The Perfect Match

Last night, I had the pleasure of seeing the Avalanche nearly give up a 3-goal lead to the Columbus Blue Jackets (I didn't even know they were an NHL team) in the final two minutes of the game. I can't afford to go to pro sporting events, but when somebody offers me tickets, I accept.

My trip to the Pepsi center was courtesy of three-time Olympian and silver-medalist Bob Foth. He is now the director of youth program development for USA Shooting, which is housed at the Olympic Training Center in Colorado Springs.

On the ride up to the game, Bob and Max Oliver (my friend whose wife was the USA Shooting Head Coach and is now the director of USA Shooting) and I talked a lot about shooting and shooting competitions.

I was particularly amazed at the recent accomplishment of Emily Caruso, only the third American woman to score a perfect 400 - a match of 40 rounds where each shot hits the ten-ring on the target. That might not sound too impressive if you're thinking about the 50-meter small-bore targets where the ten-ring is .4 inches. But I'm talking about the 10-meter air rifle target where the scoring area is about the size of a quarter and the ten-ring isn't really a ring at all. To score a ten in air rifle, you have to hit the .5mm center, and to do that 40 times in a row with open sights is incredibly. One-half a millimeter! Bob said it was about the size of the hole you could make with a ballpoint pen. You can't even see the ten-ring at 10 meters; you just know it's there.

I thought I was pretty good with my Daisy 880 air rifle, but that's amazing!

Curse like a scholar...

"Inside the Actor's Studio" is a great show on Bravo where host James Lipton interviews prominent actors about their influences, acting styles, recent films or shows, etc. I especially love the part of the show when Lipton asks the actor the famous "Pivot Questionnaire" (and if you think it's not famous, then maybe Al Gore shouldn't have won an Oscar).

Anyway, there are 10 set questions Lipton asks each guest, and my favorite question is "What is your favorite curse word?" Tom Hanks answered "Apesh*t." I think my dad's favorite is "horsesh*t." But mine is dumbass. It has a precise, concise meaning. No misunderstanding here.

Twice today, I had the pleasure of explaining the value of cursing like a scholar rather than a sailor. Sailors are notorious for cursing a blue streak - that is, without rhyme or reason (though rhymed swearing may not get you far unless you're a misogynistic rapper). No, I said to one individual who thought he was enlightened about his use of the F-word, its use as practically every part of speech actually makes it a less useful word. I don't think that the F-word is very handy as an expletive. While dexterous, it lacks the precision necessary to be effective.

Just like words in the thesaurus, if you don't actually know how to use them, they just make you sound like a dumbass.

Put me in coach...

This morning, I arrived at the county courthouse at 8:30 to perform my civic responsibility and show up to the jury pool. I went through security, filled out my questionairre, and tried to read my new library book (Jayber Crow by Wendell Berry - recommended to me by singer/songwriter Andrew Peterson) while the PA system blasted me with an obnoxious FM morning show.

After a brief introduction by the jury commissioner, a speech from one of the myriad courthouse judges on how he understood that we would rather be doing what we're used to be doing, and a video explaining the jury selection process and basic trial procedures (I've seen Law & Order, so I didn't need the video), we all settled back and waited for the commissioner to draw our names out of a hat.

Five judges needed juries this morning - did you know that some cases only need a jury of three members? Some are only six, even. I was actually surprised. Anyway, about every 20 minutes, the commissioner would say "judge so-and-so has called for his jury pool" and then he would read off the juror numbers and names of the people who needed to come forward. Just before 11, the commissioner read the last jury pool and then read five more names to be in the "bull-pen."

At least I know this process is random, and the reason I didn't get selected is that my number (788) wasn't lucky. It's not like all of those times I got picked last for organized sports - like kickball, junior high football, or the office softball team.

de do do do, de da da da

When your innocence escapes you...

Tickets for the Police reunion concert in Denver went on sale this morning, and despite my best efforts to purchase a ticket in the cheap seats ($50 each), there were none available. Out of sheer curiosoty, I checked the availability of the "Silver Hot Seat" and "Gold Hot Seat" tickets (at $225 and $380 apiece, respectively). No such luck.

Probably most of the cheap seats were purchased in the fan-club pre-buy (it only cost $100 to join the fanclub), leaving the rest of us suckers out in the cold for not being dedicated enough to spend a day's wages for a chance to see the show.

