign correspondent decides he wants to write a feature.

In third grade, for example, the daughter of a friend of mine merrily sang her way through "It's a Grand Old Flag", which includes the lines: "Every heart beats true/'neath the Red, White and Blue, /Where there's never a boast or brag ..." Her father, an old Sixties radical who doesn't like to keep quiet about these things, gently asked her when they got home whether the whole song wasn't in fact a boast and a brag. His daughter went very quiet as she thought through the implications of his question. Challenging received wisdom in this way is something she never encounters in the classroom.

She's in third-grade, you wretched old fool. She can challenge received wisdom when she's a teenager, like everyone else.

Even after five years in the United States, I continue to be surprised by the omnipresence of patriotic conformism. This phenomenon long predates 11 September. When my son started playing baseball this year, he and his friends were made to recite the Little League pledge which begins: "I trust in God. I love my country and respect its laws." What has that got to do with sportsmanship?

What does your essay have to do with journalism? Oh, and for that matter, last time we checked, the United States did not force youngsters to Take Part in the National Pastime. If you don't want him to take part in a privately-sanctioned baseball league with rules that have been in place since God knows when, don't have him play.

When, a few weeks later, he and I went to see our first ball game at Dodger Stadium, I was flabbergasted all over again when the crowd rose to sing the national anthem. This was just a routine game, not an international fixture. So what was with all the flag-waving?

The man has been in country five years, yet had not, apparently, attended one single professional sporting event before that game. (Not even an NFL game, which is really how you learn about America, but never mind). We can deduce that because the national anthem is sung before every game in every major sport. It's tradition.

But what, we wonder, would Mr Gumbel think when he learned that at routine contests between U.S. and Canadian teams, they play both "O Canada" and "The Star-Spangled Banner?"

There's more to it, of course; it is a lengthy essay. All of it, to use the common American expression, is crap. We here at The Rant are not amused in the slightest. In fact, we are rather appalled. We feel it unjustly slanders our great nation. We further feel that it would be no different than if we moved to Britain, and wrote that the people there were all skinny-toothed pasty-faced materialistic atheist alcoholic old-thinking Keynesian demand-siders. Which is, of course, not true.

But enough. We figure that if Mr Gumbel gets ticked off at patriotic songs, we may as well give him one to be ticked off about:

THE BATTLE HYMN OF THE REPUBLIC
by Julia Ward Howe

Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord/
He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored/
He hath loosed the fateful lightning of His terrible swift sword:
His truth is marching on.

I have seen Him in the watch-fires of a hundred circling camps,
They have builded Him an altar in the evening dews and damps;
I can read His righteous sentence by the dim and flaring lamps:
His day is marching on.

I have read a fiery gospel writ in burnished rows of steel:
"As ye deal with my contemners, so with you my grace shall deal;
Let the Hero, born of woman, crush the serpent with his heel,
Since God is marching on."

He has sounded forth the trumpet that shall never call retreat;
He is sifting out the hearts of men before His judgment-seat:
Oh, be swift, my soul, to answer Him! be jubilant, my feet!
Our God is marching on.

In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea,
With a glory in His bosom that transfigures you and me:
As He died to make men holy, let us die to make men free,
While God is marching on.

Chew on that, Mr Gumbel. Chew on that!

(link via Tim Blair)

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 12:18 AM | Comments (3) | TrackBack

September 09, 2003

PAGING ART MODELL. PAGING ART MODELL. Your Mom's on the phone! She says: Your team sucks!

AH, HOW WONDERFUL it is to bask in the glory of yet another Pittsburgh Steelers victory. As if it was icing on the cake, the valiant Steelers crushed the evil Baltimore Ravens 35-14. So much for that fancy-schmancy defense of theirs!

Of course, that wasn't all that happened in the football world. Partisans of the Washington Redskins -- ugh -- were delirious with joy that their team eked out a three-point victory over the New York Jets on Thursday night. The Jets, for God's sake. We shall wait with bated breath to see what they think of the brewing situation involving Lawyer Milloy.

Speaking of Mr Milloy, we were sorry to see that the Buffalo Bills kicked the New England Patriots in the teeth during their first match-up. Well, OK, not sorry; but we did feel sorry for New England's fans. They've had a really crazy year (see: Sox, Red), so we can definitely sympathize with their situation. We do hope that New England does well for itself in the AFC East and that it makes it to the playoffs, because we Steeler fans want a rematch. And this time, we shall win.

Now, it may seem odd to feel that way about a rival football squad. But we know lots of Patriots fans, and they're good people. We can't say the same for Philadelphia Eagles fans, who once again played the parts of uncouth, mannerless louts: this time at their home opener. Of course, this was no surprise, as we here at The Rant think Eagles fans are often a miserable and wretched lot.

Notice we said "often." We have no doubt there are civilized Eagles fans out there; we just think they're smart enough to stay home and watch the games on television.

Cincinnati lost. Heh. It's going to be another very long year in the Queen City.

Finally, Ben Domenech asserts that ESPN's Tuesday Morning QB column has "jumped the shark." We don't read the column much, so we really can't comment on Mr Domenech's argument. However, we would say that we think Washington Redskins owner Dan Snyder has every right to build himself a 30,000 square foot mansion with 17 cedar closets and a marble-floored wine cellar.

But we're pretty damn sure that's something The Chief wouldn't do.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 07:19 PM | Comments (3) | TrackBack

September 05, 2003

Air Conditioning for Our Boys!

THE WASHINGTON TIMES has the story on this really neat private effort. The article also lists a Web site for how you can help.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 12:30 AM | TrackBack

September 03, 2003

Reflections on a Cold Grey Morning

THERE ARE ONLY A FEW SELECT THINGS I would describe as being particularly constant in my life, but certainly the weather is among them. It is a cold, grey morning here in Manchester, and the temperatures are hovering in the high 50s if I had to guess, and it's one of those days when you'd rather stay in bed than do anything else. It is patently miserable weather, fitting after this miserable summer. It serves as a reminder that Manchester, so beautiful in the fall, will eventually again turn into Pyongyang-on-the-Merrimack; and in two months, maybe more, the ice and snow will come.

