how the best thing about this olympic torch run

was that it got rickrolled!

seriously. that excited me so much more than the protests, countless people, chants and marches.

that's because rickrolling! is never gonna let me down.

to be clear about my joy about this, please consult this chart.

how this can't possibly be a good idea

let's do the math:

take one olympics hosted by a country with countless and inconceivable human rights violation, add one olympic torch running ceremony already strife with protests, and then multiply it by having the route go through the most politically charged city in the world that has no fear making their feelings known, and what do you get?

a planning committee that wishes it chose singapore for a host country and indianapolis for the running route.

seriously, this could be the only time in recorded history where most of conservative america is pulling for san francisco to make a big scene.

how i am so proud of my friend dolly

tonight, a nation of teenagers found out what i learned a couple of years ago: dolly parton is a warm, funny, intelligent and amazing performer. and i was enlightened to see how touched the performers were by her - because that's exactly how i felt.

and. to be honest, i felt that the group of them did a great job honoring her.

the best by far was michael johns' "it's all wrong, but it's right", which was bluesy, intimate and exactly how she wrote it to be sung.

so was carly smithson's "here you come again", which was sad and emotional and spare - which was exactly how that story should be told.

and everyone else did a really good job, if not great. hell, even the phillipino sanjaya was alright. and don't give me "what about david archuleta?" he sung great, but he sings the same song every week. i don't know why they don't get on him like they get on jason castro for having the same limited range. and brooke white's "jolene" was an impossibly sad song sung by an impossibly upbeat person. didn't work, but wasn't bad.

paula shockingly was 100% correct when she said that you can't really mess up a dolly parton song because her melodies are so wonderful. so everyone had that going for them, which is nice.

speaking of messing up dolly parton songs, the first lady of steveohville was dissapointed that nobody touched "nine to five", which she personally covers every morning while driving to work. guess nobody poured themselves a coup of ambition for that one.

in other news, right after "idol", the first lady and i watched last night's "dancing with the stars", a show i don't normally watch, but one i owed to her considering she sat through kansas-davidson on sunday. anways, they introduced priscilla presley as "sctress and businesswoman priscilla presley". really? while they're at it, i will be a avid viewer if they introduce her just once as "actress and businesswoman mrs. frank drebin".

do it, tom bergeron. you have it in you.

how i own an english soccer team

seriously.

i just bought into the ebbsfleet united football club through MyFootballClub.co.uk, which means that i am one of the 27,000 that owns 51% control.

that gets me one vote on everything - from lineups all the way through merchandising - and it gives me some rooting interest in the world's most popular sport. and, if we make all the right moves, maybe, just one day, we can make it into the premiership.

all because of me.

currently, we rank 10th out of the 24 teams in the english conference, with 16 wins, 12 losses and 8 draws. and we play york on saturday.

i'm not making any of this up.

oy!

how it's been quiet around the office

which makes it a perfect time to mess with someone's employee photo.

god, i love my office.

how i just couldn't stop myself, part XVCVIIILI

i promised myself that i would stop buying t-shirts.

but i never promised that i would stop buying brilliantly ironic and socially hilarious t-shirts that mock an entire nation of stupid college students.

so there.

how it took 91 entries, but we finally made it

i just knew that my city would finally stake its rightful claim.

and we'll laugh, at least, just as hard as we laughed at this.

how tahoe has given me the madness, and i blame it on march

i just spent my entire weekend being completely amazed by how accurate vegas bookmakers are with their spreads and lines - and i spent the rest of the time being suckered by them again and again.

thank god i don't live anywhere near nevada.

and, oh yeah, nothing beats college hoops.


---thursday's games---

it's amazing to see and hear how much everybody hates duke. i can't believe that many people took belmont and 19 points. but as they neared the upset, the whole sportsbook was clearly on their side. i didn't have any money on the game, but i was with everyone in total support.

it's been a long time since the days of dawkins, amaker, alarie, hurley, hill, brand and jason williams, now replaced with obnoxious douchebags like redick and mcroberts and now paulus and scheyer. they've become completely unrootable. where has my love gone?

speaking of love, i was repaid with none of it by the teams i bet money on. for the 1.5 points i got for wagering on kent, they repaid me with just 10 points in the first half. for the 9 points i got for wagering on winthrop, they gave me just 11 second half points in return. and, to top it all off, the 32 points i got for mississippi valley state was 3 more than the team scored in the entire game.

good job, asswipes.

but that's not the worst of it. i watched stanford put 21 on cornell in the first half, using the astounding athleticism of 7'0" brook lopez, being quicker in the backcourt and just being a much better overall team.

the spread for the second half came out: 4.5 points.

okay, let's think about this. stanford's a much better team. they're bigger and faster and stronger. lopez can score whenever he wants. and, although their starters were not going to play the entire second half, i've got to believe that the rest of the team is 4.5 points better than an outclassed ivy league team during 20 minutes, right?

seems like easy money, i thought. gotta be a mistake by vegas. what's 4.5 points when you just went up by 21? cornell can't do anything to stop them, right?

wrong. stanford was just 4 points better.

i still can't figure it out.

and i can't figure out why i took cal state fullerton and 11 points over wisconsin without knowing that the titans didn't have a starter over 6'5". that would have meant more to me than the badgers' deliberate style of play. yes, this is how people lose money - even those who watch endless amounts of basketball.


---friday---

we set up two tvs in the house to keep us away from the sportsbook and their devilish halftime spreads. seriously. that 4.5 line in the stanford game is still freaking me out.

i went into the tournament in love with drake. i saw them twice and just went nuts over their style of play. it was everything that was right and fun with college hoops. composed, smart and ballsy basketball.

that being said, the team i saw play this year was not the the team that lost to western kentucky. throwing up 30 footers with 20 left on the shot clock is not composed basketball. steadfastly refusing to go backdoor or post up is not smart basketball. playing predictably and exclusively from the outside is not ballsy.

they blew it.

i took 'nova and the points to beat clemson - just because clemson can't hit free throws, and that makes games closer. but it wasn't close anyhow and it was nova hitting free throws to end it. jay wright's a good coach. it's smart to bet on good coaches.

and i got points for taking davidson and siena, even though i didn't need them. add that to giving up six to take notre dame on friday and still winning, and i can tell you that it was a good first round for staten island basketball alumni, both on the court and in the sportsbook.


---saturday---

i took notre dame again with points against wazzu. not only did i think they'd win going away, i thought that wazzu wouldn't have an answer to the irish's firepower.

and how did notre dame repay me? you got it, a season-low 41 points.

seriously, how does this happen?

in other news, the only thing better than watching duke lose is watching them lose while also getting five points.

i did take marquette and 1.5 over stanford, and got very lucky. first off, trent johnson's ejection gave marquette four extra points that evened out the score in regulation. and truth be told, brook lopez got fouled on his game winning baseline jumper. it should've been an "and one", but wasn't. stanford wins by one. marquette wins by .5 with the spread.

the lines were dead on. an amateur would say that vegas is fortunate, but that was the sixth or so line they hit directly on the spot. i'm not naive, but figuring out how they do that is gonna make me want to do math.


---sunday---

i took texas and gave up 6.5 to a weak miami team. i didn't watch the game (we were driving back), but i did watch rick barnes coach last year, and now, in retrospect, i regret the pick. and yes, a much more talented longhorn team barely squeaked by with only 3 points to spare. damn. my bad.

note: anyone who thinks that a rick barnes coached texas team will beat a john calipari coached memphis team, even with the game being played in houston, is clinically insane.

speaking of, i bet against jay wright and took siena. yes, i bet against a good coach. you can figure out how that turned out. i am an idiot.

i also took the over on siena/villanova (174) and san diego/western kentucky (134). i won both by 2 and 1 points respectively. again, i want to do the math to figure out how.

i never thought i would repeatedly say those words.


all in all, i think i broke even in tahoe. but, when you consider all the thrills that the first weekend of march madness gave me, there's no doubt who came out ahead.

and, you heard it here: go davidson.

how all these espn barkers are arguing the wrong things

i love listening to the espn guys whine about the who should have been in the tournament without talking about who should be taken out. i think dicky v wants an 86 team bracket, jay bilas clearly wants a 74 team bracket with the remaining 9 teams taken only from power conferences, and bobby knight literally wants a 128 team tournament - which makes even less sense, considering that they'd be arguing over who's #129, 130 and 131.

calm down. we're debating between arizona state, syracuse and ole miss. they weren't gonna beat anyone anyways.

what i think is the biggest deal is that the seeding committee (headed by the big power conferences) has figured out a foolproof way to protect their teams from getting beaten by the little teams, and that's to have the dangerous mid-majors play each other in the first round.

they tried it out last year (butler vs. old dominion, nevada vs. creighton) and they expanded upon it this year (butler vs. south alabama, gonzaga vs. davidson, drake vs. western kentucky). hell, kent state is matched up with unlv, and this isn't your father's running rebels. so that limits the live mid-majors to just four advancing to the next round instead of the seven possible (and probable) upsets.

and that's the beauty of this tournament, watching the little guys finally get their chances at the big guys, and seeing the upsets happen. that's the magic. that's what we generally remember.

so it's quite devious by the big money majors and their seeding committee, really. if you can't keep them out, then at least save yourself. and it's just so ironic, you know, how the mid-majors can't get the big guys to play them in the regular season, and now they can't even get a shot at them in the tournament.