I guess I'll just buy the DVD of the concert when it comes out, and I'll save myself the hassle of joining the fanclub, driving to Denver, parking at the Pepsi Center, getting puked on by some drunk frat boy, and having a bad view of the stage.

...their logic ties you up and rapes you...

Salmonella's my favorite flavor

I’m a big fan of peanut butter, and I think the renaissance of my love for the legume delight was a trip to Meadow Muffins, Old Colorado City’s infamous brothel/opera house-turned-bar.

Meadow Muffins features an eclectic collection of silver screen memorabilia, including Moses’ baby basket from The Ten Commandments, some buckboard wagons from Gone with the Wind, and the famous fans from Rick’s Place in Casablanca. But my favorite part about Meadow Muffins is the Jiffy Burger.

Now the Jiffy Burger is pretty much your standard $6 Bar-and-Grill burger except is has a thick spread of peanut butter. When I saw it on the menu, I thought “Disgusting.” And yet, I tried it (if I had a nickel…).

Long story short, I loved the Jiffy Burger so much, that I started putting peanut butter on burgers at home, and then I put it on pancakes (which, I admit, other people have done before me). As if this post hasn’t gone on long enough, I am happy to report that despite the fact that I have two nearly-empty jars of the recalled peanut butter (Wal-Mart’s “Great Value” brand) from which I have eaten diligently and from which I have fed starving students over the last year, no one has gotten sick.

This isn’t going to stop me from submitting to the recall and collecting my $3.16 including tax for each practically empty jar.

On being quotable

I spend a lot of my time as a teacher and a coach trying to get kids to remember something I say; consequently, I spend a lot of time planning clever (and hopefully memorable) witticisms that also strike deep.

In a recent comment to a post on Slick's blog, I wrote that "Hard work beats talent when talent won't work hard." I know I'm probably not the first person to say it even though I made it up myself (like "heavy lifting for a hefty living"). Anyway, like Marconi is often given credit for the radio (even though he invented/discovered it at the same time as someone else), I'd like to be given credit for this saying. Unfortunately for my desperately hungry but frail ego, such a thing is unlikely. I mean, I can't even figure out how to post an article on Wikipedia, and I don't yet have a son who is willing to be a historical revisionist and make me into a better man on paper than I was in person (think Todd Lincoln, plus I'd have to get gunned down in a theatre). And I'm not that much of an egomaniac that I would rewrite my autobiography just to make myself more popular (think Davy Crockett or Michael Moore or see Fat Matt's post on the current speaker of the house).

Well, most coaches' quotes are misquoted anyway. Lombardi said that his famous quotation about winning being the only thing was not something he ever said. Or at least that's what somebody says he said about not saying what everyone says that he said.

Less than arresting

I’m the biggest Police fan you know – seriously, all three of you who read this can’t possibly know a bigger Police fan than I am – and yet, I was disappointed with the performance by Sting, Stewart, and Andy at the Grammy’s. Granted I tuned in only to watch the opening act and turned off the television almost immediately (I did manage to see that Bela Fleck and the Flecktones won a Grammy for best redneck/jazz fusion combo album of the year) because I know as well as anyone that, like all awards ceremonies, the Grammy’s are a big fat waste of time. But even the little bit I did watch seems like a waste to me now.

Sure, it was a lot of fun for me that my favorite band was playing together for the first time since I was seven years old, but I hadn’t expected the song they would play to be as familiar as it was. Don’t get me wrong, I totally expected the Police to come out and play their first single (“Roxanne”) on the 30th anniversary of its release, but I didn’t expect the version that came out. It started the same as it always did – guitar deity Andy Summers (now 65 years old) chopping away at the opening riff, Sting’s syncopated bass line giving the counter melody, and Stewart Copeland’s complicated and precise yet subtle percussion leading the way for the wailing vocal – but after the first chorus, the song was no longer the one I knew from the Police, it was the version that Sting has played with every incarnation of his melting-pot, jazz-influenced back-up bands since his second solo album.

I’m not saying it’s not good music; I’m saying it’s not the Police, and the opening number to their (anticipated) upcoming world tour seems to have started the Police off on the same note that broke them up before: Sting’s control of the group’s music. I hope that the Police do indeed have a reunion tour and that I can get tickets at an affordable price, but if all I’m going to see is Sting covering some of his old material with yet another back-up band who won’t get to showcase their talent without his say-so, then I’m not going.

The end of the game...

