What did I just hear...and see?

Ok. I doubt very many will care about this, but I just thought it odd, bordering on scandalous. I was sitting at the computer with ESPN on in the background last night when a commercial ran with a song behind it that I thought I recognized. The odd thing was the ad was for Trojan Condoms. It can be seen here. I kept humming it to myself trying to figure out what the song was, until I finally got it. It's actually from an artist featured on the first installment of the music cavalcade, Shaun Groves. The song is "After the Music Fades" off his first album. The possible scandalous aspect is he's a Christian artist. So I listen to the commercial a couple more times and then his song. They are not the same. The words are different. BUT...if you slow down the song a bit the music, I think, is identical. I've isolated the chorus so you can listen to it here.

Am I the only one who hears the similarity? Do you think Shaun Groves or his record label might care? And why would a condom company think, "Hey, I know, let's use Christian music in our commercial to maximize the possibility of offending someone?"
Just curious.

I'm a Stupid Freaking Moron

Short version? On Saturday morning I went running and almost died. Ok, that's an exageration...maybe.

Long Version. Over the years, I have fought the battle of the bulge. Sometimes winning, sometimes (most) not. What this has done is instill in me a belief that working out is no longer a choice. It is required. Those are the rules, I just follow...well, ok maybe I do make them. I still don't like them though.
So Saturday morning is one of the days I go running. It's ususally a longer run than the ones during the week (approx. 5 miles, about 45 min. Yes, I know I'm a pansy. Go mock someone else).

This Saturday I woke up with stomach cramping and waves of nausea. So what do I do being the smart guy I am? I put on my atletic attire and head out the door. I'm a little later than normal (addressing the stomach cramps and all) so it's hotter than normal. This does not deter me. There is a park with a running/bike trail about a mile or mile and half, depending on the route I choose, from my house. I chose the short route just in case. About 100 feet from my house I get my first cramp but press on. It'll get better, I think, which is not entirely untrue. I arrive at the park after about ten minutes. I head straight for the water fountain. Compose myself for a quick 2 mile jaunt (One there, one back) on the trail. "There" was actually pretty good. Nice pace, no problems, I felt ok. "Back"? Well...I should also mention that I don't like being passed (yes, I know that is a difficult position considering my obviously weak running skills, but nonetheless). Well, along behind me came some speed merchant. I held him off for half a mile, but now at about the 24 minute mark my body was sending signals of it's displeasure with my prideful display. Did I mention the heat? Cramps return with some intermittant fuzziness. I completed the second mile of the circuit at about the 29 minute mark, and was completely out of gas. I had a brick in my stomach and my legs felt like lead. My dri-fit shirt was now wet-fit. One small problem, I still had to get home.

So about a mile or mile and half, depending on the route I choose, back to my house. Definitely going the short route. I decide I will gut it out (rock me!) and attempt to jog the rest of the way home. About minute 30 (or approximately one minute after starting) I notice my sweat has an odd aroma similar to vomit. Minute 34, I stop running. Minute 35, I begin again. Minute 37, I think I'm going to vomit. Minute 37.5, I'm sure I'm gonna vomit. More walking. Minute 40, I'm about 5 blocks from home and start running again. Minute 44, I arrive home alive without having vomitted. I spent the next twenty minutes laying (or is it lying?) on a towel under the ceiling fan on my floor and the rest of the weekend recovering. Thus ends the daring tale of my near-death experience. I may be dumb, but I didn't miss a workout!

New music cavalcade

...well, at least to me.

As a service to my musically challenged friends, I'm going to give a quick review to some of the 12 new CD's I acquired (Yes, I'm streaky. I do things in bunches). Some are up to 4 years old, but they're new to me...and that's all that matters. In celebration of the upcoming football season albums will be rated on a scale from one to five helmets. Remember, most I've only listened through one time. Multiple listenings could affect rating.



Bright Eyes - I'm Wide Awake, It's Morning (2005) This guy can write some songs. Voice? Ehh.... But well worth it. Rating:




Shaun Groves - White Flag (2005) It's okay. I'm not sure it has the same number of songs that I really like (2 or 3) as his previous albums, but a solid offering of a concept album (Beatitudes). Rating:






The Thrills - Let's Bottle Bohemia (2004) Ehh...buddy. The word that comes to mind is jangly. Like they're trying to be a witty version of the Jayhawks. I've heard their earlier offering is better, so stay tuned. Rating:

Striving for Success

Over the years, I’m sure I’ve disappointed others for a variety of reasons. I would guess I’ve been disappointed in myself for an equally robust collection of reasons. Recently at least, I think I’ve shortened the list. I fear that my main failure as a human is that I really don’t care about being a success. At least as the culture currently defines it. I’ve had discussions/arguments with friends/girlfriends/acquaintances/family members/strangers about the relative merits of such life goals. I am a man without goals. Yes, I know, it’s detestable. Honestly, I wouldn’t care as much as I do (very little) were it not for the fact that I fear God has some great work plotted out for me and I’m to busy not climbing the proper ladder to get there. Yesterday, I read this. It made me feel a little better about my views on life (and even politics). But I’m sure Oswald could be just as wrong as me (less likely, but possible).