i guess they're tired of the valpos and winthrops taking headlines. then again, winthrop is taking on wazzu this year, although that's a team that played just like a low mid-major until two years ago.

anyways, as usual, the guys from espn have it all wrong. the committee's obvious decision to keep the bug guys safe is what needs to be talked about, not inconsequential teams that were "slighted" or "snubbed".

then again, power conferences pay for their salaries.

nobody said that a news channel should be expected to be fair.

how i wish i thought of human pinatas

i think that something as stupid and sophomoric and silly and hilarious as this deserves every award ever created.

how oprah is making me sick right now

don't ask my why i'm watching "oprah", but she's got a panel of "other women" - that is, women who date married men and are disappointed when they don't leave their wives.

yes, these are women who are trying to break up marriages that may or may not be ending anyways. let me repeat this: they knowingly and willingly breaking up marriages.

and oprah is sympathetic to them, finding every reason and excuse to exonerate them from their actions. and the crowd isn't getting on them at all. it's just a big hug fest because it's the guy's fault. he's scum. all of them.

one of them, named sarah, has had multiple affairs with multiple husbands and even wrote a guidebook about it. what a hero!

but still, i'm wrong, i guess. after all, i have a penis.

all i'm saying is that this guy would handle this so differently. that's why i think he's great.

how i got hit by a car

i know it's been awhile since i last blogged - even moreso than my usual weeklong sojourns. but i've been beyond busy in the past two weeks. to wit:

1. i sparred ten rounds for the first time
2. i underwent a successful liver biopsy
3. i had a great weekend with my parents where we talked about my future plans with the first lady of steveohville
4. i worked with the amazingly sincere maria sharapova, who is two and a half inches taller than me
5. i spent two days directing a nike shoot that went about as great as could have been expected by anyone involved
6. i adjacently had dinner at giorgio baldi's with nicole kidman, kevin connolly, tobey maguire, danny masterson and brooklyn decker
7. i bought some sweet new kicks
8. i turned 34

and, oh yeah, i got hit by a car.

i'll repeat and bold that: i got hit by a car.

here's what happened: i was crossing the street on 24th and valencia on the way to the 24th street BART station in the mission. i waited for the light to turn green. it did. i began to cross. i stepped over the double yellow line and heard a motor approaching me. i saw some people scatter in front of me. i turned, and saw a blue jeep just a couple yards away from me.

i thought to myself, "holy shit! i can't believe that i'm about to get hit by a car!" and yes, those are exclamation points. i only use them when my life is on the line.

i quickly put my hands up to do, i dunno, something. luckily, it was a jeep so the hood is higher up, and i was able to put my hands up and make first contact as it hit me. i didn't exactly catapult away, but i did push myself off of it.

i jolted to the side, landing on my feet, thankful that there was no oncoming traffic.

i heard some people yell and scream. i heard a screech of a car. i felt everyone looking at me.

i quickly took stock of myself. incredibly, i didn't get hit that hard - only in my hands, and slightly on my shins - and even more amazingly, i didn't land awkwardly, causing yet another ACL. i just got myself to the sidewalk and quickly thought about what just happened. the only thing flashing through my mind like a teleticker was "goddamn, i just got hit by a car".

the guy at the corner deli asked me if i was okay. i said, yeah, i think. i feel fine. and then he told me that the guy that hit me just pulled over.

he came out of the blue jeep, looking about as sad and excited as a human can seem at once. he asked me if i was okay. i said i was. he said that he just got the call at work that his wife just went into labor and he's two blocks away from the hospital (which he was) and, well, he got tunnel visioned and just didn't see me. he offered and insisted to take me to the hospital. again, i felt fine and just wanted to walk away from this harrowing experience. he shook my hand. i shook back. we wished each other luck.

it's a day and a half later, and i still can't get over the fact that i got hit by a car and there's nothing physically wrong with me. i'm thankful that i was able to face up to the jeep and brace myself instead of being blindsided, which would have been beyond awful. and i'm thankful that it was a truck and not a normal car, which would have caused me to roll over the hood or have broken my legs.

which would have been the least of my worries.

and more than anything else, i'm thankful that the first lady of steveohville wasn't there, because if she got hit, i don't know what i would have done with myself.

so i'm a lucky dude, i guess. on many levels.

happy birthday to me.

how this is my annual academy award post

these aren't my predictions. they're just my opinions.

for full disclosure, i still haven't seen the highly acclaimed films "Atonement", "Gone Baby Gone", "Til the Devil Knows You're Dead", "The Savages", "Away From Her", "Charlie Wilson's War", "Persepolis", and "The Alvin and the Chipmunks Movie".

BEST PICTURE

22. Waitress
21. Freedom Writers
20. Blades of Glory
19. Spiderman 3
18. Transformers
17. Eastern Promises
16. The Simpsons
15. 3:10 to Yuma
14. Sicko
13. Superbad
12. Grindhouse
11. Knocked up
10. Lars and the Real Girl
9. Zodiac
8. Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford
7. There Will Be Blood - as brilliant and ballsy i thought that the writing, directing, acting and score was, i still can't get past the point that the main character never had any sort of conflict to overcome.
6. Juno - quite possibly the most original and edgy script in years brought to life with the most quirky and endearing performance in years.
5. Into the Wild - this is as personal of a journey as filmmaking will get.
4. I’m Not There - the bizarreness of the storytelling is a perfect reflection of the person it's covering.
3. Michael Clayton - the best serious script written this year. absolutely professional, smart, taut and engaging.
2. No Country for Old Men - it's another marvel of filmmaking by two of my creative idols.
1. The Lives of Others - i know this came out in 2006, but as far as films to hit american theaters this year, this was the best. just pitch perfect writing, acting, directing with as compelling of a topic you'll find on film. the more i read about it, the more i'm amazed by it.

BEST ACTOR
Daniel Day Lewis (There Will Be Blood)

BEST ACTRESS
Ellen Page (Juno)

BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR
Javier Bardem (No Country for Old Men)

BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS
Cate Blanchett (I'm Not There)

BEST DIRECTOR
Ethan and Joel Coen (No Country for Old Men)

it was a great year for films, with the boundaries of storytelling being pushed to edgier, darker and more creative areas. i wish i got all the main films in, but what can you do. nike and the first lady beckons.

still, well done, hollywood. and germany.

how i'd rethink their advice

if i were an american idol contestant, and if i watched the video for the single "dance like there's no tomorrow" on "american idol", and if i heard paula abdul warble her lyrics and randy jackson be the lead bassist with completely forgettable movements, i think it's very easy to figure out who to listen to.

how i've always wanted to stage something like this

but then again, i think this was actually real. in which case, it's brilliant in a completely different way.

then again, if i had done this, i don't think i would have taken it this far, although i completely admire the attention to detail.

well done.

how i'm getting the full effect of president's day

today, i celebrate a random president: rutherford birchard hayes. here's what i learned about him, and here's what you need to know.

he was born in delaware, ohio in 1822. that was not a typo.

he was a member of a prominent social organization called the cincinnati literary club that became a military organization upon the outbreak of the civil war. so he traded in bookmarks for muskets.

he began his political life as a whig, but then joined the free soil party.

while fighting in the civil war, he was nominated by republicans to congress. however, he said that it would not be right to leave the field of battle to campaign for a political seat, and any man who would do so deserves to be scalped. if he were alive today, the political marketing machine would make him out to be some sort of a coward and glorify those who would have hid behind their bookmarks.

of course, against his greatest objections, he was then elected, until he resigned two years later, when he was nominated for the governorship of ohio, which he won and served for two more years.

he was famous for his honesty and his ability to not offend anyone. i did not make that up.

when he ran for the presidency of the united states, he actually did not win the popular vote, losing to samuel tilden by 250,000 (out of 8.5 million). however, boys and girls, you win the presidency through the electoral college. the candidates had to muster 185 votes: tilden was short just one, with 184 votes, hayes had 165, with 20 votes representing four states which were contested. three of these states (florida, louisiana, and south carolina) were in the south, which was still under military occupation (the fourth was oregon).

to decide the actual winner, the two houses of congress created a electoral commission made up of five members of the house, five from senate and five from the supreme court. it was a bi-partisan committee of seven democrats, seven republicans and one swing vote. and in case this sounds familiar, it should: they voted along party lines. shocker. and the swing vote was a republican at heart. so there you go. deja vu.

because of the taint of improper voting fraud, he was mocked as "rutherfraud b. hayes". oh snap.

southern democrats were given full assurances that if hayes were elected president, he would pull all the federal troops out of the south and end reconstruction.

he was the first president to take the oath of office in the white house because they wanted the ceremony to be kept secret to avoid any sort of insurrection.

when congress sent him the bills overturning civil rights enforcement, he vetoed them four times before finally signing one that satisfied his requirement for black rights.

he also was the first president in history to call in federal troops to fire on striking railroad workers. more than 70 strikers were killed. i wonder if they found him to be disagreeable.

he did not seek re-election because he believed that presidents should not run for a second term.

he died in 1893.

thank you, rutherford. i think.

why do we have today off?

how we're truly living in the golden age

there's a lot of crap on television. hell, i just watched an episode of "lipstick mafia" and felt like i had my college degree revoked. and it's beyond the writer's strike and more along the lines of television networks programming to the lowest common denominator and going as far out of their way to stay directly inside the box.

