Approval

I rode out to the base this morning to do a lil light shopping for mission-essential stuff. Not much on the list (coffee, half and half, nicotine gum), so... given the weather was in a cooperative state (light wind, high 60s ~ low 70s), the day and the mission were tailor-made for the bike. A great day for a ride.

I always park the bike in those lined-off zones at the top of the row in any given parking lot…those places where, even though they’re plainly marked “no parking,” there’s a tacit agreement between bikers and law enforcement personnel that, yeah, you can park there. I’ve never been ticketed nor even admonished for parking the bike in those places and neither has anyone else, to my knowledge.

So. I arrive at the BX, wheel up the parking lot row, slide into the lined off space, put the kick stand down, switch off the bike, and begin to disassemble myself. As I’m taking off my helmet I notice there’s an older man walking by with a young girl of about six or seven years of age in tow. The girl has a BIG grin on her face and is staring at Miss Zukiko as she and her dad (?) walk by, hand in hand. The girl turns and continues looking over her shoulder as they pass…and keeps staring over her shoulder all the way to the entrance of the BX/commissary…a distance of about 100 yards. I smile, both inwardly and outwardly. Miss Zukiko is indeed a comely wench!

There was a time, Gentle Reader, when YrHmblScrb and his mount received lots of approving glances from that girl’s sisters…females about 15 to 20 years her senior. And in that time period there was always a reasonable doubt about who…or what…was the intended recipient of said approving glances. In other words: Me? Or the bike? But these days?

It’s always the bike. {Sigh}

More’s the pity.

And now…football!

And We're Off!

This is Fall? {sigh} Today looks like another scorcher. But then again, in a mere two months or so I’ll be pissing and moaning about the cold. I suppose I should just take the heat, coz I’m damned sure not about to get out of the kitchen, metaphorically speaking.

I do hope the wind stays down, though. Now that I’ve got my awning back I’ve come to rely upon it heavily in the “keep El Casa Móvil De Pennington cool” department.

Well, It’s begun, and we’re off to an auspicious start. Sorta.

The myth of Hockeytown officially passed away Wednesday.

Historians will mark the time of death at 7:44 p.m., at the conclusion of the first period, when at least a third of Joe Louis Arena sat empty on the evening of the regular-season opener with the defending Stanley Cup champions as the honored guests.

There was little, if any, foot traffic heading down the aisles. The late arrivals had already arrived.

Some club officials desperately sought false comfort, believing the masses of empty red seats were the result of ticket buyers staying home.

That's a valid explanation when Columbus makes its 22nd visit of the season and it's only December. But this was the season's first game against the foe that bounced the Wings out of the playoffs last spring.

There's clearly a disconnection between the Wings and a fan base that once crossed the border into blind obsession.

Wednesday's game snapped a streak of 396 consecutive regular-season sellouts -- dating to Dec. 10, 1996. That was the season that culminated in the Wings' first Stanley Cup in 42 years, as they embarked on a decade-long run of sustained excellence.

"It's more than a little disappointing," Nicklas Lidstrom said after the Wings outlasted Anaheim in an exciting overtime shoot-out.

Lidstrom just might be the master of understatement in this case. Still, a nearly 11-year run of sell-outs is nothing to be ashamed of. And I noticed the empty seats at The Joe while glued to the teevee last evening. One couldn’t help but notice, and it felt a little odd. There’s a whole helluva lot behind the “whys and wherefores” of the Wings' soft ticket sales… the state of the economy in Detroit (bad), the price of hockey tickets (high, even back in the day when I was going downtown for the games), and the slip-shod “they’ll always be there” attitude of the Wings organization towards the fan base. And that last reason is probably the biggest. One should never take anyone for granted…whether it’s your Mom, your best friend, your lover, or your fans.

Just sayin’.

Still and even…hockey season is here, and not a minute too soon. Prepare yourself, Gentle Reader, coz you’re gonna get more hockey than you probably want. Around these parts, anyway.

(photo credit: Detroit Free Press)

So. A good friend is in town (well, in the Big(ger) City^TM, that is) all week on business. She had offered to take me out to dinner sometime this week, and I accepted her invitation during a conversation we’d had Tuesday evening… last night was the agreed-upon night. And then it hit me, about a half an hour before the puck dropped last evening, and, coincidentally, about a half an hour before I was supposed to meet the lady: the season opener is on. Tonight. Oh, Lord…what to do? So, I did what any rabid hockey fan would do…I called and asked for a last-minute rain check. The lady knows me all too well, and…bless her heart…she understood.