We tend to think that if Jesus Christ compels us to do something and we are obedient to Him, He will lead us to great success. We should never have the thought that our dreams of success are God’s purpose for us. In fact, His purpose may be exactly the opposite. We have the idea that God is leading us toward a particular end or a desired goal, but He is not. The question of whether or not we arrive at a particular goal is of little importance, and reaching it becomes merely an episode along the way. What we see as only the process of reaching a particular end, God sees as the goal itself.
What is my vision of God’s purpose for me? Whatever it may be, His purpose is for me to depend on Him and on His power now. If I can stay calm, faithful, and unconfused while in the middle of the turmoil of life, the goal of the purpose of God is being accomplished in me. God is not working toward a particular finish— His purpose is the process itself. What He desires for me is that I see "Him walking on the sea" with no shore, no success, nor goal in sight, but simply having the absolute certainty that everything is all right because I see "Him walking on the sea" ( Mark 6:49 ). It is the process, not the outcome, that is glorifying to God.
God’s training is for now, not later. His purpose is for this very minute, not for sometime in the future. We have nothing to do with what will follow our obedience, and we are wrong to concern ourselves with it. What people call preparation, God sees as the goal itself.
God’s purpose is to enable me to see that He can walk on the storms of my life right now. If we have a further goal in mind, we are not paying enough attention to the present time. However, if we realize that moment-by-moment obedience is the goal, then each moment as it comes is precious.

I guess that could scare some people. “You mean God doesn’t care that I’m a C.E.O.?” “God doesn’t care that I a graduated from medical school?” I don’t think he does, but that could just be because I don’t care if you did. I’m pretty sure I’ve said it before, but very little in this world can be evaluated by the end result. It’s all about the process. We never know if a game was played fairly by the final score. We never know if a person’s life was a success by the size of their tombstone. We never know if a judge was unbiased by his verdict. It’s all about the process. Not if you can get from A to B, but how. I just pray that I’m doing the “how” right. I think I should set a goal to have a better “how” by the end of the year.

I am a soccer hooligan

The tickets were purchased. The trip is pretty much finalized. On September 3rd I will be in Columbus, Ohio to watch the U.S. National team play Mexico in a World Cup Qualifier. We will be driving. Probably not the best idea, but what else do I have to do? This will be my third time to see U.S. vs. Mexico, but my first where it actually counts.

The last time was at the Cotton Bowl. Shockingly, 4/5 of the fans were not rooting for the home team. It was almost scary. I learned that day, that unlike the normal American fan, international soccer fans show up early and begin cheering and chanting even before they get to their seat. It was already deafening 20 minutes before kickoff. Though the U.S. dominated throughout, the first (and only) goal was not scored until very late in the game. Luckily, it was by the red, white and blue. There’s something very satisfying about watching your team disappoint over 30,000 people.

Another difference I learned that day is that Mexicans don’t quit cheering when the final whistle blows even if their team lost. Dancing, chanting, drums and horns. None of it abated. This was reason one that my hooliganism began to brew. As we attempted to exit—me and my ten gringo friends and 35,000 Mexicans—it became apparent that there was a problem. For reasons I can’t fully explain, the main thoroughfare from the south end of the Cotton Bowl to the main parking area was blocked. Thus smashing us all together and forcing us to actually re-enter the stadium to cut across to the other side. This was reason two.

The main reason (#3 for those scoring at home) was the Mexican fan about five feet from me who whistled repeatedly for the entire time (about 20-30 minutes). This grated seriously on my nerves. This was no normal whistle. It was loud. It was piercing. I was literally getting a headache. I gave the guy dirty looks, which he definitely saw, but no effect. Then my friends and I tried vocally encouraging him to stop. Nothing vulgar, no profanity, just "DUDE, STOP IT." When finally I had had enough, I resorted to "scoreboard" tactics. In between each of his whistle blasts I would chant, "Un a cero." That’s "one to zero" in Spanish (yes, I know my linguistic skills are impressive, try to focus) and also the score of the game we had all just witnessed. This, unfortunately, had little effect. Well, actually the whistles might have picked up a bit. So, I was forced to go to the nuclear option.

I feared somewhat that the other Mexican fans might turn on me if I tried it, but I was now in a fight and I’m a man dammit. I had to win. So a slight modification to my previous chant was made and the result was "Dos a cero." Yes, that’s right "two to nothing." I hoped my friends had my back, but since they didn’t join in on my previous chant, I wasn’t so sure. For those with the question marks forming above their heads, 2-0 was the score of U.S. defeat of Mexico in the 2002 world cup. "But," you might be saying, "That was in 2002 and the game you were at took place last year, 2004, what does that matter?" Well, I not completely sure, but as best I can tell, this was a particularly painful loss for them. Your most hated rival on the world stage in the world’s most important tournament that only occurs once every four years. Ok, maybe I do sorta understand. I guess it would be like some sorry San Francisco fan bringing up "The Catch". Bastards.