however, the best of the lot are truly amazing pieces of pure brilliance. and these days, i have to believe that we're truly lucky to be blessed with two dramas as smart, in depth, compelling, creative and downright amazing as "lost" and "the wire".

each week, they find new ways to advance their already incredible stories. with each movement, their plots take different forms and creates something even cooler than how you left them last week. and the craftmanship of the writing, acting, directing, editing and, well, everything it takes is just mindboggling for a medium that requires a new episode churned out every seven days.

they are truly masterpieces beyond even the most grandiose explanations of that word.

some people say that watching television is a complete waste of time. sometimes, i agree. but when i'm done watching "lost" and "the wire", i feel smarter, humbled and inspired. and there's nothing wasted about that. hell, i'm writing this on a sunday night after watching the anguish mcnulty has to maneuver around so his lie can serve the common good. imagine how my mind and fingers are gonna react after jack and locke joust around yet another battle between science and faith.

still, it's all coming to an end with "the wire" just a couple of episodes away from closing its last case. hey, at least i can get comfortable with the idea that there's a "breaking bad" out there attempting to pick up that baton.

good luck.

how superman does indeed exist

if you haven't seen the 2008 nba slam dunk contest highlights, then you best be catching up. and you don't have to even like basketball to appreciate their creativity, hilarity and impossible athleticism.

it's truly fantastic sports entertainment.

and dwight howard is my hero.

how it costs $17 to cross the street on valentine's day

bet you didn't know that. but it's true. at least, that's what a local florist told me when i tried to order a bouquet for the first lady of steveohville.

the bouquet would have to travel about thirty yards, from the storefront on one side of the street to the other, where her office resides.

hence, $17.

that's the standard fare for valentine's day, they told me.

it would go across the street, i said.

distance doesn't matter, they replied.

so i'd be paying about sixty cents per yard, or about $1.33 per step.

they had no answer. or a sale.

so, the lesson learned is to stay indoors. nothing good could come out of leaving. seriously. you'd be screwed if you did.

how through the muck it all makes sense

this is what i took out of wednesday's congressional hearings:

brian mcnamee is a poor excuse of a human being. he is a liar, a drug dealer, a cheater and untrustworthy. and yet, his account is credible, although through no credit to him.

roger clemens is the world's biggest blowhard whose defense, when stripped down, is purely "how could you not believe me? i'm roger clemens". he is a liar, a perjurer, unloyal, unaccountable, delusional, incapable of finding faults within himself and completely unworthy of his impossibly high self-opinion.

and congress, through their completely incompetent handling of this and every instance of baseball's steroid scandal, has proven once again that this low-level of importance is still too much for them to handle, that there is no issue unimportant for them to still split across party lines, and wasting their time on this is much better than them screwing up things much more critical.

everyone i listed here is completely unsufferable and utterly stupid, and not worth the three minutes it too me to type this.

and with this, i take my attention away from all of them and focus it upon where it matters most.

how genius takes many forms

here's improv everywhere taking a completely different approach with people at grand central and in fantastic fashion at abercrombie and fitch.

i love me some really smart and innovative shit like this. i really do.

how i'm wishing an early happy valentine's day to all the lovers and haters

i'm going to the warriors-suns game on wednesday night and preparing for a presentation on thursday, so in lieu of forgetting to wish everyone a special valday, here's a little special something made by the most compelling postcard collection ever.

how i love nothing more than unintentional comedy

how i love the first lady of steveohville, but even she would find this ridiculous

here are my shipping charges from proflowers.com for delivery on valentine's day:

Courier Fuel Surcharge: $1.93
Standard Express Delivery: $9.99
Guaranteed Feb. 14 Delivery: $9.99

no thanks.

i'm not being cheap. i just refuse to be mocked like that.

i'll find other ways to be taken advantage of, thank you.

how a great moment in my life was captured

here's last sunday.

i'm talking to my dad and brother on the phone. and when i go quiet, it's because i'm crying.

how i'm going to sound like a hypocrite here

starring brad pitt, casey affleck and sam rockwell
written and directed by andrew dominik
watched on my 40" 1080i LCD HDTV

here's the good: i'm a huge fan of this movie. i just read a great biography of jesse james, and instead of taking the obvious route of train holdups and the like, they just focused on the end - which was brilliantly told and acted, and became utterly compelling. every shot was photographed in gorgeous sepia with washed-out colors that really puts you squarely inside the post civil war/western era. casey affleck finally gets a role he could thrive in that doesn't involve wisecracks or a boston accent. he deserves his nomination. the accents they adopted (late 19th century missouri anyone?) were fun to listen to. the performances were wonderful.and the movie takes its dear time, which is a revelation in these times. and, lastly but higly important to me, the silences in this film say so much. you know how much i love stuff like that. god, i love that stuff.

and here's the bad: as much as i love that stuff, the movie took too much of its dear time. with those much needed deep silences, the movie just feels like it took forever. honestly, it's two and a half hours long, which is fine, except this story's probably got sixty minutes of meat in it. so yeah, i was completely enthralled, but somewhat bored by the end.

hey look, if you're a wild west freak, totally check it out. i am. i really dug it. you won't be disappointed at all. and if you're not a wild west freak, i don't know what's wrong with you.

how even the utterly ridiculous has been regurgitated

i've had this idea for a screenplay featuring billy zabka, who played johnny in "the karate kid" and chad in "back to school". you know, the dick. i told my idea to friends recently. they laughed. one even told me that he would throw down his $10 to see that. with "addicted to her" off to the script developer, i needed something to work on.

so i went to the coffeehouse and began on "not billy zabka". it's a simple idea that i will share with you right now: a producer wants to film a sequel to "the karate kid" reprising ralph macchio as daniel lorusso, elisabeth shue as ali, the sensei from the cobra kai and billy zabka as johnny - except that zabka has fallen off the planet (pat morita's absence due to death is explained away in a touching funeral scene). so, because the producer can't find zabka, he recruits a billy zabka lookalike to play that role. the actor becomes billy zabka, billy zabka becomes johnny, the movie is a hit and suddenly his ever elusive fame has found him. he dates scarlett johannsen, for example. then, one day, the real billy zabka returns from hibernation in deepest darkest montana and confronts his double.

pretty frigging ridiculous, right?

well, it's already been done.

now how frigging ridiculous is that?

how i love airports

i spent ten minutes at PDX yesterday eavesdropping on a horizon air employee talking loudly on his cellphone about the sexual harassment claim filed against him during the drug testing incident in medford, whatever that means.

it seems that he is also countersuing for harassment.

unfortunately, he didn't want to say anything else on his phone without legal representation.

however, judging by his creepy moustache and even creepier cowboy boots underneath his uniform, he was drug tested in medford. it was there that he said some even more creepier things to his drug tester, a female, that bordered on flirting. she probably told him to stop. he probably then called her a bitch or worse. she walked out. he thought it was over. then he was served with sexual harassment papers, so he countersued on his own, although there's no weight to his claim.

i'm pretty sure that's what happened. i pieced it together just by looking at the guy, who sorta looked like napoleon dynamite's brother.

can you blame me?

how the more things change, they also stay the same sometimes

i'm almost caught up on "Friday night lights".

after watching matt saracen break down in the shower about his fear of being abandoned, and getting personally choked up about it, it's more than fair to say that very few shows explore the human condition as well as they do.

and after watching the crystal meth dealers fight with the riggins boys, it's fair to say that very few shows are as hokey when they stray from reality.

and after watching 90 minutes of the show, it's fair to say that just 3 minutes of actual football footage is entirely way too little.

how if you're ever gonna donate to anything, do it for this

this is from my amazing friend tommy:

Hi Everyone,

We had another very successful year in 2007 with our health and happiness and our continued support for the LLS to find a cure. Christine passed her 4 year mark with flying colors and we now have November 13th to look forward to so we can finally utter those words she has shied away from until that day. There are already 15 rooms booked for the cruise and that is going to be a crazy trip in Feb of 2009! We are going to party like its 10 years earlier! (1999)

I've done a lot of different things to help support the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society over he last 4 years and have had good success with the help of many of you reading this right now. While attending a meeting during the end of 2007 though, I was inspired to do something drastically different. (read on:-)

Having been a football player and baseball player my whole life, I NEVER EVER liked to run more than a sprint. Even training for those sports, at most, I'd run 2 to 3 miles and I rarely ever did that. Hey, I'm 250 pounds for goodness sake! Running was always the punishment for going offsides or being late to practice. It made me look at running distance as the perennial punishment! That's all about to change...

On April 26th, I will embark on a life changing event for myself. I've taken on the challenge of running 13.1 miles in the Country Music Half Marathon in Nashville, TN. (Did I mention 13.1 miles of non-stop running!) I've decided to take on this challenge to honor my wife Christine and friend Mike who have fought leukemia and are still fighting the daily battles bone marrow transplants bring. They will both be my honorary teammates for the event.

I'm running as part of the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society's Team in Training and have already started my workouts. I've gone from the couch to running at least 2 times a week and I'm starting to build up some endurance. On top of the training I also have a fund-raising goal as part of the program. I promise that if you can help me reach my fund-raising goal, I will train my butt off and make it through the 13.1 miles smiling...or maybe trying to smile.