Soon, now -- in just eight days -- the second anniversary of the worst day in this nation's recent memory will come. Now no mention of that date can go without noting Michele's work over at A Small Victory to remember and record what happened on that horrible day. But my focus today is something a bit different: namely, the reaction we've seen to reports that the major broadcasters only plan to cover the anniversary in their own news coverage, and will not have any special programming devoted to the attacks themselves. This news has outraged Rachel Lucas and appalled Sheila O'Malley. And since I think those two are pretty good barometers, I would say that a lot of other people are angry too.

As for me, I suppose I'm feeling a bit gloomy about Sept. 11.

One part of me knows very well that it's a day that will never be the same for any American, whether one living now or one born thirty years hence. For those future Americans, I suppose the gravity of just what happened will never really hit -- kind of how those of us not alive during Pearl Harbor will never fully understand the horror of that day back in 1941. So that part of me wants very much to do all we can to remember what happened that day, to keep that memory alive.

Another part of me, however, wants to focus much more on the never again aspect of Sept. 11 as opposed to the never forget. In my heart, I must admit that I still want a lot of trampling out the vintage. I want a lot of terrible swift swords to fall upon those bastards who would plunder our economy, ravage our country, burn our cities and take the lives of our people. It is not that I have necessarily had an epiphany, or that I've seen the coming of the Lord; I just want to ensure that those who would do us harm are speedily dispatched to face Him. I do not particularly care how it is done: I simply want those scum thrown down to the ground. And I don't want them to get back up.

So what will this mean in terms of how the day plays out in our national conscience? Hell if I know. I just hope the stories about our soldiers in Afghanistan and Iraq get a lot of play on the nightly news, and I just hope that the combination of the day and the hour will spur reflection on why we've done what we've done. And I think in both cases, that will happen.

Because I don't buy the whole monolithic media argument -- the idea that what the nation sees and hears is decided by a handful of executives in some smoky back room. I am sorry, but I don't. And I daresay that if you took a random three reporters from the print media, and a random three from the radio stations, and a random three from broadcast and from the new media, and you locked them all in the same room, they couldn't decide on what to have for breakfast, much less plan a coordinated media assault.

Now, I will admit that, at nine in the morning on this cold grey day in Manchester, I am writing in a vacuum; I don't have access into all the newsrooms of America. But I will say that I expect the cable networks to make the day very focused on Sept. 11; and that the newspapers will treat the day with gravity; and that the yammering on the radio might just get toned down a bit. The idea that The Media Does Not Want the Public to Remember Sept. 11 is not only based on false premises, it is flat-out wrong. Flat out wrong.

And if all goes as I think it will, I think on Sept. 11, 2003, we'll see a combination of coverage looking at what happened on that day in 2001, and what has happened since. There will be a lot related to trampling out the vintage. But there will also be much more related to the healing of the nations.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 09:37 AM | TrackBack

August 29, 2003

NYT: 20pc of U.S. Wine Sold in Boxes

Disturbing yet interesting report in The New York Times recently. It seems 20 percent of Americans' wine comes from a box.

The report's disturbing yet interesting for a number of reasons. The first reason is that writer Frank Prial passes off wine-in-a-box to three otherwise sophisticated people -- and they can't tell the difference. Yet he fails to fully discuss this topic. Maybe all the wine fans out there can't tell what it is they're drinking!

I am not a drinker myself, primarily for health reasons, so I can't say that I would be able to tell either. But boy! wouldn't it be funny to see a column about whether people actually know what they're pouring down their throats?

The second reason is that Mr Prial makes me wonder whether I should ever order the odd glass of wine in a restaurant. Consider that he writes the following: Wine boxes come in three sizes: three, five and 18 liters. Americans prefer the five-liter size, Europeans the three. The 18-liter box, the equivalent of two cases of bottled wine, is meant for by-the-glass and by-the-carafe sales in restaurants.

Mental note: Never, ever, ever order by-the-glass again. Besides, a bottle has four glasses' worth of wine in it, so why not just buy the bottle? That way everyone could enjoy the vino and be happy.

The third reason is that Mr Prial has to explain just who drinks boxed wine in the United States, perhaps because people who read the NYT's Dining & Wine section haven't any clue. Incredibly, he has left out a key segment of the boxed-wine drinking populace: namely, college students who are broke yet want to get drunk, and can do so on some packaged antifreeze-substitute.

Ah, college. That's when I drank boxed wine, at any rate. It did the job, too. But one quickly learned -- drink, don't taste!

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 02:25 AM | Comments (1) | TrackBack

Blogs Now Part of College Curriculum

Criminy. We have learned tonight that a professor at the taxpayer-funded Georgia Institute of Technology has directed his students to read and write about various blogs as part of an introductory English course.

Actually, we think this is rather cool, except for two small faults. First, through some inexplicable omission, the course has thus far failed to mention Benjamin Kepple's Daily Rant in its listing of famous blogs. Second, after an examination of the course blog, we notice it contains a bit of academic jargon (or, as an Associated Press writer once put it, 'educanto.'):

Read sections from each of the following three blogs. Then, pick one blog, and take a closer look. For your second blog entry, you will then discuss how that one blog makes its arguments. You may use the questions on 100-102 to provoke your thoughts, but for the most part, you'll want to focus on (1) locating a central argument; (2) analyzing the language and style of the argument; and (3) determining how the author establishes ethos, pathos, and logos.

Ethos? Pathos? Logos? Gad. I'm nauseos already.

Anyway, if any of the students taking this course happen to read this entry, we would advise you of a few things:

1. We are reactionary elitists here at The Rant. Your professors probably don't like everything for which we stand. Hence, you should read and write about our efforts as much as you possibly can. Quote extensively from our blog archives.

2. Because we are reactionary elitists, we use certain rhetorical devices from time to time, such as writing in the plural instead of the singular. Your professors will probably not like this. By the way, they're also going to eventually force you to use some awful grammatical constructs like "s/he" or "policeperson" or "editrix" in your writing. That's crap. He is the gender-neutral pronoun in proper English. Use it. They'll get over it.

3. If we ever used the phrase "ethos, pathos, and logos" in our daily life we would be out of a jobos. Write clear and concise. Hemingway shall smile upon you.

You know, Hemingway. ERNEST. HEMINGWAY. The Sun Also Rises and all that.

4. We have noticed your professor wrote at one point, "Several of you have asked me about what limitations I'll place on your blog writing."