So anyway. I said it. "Dos a Cero". Actually, I kinda sung it. Well, at the first sound of this the whistling Mexican switched up his MO a bit, too. His response was to flip me the bird, and better yet, to punctuate the breaks in my chant with "F*** YOU!". After a couple a more rounds, I stopped and so did he. But more importantly, no whistling. The way I see it, the U.S. had two victories that day.

Tour de France...Tour de Lance...Tour de Force

Well, well, well. That was easy enough. I’m sure that’s what a lot of people think. Lance Armstrong won his 7th Tour De France yesterday. It was never really all that close. But that should not take away for the utter unbelievability of the accomplishment.

All he did was come back from cancer. A cancer that no doctor thought he had a chance to defeat. And after seeing the other side of cancer, he goes out and wins one of the most grueling physical competitions the world has ever seen. Then he wins it again... and again...and again...and again... and again...and again. As a comparison, Tiger Woods just won his 10 major tournament as he chases Jack Nicholas’s record of 18. I’ll probably ruffle some diehard cycling fans by saying that in their sport there’s only one major but the Tour de France is the only one the world stops down for. So, the way I see it, Lance’s 7 is the same as Tiger winning his 25th major. Exactly.

FYI, going up a 16,000-ft mountain on a bike is not easy. Doing it when 100 other guys are plotting your defeat is probably tougher. I don’t know, I’m just guessing. It’s been said that Lance is physically predisposed to process oxygen better than the average human. The same thing has been said about Jan Ullrich. The deference was probably evident Saturday during the time trial when Armstrong wanted to win. He hadn’t won a race all year. This was essentially his last chance to do so. He didn’t need to. But he wanted to…a lot more than any one else. That’s what made him the champion he became. His willingness to punish his body to be the best he could be. Not always true for others (see Ullrich).

It’s always fun to have the guy for which you’re rooting dominate. It’s also fun to have that guy let his competitors know that, in the end, they don’t have enough to beat him, and then back it up. He never let us see him fail. He knew the expectations and met them. I’m guessing part of that is because his own expectations dwarfed them. I could go on, but I'll end the slobbering here...Viva la Lance!

I wish it weren't so TRUE.COM

*Update*

Ok, I thought I had seen it all, or at least all of them. The adverts for True.com and their dating service. You remeber that story, don't you? With the pictures? Ok, good. Well anyway, I ran across a new one today. I was dumfounded. It features an attractive young lass (SHOCKING) wearing nothing but a pair of jeans lying (or is it laying? No, it's definitely lying) in the grass. She also features a very welcoming smile (SHOCKING). It should be at the bottom of the page with the rest of them but you can see the banner ad only here. The best part is the text or as they say in the biz, "the copy". "Discover what true love feels like." Uh-huh. For some reason I get the notion that the "feels like" has nothing to do with emotion as it relates to this ad.

We've all heard it a million times; "Sex sells." I wish that weren't the case. Or I guess, more to the point, I wish it wasn't so effective on yours truly. In a sense it wasn't effective (I am making fun of the ads) for I would never consider using such a service. Knowing that... and understanding the obvious intent of the ads... and knowing that this is just a model... and knowing that no such girl exists just waiting for a spare like me to come calling, my initial gut reaction to the ad was, "Click on it! CLICK ON IT NOW!" And I consider myself of sufficient intelligence and willpower. I might be fooling myself, but my guess is that lots of guys are getting fooled.

When the page loaded -- with this small banner ad at the bottom-- my eyes were immediately drawn there. And before I could even figure out at what exactly I was looking and what its purpose was, lust made an appearance. I'm not proud of it, but what's a guy supposed to do. I was just trying to check my email, next thing I know I've got a hot, topless girl smiling at me. (And of course, her head is sorta sideways so you have to rotate your head to try to get a good feel for what she actually looks like...FYI still hot.) Is this just a malady suffered by the male of the species? I almost think, to some degree, it is. I rarely ever see an ad for a product used primarily by females featuring hunky guys. If that's the case, I guess I should be on the verge of hating myself...except that I thank God every day I'm not a girl.

I know how smart I am...

...because God tells me so.
I was recently informed via my pastor's daily e-mail devotional that "Forty-four times God's word calls us sheep. In fact... "sheep" is the most common metaphor for human beings in all of Scripture." Ah, yes. This is how God sees us. That little fact made this news story all the more amusing and insightful.

Hundreds of sheep followed their leader off a cliff in eastern Turkey, plunging to their deaths this week while shepherds looked on in dismay.