For those of you who are able to help me with a donation, I'll be sending out regular e-mails on my workout progress. I figure if you're generous enough to donate the money, I'm generous enough to share the description of my agony!

Thanks in advance for any support you can send my way. Wish me luck with the training!

Please help me reach my goal by making an on-line donation here.

Tommy



and if you need a reference on how amazing this is, check out my own marathon for the same amazing inspiration and honorary teammate.

thanks.

how i seem to be a magnet for all things such

if you know me, you know that i have a high measure of courtesy and respect for others, especially in public spaces. whatever's left of that in society is falling by the wayside nowadays, and it truly bothers me. rude has become the new normal.

and it irks me even more that i seem to be targeted by this movement's biggest offenders.

rewind to saturday. i'm at a funeral for the first lady of steveohville's elderly relative, someone i've never met. sitting right behind me was some older man who didn't shut up during the entire funeral mass. he wasn't talking loud, but he was talking loud enough. and he wasn't saying anything worth hearing. it was more about him and his thoughts. you know, such worthwhile gems like "i'm going to be a practicing catholic today and receive communion" and "my cousin was also born on her birthday". twice i turned around and gave him the "have some respect, you asshat" look. the third time i looked back, i caught his eye and held the stare. that seemed to work.

this morning on my bus, not only did the woman sitting next to me chat on the cellphone about the super bowl (and not really have any idea about what she was talking about), but the person standing near me (or above me) also chatted on his cellphone about a business meeting he was planning for. could these conversations have waited 10 minutes? of course. did they happen on the bus just to torment me? yep.

and then, tonight, a couple talked all the way through a documentary i watched about zinedine zidane. yes, that's right, they held conversations about soccer throughout a movie about soccer. good times.

that's how i'm rolling nowadays, silently stewing.

but you know what? it don't bother me. yeah, that's right. for this week, i am a super bowl champion.

how no words can do justice to how i feel

so i'll just sit back and just revel in what i can't believe.

how i can't wait for the official unveiling on february 16

it's true. a pitcher can say a thousand words, and most of them are unrelentingly joyous.

how 'bout dem apples

the first lady of steveohville alerted me to this, not only because her friend amy got a shout-out, but also because she's also afflicted with the same scenario.

or so she dreams.

how i now have some perspective

i always find any and all hollywood award shows to be terribly self-congratulatory. it's art. art is unquantifiable. and yet, gold statues are given out, and people talk about themselves, and everyone claps, and everyone is great, and you should know that because i'm telling you that.

and when i went to the one show, which is advertising's main award show (you read that right), even that was too congratulatory, especially when you consider that it's for something that pisses people off. and i won something there. i wanted to hide.

too much patting themselves on the back, people telling themselves how great they are, as if the world is a mirror mirror on the wall.

it's crap. all of it.

then tonight, i just watched the state of the union address/clapfest, with all its raucous and incessant applause, standing ovations and whooping and hollaring. and they were all for a blubbering idiot with a 30% approval rate.

and that made me realize that every other award ceremony with attention-hungry gloryhogs, no matter how self-congratulatory they may be, pales in comparison to the group of thoughtless children we've already elected.

how i'm tired of my clothes

so i bought myself this tee for highbrow comedy and this one for general coolness.

because that's how i roll on my upper half.

how it had to be notable for me to post this

but the doorway to my apartment building really smelled like pot.

i know what you're thinking. "steve, you live in san francisco. marijuana is virtually decriminalized there. you can't walk down a block without smelling it. so...why are you telling me this?"

well, because it really smelled like a whole lotta pot.

as if one of the mailboxes read "c.marin" and another read "t.chong".

as if a pot plant were growing out from the pavement.

as if the latest issue of "high times" were lying on the floor.

as if there were a glaucoma convention in my building.

as if all my mail were written on hemp.

as if the dry cleaner next door moved out and a bong wholesaler moved in.

as if they filmed an episode of "weeds" on my block. and it were scored by willie nelson and snoop dogg.

that much.

how i'm gonna make it up to you in a big way

sorry i haven't blogged in awhile. i just haven't really had much to say or the energy or time to say it. blame it on the rain.

still, i've got some brilliant audio to help make it up to you, dedicated to beckett o'neill stern.

this is the vocal track of david lee roth singing "runnin' with the devil", and it's wonderful and hilarious and making me think about getting van halen tickets.

here's an audio track of prank callers terrorizing the big east basketball coaches conference call. the exasperation of the moderator is priceless.

and the historic aaron burr-alexander hamilton duel, as acted out by michael cera and as told by a drunk guy. it's...yes, it is.

how this is a post-christmas miracle

how this totally makes up for the mets

how you can turn someone else's life into something very personal

starring emile hirsch, marcia gay harden, william hurt, jena malone, catherine keener and hal holbrook
written and directed by sean penn
viewed at the metreon, san francisco, ca

every brilliant review i've read about this brilliant adaptation of that brilliant book centered around the word "personal". of course, the writer/director has made a living finding the deepest spirits of the characters he portrays, so that connection seemed natural.

emile hirsch became chris mccandless; he connected to the soul of the character, this real person, his struggles and intrepidness. hal holbrook's short relationship to him connected him not only character to character, but also us to older people dear to our own lives. eddie vedder's score, barely beyond the basics, connected a personal narrative to this powerful journey. the pain seen in the faces of catherine keener, william hurt and marcia gay harden was something we could all relate to, the loss of someone special.

and sean penn's barren writing and gradual directing was the perfect string to tie all these connections together.

why is all this important? well, you won't read any book or listen to any conversation about great films without hearing that the ultimate the goal of brilliant filmmaking is to make connections. because if you can coerce the audience to turn your story into something personal, it'll become something they remember because it's something they'll feel.

i feel this is one of the best films this year. and i ain't alone.

how you should never say ever when it comes to the downfall of the cowboys

earlier this week, i thought that this video was the best explanation of the cowboys collapse that could ever be produced.

but i was wrong, because this is.

and it makes it all the sweeter.

how playoff football suits me

the furniture in my living room has been evicted.

i'm standing three feet away from my 40" HDTV.

i'm peeking into the cowboys huddle, looking for signs, limps, calls, anything.

i see my D-line waiting for the attack. i point my finger to my head - "think! think!" - and then pierce does the same.

i've got my left foot forward, leaning ahead, juking my shoulders, waiting...waiting...waiting...

HIKE.

i'm crouching now. my head's snapping back and forth. romo's in the pocket, and i'm pushing linemen away, but he's still got room around him. his eyes are darting. i'm trying to get into his lanes.

he releases. deep.

i don't hold my breath. hells, no. i'm darting my head back and forth, looking...looking...looking...

jumping screaming yelling kicking fistpumping yeah yeah yeah!

sconi, here we come.

and romo? enjoy mexico.


UPDATE: just read this countdown from deadspin. it's pitch perfect:

0:24 -- A false start hurts the comeback, then a short pass to Witten doesn't go far, and forward progress keeps the clock running. Dallas invokes their final timeout.

0:21 -- Nailed by Osi Umenyiora as he throws, Romo's pass is incomplete to bring up third down.

0:16 -- Romo overthrows Crayton in the end zone. 4th down.

0:09 -- R.W. McQuarters catches the 4th down pass in the end zone. But R.W. McQuarters plays for the Giants. Holy sweet Christ, Wade Phillips is gonna be poked with a stick by Jerry Jones all offseason.

0:00 -- Jessica Simpson text messages Eli Manning.

how it's nice to get props every once in awhile

especially when it's by your peers and public relations department. just check out today's issue of "creativity" online to see what i mean.

/bragging

how i wish there were so much more of

in fact, i wish i could buy a complete pay-per-view of conan o'brien doing edith bunker singing "sabotage" by the beastie boys.

yes, it's just as awesome as it sounds.

how about we give it up for sunday the 6th

this has possibly been the best sunday ever. why?

1. with my buddy will, i watch eli manning grow up and the giants win their first playoff game in seven years, utterly destroying the bucs. and, even better, this leads us to the next round against the cowboys. the cowboys! i can't wait. seriously. i can't.

2. roger clemens stammers on "60 minutes", especially when mike wallace asks him what would happen if he took a lie detector test. it was possibly the most enjoybale theater i've seen in years. thank god for sweat glands.

3. i found out that friends of mine will become first-time parents later this year.

4. the stony brook seawolves notch their first win in league play, a 75-59 triumph over maine.

5. the first lady of steveohville just arrived at my apartment to bring me dessert, the impossibly amazing hot chocolate from bittersweet on fillmore.