You are students at a public university. You are obligated to act like students, and hence not ask such things. Also, quit kowtowing to your professors. Oh, sure, they may seem "far out" and "with it" because they go on and on about Engels and Fannon all day. This is all very calculated. Remember! When you strip away all the academic jargon and the high-minded policy talks and the idealism and the cant ...

They are exactly like your parents.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 01:45 AM | Comments (1) | TrackBack

August 25, 2003

Architectural Notes

I was reading through The Wall Street Journal's distinctive-property guide yesterday and have thus become convinced of two things. First, that a fool and his money are soon parted; and second, that there are a great many fools designing and purchasing high-end homes these days.

I always enjoy reading through this section of the WSJ. Being me, I am inflicted with a peculiar genetic strain that prevents me from actually ever considering purchasing a similar home -- or most high-end products -- some day. Rather, I gain enjoyment from reading the advertisements themselves, and content myself from that. This may sound odd but I can assure you that it is much cheaper than actually buying things. Besides, most of these things are depreciable, which means that the people buying them are trading their hard-earned cash for some silly cachet. That may, I would suspect, sometimes be the case for high-end homes too -- the really high-end homes. There's a limited market for such things, and the markups on them seem a bit absurd.

I mean, really. It's almost embarrassing to think that people who have a real command of finance would throw down that kind of money for a residence. True, most of these folks pay cash, so it's not as if they'll face mortgage payments the size of yours and my annual incomes. But still -- I saw a beautiful beautiful estate listed with the not-so-beautiful price tag of about $9 million, and it wouldn't have surprised me if the owners had only paid $5 million. One could say the same for any of the truly high-end homes on the market these days -- their asking price is much higher than their intrinsic worth, if you ask me.

A few points from all this:

* WHY do people build hideously-outsized mansions on tiny lots? Now I can understand this phenomenon in California, I suppose, where land is hideously expensive and no one has a yard. But Gad! Still. What would cause someone to build a 7,000 square-foot home on a tiny lot? And a craptacular 7,000 square-foot home at that? I mean, is it too much to ask that there's a little style to the whole thing?

Back when I lived in Venice, Calif., I saw this phenomenon up close when I would go for a walk from my apartment down to the Venice Pier. The shore was packed with million-dollar homes and along that walk, all save one of them were architectural monstrosities. Even worse, because the homes were all jam-packed together, one would find some converted cottage next to an overbuilt condo next to some hideous pastel monstrosity. All of these things would have been fine ... but only if they had been next to similar homes. There's something to be said for a bit of continuity in a neighborhood.

* WHY do people insist on having more bathrooms than bedrooms in their homes these days? Doesn't that seem a bit excessive? For instance, one of the homes listed had seven bedrooms yet for some insane reason had twice as many baths. If one considers that some of these are actually half-baths, then it becomes even more ridiculous.

I mean, I don't know about the rest of you, but it seems to me that if one is going to have lots of folks over all the time, it would make sense for one to build a guest house with two beds and two baths, and leave it at that. Otherwise, let 'em share a bathroom. They'll get over it.

* DOES anyone actually use the servant's quarters for actual servants? After all, this is 2003, not 1903. Through my work, I've had the opportunity to have been in a few of these fancy high-end homes, and not even those people had servants -- at least not that I could tell.

Again, I suppose the California exclusion would apply. There, market conditions make it affordable for the wealthy to have servants. But even then, are they out-sourced these days? Forced to pay their own rent and make a hideous daily commute like the rest of us, only to slave away in some styleless manse while their masters welch on paying them Social Security? In a way, that would seem to make sense. Besides, you could use the servant's quarters for your hapless brother-in-law who can't hold a steady job.

One thing I have decided for sure is this: when it comes time for me to buy a nice home in 20 or 25 years, I'm holding out for a reasonable colonial.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 08:48 PM | Comments (10) | TrackBack

August 22, 2003

Oh, Joy!

Good news on the blogging front today, everyone -- we not only found ourselves a good new blogger, we found ourselves close to cheering after reading one of his essays.

It seems that this blogger, who like many bloggers frustrates our style guidelines here at The Rant because he only goes by one name, is sick and tired of the controversy surrounding the idea of a "metrosexual." A metrosexual, for those of you unaware of this term, is a modern, urban-dwelling heterosexual man who takes care with his dress and other style-oriented details of his life. Our blogger, whom one learns we address as "Dan," argues that this phenomenon is crap:

Forgive my hissy fit, but please! Stop it! There is no plague of metrosexuals in the cities. Men have always had their vain contingent. (Let us remember the Spartans who made sure to carefully braid their hair before battle.) There is something aggressivly heterosexual about guys who wear mohawks or pierce their faces in a fit of what appears to be neurotic attention to style. It is in fact mere aggressive vanity and typically male egotism.

If there is a plague of anything, it's not men who are dandies, but a proliferation of slobs. Office Casual has bloated and spread over the country like an expanding jelly-donut stain. Everywhere you look, men are mis-matched jamokes with Baby Huey-sized pants, chunks of metal through their faces, ill-fitting T-shirts and piracy-inspired facial hair. I resent being tagged at looking "queer" just for wearing, say, a pressed button-down shirt instead of a Dos-Equis T-shirt.

Dan? Bravissimo.

We do have one quibble, however. Because we here at The Rant are reactionary elitists, we do not consider mohawk hairstyles or face piercing to be signs of stylishness. Rather, we consider persons with such physical accoutrements to be uncouth and barbaric. Still, we must say that we're glad to see that we're not alone in thinking things are getting a bit out of hand these days.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 09:03 PM | Comments (4) | TrackBack

August 17, 2003

A Great Moment of Worldly Bliss

Something wonderful happened on the I-93 freeway here in Manchester today. It happened about 5:30 p.m. or so, and I was driving home after a trip to the new grocery on South Willow Street.

Now, for some reason, everything seemed so very calm this evening. Perhaps it was because the aspirin had kicked in and driven away the miserable headache I've been suffering through for days. Perhaps it was the sunny weather that finally showed up after a miserable two weeks in August, or perhaps it was that feeling of sheer contentment one has when things are going great in one's life. It probably was a combination of all those things. The long and short of it was that I felt great.

Of course, it was natural that at this Zen moment, I would come across a hideously slow motorist hogging the pass lane.

This motorist, whose fuel-efficient sedan puttered along at the traffic-jam causing speed of approximately 50 miles per hour, obviously had no business being on the road. Rather, this motorist ought to have decided to spend this Sunday afternoon at a togetherness rally or whatever it is owners of smarmy, fuel-efficient vehicles do during their down time. Instead, this motorist ended up destroying my sense of tranquility.