What’s even better, Gentle Reader, is the fact that she offered to (a) stop by Ben’s Bar-B-Que and pick up a variety of goodies and (b) bring said goodies over to El Casa Móvil De Pennington, where we would (c) dine together and watch the game. And so it came to pass… and a Good Time was had by all.

I ask you, Gentle Reader, does it get any better than that? Well, does it?

Answer: No, it does not.

The War

So, Gentle Reader, have you been watching “The War?” The show has been running on PBS for over a week now and except for Sunday-last’s installment, I’ve watched it all. And I’ve mostly been impressed with the first-person accounts directors Burns and Novick have assembled. Really, the first-person narratives are what distinguish this particular documentary from all the others…and there have been many… about Big Bang Two. And there was an amusing example last evening…

I’m writing from memory, Gentle Reader, so I could be mistaken about the details in this particular anecdote. But, as I recall, the subject was jokes and Marine pilot Sam Hynes related what he recalls as the best joke from the war. He opened up with “the joke was visual…and you had to see it, not hear it.” “It was in the Officers Club bar on Kwajalein (or Enewetak?)… but anyway, behind the bar, mounted on a large plaque…like a marlin or a tarpon… was this huge brassiere. And underneath the brassiere was the legend…

‘Remember Pearl Olsen!’”

That may be a “you hadda be there” sort of moment for some of you, but most of us recall “Remember Pearl Harbor!” as the watch phrase during The Big One. Leave it to fighter pilots (or other flight crew members) to irreverently remind one and all what they were really fighting for…

One more thing about “The War” and then I’ll leave it go. One of the criticisms I’ve read in multiple places is how Burns’ anti-war views bleed thorough in this film. I definitely noticed one such example last evening during the segments on the fire-bombings of Dresden and multiple Japanese cities, e.g., Tokyo, Nagoya, Kobe, etc. In addition to the narrative, which took pains to point out that most of the victims of these bombings were women and children (“over 100,000 children died during these bombings…”), the soundtrack was the usual tug-on-the-heartstrings solo violin dirge, explicitly designed to evoke pity. Violins are good for that, ya know. Nothing better, actually, in the world of music.

Now if it had been me scoring that particular segment I’d have used this:

Yeah, I know: it’s been done before. So?

My criticism aside, watch the re-runs if you missed it the first time around. It’s more than worthwhile.

Almost Forgot...

My new neighbor, enjoying a relaxing moment next to her fifth wheel.

Well, OK…not really. But I was surfing some RV park sites last evening and came upon this candid shot depicting “park life.” ALMOST made me want to pack up right then and there and head out. Of course, the thought was “why don’t I have neighbors like this?” I mean, what’s not to like? She’s in my cohort, age-wise; she's not hard to look at; and she’s got a beer in her hand.

It don’t get no better than that, Gentle Reader.

Meat, Red (Two Types)

MY kinda gal!

MARTHA FLACH mentioned meat twice in her Match.com profile: “I love architecture, The New Yorker, dogs ... steak for two and the Sunday puzzle.”

She was seeking, she added, “a smart, funny, kind man who owns a suit (but isn’t one) ... and loves red wine and a big steak.”

[…]

Red meat sent a message that she was “unpretentious and down to earth and unneurotic,” she said, “that I’m not obsessed with my weight even though I’m thin, and I don’t have any food issues.” She added, “In terms of the burgers, it said I’m a cheap date, low maintenance.”

Salad, it seems, is out. Gusto, medium rare, is in.

[…]

In fact, red meat on a date has become such an effective statement of self-acceptance that even a vegetarian like Sloane Crosley, a publicist at Random House, sometimes longs to order a burger.

“Being a vegetarian puts you at a disadvantage,” Ms. Crosley said. “You’re in the most basic category of finicky. Even women who order chicken, it isn’t enough.” She said she has thought of ordering shots of Jägermeister, famous for its frat boy associations, to prove that she is “a guy’s girl.”

“Everyone wants to be the girl who drinks the beer and eats the steak and looks like Kate Hudson,” Ms. Crosley, 28, said.

Word, Ms. Crosley!

Stephen Green, the Vodkapundit, had a similar message on August 1^st, to wit:

Something needs to be said: Meat is sexy.

It needs to be repeated: Meat is sexy. It needs to be drilled into the minds of our children: Meat is sexy. It needs to be printed on placards and on billboards of half-naked women draped in furs: Meat is sexy.

I dunno who followed whom, but both individuals are on-target, in my book. I suppose I could have a satisfactory relationship with a vegan woman, but I kinda doubt it…unless it was someone like Sloane Crosley, who obviously gets it. Most vegans, in my limited experience, seem to be a lot like most ex-smokers…they want to convert you. I understand the risks of painting a class of people with broad brush strokes, but…it is what it is. After all, a lot of those “Meat is Murder” tee shirts are being bought and sold. And I’m not talking about these.

