Tonight's Nightline, on which they detail the history of Jeopardy! and talk to Ken Jennings about finally losing, is sponsored by FedEx. Seriously.
In other news, H & R Block has announced they'll be giving Ken free tax preparation services for life. (Read to the end.)
Can we all be done with this now?
I generally try to keep this a politics-free zone, aside from the odd sniping backhanded comment, but this was too much. Here's what he said:
That smear [Kitty Kelley's book] came on the heels of the "Swift boat" attacks on John Kerry, an ordeal that may have cost him the election. While some of the Vietnam vets had valid points, more than a few of the accusations against Kerry were simply untrue. It didn't matter though...
Listen to me: There is no way on this Earth that [Rather] would have knowingly used fake documents on any story...
[H]olding a political point of view is the right of every American, and it does not entitle people to practice character assassination or deny the presumption of innocence...
The writer? Bill O-freakin-Reilly.
Where the hell was he two months ago? Now that his guy won, he can take off his right-wing shill hat and put on his principled journalist hat? I certainly applaud his comments, but Jesus Tapdancing Christ*, where the hell was this article when it mattered?
*Jesus Tapdancing Christ is a registered trademark of August J. Pollack at xoverboard.com.
Best Pizza - Pizzeria Paradiso, in Dupont Circle. Got the "Atomica," which was tomato, mozzerella, hard salami, and olives: big, rich, salty olives. I'll be going back once a week, at least.
Best Movie - Bourne Identity on USA. Never seen it before, meant to (especially when the second one came out and they gave Joan Allen all that extra work) and have thoroughly enjoyed it. May get the second one on Pay Per View this weekend at home.
Best Season - Late autumn. It's finally cool enough to wear sweaters and scarves, but not so cool that gloves are required. If the homeless problem weren't so rampant in DC, I'd go for a late walk.
In all, a great evening, even if it was a bit on the solitary side. Early to bed and I should be able to fend off a terrible morning (yet another shockingly long meeting) and turn it into a better afternoon.
Why does CVS even bother?
I went to the CVS in Dupont Circle tonight to get razor blades, toothpaste, and mouthwash. I also picked up a Blistex, and swiped my ExtraCare card to save $0.50 or whatever.
My receipt informs me that this quarter I have spent $27.70 on non-prescription goods. Also, year-to-date I have spent $10.29 on Tide, $8.39 on Swiffers, and (my favorite stat of all) $2.99 on Twizzlers.
What possible use could this be to me? Am I to look at the paltry sum I've spent on Twizzlers and be inspired to catch up for the year? Should the lack of Swiffer expenditures cause me shame in knowing my floors might be dustier than they should be?
Don't get me wrong - I'm fully aware that if you were to check similar records at Duane Reade or at Food Emporium you might get an even richer vision into my shopping quirks. My point is that those places don't print the meaningless stats on your receipt, thinking they're being cute or helpful. They know it's just creepy.
I was at the Whole Foods at Columbus Circle today picking up a couple of minor items for dinner where I saw they had laid out pounds and pounds of pre-cooked Thanksgiving items: squash, mashed potatoes, salads, brussel sprouts, tubs of cranberry sauce, and huge honkin' breasts of turkey.
It was the turkey that caught my eye: about a 3.5 pound hunk of meat, with what appeared to be a tasteful herb baste, ready to be heated and eaten. (There's a reason that particular marketing gimmick is done in the present tense, isn't there? Anyhow...) This sucker cost about $30, or over $8/pound.
Just about the time I was suppressing the urge to vomit, a woman walks up behind me in an ostentatious fur, pearls dripping from her neck, huge rings and bracelets, and a man in a very nicely-fitting suit in tow. One look over the display, and she said, "Wow! Why would anyone bother cooking?"
Gee, I don't know: because they can't get the home equity loan in time?
Happy Thanksgiving!
Singular New York sighting this morning - waiting outside the Brooks Atkinson Theater today (where Democracy is playing - go see it) were 20 or so young, white people in heavy makeup with perfectly teased hair, huddling in denim jackets over their Starbucks, going over lines and music staves.
I'm not sure if it was the cold of the morning or the desperate fear in many of those eyes, but I walked away feeling awful. There's a whole legion of people out there who live like hell for their dreams (a local church had an "Actors' Other Job" fair over the weekend, where handicrafts made by out-of-work actors were being sold) who all too often have to give it all up. There's usually a reason for this - lack of talent, for starters - but so much of it is so subjective that simply being at the right place at the right time is the difference between stardom and serving coffee. It's like a lottery in which the rules are never published and winning doesn't actually get you all that much.
That said, thousands of these idealistic people are there truly for a love of the art, and for whom the fame is secondary. Many of the most famous names of recent theater memory aren't rich off their earnings; they earn more in a two-minute stint on "Law and Order" than they could in a full week of shows or more. They endure simply because they love what they do, and are willing to work two or three jobs and live in an apartment with 5 other people just to keep doing it.
Thank you to all of you who work so hard and so beautifully for your art, and thank you for sharing your gifts with all of us.
