Wait 'Till Next Year

As was previously reported here, my dad lost the election for NY State Assemblyman, 51st District to the incumbent, Felix Ortiz. No surprises.

He did, however, get that writeup by the CUNY student.

You can read that here.

Turn the Page. Wash Your Hands.

Syracuse's Dinosaur BBQ reopened this week. Huzzah.

And apparently, they narrowed down the cause (though the origin is still unknown):

"The Onondaga County Health Department has determined that a norovirus sickened patrons of the Dinosaur Bar-B-Que, but health officials couldn’t pinpoint the origin of the disease.

...

"Noroviruses — gastrointestinal illnesses that typically cause nausea, diarrhea and stomach cramping — are spread through vomit or feces. The viruses, which are highly contagious, cannot be transmitted through coughing or sneezing, Morrow said."

They did throw out all the food and sanitize the place. Nonetheless, it will be a good while before we reconsider ordering the Big Ass Pork Plate.

Say It Ain't So

[Dr. Ellie Sattler has dug through a pile of dino-droppings with her hands]
Dr. Ian Malcolm: You will remember to wash your hands before you eat anything?
-Jurassic Park (1993), directed by S. Spielberg

From the AP (via the Washington Post): 600 Sickened After Eating at N.Y. Bar

"SYRACUSE, N.Y. -- At least 600 people came down with a gastrointestinal illness after eating at a popular biker bar and restaurant, health officials said Friday.

"Bacteria have been ruled out as the cause, meaning last weekend's outbreak linked to the Dinosaur Bar-B-Que is probably viral and could have spread through air particles, said Cynthia Morrow, health commissioner of Onondaga County.

...

"The county health department on Thursday ordered the restaurant closed for at least 72 hours. Workers threw away hundreds of pounds of prepared foods."

From the Syracuse Post-Standard: Dinosaur Illnesses 'Epidemic'

"Onondaga County health officials Friday declared the illness caused from eating at Syracuse's Dinosaur Bar-B-Que an epidemic.

"More than 600 people have contacted the department to report their symptoms and tell when they ate at the restaurant and what they had, Health Commissioner Cynthia Morrow said."

(Thanks to Pat for ruining Christmas prematurely by interrupting my blissful ignorance with this news. Jackass.)

Utter Disbelief.

Thy name is "If I Did It":

Fox is planning a two-night sweeps event whose title says it all: "O.J. Simpson: If I Did It, Here's How It Happened."

No, really.

Publisher Judith Regan has taped a wide-ranging interview with Simpson that will serve as the basis for the broadcast, set to air in two hourlong segs Nov. 27 and 29, at 9 p.m. both nights. In the interview, Fox said Simpson "describes how he would have carried out the murders he has vehemently denied committing for over a decade."

Simpson was acquitted of killing Nicole Brown Simpson and Ron Goldman, but found liable for both murders in a later civil suit.

Regan is publishing the Simpson-penned "If I Did It," which goes on sale Nov. 30 -- the day after the special's conclusion airs. ReganBooks is based at Harper Collins, which is owned by Fox parent News Corp.

At least there's no word of OJ as a guest judge on American Idol. Yet.

Election 2006

Ok, it's been a week now. Just in case you were wondering, here was last week's results according to the New York Post:

Now, admittedly, it is the New York Post. And the results haven't been certified by the NY Board of Elections just yet. And I don't think my dad has called to concede.

But he's also not looking up apartments in Albany, either. Nor is anyone taking this seriously (not that we really did to begin with).

Thanks to all those who showed support. All 1,156 of you.

No, you don't understand... it means more there. Their city. Their team.

This is the actual splash photo (aka the first thing you see) upon visiting the home page of the Philadelphia Flyers:

I legitimately don't know what's more awesome about this photo: the authentic lack of enthusiasm coming from the Flyers and their fans, or the fact that the girl sitting in the upper right hand corner is clearly wearing an airbrushed Rangers jersey.

This is the best photo they had?

Flyers hockey. It doesn't get any better than this.

We would like to start our Election Day endorsements right here.

Meet my dad, Washington.


(No, not the priest.)

You can call him George, though. It's not his legal name - but it's a heck of a nickname for someone named Washington.

He's running for State Assembly, 51st District of New York. He's running against the incumbent, Felix Ortiz, who has held the position since 1994. (Ortiz is the guy who proposed the fat tax in New York a few years ago. Yes, that tax on foods the promote a sedentary lifestyle. Twinkies. That sorta thing.)

We went through this election business before, in 2002. That didn't end well.

Why is he running, you ask? Why go for it again? Why not, he'd tell you. The Republicans in the district need a name on the ballot, and he's as good as you'll find. Now, he's not going all out here. There are no commericals or flyers. However, in the internet age, you can find all sorts of info about a candidate nowadays. Crazy stuff.

