I hate to go picking on Arby's again so soon after my earlier entry, but I can't not link to this. Take note, you can be a Superstar! at Arby's and have an Oven Mitt as a colleague!
I recently finished Live From New York, a history of "Saturday Night Live." What a juicy read! I read a lot of nonfiction, but this may be the first book I've ever read about a TV show. It's very interesting. At first, I thought I'd only read the back half, namely, the sections about the seaons of SNL I remember watching. My Dad, who loaned me the book, encouraged me to read the whole thing, because he said that more than anything, the book is a portrait of the show's executive producer, Lorne Michaels. Dad was right, and I heartily recommend the book to anyone who is familiar with the show or has an interest in the behind the scenes workings of a live television institution.
I did learn that Chevy Chase appears to be an enormous jerk. I also learned a lot more about the process of writing a show like SNL than I'd ever thought about before.
The Grammys. Always disappointing. Simon and Garfunkel just looked old and so many performances that had potential were just average.
This year I have no real qualms with the award winners. The Grammys this year were sort of like the major league baseball playoffs for me. In baseball, it's "anyone but the Yankees." This year's Grammys mantra was "anyone but Avril Lavigne."
And that anyone happened to be Norah Jones, whose album is perfectly lovely.
In reading post-Grammy articles, I stumbled upon one over on ESPN.com by the Sports Guy who points out that Justin Timberlake looks disturbingly like Brian Austin Green with his little beard. A truer comparison was never made. Here's Justin and here's Brian Austin Green. Memo to Justin: shave the pseudo beard before you find yourself dating Tori Spelling on television.
I finally managed to get a teeny biography/about page up. You can view it here.
Last week sometime I finished The Kid by Dan Savage. Here in Central Ohio, we have a lovely bookshop that sells only remainders, and I picked up this one in hardcover for four dollars or so. I was under the mistaken impression that it was a toddler narrative of sorts, about the adjustments that Savage and his boyfriend would have to make after adopting a little boy. In actuality, it's about the adoption process, and was fascinating. Dan and Terry decide to do an open adoption, where they meet the mother, and the resulting story is really quite amazing. Savage has a few digressions of unrelated mirth and ire, but in general, it's a very focused book. It's rather touching. On top of that, I simply could not put it down. It was very gripping.
If you have a raspy voice like yours, it's meant for rapping (cf: DMX) not singing (cf: "Mesmerized"). Please do us all a favor and leave the singing to Ashanti. If I hear "those lips! those eyes!" off-key and flat one more time...
Via Max, the latest meme. In this case, hitting shuffle on the ol' mp3 player and listing the first ten you get. So, here we go:
Born, Never Asked -- Laurie Anderson
Grey (live) -- Ani DiFranco
Happy Song -- Melissa Ferrick
99 Red Balloons (english) -- Nena
Manhattan -- Ella Fitzgerald
Monday Monday Monday -- Tegan and Sara
May Day Cafe -- the Nields
No Myth -- Michael Penn
Love at the Five and Dime -- Nanci Griffith
Shiver -- Coldplay
I have to say, this shuffle loved the female folkies. So strange. My collection is far more diverse than that. Not that I don't love a good female folkie, I do, but it ignored all of my pop stuff and dance stuff. Weird.
So, on the Simpsons, on Sunday, the old alma mater got another big ol' shout out.
The first was in this episode where Mrs. Krabappel said:
"Some of you may discover a wonderful vocation you never even imagined. Others may find out that life isn't fair... [turning bitter] in spite of your Masters from Bryn Mawr, you might end up a glorified babysitter to a bunch of dead-eyed fourth-graders while your husband runs naked on a beach with your marriage counselor!!"
On Sunday night, we showed up again, but this time, with our cohorts in the Seven Sisters schools. Lisa was offered a scholarship to the Sister of her choice if she were to throw a Spelling Bee, and she dreamt of climbing to the top of an Acropolis-like mountain, where the Sisters tempted her.
Barnard offered her the chance to "be Columbia's girlfriend." At Radcliffe, Lisa could "meet Harvard men" and at Wellesley, "marry them." Mt. Holyoke offered her the chance to "party with" them, and Smith the chance to "play lacrosse." A hairy-armpitted Vassar lady offered Lisa the chance to "be non-conformist."
And finally (saving the best for last, of course), the Mawrtyr offered Lisa the chance to "explore" with her, as she kissed the Smithie.