When building something new, especially if it's big and requires a team of people to work on it, someone will inevitably put together a list of requirements for the thing so that you can tick off what you've done. These requirements are often ranked by priority: the things we absolutely have to do vs. the things that would be nice to have if we have a little extra time.
So, for the sake of argument, let's say you were building a tunnel under 110 feet of water. What would requirement #1 be?
How about "The tunnel should be watertight?"
Sure, the lights are pretty and they did a great job with the tile grout, but the millions of gallons of saltwater pouring in through the cracks may detract from the usefulness and the aesthetic a bit.
Oh, those wacky French. If you want to give wine away so badly, why construct such a convoluted story to justify it?
Today was the first day the French government agency that regulates wine (don't laugh, I'm sure we've got one tucked away in the bowels of the FDA too) allowed people to purchase and drink Beaujolais Nouveau. The third Thursday in November is the official date allowed, and considering the grapes were just picked two months ago, there's not a lot of opportunity for this to be a particularly good wine experience. Christ, it's a red that is supposed to be drunk cold. Sheesh.
So Toby (friend of Liz and another hockey player) invited me out to a Beaujolais party at Bistrot du Coin in Dupont Circle. We get there at about ten to midnight, the place is packed with easily 400 half-drunk people heading straight to full-on drunk. Turns out the Bistrot is giving the wine away. I don't care how fruity or tart this stuff is: as long as I don't go blind, I'm drinking what you're handing out.
Whole bottles are getting passed, people dancing on the bar are pouring into upraised plastic cups from the crowd, and the bartenders are pulling corks as fast as they can. Once the initial rush passes I manage to grab a full bottle to share, and leave a very nice tip in a well-marked bucket to even out the karma. In the two hours or so we were there before the lights went up and they kicked us out, I'd probably had a bottle and a half, all free.
I think it rained a little on the walk home: I remember feeling wetter than I ought to, but couldn't really place why.
Today's 8:30 issue review meeting was a little more difficult than usual.
Note to self: failure to post for a week and a half can make the homepage blank. This is bad.
I feel like I need to fill in the gap before I make new, coherent posts - not sure why, as this certainly doesn't need to be a chronicle of my life. Then again, it is a manifestation and outlet of my own weird quirks, so why not indulge?
Well, that should catch you up. Now on to the real stuff.
If nothing else, know that writing that was as painful for me as it was for you to read it, and this should serve as a warning to post more regularly in the future.
Well, if nothing else, he gets to sleep in the bed he made. Then again, so do we.
I'm not talking about it: I've run the gamut of emotion and idea over the last few days, and frankly it's just counterproductive at this point. Know that I, and lots and lots and lots of other people too, are planning ways to improve on the populist message that nearly 56 million Americans already believe in. It's alienating to say "Come on! Just look how wrong you are!" which, unfortunately, has been the central message of the Left for nearly three years. I prefer to say "Think how much better things could be."
And with that, I leave you for the weekend to think no more about it. I'm renting a Pontiac Vibe (seriously) and going to Boston for the weekend. The Vibe has a real-life electrical outlet in it -- three pronged and everything, though I'm confused about what the ground prong is connected to... -- which means iPoddy goodness the whole weekend through.
All the best to you, in this, the best of all possible worlds.
Post a note on your blog imploring a friend to write, and lo, he does.
Blog long enough, and long-lost friends will Google you and comment on your posts just to check in and say "Hey! Still here, and not dead!"
Both happened here, in the same entry.
On a related tangent, this is one of the things I like the most about having loose affiliations with lots of guy friends - the absolute minimum of maintenance is required to maintain a long friendship. Haven't spoken in over a year? Drop an email, and the reply will include an offer to sleep on my couch. Haven't spoken since college? A phone call, and I'm bringing beer to your new pad, and will help you move in to boot. Last saw you at a hockey game 4 years ago? Leave a cryptic message on the blog (I'm looking at you, Charlie) and you can expect a two-page email about where I've been, what I'm up to, and how much I'd been thinking of you since then. (Just as soon as I finish it, honest.)
Speaking of which, I think I'll be seeing many of you this weekend for the first time in 13 months - what can I bring you?
A friend of mine is taking tomorrow off to go to PA and help get-out-the-vote. She's an amazing woman, doing more good things for more people than anyone I know without question. She gives of herself completely unselfishly, wanting everything for her friends, her community, and her world, and wanting nearly nothing for herself.
Karin, you've inspired me in this and other ways too - I'll be taking time off tomorrow afternoon to help out in Virginia.
The rest of you have been admonished before, but not by me, so here goes:
From Variety.com (paid reg required, so no link for you:)
Brokaw and lead NBC political host Tim Russert will sit in the center outside studio and face 30 Rock, where there will be a large TV screen and an obelisk encircled by digital news tickers. The skating rink itself will have a large map of the U.S., with portable blue and red pieces representing a state's vote.
Here's live video of the rink, temporarily "Democracy Plaza," though be warned that the map is upside down. (Washington State is closest to you and on your right.)
How bad do you want to be running around on a skating rink, millions of people watching, with a giant blue cutout of California? What if you fell?