Like bios with photos presumably from before I was born.

Or, that the NRA says my Dad is a D+ candidate, which means:

D = An anti-gun candidate who has frequently voted for restrictive gun control legislation or made strong statements in opposition to Second Amendment rights, and regardless of public statements can definitely not be counted on in key votes.

Perhaps you'd like to read a questionnaire that someone got him to fill out. From the responses, I'm not sure he did.

Heck, he's being trailed by some CUNY students who will write an article about him when this is all said and done.

I'm fairly excited about this Tuesday. I moved, but haven't changed my voting address so that I can still vote for him. Sure, I'll have to cross party lines... but I know I can make an informed decision thanks to the ol' internet.

And maybe, after reading this, someone in the 51st district might flip the switch for him, too.

He's a good man. Moved to the US from Guatemala at age 10. Served his country as a member of the US Army Reserves. Married a lovely woman (they've been together for 41 years), put seven kids through high school, five through college. Bought a home and stayed in the neighborhood in the height of the white flight of Sunset Park. After retiring from the MTA which he dutifully served for 28 years, he got tired of how things ran and got involved with local politics. Going door to door getting signatures, mailings, things that "aspiring college graduates" are supposed to do.

He's going to be blown out on Tuesday, this we know. We write this just to remind you that these candidates aren't just ballot fillers. They're good people, that believe in something. That are just as interested in fighting the good fight. People like my dad. Or Jimmy McMillan, the disabled veteran whose running on the "Rent is Too High" ticket because... well... he thinks the rent in New York City is too damn high. There are others.

The beauty of the democratic system lies in its ability to empower those willing to take initiative to attempt to make a change. So, good luck to the dreamers on Tuesday. You've got my vote, and this humble blog's official endorsement.

Film Industry = Fragile Business.

Why do we do it? In hopes of creating a true masterpiece, movie magic such as this gem reported in today's Variety: Pairing Up for Poetry

Lindsay Lohan is joining Keira Knightley in the "The Best Time of Our Lives," which John Maybury is in negotiations to direct for U.K.-based Sarah Radclyffe Prods.
...

Script by Knightley's mother, playwright Sharman Macdonald, is based on the true story of the relationships among Welsh poet Dylan Thomas, his wife Caitlin (Lohan), his childhood friend Vera Phillips (Knightley) and her eventual husband, William Killick. It centers on the curious incident in which Phillips and Killick opened fire on the Thomas home with a machine gun and a hand grenade.

I don't know which excites me more - armed poets, or Lindsay Lohan with a British accent.

I'm getting giddy just thinking about it.

I will now start my routine of running eleventy billion miles a day.

From the NY Daily News:
The Lazy-Bones Nabe - Sunset Park Tagged in City Health Survey

I swear, I spent my youth playing wiffle ball. Maybe there is some nurture in laziness after all...

There are no words.

I was there. Game 7. Shea Stadium. Mets v. Cards.

I surrounded myself with my closest friends. I saw every pitch. I never left my seat. I chanted. I hooted. I hollared. I waved my towel. I kept hope alive, believed when reality should've set in, never stopped dreaming. I did everything I'm supposed to do as a fan to make this night perfect.

I got a hell of a ballgame. I didn't get the fairytale ending.

Cards, 3-1.

I can't quite describe this feeling. It's a combination of a straight gut punch and the depression from realizing it's just a game and the world's still on its axis. It feels slightly off, though. I want to come up with some analogy of baseball as life, but I realize I'm grasping at straws tonight. Making much ado about very little, but this feeling reminds me thoroughly that it's definitely not nothing.

I search for words to elaborate, and I can think of one moment... sophomore year of college, October. I finished watching the Mets lose in 5 in the World Series to the Yankees. That stung. I couldn't find words - but searched the internet reading everything to find them. And I found these two quotes. And they said it all for me.

I thought about them on the way home, the longest ride home. They still ring true. While I cope with the hurt and sadness of Game 7... I keep it in perspective with these few words.

"I cannot get rid of the hurt from losing, but after the last out of every loss, I must accept that there will be a tomorrow. In fact, it's more than there'll be a tomorrow, it's that I want there to be a tomorrow. That's the big difference, I want tomorrow to come." - Sparky Anderson

"It breaks your heart. It is designed to break your heart. The game begins in the spring, when everything else begins again, and it blossoms in the summer, filling the afternoons and evenings, and then as soon as the chill rains come, it stops and leaves you to face the fall alone." - A. Bartlett Giamatti

It's raining tonight, you should know. Started during the game.

Welcome back.