Four hundred sheep fell 15 yards to their deaths in a ravine in Van province near Iran but broke the fall of another 1,100 animals who survived, newspaper reports said Friday.

That's right. These animals are so with it that over 1500 of them went over a cliff for the sole reason that the one in front of them was doing the same. Only 450 died because there were already enough at the bottom to cushion the fall. That's what God thinks of us... the independent thinkers we are. Like Dr. Denison said, "God is not trying to increase our self-esteem when he calls us sheep." True dat, Doc, true dat...

See how healthy I am

I recently decided to switch up my workout. This time, instead of haphazardly creating my own routine, I bought a book. Along with all the other helpful hints and weight lifting regimens the author suggested, lo, implored that I (reader) drink copious amounts of water. So Monday (yesterday), I arrived at work with the goal to do just that.
Water is already my drink of choice. Odds are if I'm drinking, it's water. So I have my trusty 32 oz. drinking cup memorializing Pudge Rodriguez's 1999 MVP and 2000 All-Star game appearance (timely sports tie-in) at the ready. I typically make it through about 3 cups in a given day, but today (Monday) I had a loftier pursuit in mind. Each cup full equals 1 quart. My goal? Two gallons. Eight Pudge Tumblers of wet, liquid, life giving goodness. So for you, dear reader(s), I kept a log. A log of when I completely downed a quart and, of course, I also logged to answer the question you all really have. "How many times did you go to the bathroom?"


I arrive at work a little before 7:30 a.m. My first Pudge Memorial Water Cup Full (PMWCF) was completed at 8:40 a.m. Twenty minutes later, my first Toilet Excretory Transaction (TE-T) took place. At 9:45, TE-T number two occurred. And yes, I saw
him. Yes, it was awkward. I was able to finish off PMWCF #2 before 10:00 a.m. The rest of the day went like this.

PMWCF	TE-T
8:40 a.m.	9:00 a.m.
9:51 a.m.	9:45 a.m.
11:04 a.m.	10:15 a.m.
11:40 a.m.	10:35 a.m.
	11:08 a.m.
12:58 p.m.	12:08 p.m.
2:29 p.m.	12:40 p.m.
3:16 p.m.	2:28 p.m.
4:03 p.m.	3:06 p.m.
	3:48 p.m.
	4:10 p.m.

So yes, I did indeed drink 2 gallons of water in an 8-hour period. And yes, I did wear out a path to the little boy's room.

Vomit

Sometimes you think the public at large might be stupid. Sometimes you even start to believe it. Then, there are those times when they go ahead and shock you with overwhelming proof. Saturday night, Kenny Rogers made his first start at home since the incident. Saturday night, Kenny Rogers got a standing ovation from the fans. Huh? Excuse me? The same guy who attacked two cameramen without provocation and then took a week to decide an apology was appropriate. That Kenny Rogers? Indeed. Vomit, vomit, vomit. See that lady giving the thumbs up? Idiot. The one next to her clapping? Idiot. The one next to her cheering and waving a scarf? Idiot. Anyone who stood and cheered. Idiots.
It would be one thing had Kenny's attack been provoked. It would have been another if Kenny had been speaking to the press in good faith (he hasn't all year) and then been treated unfairly. I would have even changed the situation had he chosen to throw himself at the mercy of the league and the fans the day after. None of these things occurred. Instead, he lost his mind and attacked two guys that had nothing to do with his perceived suffering. They did not suggest he was using his hand as an excuse not to pitch, members of the Rangers organization did. They had no say as to Kenny's new contract...or how he's botched past negotiations. They did not ram his hand into a cooler. But they learned their lesson anyway.

What sickens me is that Kenny did not. The fans? Well here's what Kenny said after his reception on Saturday, "It was very moving for me. I didn't give the fans enough credit for what they know and understand. They've seen me play the game for 20 years. They know what I'm all about. I should have never addressed the other stuff that was put out there." I join him in not giving the fans much credit. Apparently, they bought this...

And now...NOW...Kenny's going to play in the All-Star game. Hopefully, someone there will have enough sense to boo him. Vomit...

My Party Leader is smarter than your Party Leader

Our President, George W. Bush, has often been characterized as less than mentally razor sharp. His issues with the English language are well documented. Despite that, I still think he's smarter than most give him credit. If for no other reason than he knew to keep Karl Rove within earshot.

There is a politician, however, who should finally take heed of one of my favorite axioms..."‘Tis better to be thought a fool, than to open your mouth and prove it." Well, Rep. Nancy Pelosi (D - 8th Dist., CA), the house Democratic Leader, opened hers and absolutely nothing came out. Of substance, that is. She is a complete moron, plain and simple.