Because I am a proud resident of New Hampshire, I know that it is my obligation as a citizen to drive with courtesy and respect. I know I ought not give into the base instincts which I developed in California and metro Washington, and proceed to act as if my mission in life has suddenly become to run the offending vehicle off the road.

Fortunately, developments took place which stayed my baser instincts from kicking in.

For lo! what did I see in the rear-view mirror but a baby-blue, 1960s-model Ford Mustang?

Now, I am not a fellow to get overly excited about automobiles, as good friends and relatives can attest. Still -- what a beautiful car this was. You could hear and feel the engine's strength from 100 feet away. You could just imagine riding in it and listening to its old AM radio. And as I did my duty and yielded to this motoring icon, I got a good look at the fellow driving it. Young fellow, clean-cut, probably early thirties, wearing a white T-shirt.

In that moment, I felt as if I was taken back to 1963. That was a year I never knew, but one that certainly seemed full of life and prosperity and hope for the future. A year that seemed a lot better than its counterpart forty years hence.

As I yielded, the slowpoke that had been in front of me also gave way. I saw my chance and took it, shifting back into the pass lane and slamming on my Ford's accelerator. As the needle hit seventy, I felt my Zen-like calm return. And as I shot forward towards home, I thought to myself -- there's just nothing like a good drive, is there?

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 08:32 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack

August 16, 2003

Pittsburgh Triumphant

So Oliver Willis is gleeful that during the Washington Redskins' season opener, Britney Spears will be part of a pre-game kickoff show in the nation's capital.

We are bemused at Mr Willis' enthusiasm, although in a way we understand it. After all, given that the Redskins racked up a stellar 7-9 record last year and went 8-8 the year before that, we can certainly understand that the last thing Mr Willis wants to concentrate on is how the Redskins do on the field. Of course, real football teams do not need Britney Spears or a fancy concert on the Mall to conjure up interest in their franchise. Real football teams can draw on their history, and their drive, and their performance on the gridiron.

Hence, we stand confident knowing the Pittsburgh Steelers will continue to outperform their competitors in both the AFC North and much of the National Football League. Unlike the Redskins, for whom post-season play is but a distant memory, the Steelers will make it to the playoffs this year. We would also go further and say that the Steelers will almost certainly crush their rivals and proceed to the Super Bowl, and bring home "one for the thumb."

Now, many may ask why we are so confident about things turning out this way. That's simple! Kordell Stewart is now playing for the Chicago Bears.

Regular readers of The Rant know that we have never cared for Mr Stewart. That feeling started one Saturday long ago, when the then-Colorado quarterback threw a Hail Mary touchdown pass against our beloved Michigan Wolverines. But as we watched Mr Stewart's performance for Pittsburgh grow steadily more erratic and undependable, these feelings soon crystallized into a palpable sense of anger and frustration. Finally, when Mr Stewart's ineptness pretty much handed a playoff match to the hated New England Patriots in 2001, we were infuriated. Since that day, we prayed that he would soon be gone from Iron City, and we're pleased to see that has finally happened.



STEEL CURTAIN: The five quarterbacks for the Pittsburgh Steelers, none of whom are Kordell Stewart, should lead the franchise to victory in 2003.

Ah, yes. What a great thing it is to think about a Steelers squad without Kordell. No longer will we Steelers fans suffer through an endless cycle of interceptions, blown passes, and erratic play. No longer will we Steelers fans grow frustrated with watching Kordell blow opportunities, foul up plays, and generally make a mess of things. A new day has dawned for this greatest of sports franchises, and we look forward to watching it march on to victory.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 07:16 PM | Comments (5) | TrackBack

August 15, 2003

"It Is A Mess, to Put It Mildly"

Here's the latest information on the blackout situation. Glad to see the folks in Times Square had a party last night -- that must have been something else! Everything shrouded in jet-black darkness ... and a jazz quartet playing all the while ...

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 05:34 PM | TrackBack

August 11, 2003

Kitchen Aid

Say! Now here's a handy product for any person: the Table of Condiments That Periodically Go Bad. This table, which lists the time a condiment can exist before it putrefies in one's kitchen, will come in especially handy for young people. For we generally haven't any idea how long we can keep the nuoc cham or the spicy mustard cooling in the fridge.

Of course, it says a lot about modern life that we young people don't generally know these things: we have to learn them, and often learn them the hard way. After all, the groceries make it easy to get already-prepared meals at a very reasonable price, and the current trend towards healthy fast food only exacerbates our general ineptness when it comes to cookery.

Further, I can assure you that when I was in college I knew men, reasonable and worldly men, who had only alcohol and condiments in their refrigerators; and I daresay that without the civilizing influence of the fairer sex, they would remain that way still.

Yet while the condiment table will come in handy for those men and for folks like me, I was disappointed to see that a pressing question for many men remained unanswered. Such as how long beer can remain in the fridge without it going bad. I hardly ever drink, so I haven't any idea. And I would rather not find out the hard way that months-old Beck's isn't as fresh or enjoyable as stuff purchased from the store three nights before.

(Link via Sasha)

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 07:09 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack

July 25, 2003

Sound and Fury Prevails in Talk About Great Americans

When one looks at the brouhaha that has erupted around John Hawkins' survey of the twenty greatest Americans in our nation's history, one is tempted to consider Kissinger's dictum about academia: the infighting is so fierce because the stakes are so small.

For Mr Hawkins' survey is small both in scale and scope. That is not to say it was not a worthy endeavour. However, as Mr Hawkins himself notes, it only draws from a survey pool of 49 blogs and only hopes to list 20 of the greatest Americans, when our nation could easily list 300 to 500 people who have truly changed the course of history. As such, it should be taken for what it is: a survey of historical greatness, true, but most definitely a survey of popular opinion.

Still, we here at The Rant must admit surprise at the vociferous reaction in some quarters to Mr Hawkins' survey, and the ensuing brouhaha that erupted after Mr Hawkins responded to that reaction.

For instance, Meryl Yourish complained bitterly that there were no women listed among the twenty honorees. Mr Hawkins then took issue with Ms Yourish's complaint, and fired back that there were no women in American history deserving of mention on the list. In short order, Mr Hawkins learned that it is most unwise to dismiss the fairer sex's contributions to American life, as evidenced in this post from Moxie and this post from Venemous Kate. There are trackbacks-a-plenty at Mr Hawkins' site and elsewhere, so have a gander.