Today’s Pics: Plane pr0n of a completely different sort. I grabbed an opportunity during my travels hither and yon to stop alongside of the road and watch a crop duster at work…and to take pictures, obviously.

These guys have always fascinated me in that they do some spectacular flying, and it’s generally out of the general public’s sight. A lot of crop dusters work with a spotter, an individual who is on the ground and usually carries a large flag. The spotter assists the pilot in determining how to line up for his next pass over a field, given that fields are large and applying the chemicals effectively and appropriately takes multiple passes. I had an interesting conversation with this particular duster’s spotter while I took these pictures…the distaff side of a husband and wife team who have been “in the business” for over 20 years. Most illuminating, it was.

Somewhere in the Heartland. May 15, 2000.

A Great Beginning...

Here’s a brilliant site for those of us who are in love with the language: World Wide Words. Michael Quinion, the site’s author, has quite the resumé, and here’s just a small part of it:

These days, Michael concentrates on writing World Wide Words and providing citations and advice for the Oxford English Dictionary. He also wrote a third of the entries for the second edition of the Oxford Dictionary of New Words and for a while compiled a weekly New Words column in the Daily Telegraph. His dictionary of affixes, Ologies and Isms, was published by Oxford University Press in August 2002.

World Wide Words provides etymologies for words and expressions such as protologism, balls-up, and the phrase seemingly on everyone’s lips these days… carbon footprint. Great and good stuff, this!

(h/t to one of the denizens of Castle Argghhh!!! who pointed us to Beyond the Pale… an expression whose origin I thought was rooted exclusively in the tsars’ geographical imperatives to Russian Jews…but now stand corrected. There’s English-Irish there, too.)

Ed Douhatshek of the Toronto Globe and Mail has become a daily read. There are a lot of hockey columnists out there, but Ed is rapidly becoming my favorite. Mitch Albom, of course, is still Numero Uno in my book, but Mitch has branched out…he’s now a best-selling author and a generalist…no longer “just” a sportswriter. But, back to Ed. Here’s his take on last night’s Anaheim – Vancouver tilt:

ANAHEIM -- In time, they may reflect back on a National Hockey League season that far exceeded expectations -- to a divisional crown, a trip to the second round of the Stanley Cup playoffs and the certainty they not only have a franchise goaltender, but he is signed for another three seasons.

Accordingly, there were a lot of positives to emerge from the Vancouver Canucks' 2006-07 season on the whole, but that offered little consolation in the immediate aftermath of last night's one-for-the-ages 2-1 double overtime loss to the Anaheim Ducks in the fifth and deciding game of their best-of-seven Western Conference semi-final series.

With the win, the Ducks move on to face one of their ex-coaches, either the Detroit Red Wings' Mike Babcock or the San Jose Sharks' Ron Wilson, in the next round. The Canucks, meanwhile, will watch it unfold from the comfort of their couches and condos, where they can ponder how the formula that worked so well in the regular season -- play goalie Roberto Luongo and play him again and then play him some more -- wasn't enough to win in the playoffs.

The term “one for the ages” is certainly apt. Even if you don’t live in BC, or even on the Left Coast. I found myself pulling for the Canucks even though I knew in my heart of hearts they were doomed. The Ducks were just too big, too fast, and too talented. Luongo, like Calgary’s Kiprusoff, kept the Canucks in the series a lot longer than they deserved. The guy is a great goaltender and hockey fans will be seeing a lot of him in April, May, and (eventually) June in the future. Bet on it.

So…IF the Wings prevail against the Sharks they’ll face Anaheim in the Western Conference final. And that, folks, will be a series…the Stanley Cup final will be just a formality after the Western final…the winner will already be crowned. Take that to the bank.

I forgot to link this oh-so-appropriate guidance for young men earlier this week: The Man Code (h/t: Morgan). Two pearls of wisdom therein:

12. Before dating a buddy's "ex", you are required to ask his permission and he in return is required to grant it.

16. A man must never own a cat or like his girlfriend's cat.

There’s no corollary to #12…but there should be. Something along the lines of “it’s justifiable homicide if you take a (former) friend’s life for messing with your woman wife. Or you may severely injure him, whichever is appropriate.” Just sayin’.

Oh…and about cats: S’true, that. I know from experience.