Anna Nicole Smith is dead, and while a blog might be a great place to make tastless jokes about the dead, I can’t bring my self to it. Last night just before she fell asleep, my wife said Anna Nicole’s death made her think about how hard we work to ensure a certain future that we can’t control.

 

I haven’t read any newswires or seen more than a few snippets on the TV about her death, but I’m pretty sure none of them are talking about how sad it is that she worked so hard and sold herself to have financial security and to live in excess.  My wife said she probably thought that acquiring that fortune of hers would ensure her security until she was 80 or 90, but now it doesn’t matter at all.  All of that effort came to nothing.

 

The queen and the pawn do indeed go into the same box.

 

Greatest Rock & Roll band of all time

I can't begin to express how excited I am about the rumored Police reunion tour (http://www.earthtimes.org/articles/show/25752.html), and this time the rumor might pan out. This Sunday, the Police will open the Grammy Awards Ceremony. I'm going to record the show just so I can watch the Police perform because there is no other reason to watch the Grammy's, not even with such headliners as Justin Timberlake and Beyonce.

I mentioned the upcoming performance in class today, and one of my students didn't even know who The Police were.

How could you not know who they are? They're one of the greatest bands of all time. Here's my list of the top five Rock & Roll bands (based mostly on my perception of their popularity, musical acumen, influence, and longevity):

• Aerosmith
• The Doors
• Led Zeppelin
• The Police
• The Rolling Stones

Conspicuous by their absence from the list are The Beatles, who I don't consider Rock & Roll in the same sense as these bands. Without question, The Beatles changed the face of popular music, but for my purposes here don't fit the bill.

Dollars and sense...

Because we live below the poverty line, (see http://aspe.hhs.gov/poverty/07poverty.shtml) our four- member family is getting a huge tax refund this year, and we're looking for the best place to invest the money where it will still be liquid and available. The credit union where we do our regular banking gives only 1.49% to savings accounts with balances over $1999. We want to make a little more money on our "3-month's income emergency fund" without too much risk.

So I googled "savings interest rate" and got lots of offers around or slightly above 5%. The problem for me is that none of these banks are in my city. Are they real? The realities of identity theft are becoming more and more clear to me, and I don't want to be floating my SSN (or my refund) out to a "bank" that may be a clever ploy. How do I know the difference?

It's frustrating and just a little scary. My paypal account is currently earning 5.02%. Perhaps I should put my tax refund into paypal as long as I don't go on some crazy eBay spree.

I've got authority issues

The "Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change" released its report on climate change yesterday, and Outside magazine declared it an "Authoritative Report" (http://outside.away.com/outside/news/2007201_1.html).

I'm not interested in a debate about whether or not climate change is impacted by human beings (the IPCC is "disclosed its educated belief that it is “very likely” that global warming has been caused by human activity").

I'm interested in the idea of a non-governing body (or any-body for that matter) being declared "authoritative."

History is not what happened, it's how we remember what happened. One of the philosophers said that - Plato? Aristotle? Liberace? - I don't remember which. What's important is that if the ones who win the wars get to record history, is it the groups who appoint themselves and have some sort of quorum who get to be authoritative?

The hot poop...

Ever notice how expensive diapers are? Yesterday, I spent $112 on diapers. Seriously. I'm probably not the first person to rant about this, but they're expensive. As I am a poorly-paid public servant, my wife and I buy store-brand diapers for our boys (22 months and 5 months). Our local Grocery Warehouse (a ghetto subsidiary of Albertson's) is closing for some unknown reason, and when I went by yesterday, diapers were 30% off. So I actually cleared them out of size 3, 4, and 5 diapers. My cart runneth over. Towers of yellow plastic packages threatened to tumble over the edges of my cart as I headed towards the checkout and received inquisitive looks.

Here's the boring math: 6 packs of size 3's = 240 diapers; 12 packs of size 4's = 408 diapers, 3 packs of size 5's = 90. So, I bought 738 diapers yesterday at about 15 cents apiece. Again, we buy the cheap stuff. Huggies and Pampers cost roughly a third more than the store-brand diapers, so they're almost double what we pay. I haven't checked to see what the Eddie Bauer or - gasp - Louie Vuitton-branded poop catchers cost.

We often change the boys if we think they might have a dirty diaper, if they had a loud fart, or if we can't really remember the last time we changed them. Can you imagine paying 15 cents everytime you (insert colorful euphemism here)? I - I mean this friend of mine - goes enough that he'd be paying over a dollar a day into the void.

A potty-trained kid is a frugal kid.