I can't speak for all of you, but speaking as one guy who grew up a little dork... I know I for one am happy to see Weird Al's still doing it after all these years.

Wow.

The only word I can use to describe KT Tunstall's performance yesterday at Webster Hall. I'm a believer now. Leave your house right now and go buy her CD immediately. Go.

It's alright, I'll wait.

(waiting)

Stop reading this. Believe me, if the hooks don't get you, her voice will. And if her voice doesn't, nor her successful use of a kazoo during the performance, then her keyboardist's/trumpeter's washboard tie will.

Go.

Don't Bet the House on Me

Right.

So apparently, I goofed up my LDS picks. The NLDS? When I said Padres in 4, I should've said Cardinals in 3. And when I said Mets in 5, I should've said Tom Glavine is the Dodger Daddy.

I had my ALDS games mixed up, too. When I said Yankees sweep, I meant the As. And when I said As in 5, I should've said the Yankees are awful. My apologies to anyone who took my predictions to Vegas.

Guys, please accept this as a token of my remorse.

Girls? Uhh... don't.

PS - We've got jury duty! Updates to come just as soon as they're legal.

Mere Moments Away...

I'm sitting on the couch on a sunny afternoon here in the big BK, mere minutes from the Mets gettin' down with the Los Angeles Dodgers of Los Angeles. And I'm nervous.

I wanted to write a "what I expect from the LDS series" blog, but ran out of time (games started by the time I got halfway - for the record, I had Oakland in 5, Yankees in 3, and the Padres in 4). That leaves one series. The one that means more.

I spent the last Mets playoff experience in relative obscurity, getting my education about 300 miles away in scenic Syracuse, NY. I watched a small 13" tv, which gave me the grand slam single, the bases loaded walk, the one-hitter, and Timo Perez. I'm back in New York now. Living it. Hell, I've got tickets to Game 5.

Mets in Five. How do I know? Why would I back them even after they lost Pedro AND El Duque? Why am I a glutton for punishment?

I'll tell you why.
- The pitching never mattered. The Mets were 10-13 in games this season started by Pedro Martinez. El Duque? 11-8. Between them? 21-21. Number of games the Mets finished above 500? 32. It took them 13 different starters to get their wins. A patchwork rotation is clearly the least of their worries.

- The bats mattered. The Mets finished in the top 5 in the NL in runs scored, RBIs, HRs, OBP, and OPS. Score runs - and you win ball games. Some might argue a September swoon, but stats will show you there is no direct correlation between September and postseason performance. And, for good measure, the Mets finished the season winning four in a row - including sweeping the Washington Nationals by a combined score of 23-5. Yes, it's the Nationals - but they beat up the team they're supposed to beat up. We look for good signs in small places.

- The Dodgers are suspect. Penny's iffy, they lost their star lefty reliever Bemiel. They can hit with the best of them - but nobody in that lineup scares you.

- Grady Little.

- Because it's time.

Sadly, I have to watch the game on ESPN. Meaning Joe Morgan. I will be periodically punching myself to compensate for the stupidity.

Let's Go Mets.

I appreciate that most folks get their NY Sports from more reputable sources...

But I will say this might not necessarily be the worst idea I've ever heard:

From the NY Sun: Mets Should Use All Their Starters in Tandem

The argument? The Mets essentially schedule two starters for every game. Allowing each starter to go 3-4 innings. They have enough mediocre starters that turning each of them into long relievers would:

A) they wouldn't burn out the arms in the bullpen prematurely
B) the starters could just go all out, knowing they don't need to go all that deep
C) depending on the matchups, you could change the opposing team's strategy towards you earlier (like the Mets going from Glavine, a lefty, to Maine, a righty)

I don't know that I'm on board with this idea, but I've heard worse. (Lima Time comes to mind.) This doesn't solve the Mets' inability to hit lefties, or their general lack of gusto the last few weeks. But it could be a start.

Tomorrow marks my first day in a foray of unemployment.

With exception of one week for Christmas break, I literally have worked every Monday-Friday (and in some cases an extra Saturday and Sunday) since the middle of last September.

I worked too hard and spent the last month focusing on nothing more than getting to today. This isn't unemployment I'm starting tomorrow. It's a vacation.