6. the season premiere of "the wire" began tonight, and it was wonderful as usual.

thank you, sunday. i think you are wonderful.

how to do a proper NFC wild card playoff preview

my predictions for the giants-bucs game on sunday:

what the fuck are you thinking, eli?
you've been playing for four fucking years, god damn it!
would you fucking run the ball?
can anyone cover them? i'm fucking talking to you, madison!
jeff fucking garcia is thirty fucking eight years fucking old!
what the fuck you thinking, coughlin?
can you fucking believe this shit? reuben fucking droughns?
will somebody in blue show up and fucking play?
stop with the fucking prevent already!

final score: giants 20, bucs 13.

how you don't need a caucus to prove that this rocks

of all the election ads i've seen, this one is far and away the best.

how the best way to tell a year to take a hike is to go on one of your own

these photos taken on january 1st on rodeo beach, located in beautiful sausalito.

how i wish everyone a happy new year

and hopefully a better year than this guy had.

and yes, before you write in, i know it's old and i've posted this about a million times already, but fuck shit, i get so diaretic sometimes. and those goddamn flies.

how meaningless can suddenly become meaningful and yet stay meaningless

when i made christmas travel plans, i recognized that the giants and pats would be playing a game on saturday night, and i figured that would be a great way to spend half of my cross-country trip on jet blue. i didn't think much of the giants at that time, and didn't think they would put up any sort of fight.

obviously, i was wrong. eli played like the eli we've been waiting for. they ran the ball down new england's throat. they played with passion and purpose. and, although they'd already made the playoffs, they turned a meaningless game into something meaningful - added confidence and arrogance into the only football season that matters.

and yet, i rendered it meaningless.

i didn't take into consideration how my emotions would translate on a plane. i didn't realize that i couldn't yell or high five or throw stuff. every emotion i had came into the form of a fist pump - either good or bad. it wad frustrating.

i should have had faith in my g-men. i should have watched it with my father and my brother. i should have yelled and screamed and been myself and found other ways to spend six hours on an airplane.

hell, it would have been meaningful because i would have been with them, and that's all that would have mattered, meaningless game or not.

dammit. the giants didn't blow it last night. i did.

how i've been too fat to blog

it's true.

sorry.

how i'm not sure which is the scariest

A. mommy jamie-lynn
B. aunt britney
C. grandma lynne

at least uncle k-fed will bring the sanity.

how knicks fans are in the middle of an elaborate dare

anybody else get the impression that the knicks fanbase is caught up in the middle of a huge elaborate dare?

isiah is daring dolan to fire him by making idiotic signings and acting less like an executive and more like a thug.

dolan is daring isiah to behave like that by paying off his sexual harassment settlement and absolving isiah of any wrongdoing.

so isiah dares dolan further by not playing the most effective players on his roster.

so then dolan sees that and dares isiah again to act even more like an idiot by making his standards for a firing to be impossible to reach.

so isiah raises the bar by daring dolan to fire him by kicking marbury off the team, learning that his team doesn't want him back and then plays him 33 minutes in a return.

what imbecilic dare will dolan do next?

the knick fandom holds their breath and gags in unison.

how "also notable" is better than not noticeable at all

i'm proud that my agency was named interactive agency of the year by shoot magazine.

and i'm really proud that the lebron work is "also notable".

kudos to everyone.

how this is truly the whole truth about the baseball steroids era

of everything i've read about the mitchell report, this article is easily the best to explain how inadequate and unfair it is. and although it wasn't as bad as i thought it would be, it's still pretty much what i feared it would be.

buster olney's article is reprited below, before it becomes an insider that you have to pay for. it's about at smart and concise you'll find about the subject.


Mitchell lacked critical insight
by Buster Olney
espn.com

After the commissioner's office received access to the report, word leaked out that the Mitchell Report was tough on Major League Baseball; the advance notice was that individuals within the MLB offices were upset, angry. Which is, of course, what Major League Baseball needs everybody to believe: That it really got thumped.

Then George Mitchell stood in front of a microphone and said out loud, "Everybody involved in baseball -- commissioners, club officials, the players association and the players -- shares responsibility to some extent for the Steroids Era. There was a collective failure to recognize the problem and deal with it early on." Baseball had a drug culture, Mitchell said, a nice general thesis that was fresh when it was first reported years ago by the San Francisco Chronicle, ESPN, the New York Daily News, Sports Illustrated and just about every other major news outlet.

But if you expected any critical insight from the report into how that culture developed, well, forget it. Baseball's leaders should send a Christmas basket to Mitchell for the way he glossed over the decisions -- their decisions -- that created the vacuum in which hundreds or even thousands of players, in the majors and minors, felt free, or felt the need, to take drugs.

Oh, sure, Giants general manager Brian Sabean looks awful in anecdotes on pages 122-126 of the report, and union counsel Gene Orza is alleged to have tipped off a player to a forthcoming test. But the report is almost wholly absent of a direct examination and assessment of how the decisions of Don Fehr and Bud Selig led us to where we are today.

We are told of the alleged drug use of 86 players by name, but nothing that addresses almost all of the big-picture questions: Why did baseball not act decisively after the sport's first steroid scandal, around Jose Canseco, during the 1988 World Series? Why did the owners and union leaders do nothing?

In a 1995 article in the Los Angeles Times, Selig made reference to a meeting in which owners discussed steroids. What was said, specifically, in those meetings? What were owners saying about the change in size in bodies? What were they saying about the Athletics of the late '80s, the Reds of 1990, the Rangers of the early '90s, the Phillies of 1993?

We are told that after the noteworthy L.A. Times piece was published in 1995, with quotes addressing the perceived rise of steroid use from Frank Thomas, Tony Gwynn, GMs Randy Smith and Kevin Malone and Selig, there was no follow-up. Why not? What was Selig's thinking? Why didn't he view these words as an alarm in the night? Why didn't he ask Thomas, Gwynn, Malone and Smith about what they knew? Why didn't he do something? Why was it that when Kevin Towers spoke out loud in the spring of 2005 about how executives in the game had known for years about steroid use, he was admonished by baseball executives? Why did Selig issue a public gag order on executives on the issue of steroids?

In fact, there is no mention of Towers' statement in the report. There is virtually no information within the report about the players' union deliberations and conversations about steroids during the mid-'90s. Where was Fehr? Where was Orza? What were they saying and doing? What was being said in the meetings? We understand that the union didn't cooperate with the Mitchell investigators, but there have been many newspaper and magazine stories written about this, and Mitchell could have cut-and-pasted all of this for context, as he did in so many other places in the report.

The commissioner had full autonomy over the minor leagues and could have implemented drug testing at any time. So why did it take 13 years after the Canseco scandal to do so? What were owners saying about all this in meetings? Is it true, as sources indicate, that one owner was so fed up with the union wars that he said, in so many words, If the players want to kill themselves by taking that stuff, then let them. It's not our problem.

We got a whole lot of information about the symptoms of the problem -- the cases of individual players -- but almost nothing about the virus of failed leadership that is the root of baseball's drug culture.

Selig has said that he wanted the report because it would show that he had nothing to hide. But it was, in fact, another example of a lack of leadership, a lack of accountability.

In March of 2006, he could have stood up, perhaps with Fehr at his side, and said: We blew it. The entire institution of baseball shared in this failure to ask the right questions at the right time, and failed to take the right action at the right time. But we could learn the full extent of how pervasive that problem was, so the best thing that we could do would be to strengthen our drug-testing program as much as possible, and move forward.

A number of executives who work for Selig believed, in March of 2006, that a mea culpa was the best action possible for the sport. But Selig has never been someone to admit mistakes. So he hired a baseball executive to investigate the sport, paying Mitchell and his firm tens of millions of dollars -- and the leaders of the sport largely got a pass.

And it's possible that in lieu of Selig standing up and taking the hit for his sport, individual players and the game itself may suffer enormous collateral damage.

None of that excuses the individual decisions that were allegedly made by players. Look, if Barry Bonds or Roger Clemens or others took performance-enhancing drugs, then they have to live with the ramifications of their actions.

But it's possible, as Fehr said, that players have had their reputations wrecked forever, and perhaps wrongly.

Mitchell established his own standard of fairness, his own standard of proof. A lawyer within baseball said early this week that because Mitchell had so much power, in deciding which names to include in the report, that he really needed to go on beyond a reasonable doubt in the cases of individual players.

And this, he did not do.

On page 146 of the report, it is written that former Mets clubhouse attendant Kirk Radomski provided information, and in "many cases, his statements were corroborated by other evidence."

What the report does not say is that in many cases, the statements of Radomski, former Oriole Larry Bigbie and others were not corroborated by other evidence.

Now, we cannot be naïve to the probability that most and perhaps even all of the players named in the report used performance-enhancing drugs, and that the impact of steroid use on the game and the results of games has been nothing short of extraordinary. The belief here has been for some time that perhaps 75 percent of the major awards won from 1988 forward were done so with the use of performance-enhancing drugs, and we should assume that championship teams for the last 20 years probably fielded one or more players using the stuff. But Mitchell effectively ignored the possibility that in some cases, Radomski's version of events, or that of Larry Bigbie, might be untrue or inaccurate. If Kirk Radomski says he talked to you about steroids or sold them to you, well, Mitchell's Report embedded Radomski's version of events into history.

Mitchell clearly was frustrated with the lack of cooperation from the active Players Association. But for some former players, challenging Radomski's assertions didn't make a bit of difference: Mitchell went full-speed ahead with the naming of names, in the face of denials, just as he did in the face of silence.

"It was," said one Major League Baseball lawyer, "nothing short of reckless."

Brian Roberts is in the report, on page 158, because Bigbie told the Mitchell investigators that Roberts "admitted to him that he had injected himself once or twice with steroids in 2003."

That's it.

Radomski told investigators that he sold steroids to Matt Franco, and the former Mets player denied this. There is no other evidence. A case of he-said, he-said. And Franco is in the report, on page 165.

Jack Cust is in the report because of a Bigbie interview. Nothing more.
Mark Carreon: Radomski interview, and nothing more.
Todd Williams: Radomski interview.
Phil Hiatt: Radomski interview.
Todd Pratt: Radomski interview.
Mike Stanton: Radomski interview.