My ambivalence about “current events” and politics in general continues apace. That doesn’t mean I’ve withdrawn altogether, as I’ve mentioned before, it just means I’m only semi- or tangentially interested, at best. Still and even, I caught a (very small) bit of the first Republican candidates debate and came away less than impressed…mostly with the sound-bite format and lack of depth in both questions and responses. It wasn’t long before the Weather Channel seemed a lot more interesting and relevant than the “debate.” {click}

Peggy Noonan has a pretty good comment piece on the debate over at the WSJ…and here’s an exceprt:

This is a piece about Thursday night's Republican presidential debates, but first I would like to note that the media's fixation with which Republican is the most like Reagan, and who is the next Reagan, and who parts his hair like Reagan, is absurd, and subtly undermining of Republicans, which is why they do it.

[…]

They should stop it already, and Republicans should stop playing along. They should try instead a pleasant, "You know I don't think I'm Reagan, but I do think John Edwards may be Jimmy Carter, and I'm fairly certain Hillary is Walter Mondale."

[…]

If we view the proceedings in vulgar and reductive Who Won, Who Lost terms, and let's, Mitt Romney won, Rudy Giuliani lost, and John McCain is still in. The moderator, Chris Matthews, seemed to think he was on "Hardball" and had to keep the pups, punks and rubes--that would be the candidates--in line. He cut them off--"Congressman, that's time!"--and occasionally hectored. One of the stars was the buzzing clock. It interrupted all thought.

And that’s just for starters. Good stuff, that. I like Peggy Noonan. As for the candidates themselves? Feh. Or…in other words…it’s waaay too early to tell.

Today began in a classical music sorta way…a not-too-infrequent break from my usual rock-pop mindset. I took my morning coffee on the verandah today (well, the first two cups, anyway), enjoying the early morning’s gentle breezes before they turn into the forecasted gales. While enjoying the relative quiet of the morning…everyone’s gone to work, the kids are off to school…it hit me that the moment was supremely right for Beethoven’s “Pastorale.” So… a quick hop, skip, and a jump into El Casa Móvil De Pennington, along with a brief shuffling about in the CD repository, and the sweet strains of the “Pastorale” were drifting out over beautiful La Hacienda Trailer Park. Followed up with Copland’s “Rodeo” and “Appalachian Spring,” and then by Mussorgsky’s “Pictures at an Exhibition.” Wow. A great beginning to what I hope will be a great day.

So far, so good.

Big Fun

Schadenfreude: scha·den·freu·de. Pronunciation: [shahd-n-froi-duh]

–noun
satisfaction or pleasure felt at someone else's misfortune.
See also: Hillary is Sistah Souljah'ing the entire Democratic Party¹ and It's Her Party, And She'll Cry If She Wants To².

1:

It started with Hillary's unique experience on 9/11 - the day she witnessed the world falling apart while the rest of us went to Disneyland. Then yesterday we heard about how Hillary thinks terrorism is a bad thing, while her fellow Democrats think it's no big deal. And today we get an earful about those nasty rich Hollywood Jews - oh, sorry, I mean fags.

Could Karl Rove have written a better script?

It's becoming increasingly clear that Hillary isn't running as a new Democrat, she's running as as (sic) a non-Democrat. Her strategy seems to be attacking everything and everyone associated with the Democratic party, and especially its base - and using Republican talking points, at that - in order to somehow position Hillary as a modern-day Diogenes, independent, above-the-fray, alone in the wilderness, forever on the look-out for honest politics.

In other words, Hillary is Joe Lieberman.

2:

The longer answer is that Hillary looks about ready to self-destruct. She got rattled by the loss of her exclusive connections to Hollywood, which has made clear that they will not commit solely to her. With Obama scoring big in his Tinseltown debut, Hillary understands that a major portion of her husband's contributions has just dried up. Instead of redoubling her efforts to woo the celluloid titans back to her side, she blew her stack and demanded ridiculous penance from a competitor who hadn't sinned against her.

In fact, Obama has decided to allow Hillary to look as bad as she can, issuing a classy response this evening:

My sense is that Mr. Geffen may have differences with the Clintons. That doesn’t have anything to do with our campaign… I’ve said I’ve had the utmost respect for Senator Clinton. I consider her an ally in the Senate. And will continue to consider her that way throughout the campaign…

Hillary apparently felt that the 2008 primary campaign would be little more than a coronation, and the general election a Restoration. Instead, she finds herself in the first tough election of her life, and she's starting to crack under the pressure. This reaction seems very much like the disillusionment of arrogance.