Now we here at The Rant have our own issues with Mr Hawkins' list. We note with displeasure that Thomas Jefferson and Ronald Reagan share the coveted No. 1 spot upon it. We think very highly of both men, but ranking them as the greatest Americans of all time is a bit silly.

The greatest American of all time, of course, was Abraham Lincoln. This really shouldn't be a matter for debate. Yet Lincoln ranks only fourth, a result which we attribute to lingering Southern prejudice against our nation's greatest leader.

George Washington is given a rank of third, when he should rightfully be given the second-place award. We here at The Rant would personally put Jefferson in the top 20, although we are not sure where; and others we would include, such as Monroe, are nowhere to be found at all. We will say we believe Hamilton's inclusion at No. 13 to be about right, although we find Henry Ford's No. 12 ranking to be ridiculous in the extreme. Mr Ford's contributions to industry were great, true, but his outlook on life (virulent anti-Semitism, dismissal of learning) proved that he was a bumpkin and a rube. Only his development of mass production would merit him a spot in the top 100, and even there we would suggest he would be lower down on the list.

It is in the lower levels of the list, naturally, where we find much with which to take issue. Consider that Ulysses Grant -- Grant, for God's sake -- ranks above Eisenhower, Douglass and Truman. This is an appalling state of affairs. Just look at the official biography of Grant's tenure as President:

"When he was elected, the American people hoped for an end to turmoil. Grant provided neither vigor nor reform. Looking to Congress for direction, he seemed bewildered. One visitor to the White House noted "a puzzled pathos, as of a man with a problem before him of which he does not understand the terms."

Grant. Gad!

Now, that said, we must say we also take issue with the scholarship present in the work of Ms Yourish, Moxie, and other writers. This is not to say we are not sympathetic to their concerns, but we have our own complaints that we would like to register.

For instance, we note that Moxie suggests that Elizabeth Cochrane (Nellie Bly), a 19th century female investigative reporter, or Pearl S. Buck, the writer on China, should take the place of Samuel Clemens (Mark Twain). While we certainly must say we consider both women's accomplishments to be quite noteworthy, we just can't see either replacing Mr Clemens on the list. Mr Clemens still remains the best writer this nation has produced, and until he is dethroned from that lofty post, he should by rights outrank them.

Also, Moxie created an all-female list which had many good points to it. Unfortunately, it also included Margaret Sanger, whose mention so appalled us we about had to call the kitchen boy to bring us our laudanum.

Ms Yourish included Gloria Steinem on her list, which we would note as a sign that such surveys are public-opinion polls and not serious scholarship. If one is to give credit for the feminist movement to anyone, one ought to give it to Betty Friedan. We also don't agree with the inclusion of Eleanor Roosevelt. She was a nice lady, we are sure, but if you want real power, you need to go back a few decades: to Edith Wilson. It seems pretty clear to us that she was the one calling the shots after Woodrow had his stroke.

But ah well. In any event, this whole exercise has made two things clear to us. The first is that diplomacy would suggest it wise to qualify such lists: for instance, ranking the best American writers, or best American musicians. The second is that while we find such quibbling a bit academic, we also find it invigorating that people care enough about history to find it worth arguing about.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 03:00 PM | Comments (3) | TrackBack

July 16, 2003

America's Condiment and Other Goodness

It is not even 10 a.m. and already I have read enough quality commentary to sate my appetite for the stuff. The topic du jour? Why, America's Condiment -- the great and wonderful and precious thing we call "salsa."

You should know that Lileks has used part of today's Bleat to disucss salsa, including an enjoyable interlude on the merits of "corporate salsa" v. "boutique salsa." Mr Lileks says that he should buy the latter at the expense of the former, but I personally think this gives too much credit to the purveyors of inferior-grade salsa in this world.

Here in New Hampshire, the grocery store which I frequent has a variety of boutique salsas for sale. Unfortunately, these salsas come in some horrible flavor, such as peach; or the producers forgot to add in hot peppers; or some other gastronomical sin has been committed to make the thing palatable to trendy people who don't know any better. Besides -- as part of a trend which Lileks notes, with his fictional example of the Wisconsin salsa -- some of these things are made in Maine.

I'll be damned if I am going to trust a Mainer when it comes to salsa. Lobster, yes; shellfish, yes; salsa ... no. Certainly not. This would be akin to purchasing merlot from South Dakota, or schnitzel in Oregon, or bagels in Topeka. One ought not do such things.

Now, that is not to say that Maine salsa, South Dakota wine, German food in Oregon, or Topeka bagels are bad. Don't get me wrong. Besides, the last thing I need are angry letters from the Topeka Bagel Cooperative and Gas-n-Sip. But since glorious capitalism has made it possible for a man to purchase sublime (and wicked hot) salsas from salsa-making areas such as Texas, New Mexico and California, there is no reason why he should not shell out the same money to get a better product. I mean, come on -- it's just comparative advantage at work.

Of course, as Lileks and others note, one can also get imported salsa from Mexico. Personally, though, I am not convinced that some of those salsas -- lovingly canned into existence at some run-down maquiladora in Ciudad Acuna -- are true and authentic. On the other hand, if you can live in Mexico and sample the local wares for yourself, you should definitely do so. Heck, Layne did.

Now that, my friends, is living.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 09:13 AM | Comments (3) | TrackBack

July 15, 2003

No Sleep 'Till Brooklyn

Oh dear readers, do offer your prayers and supplication to our God and His angels and saints -- particularly St Irving, the Patron Saint of Apartment Leasing, Subletting and Assorted Paperwork Issues. You see, Sheila O'Malley is looking for an apartment. In New York. In Manhattan.

As we learn in her latest entry on this all-consuming topic, this is not merely an apartment search. Oh, no. Basically, it requires her to enter into a bureaucracy-choked, financially-draining, spirit-crushing realm that somehow co-exists both with the environs of New York and the City of Dis. It is not an easy challenge: this zone of reality -- which is inhabitated both with legions of men and women whom the process has since ground into the dust; and gatekeepers, who were once people, but whom demons have corrupted and possessed. These gatekeepers' souls, according to tradition, now bathe in Cocytus.