Many's the time I've been mistaken, and many times confused
Yes and I've often felt forsaken, and certainly misused
Ah but I'm alright, I'm alright, I'm just weary to my bones
Still you don't expect to be bright and bon-vivant
So far away from home, so far away from home

And I don't know a soul who's not been battered
I don't have a friend who feels at ease
I don't know a dream that's not been shattered or driven to its knees
But it's alright, it's alright, for we lived so well, so long
Still, when I think of the road we're traveling on
I wonder what's gone wrong, I can't help it I wonder what's gone wrong

And I dreamed I was dying, I dreamed that my soul rose unexpectedly
And looking back down at me, smiled reassuringly
And I dreamed I was flying, and high up above my eyes could clearly see
The statue of liberty, sailing away to sea, and I dreamed I was flying

But we come on a ship they called Mayflower
We come on a ship that sailed the moon
We come in the ages' most uncertain hours and sing an American tune
And it's alright, oh it's alright, it's alright, you can be forever blessed
Still tomorrow's gonna be another working day and I'm trying to get some rest
That's all I'm trying, to get some rest

Where have I been?

I mean, I don't really know. I can't really explain where I've been hiding. My routine's been... well, routine. I work 12 hours a day, 5 days a week. I don't do much outside of that. I don't get out much, maybe catch a ballgame here or there. All the signs would point to a thriving blog. I mean, look at what's happened in the meantime:

- Chicago actually stood up for the working class and forced WalMart to pay a living wage to its employees. It pissed Walmart off for sure:

“It’s sad — this puts politics ahead of working men and women,” John Simley, a Wal-Mart spokesman, said in a telephone interview. “It means that Chicago is closed to business.”

Score one for the little guy. Even if it's done just to make Cubs tickets more affordable.

- The NYPD and their marijuana busts apparently have racism as a motive, according to the New York Daily News. In other news, the pot called the kettle black.

- Oh man, is this funny or what...?

- JetBlue flies to Aruba. I have a free round trip to anywhere JetBlue goes, and a vacation coming up. Yes, it's under genuine consideration.

- The Mets have a magic number. Rapture.

- I'm reading Alexis de Tocqueville's "Democracy in America." Apparently, we haven't learned all that much from history. More on this as it develops.

I mean, it's been almost a month. Well, in the meantime, I'm going to work on that excuse for you.

Howard Dean flies JetBlue.

How do I know this? I met him at the airport last night. We waited for the same plane.

Which they scheduled for 10:40pm.

It didn't depart until shortly before 2AM.

He's shorter than you think. Not short. Just shorter. Charismatic as hell, though.

Not so much the JetBlue attendants.

Oh, Tsuyoshi Shinjo... you're still a cad!

Shinjo, we always knew you were awesome. But if you had tried anything like this at Shea, you'd still be a Met...


Good luck in your future career as a nude model.

Could we have found the internet phenomenon to follow "Snakes on a Plane"?

No, probably not.

But we did find a movie starring Nicholas Cage and 50 Cent. A boxing movie. Called "The Dance."

And to think, I can't even get a meeting regarding a script...

Better late than never...

...but better never late.

From the NY Times: In Big Shift, U.S. to Follow Geneva Treaty for Detainees

Here's the general gist of what's going on, in case you happen to live under a rock:

In 2002, President Bush declared that members of Al Qaeda and other terror suspects seized during the invasion of Afghanistan were “illegal combatants, and so were not entitled to the protections of the Geneva conventions, which among other things set forth rules for the treatment of prisoners of war.

The main thrust of the recent Supreme Court ruling, in a case known as Hamdan v. Rumsfeld, was that the administration had exceeded its authority by creating a system of tribunals without the approval of Congress. But the court also declared that the suspects fell under Article 3, which applies to all “armed combatants,’ and that detainees were able to assert their rights under Article 3 in federal court.

In case you missed it, that Hamdan v. Rumsfeld decision means the President should have consulted Congress about Gitmo, and was in the wrong for not doing so. And he, and future Presidents, will need to do so. That's why Slate calls it "the most important decision on Presidential Power ever." I don't know about EVER (it merely just reaffirms checks and balances), but I imagine it could be for this administration because it might finally force Bush to play by the rules.

Or did it?

President Bush said last week that he “would comply’ with the courts ruling, but he has given no details of how he would do so.

Well, one can dream anyway.

And they say there's no good TV nowadays...

...you've just got to look for it. In2TV.

It's worth noting that among the last things I want to do with the ol' blog, providing free advertising for AOL services certainly makes the list. However, anything that streams episodes of Animaniacs, Perfect Strangers, and Welcome Back, Kotter in a quality better than YouTube can't be all bad, right?

Right?

How's your truffle shuffle?

I went back and forth on this one over the last few days.

From the AP: Experts Debate Labeling Children Obese

That's right. This isn't about dealing with child obesity. Just the wording. They don't want to call kids grossly overweight.

The rebuttal for the rewording argument seems like a gimme: "Why are we being so politically correct?"

Then, you get the retort: "But wait... the kids have very little (if any) say over their daily diet. Their caretakers (if available, one hopes) are fairly responsible for the kid's health here."