In the cases of other players, the corroborative evidence is the fact that a phone number or address is in a book owned by Radomski.

These players could sue, of course; Roger Clemens's lawyer said his client has been "slandered," and he, more than any other player in the report, has the money to go head-to-head with Major League Baseball, which indemnified Mitchell in the event of possible lawsuits.

But that probably isn't going to happen, and in any event, a lawsuit isn't going to change the reality that a player's name is in the Mitchell Report, forever. There's not a damn thing you can do to change that if you are Brian Roberts and you just might be innocent; George Mitchell has already been the prosecutor, judge and jury in his case.

The issue of the Steroids Era is multi-layered, with nobody really clean. For instance: There has never been anything tying pitcher Tom Glavine to the use of performance-enhancing drugs, and when his name appears on the Hall of Fame ballot, he will presumably be voted overwhelmingly on the first ballot, as a 300-game winner -- and rightly so. But in the '90s, Glavine was probably in the best position, among all players, to influence the velocity with which the Players Association dealt with the growing problem of steroids, as a leader in the union.

He had been willing to go to the White House in the midst of the players' strike and stand up for the union, but as steroids became more prevalent, he -- like Fehr, like Orza, like Selig -- did little or nothing. In the big picture, his decisions had a lot more practical impact in the rise of the steroid problem than Jason Grimsley or Chuck Knoblauch.

(And as has been written here and elsewhere many times before, I believe I did a lousy job covering this issue in the '90s).

It's true that the problem really started with the players who cheated. They deserve most of the blame, and in the casting of the Mitchell Report, it is the players, generally, who are blamed the most.

But you cannot issue a credible report without fully addressing the actions of the most powerful men in the game, the caretakers of the sport in the '90s: Fehr, Orza, Selig.

A last thought: Baseball executives express their frustration often over the fact that their sport is scrutinized more than any other, at a time when baseball is hardly alone in its struggles to cope with performance-enhancing drug abuse. They've ceded their right to complain about that now, because Selig made the decision to plow ahead with an internal investigation that had no chance of ever providing the full context of the problem, something that the commissioners of the NBA and the NFL have never done.

how we have this year's "little miss sunshine", except somehow impossibly better

starring ellen page, michael cera, jason bateman and jennifer garner
written by diablo cody
directed by jason reitman
viewed at the sundance kabuki, san francisco, ca

every movie is made of characters. they are fake. they don't exist. and most of the time, they are just nothing more than flat caricatures, fleshed out cliches, completely unrelatable in every way. but sometimes, a character is created that is so unique, real, cool and brilliantly human, that they completely grab you and you just fall in love with them.

i would like to introduce the world to juno macguff.

actually, she'll do it herself, along with the other kinds of shenanigans that she could get herself into.

i don't want to give anything away. so even beyond the non-stop laughs, this is a feel good movie that really makes you feel. it's superbly written by the freshest voice in years. jason reitman directs it with the gentlest touch it deserves. and the acting is just dead on, from the always brilliant michael cera and j.k. simmons to jason bateman and even jennifer garner. and, obviously, ellen page, who takes the words that make up juno in the script and turns her into the most engaging character to hit the screen in years.

if this is not the best film this year, then it's surely the most entertaining.

how i can finally be in the same sentence as michael jordan, bo jackson, charles barkley, lebron james and kobe bryant

as in, we've all appeared in a nike ad.

seriously.

go here, check out the banner ad at the top, and watch either oakland during the day or atlanta at night time. the odds are great you'll see me, lighting it up from the outside.

seriously.

(yes, i wrote myself into a nike ad. is that so wrong?)

how they can use this script for free

we open on a golf course. roger clemens' cellphone rings. he walks away from the tee and answers it.

ROGER: hey honey, if my name is brought up on that report, tell me now.

cut to his wife, talking and screaming at the top of her lungs, but we don't hear a thing.

cut back to roger, pumping his fist.

ROGER: thanks hon. great news.

roger turns back to the tee and pats andy pettitte on the ass.

the new AT&T.

how as a mets fan

i still sincerely hope that derek jeter, bernie williams, jorge posada and mariano rivera are not fingered in the mitchell commission report. those guys transcend the pinstripes they wear.

and, of course, beyond any sort of measurement standards, i obviously pray to the best of my abilities that david wright and jose reyes come out scott free too.

how modern-day baseball is much like the food industry

i'm reading this awesome book called "what to eat", in which this nutritionist breaks down where food comes from, what's pumped into it, what is organic, what's best for us, what happens if we eat toxic food and so on. it's a primer to educate a food idiot like me to make better choices in a supermarket - or a whole foods, which is now where i need to do all my shopping (more on this eye-opening book later).

anyways, the biggest shocker in the book is how the government food agencies that we rely upon for health regulations - the FDA and the USDA - actually don't give a crap about health. i mean, okay, they do, but it's tertiary, because their most important responsibility is to promote growth within the industry of food. and that means, simply, to make money, shortcuts are needed, and when those shortcuts are put into effect (additives, hormones, farming conditions, etc), the consumers suffer with a weaker and more dangerous product.

but they obviously can't say that. so they manipulate the nutritional labels to tell us basically a fourth of the story. "20% lean" sounds healthy until you realize that it really means "80% saturated fat". "natural food" sounds healthy, but that means it only follows a couple of organic guidelines. "farmed fresh seafood" sounds healthy because of the words "farmed" and "fresh", but those words take completely different meanings with fish.

the onus is on the consumer to eat healthy food, and not on the producer to make it or sell it. get them to buy it, and all bets are off.

what am i getting at? you can't trust the people who are sell you shit. their only intent is to make money and protect themselves.

that's kinda how i'm looking at the mitchell commission's study about steroids in baseball. i can't help but believe that a study authored by a co-owner of the red sox would implicate his fellow co-owners, who if they didn't sign off on it, they encouraged. and i can't help but believe that they're not going to implicate those who can't help themselves - the trainers and the general managers - who also knew but were powerless. and i can't help but believe that it's not gonna try to take a chunk out of the ballplayers who did it - but more importantly, the ballplayers whose salaries take a big bite out of their bottom lines. it's going to be worded that way. it's just impossible to trust and, to be honest, i don't know exactly what it's going to change.

although things are different for steroids, you can't test for HGH, and it wasn't illegal when ballplayers took it - and there doesn't seem to be any side effects found yet.

but it's something else to blame.

it's just the way big business works.

how context changes everything

without context, this photo is about:

- strippers dressed as nuns for halloween
- nuns waiting for the strip club to open for the all-you-can-eat lunch buffet
- sister mary hearing "pour some sugar on me" and getting all jiggy
- nuns spitting on the wall of a strip club
- nuns checking out the rumor that an apparition of the virgin mary appeared in the reflection of a stripper pole
- nuns angling for a possible kid rock sighting
- nuns mistaking a possible kid rock sighting as a possible jesus sighting
- nuns asking if they can use one of the private rooms as a possible confessional
- nuns looking to spend those extra singles that "fell out" of the collection basket

it's actually nuns protesting a strip club opening in their neighborhood.

sorry.

how the holidays is a time of cleansing

like, for example, cleaning out the inbox on my hotmail account, and suddenly being able to walk upright, without an anchor dragging behind me, suddenly 85 pounds lighter and detached from any sort of e-commitments.

so, if you're taking your time to clean out your inbox this holiday season, i do recommend it. hey, you might even sleep better at night.

how i didn't need yet another reason to admire the guy, and yet, here's another

as if creating characters such as the masturbating bear, hornymanatee.com, the offensive radio singer ghost and coked-up werewolf wasn't genius enough, conan o'brien announced that he is paying his staff members out of his own pocket, even though production on his show has been shut down due to the writer's strike.

that rocks.

and letterman, leno and finally jimmy kimmel are all doing the same.

bravo.

how most of us have spent our entire lifetimes looking for this

and here it is, on ebay, as if it would be anywhere else. it'd make for the perfect holiday present, even moreso than "guitar hero".

how clooney doesn't fool around

sorry that this has been the steveohville film review recently, but there's no better time for it than now.


starring george clooney, tom wilkinson, tilda swinton and sydney pollack
written and directed by tony gilroy
viewed at the empire, san francisco, ca

i was talking to my buddy will about this, and he mentioned that he watched (or read) an interview with tony gilroy, who not only wrote and directed this film, but also wrote the bourne movies. he said that by directing his own scripts, he's given the power to protect his dialogue and to actually make the characters speak, to say something, to emote with their words.

of course, a movie like this, about a large agricultural company hiding the truth about their harmful pesticides and their defense lawyer who begins peeling off an even deeper truth, well, it needs words. many words. but they need to be written in a way where you're not being told what to think, but led along the right path. there's a fine line between compelling and boring.

tony gilroy, you did one helluva job.

this movie reminds me much of michael mann's "the insider" - tough, strong, intelligent, with an extremely skillful cast and an explosive ending that, for some reason, you just don't see coming (at least i didn't). it leads you to places you don't expect but completely logical. it offers reasons and motives that don't insult. it treats you like an adult, and expects the same in return.

it's an intelligent movie, one of the very best of this year.

how wikipedia is god blessed

even though it mocks my alma mater, this is awesome, and it answers many questionable boxscores.

how a cattle drive can last for 857 wonderful pages

i really don't do many of these. maybe i should.