However, there is hope even in this dark realm, for Ms O'Malley is in the running for "one of THOSE apartments." Now out in the provinces, where I grew up, "one of THOSE apartments" was not a place where one aspired to live; but as I understand it, in the parlance of New York, the phrase carries a different weight.

So go wish her good luck, already. Also, pray.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 07:05 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack

July 08, 2003

As Kepple Looks for Real America, Real Americans React with Disdain, Suspicion

KRUMSVILLE, Pa. -- You know, you would think that when you ordered chicken pot pie at a self-proclaimed country restaurant, the end result would involve something resembling, I don't know, a pie. A pie baked in a pot or other similar device. And oh yes, chicken.

Instead, what I got was a lukewarm bowl of dumplings, with an occasional potato thrown in to soak up the grease. To be fair, there was chicken, but not a lot of it; and the meal did suffice for the evening. But Gad! did it all have to be the same off-yellow color? And did it all have to be served with what I took as barely-concealed contempt for a city-bred patron?

I don't know; I guess I'm just still a little put out by the whole experience.

For you see, I love diners and country restaurants and old-fashioned holes-in-the-wall on the side of the highway. Such things are a glimpse into the past; how our country once was, and how it still remains in many small towns. They're generally friendly places, good local institutions where you can get a solid meal at a fair price. The food is never the sole profit-generator at such establishments: there are usually scads of trinkets and local goods for sale too. So for me, such establishments serve a dual purpose. On one hand, I can satiate my own nostalgia jones. On the other hand, I can help them as they adapt to the harsh new reality of modern American life, as dictated by the immutable laws of economics.

For really, when you think about it, roadside diners and country restaurants are about all that part of eastern Pennsylvania has going for it. All the anthracite has been mined out of the ground; the family farmer can't compete with the large agricultural concerns; manufacturing has gone to Mexico and Saipan and China. Travel along that stretch of I-78 from Carlisle to Easton, and you can see what the Invisible Foot of Comparative Advantage has wrought. Slowly but surely, it has stomped those small towns into the dust. But Comparative Advantage is a two-way street, and as you make your way along that highway, you can see those small towns learning to play off their own remaining strengths.

I suppose, in retrospect, I should have explored a bit. The place at which I ate was a depressing place: the type of hole-in-the-wall where the regulars routinely receive phone calls and the operation's main strength is that it's next to the highway. Had I gone further, I could have probably found a place in nearby Kutztown, a good Pennsylvania Dutch place with artery-clogging food. Indeed, the Kutztown PA German Festival (still in Kutztown!) had just finished up, so there was probably some place I could get some good baked corn and a decent bratwurst. But even though going to Kutztown would have been a Cultural Event of Freakazoid!-Esque Proportions --

COSGROVE: Hey, Freakazoid. Wanna go to the Akron Honey Festival?
FREAKAZOID: DO I!

-- I didn't have the time. So I got stuck with a disagreeable meal.

I don't know. Maybe the waitress was having a bad day: she looked awfully tired. Then again, years of hustling at such a small place would make anyone look awfully tired. Or maybe it was the fact that a fellow who looked like the owner came out of the back wearing a Washington-freaking-Redskins jersey. That even annoyed me. Personally, though, I'm inclined to think it was because I was wearing a suit. I had reason to, of course: I had buried my grandfather just hours before; but I am sure all my mannerisms screamed "ADVANTAGED CITY DWELLER." As such, it was probably a mistake to think I'd get treated one-tenth as well as Rusty the Local Farmer Who Has Gone There Every Sunday Since 1973 for Coffee and Pie. And it was probably a mistake to eat at a place which had on its sign the phrase "COOK NEEDED." Yeah -- they weren't frickin' kidding.

But ah well.

Still, what should you do if you're traveling along that lonely stretch of highway in eastern Pennsylvania, and you're hungry, and you need gas for the car? Easy. You should go down to Trainer's "Midway" Diner in Bethel, about twenty miles southwest or so. They don't care what you're wearing. They appreciate it when you leave a nice tip. And the food is great.

Now that was a diner. Wow. I mean, it had all the Great Diner Elements According to Lileks: the great neon sign, the use of non-ironic quotation marks, good, good cuppa joe. It also had the Great Diner Elements According to Kepple: good sandwiches, friendly talkative waitresses who probably started working there when Ike was in office, and most importantly: great -- freaking -- pie. You can't go to a diner without having pie, of course, and the Midway's was good. I went for the chocolate cream pie (choice No. 2 out of about 15) but on return visits I shall go for the shoofly pie.

A word on the hot sandwiches bit: have you ever noticed that you can't get a meal out these days that is actually hot? It's as if all the big restaurants in the world got an Informative Letter from Corporate Counsel warning them that food has to be served at temperatures warm enough to satisfy the health authorities, but certainly not hot enough to burn the mouth of some complaint-prone lout. That's because said lout might not know hot food is intended to be served hot, and he might end up hurting himself. Then there would be Litigation, and a jury of said lout's peers in Mississippi would Bankrupt The Company.

Anyway, the Midway serves its food hot, and what a joy that was. A perfect, perfect bacon cheeseburger: toasted bun, actual fresh bacon, just enough cheese, nice slice of meat. Add in the requisite side of fries-and-gravy, and this reasonably-portioned meal would hold you over the whole night. Including the pie, the grand total for this delightful meal was ... $8.18.

$8.18. Gawd. It hardly seemed fair.

One thing out of which I did get a chuckle, though, was that both the disappointing place and the Midway offered a "California Hamburger." This concotion consisted of your typical hamburger patty, plus the following condiments: lettuce, tomato, peppers, onions, mayonnaise. I found this funny for two reasons.

First, as a former Californian, I know that this is not the case at all. A real California burger is either an In-N-Out Burger slathered in cheese and onions, or perhaps one of Howard's Famous Bacon and Avocado Burgers. Mmmm. Avocado. In a way, though, you can see why they called it a California burger: back when it was dreamed up -- probably in 1962 or so -- all those vegetables on it gave it the appearance of being healthy. Still I found it funny.

I also found it funny because the California burger was $3.40 at the Midway and $3.45 at the other place. Heh. Oh, how I wish I could have bought any sit-down meal in California for three bucks. I daresay I would have been a much happier and richer man nowadays.