But now I'm back to the former. Besides avoiding the negative connotation the word "obese" exhibits, the US government uses terms such as "at risk of overweight" because kids may not be able to comprehend the term "obese." That's a good way to resolve it. More words. Kids like wordy explanations. Long and verbose. Perhaps with a slide show, even.

It seems fairly ridiculous to pull punches about something like this that, in a way, is self-inflicted. Sometimes the truth hurts. It can significantly sting in a country like ours where image makes scores of young girls and boys so superficial and self-concious about their looks. The thing is, you can't find resolution to a problem such as obesity unless you can talk about it actively. Give it a name. And stick with that name. Leave the name changing PR stunts to the professionals. (If you don't understand that reference, you can read about it here.)

And this is coming from a guy who has an affinity for fat kids, trust me...

Outdoor hockey in New York City?

Admittedly, it would be at Yankee Stadium, but it'll do.

You can question a lot about White Sox manager Ozzie Guillen.

However, don't ever question his take on homosexuality, especially when directed at a writer for the Chicago Sun-Times:

Guillen defended his use of the term "fag" by saying this about homosexuals and the use of the word in question: "I don't have anything against those people. In my country, you call someone something like that and it is not the same as it is in this country.''

Guillen said that in his native Venezuela, that word is not a reference to a person's sexuality, but to his courage. He said he was saying that Mariotti is "not man enough to meet me and talk about [things before writing].''

Guillen also told Couch that he has gay friends, attends WNBA games, went to a Madonna concert and plans to go to the Gay Games in Chicago.

So there, you naysayers.

I knew Lastings Milledge, phenom prospect of the NY Mets, was awesome.

I just had no idea he was this awesome.

Guess who's back?

I planned to go on a one-month hiatus to allow that last post regarding the Zamboni Revolution in the New York Times to resonate (because it's so freaking awesome). And I was close, mere days away...

Then I came across this gem and needed to share it with the masses:


I missed you, too, kiddies.

On some VERY saucy donkeys...

So, there I was, reading the New York Times, minding my own business. I come across an article called "Syracuse in 36 hours,"which is essentially a rundown of a potential one-day getaway in the Salt City. Among their suggestions, I came across this little nugget:

"'When you see God, you can't go back and tell everyone how handsome he is.' So go the streams of consciousness from the Zamboni Revolution, a team of Syracuse University students who perform improvisational comedy throughout the school year. The mostly free student comedy and music shows at the Schine Student Center are part of the regular weekend avalanche of campus events."

That's right, bitches.

My little baby is growing up.

Update #2

You'll recall in my last post that we drafted our celebrity roster.

One of our producers caught wind and wanted to play. So, we quickly rigged up another draft featuring In Touch magazine. One day hasn't passed, and I'm already in two freaking leagues.

Roster #2 (11 teams, 5 persons each, 2 male minimum) features:

Paul McCartney
Katharine McPhee
Matthew Fox
Halle Berry
Mariska Hargitay

(And yes, the last pick was a courtesy pick.)

(And yes, I'm the biggest dork ever.)

Update

You'll recall in my last post that I would take part in a ridiculous fantasy league draft featurting celebrities in Us Weekly.

Well, the draft is complete.

Here, my friends, resides this year's roster (in the order drafted):

The Beautiful People
Angelina Jolie
Nicole Kidman
Paul McCartney
Matthew Fox
Beyonce Knowles
Kelly Clarkson
Harry Connick, Jr.
Jamie Foxx
Oprah Winfrey
Jeremy Piven

The President's trying to fence off Mexico, Iran's building the bomb, and I'm busy scouting American Idol and the Tony Awards.

My life has officially reached a new low.

America (and by America, I mean me) Needs Your Help!

It started innocently enough.

As I left the office to run an errand, a co-worker passed around an article on ESPN.com by Bill Simmons, aka "The Sports Guy." The topic? Explaining the allure of fantasy sports leagues to his wife.

She doesn't "get sports," as you'd expect, so he sought to demonstrate the appeal in a fashion she'd understand:

"When I told my wife about [the allure], she looked like George Karl at the end of the Nuggets-Clips series: sourpuss face, hands at her sides, complete disbelief. All she was missing was the potbelly.

"You have a problem," she decided.

"You don't understand the fantasy thing," I countered.

"Well, come up with a league I'd enjoy. Then, maybe I'll understand."

...And then it hit me.

Us Weekly.

...So I'm going to create an Us Weekly fantasy league just for her."

Clever enough. While I was away, though, the article made it to the desk of a chronic reader of US Weekly.

I found, upon my return from errand-running goodness, my co-workers working out the logistics, and I had the number 3 pick in our office draft.