Lotsa stuff happens in the primaries, lotsa stuff gets said that is either (a) retracted later and written off as “campaign rhetoric” or (b) ignored all together. Still and even, Hillary looks pretty inept here, at best. Or worse, she looks like what I think she really is: a vindictive shrew. And that’s too bad, because I really would like to see her get the Democratic nomination. She’d be a whole Helluva lot easier to beat than a few of the other guys running. But…I’m savoring the moment, as it were. Couldn’t have happened to a more deserving gal.

Well now. It’s about time: When Tush Comes to Dove; Real women. Real curves. Really smart ad campaign.

In part, Dove's strategy is not unlike the Body Shop's old eco- and animal-friendly stance: Buy our products because you like them, but also because you're making a righteous statement. To buy Dove is to cast a vote for more "real curves" in advertising.

But there's a dirty little secret here. Because, in the end, you simply can't sell a beauty product without somehow playing on women's insecurities. If women thought they looked perfect—just the way they are—why would they buy anything?

[…]

Short-Term Grade: A. These ads are real attention getters—everyone's talking about them. On that level, they're a smashing success. Also, Dove now owns the "friend of the everywoman" angle. Smart move on their part to spot this open niche and grab it. Finally, if I can get sappy for a moment, it is sort of nice to see the unperfect have their day in the sun.

Overall Grade: D. Sadly, this is not a winning play for the long haul. If Dove keeps running ads like this, women will get bored with the feel-good, politically correct message. Eventually (though perhaps only subconsciously), they'll come to think of Dove as the brand for fat girls. Talk about "real beauty" all you want—once you're the brand for fat girls, you're toast.

Snarky enough for ya? I suspect the author (a woman) may be right when it comes down to the bottom line about the efficacy of the ad campaign, but in the end I really don’t know. I agree with her point about the beauty industry plying their trade on the backs of women’s insecurities, and I’ve always thought that sad, if not inherently evil. Thus, my “about time” comment.

I was unaware this ad campaign even existed (what with living way the hell out here in the boonies) until I saw one of the campaign’s models on the news yesterday. I’ve not seen any Dove ads on TV (you can see one here) and there aren’t all that many billboards on the highways around here. And I don’t read women’s magazines. So pardon me if I’m discussing something that may be common knowledge in the metropolitan areas of the country. It’s news here in P-Town, at least within the geezer demographic.

But…back to that model I saw on the news. I don’t remember her name, but she is a 62-year-old vivacious blond that I wouldn’t mind having on my arm…anywhere, any time. And yes, she was certainly… uh … “more plump” than your average model-spokesperson. And that’s a good thing, at the risk of repeating myself, yet again. Long-time readers know I go on about this subject from time to time and are aware I prefer the full-figured female form. I’m just glad to see someone in America’s beauty industry apparently agrees and is coming around.

Good on ya, Dove.

More on that Tony Snow/White House correspondents roundtable I wrote about yesterday, in today’s WaPo:

"If there is a flash of tempers between me and Tony, it's not about him and me, it's nothing personal," said Gregory, whose televised clashes with Snow have become legend.

Snow grinned. "What you see quite often at the briefings are sharp exchanges, but David's right: It's not personal," the press secretary agreed. "I not only like but admire everybody else sitting up here on this podium. It is a real pleasure and a privilege to work with them, to get to know them. . . . It is a wondrous thing."

Other than this, the article is chock full of anecdotes for those of you who missed the show itself, including the Crawford/400 degrees bits. And about that quote above… I wrote yesterday that Snow and Gregory got along well “for two guys that hate each other.” And yes, I did see the exchange quoted above. I just don’t believe it. Coz…politicians and reporters and even press secretaries LIE, ya know. Just sayin’.

It was such a beautiful day yesterday here in P-Town, and we’ll have a re-run today. Relatively calm winds and a high of about 70 degrees or so. Yesterday was one of those odd sort of days when one runs both the AC and the furnace. It must have been 90 degrees inside El Casa Móvil De Pennington when I got home yesterday afternoon. I tried to just grin and bear it after opening up the windows, but couldn’t. So I flipped on the AC for about an hour. And then two hours later the furnace kicked on. It feels like Spring, it does!

Today’s Pic(s): A couple of shots at the Audubon Sabal Palm Sanctuary in Brownsville, TX, (scroll down just a bit at the link) including YrHmblScrb in the most elaborate duck-blind I’ve ever seen. The blind overlooks the duck pond, which is home to not only ducks, but nearly every conceivable sort of water fowl known to man. I’m not a “birder,” but I can (and did) appreciate the solitude of the bird-watching environment. A great place for quiet contemplation, which I was given to at that period in time. “Given to” understates the case more than a bit, but ‘tis quite another story!

February, 2000.