Recently, the Supreme Court issued its Kelo decision, which, as I understand it, allows legislative bodies to exercise eminent domain to seize private land for purchase by another private entity, as long as it considers the transfer beneficial to the public good. (HT - Captains Quarters) From what I gather, the ruling does nothing to impede those same legislative bodies from enacting laws to limit when eminent domain can be exercised above that very low standard. Sen. John Cornyn (R - Tex) has introduced legislation to do just that. Mrs. Pelosi was asked her opinion on the subject, and what follows his a tidal wave of ignorance and confusion. Below is a brief interaction between a reporter and the House Minority Leader during her weekly press conference. Notice how the reporter repeats the question because her first answer wasn't even close to on target. Notice Mrs. Pelosi continue to reissue it and then grab a shovel and start digging deeper.

Q: Later this morning, many Members of the House Republican leadership, along with John Cornyn from the Senate, are holding a news conference on eminent domain, the decision of the Supreme Court the other day, and they are going to offer legislation that would restrict it, prohibiting federal funds from being used in such a manner. Two questions: What was your reaction to the Supreme Court decision on this topic, and what do you think about legislation to, in the minds of opponents at least, remedy or changing it?

Ms. Pelosi: As a Member of Congress, and actually all of us and anyone who holds a public office in our country, we take an oath of office to uphold the Constitution of the United States. Very central to that in that Constitution is the separation of powers. I believe that whatever you think about a particular decision of the Supreme Court, and I certainly have been in disagreement with them on many occasions, it is not appropriate for the Congress to say we're going to withhold funds for the Court because we don't like a decision.

Q: Not on the Court, withhold funds from the eminent domain purchases that wouldn't involve public use. I apologize if I framed the question poorly. It wouldn't be withholding federal funds from the Court, but withhold Federal funds from eminent domain type purchases that are not just involved in public good.

Ms. Pelosi: Again, without focusing on the actual decision, just to say that when you withhold funds from enforcing a decision of the Supreme Court you are, in fact, nullifying a decision of the Supreme Court. This is in violation of the respect for separation of church -- powers in our Constitution, church and state as well. Sometimes the Republicans have a problem with that as well. But forgive my digression.

So the answer to your question is, I would oppose any legislation that says we would withhold funds for the enforcement of any decision of the Supreme Court no matter how opposed I am to that decision. And I'm not saying that I'm opposed to this decision, I'm just saying in general.

Q: Could you talk about this decision? What you think of it?

Ms. Pelosi: It is a decision of the Supreme Court. If Congress wants to change it, it will require legislation of a level of a constitutional amendment. So this is almost as if God has spoken. It's an elementary discussion now. They have made the decision.

Q: Do you think it is appropriate for municipalities to be able to use eminent domain to take land for economic development?

Ms. Pelosi: The Supreme Court has decided, knowing the particulars of this case, that that was appropriate, and so I would support that.

Above and beyond the fact that Pelosi doesn't understand the SCOTUS decision, Cornyn's proposed legislation, or the English language, is the startling admission that she equates a ruling by the Supreme Court as unalterable as the word of God. This is about 5 seconds after she had just mentioned "separation of powers." It's like a praise chorus that just throws in churchy words, she just makes some vague allusion to the Constitution to remind everyone her job involves it...somehow...she thinks. More importantly, what does she think? Does she even realize that she, along with her fellow congressmen, has the power to overrule the Supreme Court? And that the Supreme Court can enforce nothing without the help of the other branches? Hello? Poli-Sci? Heard of it?

I must now go fume.

Catatrophic Moment? I'll show you Catatrophic Moment!

...says Kenny Rogers

Yowzer...Ok so this is what going completely ape nuts in front of the entire world looks like. Kenny Rogers decided he was tired of taking all that crap off the video cameras on Wednesday. The 1st pic below shows you Kenny Rogers in his last moment of sanity before attacking "offending" camera #1. The one above is actually the build up for Mr. Rogers (definitely not THE Mr. Rogers) strategic strike on cameral #2. Pics 2 and 3 in the series below show what happens when injured left hands, video equipment, and photo journalist are introduced to the wonderful world of physics. . .

So Kenny finally decided to walk away, had to get his stretching in, you know. He gets half way out, when as you can see below, he decides that spunky little camera hasn’t had enough. The teammate makes a half-hearted attempt to stop him, but to no avail (left). BTW, doesn’t this show you the weight Kenny has in the room when a teammate, after witnessing him go postal, thinks, “Ah, let him go, he’s rolling.” Anyway, more of Kenny Rogers Global War on photographic equipment ensues. That camera is finally down (center) and it knows who’s boss now because Kenny kicks it (not pictured). A teammate (Ron Barajas) finally attempts to corral him , but that just allows Rogers to move on (right) to yet another camera brave enough to hang around a combat zone. Luckily, that the camera transport (a.k.a. cameraman, video journalist, human) was able to get out of there.

Unfortunately, everyone wasn’t so lucky.