So now, instead of sleeping, I'm currently pre-ranking photogenic, culturally-relevant celebrities as we're now going through with this league. 4 weeks (until the end of shooting), all the marbles and bragging rights. Methinks we're going to embrace American Idol, but we'll see how that goes. I've got the third pick, and we're hoping Lindsay Lohan (or as Bill Simmons refers to her, "the Albert Pujols of the Us Weekly league") falls there.

In the meantime, if you have any suggestions, I could sure use them. ESPN isn't covering this action quite yet.

Chez Matt v2.0 is open for business.

I did done moved. Still in Brooklyn, but a different Brooklyn. Expect more literary goodness soon.

In the meantime, I've got a HiDef TV and a trough of paella. Excuse me if I appeared distracted.

The Rangers are now down 2-0 in a best of 7 series.

We're tempering expectations on the rapture, as my tickets are for game six.













Think happy thoughts. Think happy thoughts.

I have NY Rangers playoff tickets.

Rapture.

Further proof that Wesleyan University is the devil.

Jeffrey Maier, who helped the Yankees cheat once, plays baseball there.

Won't you join the dance?

I set up a Myspace account a while back not for my own purposes, but merely because I wanted to look at profiles of people I didn't really know that well to see if I had been missing anything. And it worked for quite a while. Procrastinator's dream. The ability to waste time in other people's business. This is good.

The plan worked perfectly... until today. I received a request for someone to be my friend. I've never been presented with this before. I missed the whole Friendster phenomenon... and I didn't need a list to deem who made the cut on the friend-o-meter back at Syracuse or prior to then.

Make me laugh = friend.
Feed me = friend.
First round's on you = friend.
First round's on me = dick.

I mean, for crying out loud... MySpace? Do I cave in and accept, knowing what kind of company I'll keep from here on out? I vote, for crying out loud. I've never seen Dave Matthews Band in concert, and my underwear's only a day old. I don't need MySpace.

Hell, I can barely keep up blogging.

pause

Oh right. I blog.

Maybe proof that I do still have friends might not be so bad after all.

Win Bill Gates's Money

Sorta.

In short: Lawsuit settlement between Microsoft and the State of NY regarding Microsoft overcharging for software between 1994-2004. And for every piece of Microsoft software you purchased indirectly (meaning, pre-installed on your computer), you'll get a voucher to put toward a future purchase.

This offer is open to "all persons or entities who, from and including May 18, 1994, through December 31, 2004, indirectly acquired a license for Microsoft Windows Operating System and/or Microsoft Applications for use in New York and who did not acquire it for the purpose of resale."

"...indirectly acquired" means "you legally acquired your software, or a computer which that software was already installed, from a person or entity other than Microsoft." In simpler terms, if it came pre-installed, or you bought it from someone that isn't Microsoft, then it's you.

"...for use in NY" I'm pretty sure means you used the software in NY state. This, I believe, means that if you used it for work/school purposes as well as being a resident of NY - then this is you. (In simpler terms, if you used your Microsoft-laden computer a significant amount in NY - regardless of whether you live here or not - then it's you.) At least that's what the people at the hotline number said.

For more info:

Microsoft-New York Class Action Settlement

And that hotline number is (800) 372-2368.

Feel free to link to this to spread the word. And buy me something nice.

No word yet on a "Bout to Knock the Other Guy Out."

This is Neal Baer, one of the executive producers of Law & Order: SVU (and head writer), a medical doctor that graduated from Harvard Medical School, and in the strange, screwed up way the TV industry is set up - one of my many bosses.

This is his cousin. A professional wrestler named Goldberg.

Small world. Creepy small.

(Bonus points to anyone who got the reference in today's title.)

Is radio dead?

Not just yet, apparently.

Update

And there goes the NCAA tournament. Go Chaos! Go George Mason!

Update

My NIT pool didn't come through. Stupid Cincinnati.

Madness, Thy Name is Bracketology

I've been stressing perhaps a bit too much lately over my NCAA men's basketball tournament bracket this year. Maybe it's a longing in me for my beloved Syracuse to fuck shit up and come away with this thing, despite everyone thinking Texas A&M is the new Vermont.

Maybe it's the constant reading of every little tidbit about this year's tournaments and all the teams I may or may not have known even existed before this season, and how picking them makes me a fool, a Communist, or both.

Maybe it's an office pool of over 100 people, which is about 85 more than last year's rendition. That also means people breathing down your neck about who you're picking, just so they can tell you you're wrong because they won once.

Maybe it's $40 that I'm most likely just giving away.

No matter. I think I'm ready to commit. It will end badly. 'Nova over Texas. SU only wins one game more than Oral Roberts (which will bring SU's tourney win total to one). And I count down the seconds to my bracket being eliminated so I can focus solely on baseball.