But I digress. Just know that if you ever find yourself out driving along the I-78, and you're tired and hungry and feeling a bit blue, there's a place where you can get a decent meal at a fair price. And if you look closely enough, you can see a bit of the Real America left in the Pennsylvania hills.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 11:58 PM | TrackBack

June 27, 2003

A Time to Kill, Part II

Wow. I think we just set a record for reader reaction here on The Rant. I'd first like to thank everyone for chiming in; you've all brought up a lot of good points, and I've done a lot of hard thinking about what you have all said.

Looking back at what I had written, I don't know if I dealt with the issue with the gravity it deserved. I meant what I said, but I think I addressed the topic a bit too tongue-in-cheek. It's no joke, and I probably ought have not been so sarcastic.

One thing that folks brought up was the issue not merely of self-defense, but defending one's family and children. I suppose I ought to clarify that when I wrote, I was thinking much in terms of my own self-defense. I'm a pretty big fellow -- about six-foot-four -- and I've been lucky to never have really felt physically threatened in my adult life. So I'll admit that colored my own view a bit.

If my eventual family -- my wife, my children -- was under immediate physical threat from someone who clearly had the intent to do them harm, I would not hesitate to use deadly force. I would also not hesitate to put myself at mortal risk, either, in doing so. That would be my duty as a husband and a father -- as a man. That said, I agree with Kevin White that I would also owe it to my wife and kids to do what I could to ensure I was still alive after the confrontation. Does that mean a gun would be my only option? I honestly don't know. Perhaps it would be; perhaps it would not.

I also appreciate the arguments about teaching kids gun safety: if one is to keep a gun in the house, that would seem mandatory. But I'm not so much concerned about having a gun in the home with young children as I would be with older children. That may sound odd, but hear me out. With younger children, they are far more likely to obey their parents like they ought and they are far less likely to, well, act like teenagers. What concerns me is that a teenager would somehow figure out the combination to the quick-safe, or find the keys to the trigger locks. What if -- although I believe it would be a miniscule chance -- he then went and did something awful?

Perhaps that is paranoia on my part, and perhaps it would simply be wise to ensure a weapon was very, very well hidden -- perhaps in a floor safe or other accessible yet unknown hiding place, with the ammunition somewhere else, and with all the other safety mechanisms attached. In such things I am very risk-averse, though; and I would much rather I did what was needed to avoid such risk.

SS asked if I would feel the same way if I or a loved one had been a victim of a violent crime, and also if I was a woman. To be honest, this was not something I had considered at all.

I can say I have been very fortunate that none of my family or friends have been victims of violent crime. When I lived in Los Angeles, the only crime they -- my friends -- experienced was property theft, primarily auto theft. I had a couple of close shaves -- one which could have theoretically involved a "home invasion" -- but fortunately I kept my wits about me. ("Your baby is choking? You'd like to use the phone?" I said through the closed door at 4 a.m. on Sunday. "I'll call the police for you.")

Still, I do recall one case in particular at my first job when a female acquaintance was carjacked at gunpoint in the parking garage at work. Thank God she wasn't hurt, but it was a horrible experience and the carjacker in question was a desperate criminal -- he held up a number of banks in the greater Los Angeles region. Would a gun have helped her in that situation? Perhaps, but perhaps not.

But let us not forget the case of Susanna Gratia Hupp, who watched as her own parents were gunned down in 1991 at a Luby's cafeteria in Killeen, Texas. If you don't remember that story, consider that Hupp had a weapon in her car -- but it would have been against the law at that time for her to take it into the restaurant. One could argue that had she done so, she could have saved her parents' lives and those of the 21 other people who were murdered that long-ago day.

So I do agree that there are places where the benefits can outweigh the costs, and as a man I must admit that I forgot the very real concern that many women have for their own safety. I also agree that if I had been a victim of violent crime or had known someone who was, then I might have a very different view on the matter.

Finally, Dean joked that I was "disturbed" by guns in the link via which many of you came, and I do want to defend myself here! I'm not disturbed by them, but I am reluctant to own one and I'm uncomfortable around them. I've actually never fired a weapon -- not once -- and I am concerned that I'd end up hurting myself or someone else with it. I guess a shooting course would fix that, but even still, it does concern me.

I do want to make clear that I feel my neighbors and others in our society can look out for themselves on this issue; and I can see a time may come when I have some very hard thinking to do myself on it. In the meantime, though, I'm going to hope and pray that such a time never comes to pass.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 01:13 AM | Comments (1) | TrackBack

June 26, 2003

A Time to Kill?

Brian Linse has recently written an interesting post on the whole issue of guns and their proper storage at home. It's especially interesting since Mr Linse reveals that he himself owns a weapon, when his past commentary might lead one to erroneously believe that he was among the unarmed citizenry.

Some readers may also find my own views on guns pretty interesting: namely, that I can't stand the things and have no intention of ever owning one. Yes, that's probably a surprise, and yes, that is very un-macho. But I have my own reasons for this.

You see, if I can help it in this life, I don't want to be responsible for the taking of another human life, whether that's via a direct action on my part or an indirect one. It would be a truly awful thing were I forced to take another person's life, even if that was to protect my own person; and I would never, ever forgive myself if a weapon I owned somehow fell into a child's hands.

Now, let's say that I came home after a long day at the office, and I found myself in the unwanted company of a burglar in the spare room I don't use.

Knowing me, this burglar would be of the erudite sort, and he would be pawing through the Bookshelf of Good and Evil which I maintain in that part of the apartment. "You there!" I would say in my most imperious voice, "Put down that copy of 'The Nightmare Years' and back away towards the window!" Said burglar, naturally fearing his own capture, would then either bolt towards the window -- or towards me.

Now let's also say that in the bureau at which I write The Rant that I kept a loaded .45 calibre Magnum pistol, which'll blow your head clean off. By the time I went and retrieved this veritable hand-cannon, the burglar would have pounced upon me and a mighty struggle would have ensued. Because I have some basic self-defense skills, it is entirely possible that I could free myself from the wretch's grasp and ordered him to stand down. But let's hypothesize further and say that he made the mistake of lunging for me.

Well, he'd be dead -- because when you use a gun, you don't use it with the intent to wing people like in the movies. You use it to kill.

That is not something I want to carry with me for the rest of my days -- I just don't. I'd rather he stole my copy of The Nightmare Years and the really nice Gibbon set and even my cheap television which I've refused to upgrade on general principle.