The big question, though, is why? Why would a guy who’s having the best year of his career at age 41 go off on a group of people who had not and were not doing anything to him? Yeah, I don’t know. He didn’t like that fact that some people questioned his willingness to play through pain. Maybe he didn’t like the way some members of the Rangers organization did the same. Maybe he's ticked because he can’t get the new contract he wants. But guess what. I don’t care. He’s either a freaking psycho or a freaking moron. There’s some talk whether he should ever pitch again. I’m not sure I’m ready to say Rogers shouldn’t, but he should definitely pay for this. Suspend him. Fine him. Maybe even tar and feather.
More importantly (well, to me more than those camera guys), this is just one more in a litany of things that makes me not like this organization. It’s sad that even as all the Rangers officials were saying the right things after the fact, I couldn’t really trust that they would do the right thing. I wasn’t even sure they weren’t complicit somehow and might even be glad that they had a tangible reason to cut Rogers loose. Read
T.R.'s article from Tuesday and tell me that you're sure that Rangers are 100% behind Rogers. Some of Tom Hicks' own comments about Kenny yesterday made me think that he didn't quite buy the whole "My pinky hurts story" either. All that to say, I wish Tom Hicks didn't own this team. I wish Tom Hart wasn't the G.M. and I'm ready for Buck Showalter to manage some other team into the ground. It's really hard to root for the team when you're continually reminded of these fools. Let's not forget these brainiacs pay the Evil Empire $8 mil a year to take the best player in baseball off our hands. Yes, he's the Cooler. But it's the principle of the thing.
The news stations are lucky they didn't send any cameramen to record my doings right now.

The Catastrophic Moment

...Another term coined by the great Mike Rhyner. It is the moment in a sports season when a team is seen for what it is. Their fate is sealed in your mind. Last night, without a doubt, it occured to the Texas Rangers.
There will probably be some debate. Even in my own mind, I'm not completely sure. The most obvious would be when this guy unfurled his majestic swing with the bases loaded in the top of the 11th. Thus wasting a fine pitching performance of John Wasdin, who went 8 and only gave up one run. Well, that was the moment I knew I was right in claiming the catastrophic moment. The play where that moment actually occured came some 5 pitches earlier. When that dang Darin Erstad inside-outed a Kam Loe fastball to left and Kevin Mench was not able to come up with it, thus putting runners at second and third with no outs. I'm not saying Mench should have got there, or didn't try hard enough, but I still don't know how a left-handed batter gets jammed but still is able to get it over the left-fielder's head. And when it landed, it looked like it was it almost hit Mench in the head to get to that spot. I knew it then. By the looks on their faces, I think Mench and Young and Buck knew it, too. "These guys are better than us, and we're never gonna catch'um." So, there you go. The Rangers are D-U-N...done, done, done.
This is what it looks like when you just clinched the division in June with one swing of the bat...

Am I still a bad sports fan? Let me hear from you, America!

Ok, so last night, as you may or may not be aware, was game seven of the NBA Finals. It's not something that happens every day or every year, more like once a decade. It started about eight. I sat down about a quarter till and decided I was ok with missing tip-off to catch up on the DVR (BTW, Rick, you were right. Lost is genius.) When I had finished with that, I was starting to think I should capitulate to the big time sports event. As I return to ABC, the 2nd quarter is waiting to begin and I hear Hubie Brown describing the game so far as fast-paced. I was mildly shocked. Both teams must have scored in the 30's (the score had yet to be displayed). Detroit? Fast-paced? Then Hubie mentioned that the teams weren't shooting all that well (S.A. 40%, Det. 38%) "Oh," I think, "the teams only scored in the mid-20's then." Hubie also stated that the pace had enabled San Antonio to attain the lead. Fast-paced and all. Then, the score is displayed. And what do my eyes behold? Spurs - 18, Pistons - 16. I let out one loud singular guffaw. My next move was back to the PVR (Six Feet Under anyone?). When I had finished with that poignant episode, I turned the TV off and headed for my room. Of course, I then turned that TV on, dutifully to the game. Half time was just ending. And then I saw the score, Pistons - 39, Spurs - 38. I shook my head, wondered if either team would get to 75, and grabbed a book. I "watched" the rest of the game while reading. By watch I mean I read and occasionally checked on the score. If Al or Hubie screamed I might also glance up, but I don't recall that happening. Well, I'm sure you all know the out come by now. One team did actually get to 75, but only one. A champion was crowned. Yip. Which brings me to a question. How do you make a 7-foot tall, three time NBA champion with 3 Finals MVP's look gay? I'm not sure, but it's got to look something like this.

Oh, one final (rock me!) thing. Yesterday, something very important happened…something that could spare Dallas residents a large amount of future embarrassment. A guy retired. Thus meaning we will never again be subjected to this...

I am a horrible sports fan

Why? Well, last night after having dinner and trying to catch up on some of my PVR collection, I headed to the bedroom. Before crawling into bed I switched it to Sportscenter as any good human male should do, when I saw this man giving a press conference. Worse yet, at first I couldn't figure out why he was in a press conference. My superior analytical skills finally led me to the conclusion that, despite any impression I might have had, game 6 of the NBA finals had been played. And I never even suspected it.