Then again, maybe my NIT bracket will come through after all.

Luck be NOT a Lady To-nite

Now, this is balls: Victoria, not Victorious

I don't know if this tops the Yale prank, but it definitely belongs in the conversation.

Overreacting 101

Find it here.

Stat of the day

From the Baltimore Sun:

One of every five calories in the American diet is liquid.

Discuss.

And now, the winner for worst play on the word "crash" in a headline...

From the Washington Post: A bang-up night for Crash

Honorable mention goes to:
NY Daily News: Oscar Party Crash(er)
Denver Post: An Oscar collision
Boston Globe (and everybody else): Crashing the Party

mb writes:

What I like about this is that now, perhaps studios with good movies won't be afraid to release them before November, for fear of killing their Oscar chances. If anything, this should be a liberating experience for Hollywood, one that allows quality films to be released the whole year round.

That might very well be the case, if only people were willing to pay to see movies the whole year around. Alas, January and September continue to be movie graveyards, and Hollywood execs will probably write this off to luck and not change a damn thing.

I'm more partial to George Lucas' sentiment: ""The market forces that exist today make it unrealistic to spend $200 million on a movie," said Lucas, a near-billionaire from his feverishly franchised outer-space epics. "Those movies can't make their money back anymore. Look at what happened with 'King Kong.'"

Of course, King Kong was mediocre at best, and way too long. But does this years' Oscars, and every year since Gladiator in 2000 signal the death knell for big budget blockbusters?

We'll see.

I was actually starting to miss Kris Benson, former pitcher of the New York Mets.

Then I saw this.

This is the end of the innocence.

Lent begins tomorrow with Ash Wednesday. To most Catholics, this tends to mean no meat on Fridays and giving up candy for a few weeks. Why give things up for Lent? Well, there's all sorts of origins on why Catholics fast that might be better described from a source like Wikipedia than from me. As I understand it, as Lent is a time for Penance and anticipation, of preparing one's self for the coming of better days.

I don't mean to get all religious here, but I write this because I'm trying to adopt this period as one to better myself. Better dieting. More active lifestyle. Et cetera.

I guess I'm a big fan of the policy of "today is the first day of the rest of your life." So, I'm adopting that, starting tomorrow. I'm adopting these through Lent:
- no sweets
*I know, didn't I just criticize pledges like this? What does this resolve? It's a symbolic thing. Of things to come.
- one salad as lunch per week
*I hate salad. Hate it. Nothing exciting about it. But I realize (a) I need to eats me greens, and (b) salad's a good way to do that. So here goes nothing.
- no food after dinner
*I had a friend in college who used to do this, rationalizing it that it's really a better way to get sleep. I had great success with sleep when I gave up on soda as a New Year's resolution. That is second only to alcohol in the ability to let me sleep like a baby. This year, I'll try this.
- minimize snacking
*I work 12+ hours per day. I can't make it without keeping the energy up. But there's an orange, and there's a strawberry pop tart.
- blog twice a week
*even if it's one sentence - this blog provides great release. I could use more of that.
- wear pants
*Oh, right.... moving on...

I'm publishing this not to inform you so that you can harass me at every turn. I just feel like I wish to say this out loud. For all to hear. To see what happens.

Wish me luck.

Rimshot, please.

Admittedly, I'm past the whole "Cheney shot someone" business. He stepped up, said "I goofed," I moved on. Indeed, we can criticize him for a lot worse.

Instead, I take to task the late night hosts, those who took some fairly cheap shots (ed. note: apologies - I know it's from Newsmax, but it's the best I could do on short notice) at the incident. If they had half the humor of Lupica this Sunday, maybe I'd make an attempt to watch:

If you live in a world where you can say almost anything about a war and your reasons for starting it, the way Dick Cheney does, why wouldn't you expect people to believe your original version of that accident, that it was more the fault of the guy who got shot than it was the guy doing the shooting?

Why wouldn't you stick to your story that poor old Harry was 30 yards away, when experienced hunters everywhere say he had to be closer?

Now we're even supposed to believe that Cheney - instead of telling the truth right away, the truth being a last resort in his world - waited as long as he did to come forward because of concern for poor old Harry.

What a guy.

The News' Michael Daly is right, if Cheney's this kind of crack shooter, maybe it's lucky he set that world's record for Vietnam deferments.

...

Visited the Capitol Building Friday afternoon in Washington.

Beautiful gallery in there, celebrating the beauty of American birds.

There may have been quail in there, I just didn't spot them.

But if I had, don't worry, I was ready to duck.

So to speak.