All very funny, some stereotypes were more spot on than others, but it's always nice to see the ol' college mentioned on such a great show. I could definitely see Lisa as a Mawrtyr.
updated to add: you can view the clip from the Simpsons here
In my continuing quest to read thirty books this year, I finished Lone Patriot by Jane Kramer. Kramer is the author of the "Letters from Europe" feature in The New Yorker.
I've been interested in the American Militia movement for a few years now and have read several related books including The Silent Brotherhood, The Gathering Storm, and some others that are escaping me. I'm not sure why I find the Patriot/Militia stuff so interesting, but I do, and I wrote several papers in college related to this sort of thing (including one in which I attempted to use mythological theory to explain the momentum the movements have).
So, it wasn't a shock when my mom got me Lone Patriot as a gift. It's very well-written, not at all clumsy or daft, and it sheds some insight into the people behind the movement. Alas, I found that in spite of these strengths, the book lacked momentum. There wasn't a clear narrative thread which left the book a little lacking for me. It didn't really grab me. Kramer is interested, I believe, in painting a psychological portrait of John Pitner, but for one reason or another, I just wasn't grabbed.
It was an interesting portrait of life in the rural northwest, and reminded me of Mikal Gilmore's Shot in the Heart in illustrating a certain kind of rural desperation. Gilmore's book is fantastic, by the way.
So, yesterday was the NBA All Star Game. Whatever. I try to avoid the NBA at all costs, but as an avid Sportscenter watcher, I had to listen to info about the All Star game all weekend. Fine. Whatever.
Well, it was Michael Jordan's Last All Star Game Ever. This was the hype, the story, the entire point of the whole damn game, or so the media would lead us to believe. Jordan wasn't voted in as a starter to the team (and why should he be? His season has been nowhere near the caliber of Tracy McGrady's, for example), and Vince Carter refused to give up his starting spot for Jordan (Carter said that he didn't want to invalidate all of the votes of the people who voted for him. Carter gets a big "whatever" from me as well, because his season thus far has been mediocre). Carter finally abdicated so Jordan could start.
Now, don't get me wrong. Michael Jordan is the greatest basketball player who ever lived. Unfortunately, he's not even the greatest active player these days. Boyfriend has retired twice already, and this time, as he plans to retire at the end of the season, he means it. He swears. So we've all had to be subjected to the Jordan farewell tour all season long. Fine. But why did last night have to be the Michael Jordan All Star Game? Why did the NBA choose to focus on its past instead of its future? Jordan is the past. Period. He's way past his prime and shouldn't have come back this last time. It tarnishes his legacy, and I don't understand why people can't see that.
For the non-Sportscenter watchers who read this page, one final note. Michael Jordan was serenaded, yes, serenaded, at halftime, by Mariah Carey. What song did she sing? "Hero." That'd be the song she sang at the "Tribute to Heroes" back in September 2001. The even more galling part? Jordan let this go on. He let himself be serenaded. He didn't say, "You know what? I'd rather just be in the locker room during halftime, why should I be the spectacle?" For someone who "saved the NBA" he has absolutely no concept that his hanging around is marring the game. Last night the All Star game went into 2 overtimes, featured rising stars, including the first Chinese player ever, and what are all the press stories about? Jordan. When I was nine years old, Jordan was the coolest person in the world to me. I had posters, hats, the whole nine yards. Now? Now he's a joke. I am appalled by him.
For the record, this link may not be the best for work or other places where you're a self conscious web surfer, but this guy has done paintings, which in thumbnailed form look like porn, and when closer up, not so much. Anyway, check them out.
If you're running a recent version of Internet Explorer (IE5+) or Safari or a really recent Netscape, you should see a little waking slow icon in the address/location bar. If you add me to your favorites/bookmarks, that icon should be attached to this site there as well.
The icon was designed by Jonno when I replied to his blanket request to design some on his site, and I am very grateful. I've been reading Jonno's site since I realized blogs existed, and it was a kind e-mail from him in response to one I sent over a year and a half ago that gave the world of blogging a bit more humanity in my mind.
Thanks, Jonno!
Need a "No War" sign for your window/door/car/cube/chest?
In the interests of balance, I tried to find a "Pro-War" sign, and the best I could come up with was this mature invention. [warning: profanity]
Also available are these.
Have an opinion! Speak your mind!