Worse news for the NBA, I didn't really care. Is it because I'm not a fan of sports? I don't think so, because I did spend quite a bit of time last night watching and listening to...wait for it... the Double-A Texas League All-Star game (more on that later). What I've concluded is I can no longer tolerate the NBA in large portions, if at all. It's not because it doesn't contain amazing athletes. It's not because my local team isn't good. It's because the officiating, or lack thereof, or the superstar exemptions or the fact that a guy can take 6 step and not get called for a travel, it all drives me mad. What it's done is taken a perfectly good sport with superior athletes and turned it into something I can't stand to spectate. Luckily, I have baseball.

Speaking of which, I did indeed take in enough of a minor league all-star game to catch who might be the next great hope to be Texas Rangers pitching star. I actually watched him pitch a complete game, 105 pitch, 3-hitter last week via FSNSW. Last night was just one inning, but that one inning was glorious. He mad some very promising prospects look helpless. Who? Edison Volquez . This is what Mike Hindman had to say about it in his daily email update on Ranger Minor League goings on (yes, I am a geek. No, I'm not ashamed.) that made me giddy and full of gleeful glee:

I wandered down to the Frisco bullpen in the third inning when I saw the young man in the red jersey get up to throw. I took my position next to the nacho stand, leaning over the top rail to get a close up view of Edison Volquez warm up for what would be his one inning of work in last night’s Texas League mid-summer classic.

A man and his two pre-adolescent sons crammed up against the fence next to me and the man admonished his boys to "watch this guy throw." And for a moment, all was quiet, save the ambient buzz of the massive crowd and the popping of horsehide into leather. This went on for five or six tosses, at which point one of the boys turned to his dad and said, "but Dad, you can’t see the ball!"

Turns out that kid was no different than the Texas League’s best hitters.

Volquez perched himself upon the Frisco mound in front of what was probably the biggest crowd he’s ever seen, on a day when some had to be questioning whether–after just three Texas League appearances–he really belonged in the game, and wrapped his massive hands around a baseball, letting fly called strike one (96 mph fastball). Called strike two (97 mph fastball). Swing and miss, strike three on a dirty change.

Next up, the Texas League leader in homers, Corey Aldridge, who has seen big league action with the Atlanta Braves. Change up for strike one. Eighty mile an hour change up fouled off for strike two. Heater, 95 mph, fouled back. Finally, after seven pitches, a pair of balls (an 81 mph change and a 94 mph fastball). Then Volquez snapped off the one curve ball he threw during his tenure, a nice 11-5 number that came in at 74 mph and Aldridge dribbled a harmless grounder right at sure-handed second baseman Drew Meyer for out number two.

Then the powerful Mike Napoli took his place in the box. Napoli, who led the Cal League with 29 dingers last year, who is second behind Aldridge in the Texas League home run race this year, who is batting .300, and who provided the most awe-inspiring moment of the home run contest before the game with a shot over the green back in dead center (at least 470 feet), is a dead fastball hitter (one scouting report I read reads "will hit an average fastball a mile" and, after the home run contest, I had little reason to doubt the veracity of that report).

So as Napoli stands in, I’m wondering if Volquez knows about any of this–or if he cares. And , quickly, the answer comes. Fastball, right down the gut. Strike one. Fastball, 97 mph, fouled off. Strike two. And then one more time, fastball, 97 mph, as Napoli looks on hopelessly. Called strike three.

So, you see, that kid out at the bullpen was no different than the most powerful hitter in the Cal League who couldn’t see the ball that Volquez throws. And if you don’t get yourself out to Frisco, pronto, you might not see it either.

So, like I said, I'm a horrible sports fan. If you agree call me tonight will I'm at the FC Dallas game.

Nothing new...

Just a couple of updates...

#1. Papa John's did call and offered me a free pizza. I don't expect to be calling them back.

#2. As if on cue, soon after completing this post true.com rolled out a whole new group of ads that inundated my internet slogging. I have added them. I believe they might even be more shocking than the originals. Check them out HERE.

From which I came...

I was preparing today's post about my hometown upon having visited the little burg (pop. 14,000) this weekend for Father's Day. I was going to supply examples of entertaining insight such as every cute girl you see when walking through Wal-Mart (Yes, I went. Yes, it's required. Yes, that is where you go to see anyone in this town...) is either (A) great with child or (B) already pushing one or two around in a shopping cart. But, as I was preparing to supply you a link to our local newspaper (their ability to identify and report actual news will always be in question, and yes, I do know the family on the front page...went to church with 'em, played b-ball and taught the kids in Bible study) I struck pure internet gold. For at the top of the page is a large button that says click here to go to the photo gallery. I did. Then you see that this little fish of the fourth estate offers copies of photos for a small fee. In this case the only offering is for the 2005 Gainesville High Prom. My alma mater, God bless her. Just so you know. Prom is a very big deal in G-ville. Too big. I despised it while there, loathe it now that I'm gone. Or is it vice-versa? Anyway, not only do they decorate the inside of Civic Center in that year's particular theme; they typically create a faux facade to really bring the theme home. I remember one year as a child the theme having something to do with a riverboat resulted in a fake riverboat with a giant rotating paddle. My senior year, the theme was something medieval. So, or course, it looked like a castle with a drawbridge complete with fake dragon expelling smoke periodically. Yes, I know, we are all insane. Oh, yes... you should also know that they erect bleachers so parents and other interested parties (I would estimate at least 100 or more than the attended any high school baseball game in which I played) can watch as couples enter the prom and are announced. That's right, announced.