more than one person had recommended this book to me. that's more than enough for me to seek it out and jump into it. usually, the recos are dead on.

in this case, i owe thanks.

if ever 857 pages could fly, then these are the words that give it wings. if ever 857 pages could not seem tedious, then these are the characters that do the heavy lifting. and if 857 pages could leave me wanting 857 more, then this is the author who could deliver them.

i've never read a book with such masterful patience. for example, nothing much actually or physically happened throughout the first 250 pages, but trust me, so much happened. and it just felt so real, so honest, so pitch perfect, even for a time that happened 100 years past doing things that have been long gone from the modern age.

a cattle drive from south texas to northern montana should not be this interesting, compelling and brilliant. but it was.

thank you, my recommedators.

how i was there for an amazing performance

starring christian bale, cate blanchett, heath ledger and others
written and directed by todd haynes
viewed at the empire, san francisco, ca

i'm gonna get this out of the way first: this is a great film, and an amazing achievement in storytelling. bob dylan's life is not told linearly or even literally, but you get it. my lord, do you get it. if you don't know the man after you leave this film, then you just weren't paying attention. and, much like the artist, it was told by not following the rules. bravo. a tremendous achievement.

in fact, outside of the richard gere segments, everyone was tremendous. and it's not that gere was terrible; he just wasn't as good, and his part wasn't as compelling. but there's so much to this, just so much, that you just sink your teeth into it and allow yourself to drown in it. and the soundtrack? wonderful. as if you had to ask.

now that all that is out of the way, the rest of this will be about the brilliance of cate blanchett. and i'm not just talking about conquering the obvious obstacles of a woman playing a male role, but playing as a male with an incredible deal going on. she was mesmerizing.

how good and absorbing was she? during my five minute post-film gushing about her, the first lady of steveohville asked me what character did cate blanchett play. i mean, she played the lead character, and the first lady had no idea. how amazing is that?

this is easily one of the best films i've seen this year. but moreso, cate blanchett's performance is one for the ages. check her out. she's incredible. bob dylan has never been so appealing.

how a fire under an ass can do wonders

i'm not sure what's gotten into "the sports guy" on espn.com, but he's been churning out great articles recently. it's like he's in that magical groove from a couple of years ago, when each article became an event to any sports freak with a laptop.

let's break it down: first, he wrote that article about taking his 2-year-old daughter to an NBA game. then, his marathon seven hour chat. and now, here's letter to himself in 1982, and it's dead-on great. also, his football picks are hilarious, like this one:

Jets (+1) over DOLPHINS
While we're passing out congrats, kudos to Ricky Williams for staging the worst comeback since Screech's porn video. Anyway, can you think of any situation in which an 0-11 team should be favored unless it's playing a team fighting a roster-wide case of mononucleosis or something? Is this the lowest moment in Jets history? They're getting points from an 0-11 team! That's almost worse than being an 0-11 team, isn't it?

how i don't know why this struck me as funny as it did, but goddamn it, it did

i stopped finding paris hilton funny a long time ago. but, then again, you should never say never.

how i think too much about the knicks

this was posted during bill simmons' epic chat yesterday on espn.com,

Otis (Toronto, ON): how close are we to having the Knicks banished to the WNBA?

Bill Simmons: (12:29 PM ET ) That a boy, Otis! I like the idea of banishing the Knicks to the WNBA - Renaldo Balkman would be the 10th most attractive player in the league.

that got me thinking: how would the knicks do in the WNBA?

i have two different takes on this: realistically and honestly.

realistically, the WNBA champs detroit mercury couldn't even come close to matching up physically with them.

6'11" eddy curry would be guarded by 6'4" tangela smith.
6'11" zach randolph would be guarded by 6'1" penny taylor.
6'4" quentin richardson would be guarded by 6'0" diana taurasi.
6'5" jamal crawford would be guarded by 5'10" kelly miller.
6'3" stephon marbury would be guarded by 5'9" cappie pondexter.

taking the obvious advantages in strength, speed and athleticism (no offense to any of the ladies out there), but i can't fathom how they would ever stop the knicks.

physically, the mercury trots out there looking like a small high school boy's team (but better, obviously) taking on an NBA team.

and defensively? again, huge size, strength, speed and athletic advantages to the knicks. and although the knicks are dreadfully and embarrassingly terrible at help defense, they wouldn't have to leave their man. the mercury would score. it would just be very difficult.

so realistically, the knicks wouldn't lose.

honestly, they might.

you see, all isiah would have to do is force the ball down low to curry and randolph. there's nothing anyone on the mercury can do to stop them. in fact, the knicks would only be stopped by themselves.

and how? well, marbury and crawford would get pissed off at curry and randolph scoring so easily. so, at some point, the passes would stop. and marbury and crawford would start chucking it up. again, many of them would go in. but not all of them. and judging what we've seen from randolph and curry, they'd probably begin to sulk.

and by sulk, that means going from being the two worst defenders in history and eliminating any sort of effort and care.

scoring would be easier.

and isiah's already lost the team, so it's not like they'd listen to him whenever he comes up with a "solution".

so, realistically? no. but honestly?

i've already spent too much time on this.

how i will rock on and get connected worldwide, thank you

it takes something like this that puts everything else in my life in its proper place.

somewhere, in the deepest darkest regions of the internet netherworld, the bank of america guy is furiously creating a response.

how if you're looking for something nice to do for the holidays, here's something worthwhile

my friend stacie has started a humanitarian cause called "the see and sprout project". she just landed in thailand, and is already doing her magic.

in case you're too lazy to click through, here's what it's about:

The See and Sprout Project is a creative collective, international exchange art workshop launched by Stacie Krajchir for youth in Khao Lak Thailand affected by the 2004 Asian tsunami.

Village children will be guided to create visual and written images about their feelings and perceptions about themselves, their family and their community and to explore ways of translating these feelings to people who live outside their community.

Photographs combined with stories, captions and personal journal entries will be edited into a group exhibition to share their experiences and explore the challenges they faced before the disaster, and continue to face in their daily lives.

The workshop includes children who have lost their family, friends, homes and community schools during the tsunami and beyond. How their lives are now and how they move forward having lost so much. We are launching our charter project at the incredible Baan Tham Namchai Orphanage which is a true honor.

Last year we painted classrooms, this year we are going to green a classroom... the paint will be eco-friendly as well as lighting and as many itty bitty other eco ideas I can fit in my suitcase!

there's more on the website about this, and you really should check it out. there are organizations feeding and housing people in need, and that's great. but what stacie is trying to do is to take their mind off things, doing something creative, putting smiles on faces. and, most of all, it's fun. and that's something great too.

it's too late to donate old digicameras, but they do need money to pay for printouts and shipping and all that. e-mail stacie@thebungalowpr.com for more information.

how we went to bolinas around sunset and all we had was this crappy cameraphone

how of all the things i can be thankful of

this awesome dance routine takes the turkey.

how a confusing ending can almost ruin a brilliant everything else

starring javier bardem, tommy lee jones and josh brolin
written and directed by the coen brothers
viewed at the century san francisco center, san francisco

for the first two hours of "old country of old men", i saw the very best of the coen brothers' illustrious career. i saw the most amazing film of this year so far. i saw a movie brilliantly written, directed and edited, and with truly captivating performances by bardem, jones and brolin. it was everything it was hyped up to be: a master's class in the art of storytelling.

and then, the final five minutes happened.

look, i'm not alone in this. everyone who left the theater with me was completely flummoxed. when i got home, i googled the film, and realized that reviews are flooded with people as confused as i was.

so, the question remains: does a very weird, unsettling and perplexed ending eradicate the brilliance that happened before it?

i don't think so. or, at least, not totally. "no country for old men" is still the best movie i've seen this year.

however, i can't see it winning any awards for best picture. for one, it will split votes with paul thomas anderson's "there will be blood". after all, they are very much alike, in that they are excellent in every aspect of making a film. however, there is a story arc in this one, full of resistance and drama and characters in peril. whereas anderson's movie seems like a challenge to himself, this is a masterstroke of creative geniuses.

and secondly, oh, that ending, it just can't help. it really can't. confusion works for david lynch because he's david lynch and that's what you expect. but for even the masters of the unexpected like the coens, it's just...

okay, enough about that. moving on, bardem, jones and brolin are truly awesome and worthy of any accolades they receive. the cinematography is gorgeous. and nobody edits a film with such poignancy as the coen bro...i mean, roderick jaymes. the first two hours represent the very peak of their canon.

if only.