Now that's comedy

Tell me something: how much mail can a dead Postman deliver?

I remember when I was in high school and the internet was still very much a novelty. And I also recall those stupid chain e-mails people would send to you regarding anything.

"Send to 10 people or you'll have bad luck."

"Pass this on to everyone you know and you'll have great sex."

"Give this to everyone on your contact list or I'll kill your dog."

And one I recall that always stuck was one where AOL had been plotting to create stamps for online e-mail. It was mail, right? So shouldn't there be stamps?

Plot, meet reality.

In this service, only companies sending mails have to pay for "postage." When paying for it, they will receive "preferential treatment" (aka they won't need to go through your spam blocker). The recipient must agree to receive the message or risk being blocked from the e-mail account. It's believed this should help cut down on spam. (It's worth noting that businesses can still send you "free" e-mail, but those will go through the spam blocker rigamarole.) AOL and Yahoo are signing on to this program. So, you, the consumer, pay nothing. Right?

I say, "TANSTAAFL" - There ain't no such thing as a free lunch.

Businesses will have to pay to send you e-mail? Right, and they'll spare even a fraction of a penny to send it to you out of the goodness of their hearts? Come on now.

Want a tip to cut down on spam instead? Stop giving your e-mail address to porn sites.

I could've been a contender.

I've given shoutouts to my friend's comic strip before (you'll see the link to the Perry Bible Fellowship on the right)...

...but this is hilarious.

Did you know...

...that Alanis Morissette is blond?

There I am, minding my own business, watching a rerun of the Tonight Show where I'm befuddled by her goldilocks.

What the...?

Who is she taking advice from? The PR people for Kelly Clarkson or Lindsay Lohan?

And why the hell am I writing a column more fit for the E! Channel? Perhaps its because I didn't watch the State of the Union (fell asleep) and this is the best I can do for enlightenment?

I left my cell phone at work.

It's weird. I know I don't need it - yet there's a void.

At least I'm guaranteed a good night of sleep. And a guarantee of waking up if Stephen King turns prophetic.

Hi, ho! The witch is dead. (Again.)

"Tomorrow, I'll be kissing her aerobicized ass, but tonight, let me dream of a world without Heather, a world where I am free."
-Veronica Sawyer, Heathers (1989)

Dear Ms. Heather Graham,

I have a bone to pick with you.

I'm not particularly fond of you. I get quizzed by the little lady often as to why I consider you the bane of my existence. I'm not sure if it's your wasted talent (or lack thereof) or your frightening teeth.

Your career started off innocently enough - gets discovered by James Woods (so you know who to blame), gets a couple of good gigs (though, I freely admit I thought you were awful in Swingers), make a name for yourself in Boogie Nights as a rollerskating teenage runaway porn star. You're a fairly hot blonde (so long as you do not showcase the pearly whites)- so, barring overexposure, your looks alone should carry you for at least 10 years.

Then it all goes wrong.

Bad role selection.

Good movies offered to you and didn't happen.

Reprise your role as a porn star.

Parodying your very existence in Hollywood as the token hot blonde. Twice.

Contributes to the downfall of mankind.

I continue to try to put a name to my disgust with you, Heather Graham. Then I read today...

ABC's Reasons Why Not

"Heather Graham's new sitcom Emily's Reasons Why Not has shut down production after just one show.

Despite a huge promotional push, the show ceased production after filming the sixth episode last Friday, virtually guaranteeing the sitcom's cancellation."

And my reaction? Giddiness? Satisfaction? "I told you so"-itis? No. What, then?

Exhaustion.

So you lost the sitcom nobody thought had a prayer? So what? I didn't watch it. I don't know anyone who did. And I don't care to double check that. I can't take it anymore. I've villified your bad judgment and those teeth, and I see you truly as a non-player. I read that headline and closed my eyes and asked the Good Lord why I can't stand your existence on the big and small screen when so many struggling actors with more talent in their pinky than you have in your curvaceous body can't catch a break. And the Heavens parted, and a calm came over me. It brought me happiness. Inner peace.

Let them go.

If I held on to actors who had enough success to escape the title "One trick pony," but never made "the leap," I would get sickened by the Karate Kid (Ralph Macchio), the Wonder Years (Fred Savage), and and the previously-mentioned Swingers (Jon Favreau). I need to enjoy that one shining moment, and move on.

I need closure. I need to let go. I need to recognize a b-movie actress and kick her to the curb when her 15 minutes are up. It's only right. In conclusion, as of this moment, barring her Martin Luther nailing his statement to the Church door on Christmas day, prove me wrong "comeback" not in serialized format... my affair with your wasted potential is over.

Heather Graham, you're dead to me.

Sincerely,
ME