So, without further delay I give you the link. From the ten pages of fun you may have such reactions as:
1. Apparently the white tux is making a comeback...
2. Dude, you are not that cool...and no, the hat does not have me feelin' ya. (#24)
3. Dude, pink? felt? jacket?...with jeans? (#26)
4. Flaunting in the face of the "Bare midriff rule"? Bold. (#29)
5. Dude, your date's got like a foot on you...
6. Are you sure she's in...high school? Not Grad school?
7. Repeating...Dude you are not that cool (#22, 60, 70, 78, 82, 122, 123, 139)
8. Sunglasses, huh? It's 9:30...PM!!!
9. Apparently coxcomb is not an SAT word.

Corporate Media folly

My letter to the editor of the Dallas morning news:

Quick question. I've just gone back through the last three editions (6/15-6/17) of the Dallas Morning News and have yet been unable to find the story on Illinois Sen. Dick Durbin and his remarks (click for video) comparing American interrogators at Guantanamo Bay to Nazis, Soviet gulags and Khmer Rouge leader Pol Pot? I really appreciate the knowledge that Bush aides are millionaires. You were even able to find space to report on the need for detainees rights being defined but, where's the related story that a U.S. Senator became completely unhinged over the issue and compared U.S. servicemen to some of the most prolific murderers in history? It's not in the paper to which I subscribe. Why do I subscribe again?

The Rise of Fascism

Yesterday in my normal blog wandering, I ran across this article. Essentially, it's a warning to all those far and wide that the pesky Christians are becoming more than pesky, maybe dangerous. A threat to liberty the world over. Uh-huh. Sure the author chooses to use offensive language and colorful pejoratives such as "Christer", but this is not an anti-Christian stance. It's pro-freedom baby. Before I go on, last I checked I'm a Christian, a conservative, I attend a large Baptist church in Texas no less, and seem somewhat politically involved. Yet, I've got none of the memos. I have no idea whose freedoms on which I supposed to be trampling. Not even on the mailing list. What do I have to do? Build a statue of James Dobson in the front yard? Also, none of my bible thumping-- or as the author might call "fundamentalist religious primitives"-- friends has mentioned it to me either. I think I'm about to get my feelings hurt.

Anyway, some of the most inflammatory derisions come by way of a quote from Martin Kaplan.

"Martin Kaplan, director of the Norman Lear Center at the Annenberg School of Communication at USC, calls the new Christer offensive a drive toward 'theocratic oligopoly. The drumbeat of religious fascism has never been as troubling as it is now in this country,' adding that 'e-mails to the FCC are more worrisome to me than boycotts' in terms of their chilling effect ."

I read that and smirked, figuring that the fascist line of demarcation had been moved. But my blog hero, James Lileks, had a better response on his newest blog creation:

If one means “religious fascism” as the use of the power of the state to achieve a particular moral objective, you could argue that progressive taxation is “fascism,” inasmuch as it assumes that the rich should pay more for the good of all, and this moral imperative should be enforced by law... I suspect Mr. Kaplan subscribes to the fashionable notion that people who email the FCC to complain when a sitcom uses the Eucharist as a running gag – literally – are part of the dark bolus of god-bothered maniacs. Fanatics. Wild-eyed nutbombs who want to unite the world under the rippling banner of God Uber Alles first, and have the miserable sectarian wars after the secularists are dead. James Dobson, Osama – are not both filled with terrible certainties? Is not an email campaign to bring down a TV show the metaphorical equivalent of bringing down a skyscraper? Granted, a writer who jumps from a cancelled show usually lands on his feet. But they have a certain poetic symmetry, no?
No. And anyone who tries to make the point deserves to be struck in the face with a thick, wet, cold haddock... You’re permitted to lodge complaints, but only if you come from a secular perspective. By all means, protest – dissent is patriotic! – but keep that Christer stuff in the church.

Lyrics I like for no good reason

daria, I won't be soothed.
daria, I won't be soothed over like,
smoothed over like milk...
silk...
a bedspread, or a quilt...
icing on a cake...
or a serene translucent lake.
daria, daria, daria,
i won't be soothed.
i won't be soothed.
- Cake