Still, there are worse outcomes than merely the spiritual pain of having to justifiably end someone's life. What about the horror of finding out my son or daughter found a gun I kept and, God forbid, used it?

A long time ago, I remember seeing Alfred Hitchcock's "Bang! Bang! You're Dead." (It was one of the old Alfred Hitchcock's Theatre episodes).

Basically, the plot involves a Suit-Wearing Relative who visits a Nice Clean-Cut Fifties Family living in the suburbs. Said relative has just come back from an exotic trip, and the dope has a handgun in his suitcase and leaves it on the bed. Meanwhile, little Billy or whomever absconds with the handgun and runs around Pleasantville pointing it at people. Pulling the trigger. Did we mention there's one bullet in the revolver?

Now, adding to the tension there is that Billy -- he's about six -- is pointing it at the girl who won't let him on the penny merry-go-round, the Mr. Hooper type down at the grocery, and so forth. There are great visuals in which you have a first-person-shooter view, and they make you just sick with suspense and worry.

It's an especially cautionary tale in this day and age, when you don't have happy endings. The bullet doesn't happen to miss when the weapon is fired. The consequences are all too real, and all too tragic.

So if my neighbor wants to own a rifle or a .38 Special, that's his business. But it's not a tradition in which I plan to take part.

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 12:55 AM | Comments (12) | TrackBack

June 11, 2003

Awful Ad Campaign Draws Lileks' Ire

James Lileks has written an absolutely wonderful Bleat today.

You should know that in this Bleat, Mr Lileks aims and fires at a local fusion restaurant whose advertising campaign is notable solely for its crassness. We further learn from Mr Lileks that the proprietors of this restaurant think it's neat to imply the items on its menu may cause patrons severe gastro-intestinal distress:

Big article in the Strib business section today - billboard ads that go out of their way to be edgy. Money quote: If you think diarrhea jokes are a bad way to sell Mexican food, you probably wont be stopping to eat at Chino Latino. And thats fine with them. See, theyre the leading practitioner of edgy advertising. If you dont get the joke, then they dont want your business. ...

... I wouldnt waste the pixels on this drivel had it not been for this thumb-in-the-eye quote from the holding companys president, Phil Roberts. His response to people who dont like the ads: hes probably wound too tight to eat there. Go to Applebees.

During this section of the Bleat, Mr Lileks also announces that he finds such an advertising campaign stupid and unclassy. He is quite right. Fortunately, what he does not say -- and hence, what I now get to do -- is proclaim the whole idea behind the restaurant stupid and unclassy, despite the proprietors' attempts to have the establishment seem cool and with it.

Now, some of my readers may say to themselves -- or tell me in the new comments section we have here at The Rant -- "Kepple, you have never been to this restaurant! How, therefore, can you render judgment upon it?"

Well, that's simple -- I'm not judging the Chino Latino restaurant per se, I'm judging the thought-process behind it. The restaurant may have perfectly fine food and eighty-seven tequilas and attractive people in abundance. That still doesn't mean I'm going to like a place fashioned around awful parameters. Besides, thanks to the Internet, there are gobs of reviews and information floating around about it.

For another thing, I am a proud former resident of Los Angeles, Calif., a city that truly figured out fusion cuisine. As such, I am capably qualified to express my opinion on this. As I see it, this place in Minneapolis has everything that Los Angeles figured out in oh, say, 1980; but since then, time has made those ideas pall. Further, it throws in some horrible ideas from the Seventies that should have been excised from the culture along with wide lapels and feathered hair.

Let's look at the first problem with this case in particular: the place has no sign. Indeed, the good people at citysearch.com advise instead: "Can't find it? Look for the place with all the glittery gold stuff above the door--and the line of people waiting to get inside."

Okay, so not only is it hard to find the place, I've got to go find a line and stand in it. Yeah, that's really going to get my dining experience off to a good start right there. Aside from imagining what that's like during Minnesota's eight months of winter, let me say this: if I wanted to stand in line, I'd go to a nightclub.

Of course, that's likely the idea behind it. There are plenty of nightclubs in Los Angeles and the rest of the country that have no signs and are out of the way to boot. Dumb people take this to mean that the place is exclusive and special. This is not true at all. Rather, what it means is that the smart nightclub owner makes bank on other people thinking the place is exclusive and special, plus he cuts his utility expenses. If the owner is really smart, he will keep the lights very low inside the place so his patrons don't realize he last redecorated in 1978.

In short: it's been done, it's worn out and tired, please come up with a new schtick.

Problem No. 2: "Drink Trinkets: Mixed drinks come with little umbrellas and plastic animals. Order something besides a beer if you like cute souvenirs," says Citysearch.com.

I thought this was a Latin/Asian place. Doesn't cerveza go naturally with Latin/Asian food? Ah well. That takes away from my point, which is this: in this year of our Lord 2003, restaurants ought not serve drinks with plastic umbrellas. That's a trend we've fortunately gotten away from -- it reminds one of a Polynesian/Chinese restaurant, circa 1962 -- and any establishment that voluntarily resurrects it ought to be criticized.

Problem No. 3: Voluntary use of orange in a decorating scheme:

"The global menu is perfectly matched with the wild, complicated decor. Chino Latino features a cushioned, orange vinyl wall..."

Enough said.

But the most bothersome issue is the food. People, if Minneapolis-St. Paul Magazine's review is any guide, those in charge of this establishment are taking perfectly fine ethnic cuisine and screwing it up. Now they may not be, but what I've read has me a bit concerned.

From my reading of this review, I can see that instead of offering true fusion cuisine, what these folks are doing is offering A) Latin food B) Asian food and C) likely doing neither as well as they ought. I mean, portobello satay? Gad. Beef with peanut sauce, yes; Chicken with peanut sauce, yes; Italian mushrooms, no.

I do think the writer of this review sums it up nicely when he writes:

From a purely culinary standpoint, few items on the extensive menu of Asian, Latin American, and tropical specialties hold a candle to better and lower-priced versions available at our areas growing collection of ethnic restaurants. But for those who care about atmosphere, there is no more dramatic dining room in town.

Please, America. Spare me the drama when I go out to eat. Spare me the glitz and the glamour and the brazenness of it all. Just make decent food and serve it an atmosphere where I can actually hear myself think and other people at my table talk. Is that too much to ask?

Posted by Benjamin Kepple at 10:33 PM | TrackBack