UPDATE: so i thought about it overnight, and i'm completely changing my tune. the problem with the film is actually with the beginning in that we never know who's story it is. at the end, it's clear that the film is told through tommy lee jones' point of view. but for the mesmerizing two hours before that, we've got his story, but it's mostly about javier bardem chasing josh brolin. when we get to the ending, it's the cumulation of not the whole story, but of just tommy lee jones'.

so, despite the absolute brilliance, there just needed to be more about how this was the last chase of this lawman's career, just because the times have changed, and it's no longer just for someone his age.

damn, so close.

but it's still the best film i've seen this year.

how if you're ever in san diego

it feels good to be a part of something real.

how only omar can turn a steaming bowl of crap into a starting catcher

good riddance to you, guillermo mota.

and good riddance to you, willie randolph's insane loyalty to guillermo mota.

i will not miss either of you.

how i need a woman to clear this up for me

on "black friday", the day after thanksgiving, women from all over this land rush to any mall they can find to buy whatever they can get their hands at a discounted rate. the later they go, the lesser of a chance they have of finding the right size. so they line up outside storefronts at the earliest break of day, in hopes of being first.

none of this is disputed, right, ladies?

here's where i'm coming from, though. why don't you do your shopping before black friday, like on "gearing up wednesday" or "i'm bored tuesday", buy whatever you want at a higher price, then bring your receipt in within 21 days for a price adjustment? this way, you spend 75% less time waiting on line, you still get it at the same price, you don't have to worry about your size being sold out, and you can stay at home on friday and laugh at the losers who didn't think of this brilliant idea.

right, ladies?

correctamundo.

you can thank me later.

how hitlercats.com has a new contender for the title

this website has such a simple premise, i'm kicking myself for not doing it myself.

damn me.

how i'm barely five minutes back into atlanta

and it's pouring rain here for the first time in months, my hotel can be described as "pedestrian at best", i walked past a bar playing gospel karaoke, and i saw a buddhist monk in the hotel lobby trying to decide between mesquite bbq chips and ding dongs.

note: i have yet to hit fat matt's or a waffle house yet.

giddyup.

how you can find true humanity in a fake person

starring ryan gosling, emily mortimer and paul schneider
directed by craig gillespie
written by nancy oliver
viewed at the sundance theater kabuki, san francisco

every so often, a movie comes along that is so expertly created that it shows that there can be a strong human truth found in even the clearly absurd. take "eternal sunshine of the spotless mind" for instance. if left to the simpleminded, it would have been just a movie about how you can get your mind erased. but with charlie kaufman and michel gondry's amazing gifts of storytelling, it transcended into a strong human truth, that you may be able to erase the hard drive of your brain, but never the hard drive of your heart.

why did i begin with that? because a movie whose basic premise begins with a man buying a "real girl" sex toy and passing it off as his girlfriend is fraught with the very worst that slapstick can offer. in the hands of the farrelly brothers, the real doll becomes a prop. in the hands of michael bay, the real doll becomes something worth exploding, an inanimate object that stays that way until its parts are flying every which way.

but when it stands for something, when it becomes more than a prop or a target, when the filmmakers don't stoop for the easy jokes or a simple plotlines, well that's where the human truth shines through. and we can all connect to it. and it leaves us with something wholly inspiring.

that's what i felt when i left the theater with the first lady of steveohville. she felt it too. it wasn't a movie about a dude who buys a real doll and passes it off as his girlfriend. it was a movie about how love can go through great lengths when great lengths are needed. and if there's someone out there who doesn't relate to that, well, you begin to feel what ryan gosling's character was feeling.

this is the best movie i've seen so far this year, the best script i've watched this year, and gosling's performance is much more multilayered than the brilliance of daniel day-lewis' in "there will be blood".

which means that if you've got $10 and 90 minutes to spare, there's nothing better i can recommend you spending them on.

how the funniest show on tv is back with a vengeance

no, not "the office".
not "30 rock".
and no, not "curb your enthusiasm".

i'm talking "inside the NBA" with ernie johnson, kenny smith and charles barkley. and they're putting their most hilarious bits online, like the always funny "who he play for", where they ask charles where some nondescript player are playing nowadays, and it's everything that makes charles barkley the funniest character on tv, even if he's real life.

it's easily the most entertaining thing about the NBA.

how there's awesome, and then there's this awesome

certain brands have legacies. their advertising (and who they are) becomes a history of gorgeous storytelling and compelling statements, always being much more entertaining than the content they're interrupting.

sometimes, that legacy keeps on going (nike). sometimes, that legacy ends (see volkswagon).

and sometimes, the legacy is brilliant in one part of the world and not in another.

here's the latest masterpiece to the guinness legacy of advertising in great britain. it's just as brilliant as anything else they've ever done over there (and for those uninitiated, i'm including "surfer" and "swimblack", among others).

makes me wish they ran these over here too.

how i fear for the retribution that will be brought down on these kids

you're a nerd. you're tired of getting wedgies in the school hallways. so you invent something like this and you think that all your problems are solved.

but then you'd probably just blow it by posting something on the web like this.

(yes, i know that clip is old. but it's still damned fully, ain't it?)

how to review a movie two months before it premieres

due to the wonders of san francisco, i was able to watch a sneak preview of the latest film from one of my favorite filmmakers. here goes it:


starring daniel day-lewis and paul dano
written and directed by paul thomas anderson
viewed at the castro theater, san francisco

first off: i am a huge fan of paul thomas anderson. when everyone killed "punch drunk love", i praised it as a rousing success - because i saw the chances he took by casting adam sandler in a dramatic role, and how amazing the movie was because of it. on top of that, you all know how i feel about both "boogie nights" and "magnolia". and his first film, "hard eight", is just wonderful. the point is that he challenges himself with each film, he takes the preconceptions and turns them around and his stories aren't conventional by any means. his films are what storytelling should be, but sadly aren't. they are not about box office receipts. they are about human truths told masterfully.

so yeah, i dig his work. and when i got a chance to see his movie a full two months before everyone else got a chance to, i jumped.

and, shockingly to nobody who's read this far, it's a brilliantly made film. each shot is truly epic. daniel day-lewis is amazing, and is the odds-on favorite to win another oscar. his counterpart, paul dano, is great too. the photography that framed them is just gorgeous. the opening fifteen minutes are just wondrous. and the score by radiohead's jonny greenwood is pitch perfect. these are the pieces of this film that are beyond approach, a complete masterpiece by a master virtuoso.

there's a problem, however, and a big one: there's no drama in this film. there's no conflict. there's not even a story arc for the main (and practically only) character. it's just...i'm not really sure what it is, really. i really didn't get the point of it all, until daniel day-lewis revealed his soul to another character. and, to be honest, that's a cheat. you don't tell in film; you show. maybe that's anderson fighting the preconceptions. i think it's just making sense of it all, but taking the easy way out.

yes, it's a human being just being. but there's nothing for him to strive for, to overcome, to grow into. unless it completely flew past me, i found it utterly lacking from start to finish. but it didn't. i got it. he explained it to me.

it just seemed like a missed opportunity.

maybe i'm wrong.

people are going to love this movie. my two friends did. i don't think they're wrong, but i think a lot of people will love this movie because paul thomas anderson is a great filmmaker, rather than he made a great film. and other people are gonna hate this movie for the same reason they hated "punchdrunk love" - they're expecting something previous.

so color me impressed and disappointed. i know that's possible, because i am.

how a photo reveals everything

check out this headline and then look at the photo of the writer.

there's no way someone who poses for a photo that takes herself so seriously like that would have the humor of putting the words "seamen" and "ball" into the same headline.

seriously.

how every time you think everything's been done before, here comes something else

i know i'm late to the party, but if you haven't seen the video for feist's "1234" on the ipod commercial, then here it is, the full version.

and it's every bit as enrapturing as it was the first time i saw it.

if you want more, here's the behind the scenes stuff.

all in all, it's everything that's magical about filmmaking.

and those are some crane shots.

how i will be the first to say that i was beyond pleasantly surprised

the first lady of steveohville got us tickets to see gwen stefani in oakland. now, i dig gwen stefani. i do. find a red-blooded heterosexual male (or homosexual, for that matter) who doesn't. i'm just skeptical about her as a musician. when she was with no doubt, i can readily admit that i fell in love with her. she was hot. she was athletic. she sang her ass off, and the music was amazing.

then she went solo, and everything changed. she began to dress like an alien. she put on way too much makeup. she married a hack. and her music? overly produced. lyrics written like a twelve-year-old. and dance music really isn't my bag.

so...was i excited to see her? yes, of course. was i expecting much? not really.

so what did i get?

a super solid band that took those overproduced songs and made them organic - and gave them a truly human energy. choreography that was amazing but not intrusive. the loudest crowd i've ever heard at a concert (thanks to 15,000 teenaged girls). and a singer who worked her ass off on stage, and then to make a even tighter connection with her fans, went into the crowd to sing some more.

she walked around the floor. she hugged her fans. she did a lap around.

and when she got to section 114, she went into the stands, up a bunch of steps, climbed into the seats and continued to sing with her adoring fans holding her up.

i was in section 114. and she was right next to me.

how close? this close:



don't believe me? then watch this.

so...i went in expecting something, i dunno, disappointing at worst and professional at best, and i got thrilled. am i gonna go out and buy her cds? no. but when she comes back, count me in. really great stuff from a really great performer.

how i'm down with lebron

here's the latest website i've done for nike entitled "lebron: the complete story".

and here's the credits:

CREATIVE DIRECTOR: neil robinson
ART DIRECTION: caio lazzuri
DESIGN: mathieu zarbatany
PRODUCER: rachel hardwick
ACCOUNT: lauren black, simon jefferson
MOTION: antti kupla, tim robles
EDITOR: jedidiah stuber

and me.

how you hear the strangest things in elevators

overheard in my office building elevator, which is the slowest elevator in the world:

"this elevator takes forever."

"i know. they should have two elevators. one that just goes up, and another that just goes down."

so, if there's a news report of a lunatic walking around san francisco, talking to himself, making strange up-and-down gesticulations with his hands, eventually banging his head against a brick wall, don't fret. it's just me, trying to make sense of things like that.