Eternal Darkness; Well That's Just Great

Not much time to blog today, but I just have to ask one question--when is this time-changing idiocy going to end?

We have now entered that lovely time of year when even on the occasions when I get to leave the office at 5 p.m., I am still walking home in darkness. What could be more depressing than getting off work and having it already feel like the middle of the night? It starts to feel like the sun is just a distant memory, like we're all living in the land of eternal night.

Ask most people why we switch time and they will have no idea. A few will say something like "I think it's for the farmers" or "Wasn't it done for World War II?" Well the truth is, I know and work with several farmers, and they all dislike the time change as much as the rest of us do. And although my history is a little hazy, I'm pretty sure the Japanese surrendered some time around the mid-1940's. So why do we still do this silly time change?

There are camps made up of those that wish to end Daylight Saving Time altogether, and those who, like me, would rather see Daylight Saving Time expanded year-round so that we can all enjoy at least a little bit of sunlight at the end of the day during the winter months. Honestly, I think we're both really on the same side, and that the difference is really one of aesthetics; do you want an earlier sunrise or daylight in the evening? Deep down, I think what bothers all of us is the arbitrariness of the whole thing--we do it just because we're told to, even thought there's no real reason for it. The bottom line is, it's a pointless hastle. When I run the world (soon, my pretties, very soon) we are going to set the clocks running and then leave them alone. Anyone who objects will be subject to summary execution by being run over by a sleep-deprived school bus driver.

Happy Nevada Day

What a joy it can be to have a day off. Today is the official observance of Nevada Day, commemorating the day in 1864 that Nevada was admitted to the Union despite the then-raging American Civil War (this is why the state flag says "Battle Born"). For me, however, this is the first day in over two weeks that I haven't had to run around like a decapitated chicken trying to meet various work obligations. In celebration, I have spent most of the morning and early afternoon aimlessly wandering my neighborhood. Frankly, this is just what I needed.

It's definitely fall here in Reno; after a gloriously warm and sunny October the clouds have rolled in and the temperature has dropped, but it's still quite comfortable out and the fall foliage (to use my brother's least favorite phrase) is still out. This morning I walked up to California Avenue for absolutely no reason at all, and it was wonderful. I stopped in for a quick visit at the Nevada Museum of Art on Liberty Avenue, where they're showing a fantastic traveling exhibit featuring artifacts from the ancient Roman villas of Stabiano (see picture below). I browsed for way too long in Dharma Books on First Street where for only six dollars I picked up a copy of The Book of Yaak, a love letter to one of my favorite corners of Montana by the great nature writer Rick Bass. I popped into the lobby of the Century 12 Riverside movie theater and talked about movies for a while with the ticket-takers, who seemed happy for the distraction. I walked up the Truckee River, running low this time of year, and wandered into La Bussola, a quirky gift/art/knicknack/junk/whatever shop that really captures the eclectic spirit of this neighborhood. I talked to one of the owners about local art and nothing in particular until I was forced to move out of the way to allow her to deal with customers.

In short, I accomplished nothing of significance this morning other than catching my breath and clearing my head a little. A person just needs the occasional day like today, a day with nowhere to be and nowhere to go, just a chance to stroll and think and talk to people about whatever you feel like talking about and remember why you call this place home in the first place.

Back At Last

The Conference has been really interesting. Lots of good information on prosecuting stalking cases, cyber-crime, trial techniques for dealing with reluctant or recanting victims, and strategies for managing that horrible case-from-hell Crawford v. Washington (Thanks again, Justice Scalia!!!!).

But no one's interested in me talking shop, so I'll mention some other news: It turns out I'm 23% gay. That sounds like kind of a lot to me but it actually puts me in the "too straight" category according to the website that I got the test from. Apparently women today are into men who are more effeminate than me. Well it's their loss, believe me. Props to Housekeeper for tipping me off to yet another incredibly useful self-test out there on the internets. How on earth did people ever learn anything about themselves before Al Gore invented them?

And this really has nothing to do with anything, but I was shocked and appalled today to find out that my happy little neighborhood is getting a Starbucks. It's going to be right up the street at 5th and Nevada. It was inevitable, I suppose; downtown Reno is actually becoming a pretty cool place to live, a unique area full of energy and vitality and creativity. That sort of thing screams out to those corporate bastards like a million nails scraping on a million chalkboards. They just can't sleep at night until they've found a way to destroy it through homogeneousness.

Of course, I hate myself for this, but I must admit that a small voice at the back of my mind does keep saying "yeah, but it will be good for my condo's value." God help me--I really am turning into The Man.

National College of District Attorneys

I'll be attending a CLE (Continuing Legal Education) being put on by the National College of District Attorneys in Sparks, Nevada all this week. The conference will be addressing one of the primary social problems that I deal with in my work: Domestic Violence. It should be informative and helpful. I only wish I could have gottent to travel somewhere a little more exotic than Sparks, which is about five minutes drive from where I live.

Anyway, I apologize in advance if blog entries are few and far between until Friday, but duty calls.

Fat Phil Coughs One Up

Wow. How do you suppose it feels to go from the being on the verge of the go-ahead touchdown only to watch your Big Orange fumble out the back of the end zone to set up another great last second win for 'Bama? You'll have to ask Tennessee head coach "Fat Phil" Fulmer. You remember Phil--he had a starring role in this beloved holiday classic:

It's so nice to beat Tennessee. Allow me to tell you a little story. During the fall of my first year of law school I had a friend from Arizona named Gaetano, or Guy for short. Guy was a really great, well, guy, but his fatal flaw was an inexplicable love for Tennessee football. Somewhere along the line that fall he and I got into jawing about the upcoming Third Saturday In October (TM) matchup between the Tide and Tennessee, and somehow a bet evolved. If 'Bama won, Guy would have to sing "Sweet Home Alabama" in front of the entire first-year student body just before the start of Contracts class. If somehow the Vols managed to win I would have to sing Rocky Top.

Well to make a long story short the Vols managed to win that year, and I made good on our bet. So Guy, in honor of Alabama's big win to today, and for old time's sake, this one's for you:

"ROCKY TOP, YOU'LL NEVER MEAN

ONE DAMN THING TO MEEEEEE......

F--- ..... YOU........ROCKY TOP.......

GOT TO HELL, TENNESSEE!!!!"

Well That's Encouraging

Here's the results of a detailed financial analysis of the net-worth of The Adventures of Yukon Sully:

My blog is worth $0.00.
How much is your blog worth?

We're expecting to turn a profit any day now.

Intelligent Blue Jean Design

One of the nice things about my job is that we can dress casually on Fridays. This morning I was putting on my favorite pair of blue jeans when something dawned on me; no matter how many pairs of jeans I buy--and I just bought two last week--I always have one and only one pair that fits properly. How this happens is a mystery, but as I think back over the years it's as regular and inevitable as the setting of the sun or the changing of the seasons. I usually own several pairs at any given time, but inevitably all but one is too tight, or the length is too short and exposes too much sock when I sit down, or the seams fray and holes open up, or whatever.

I cannot explain this strange phenomenon. No matter how well a pair of jeans seems to fit at Shopko--I mean, uh, Macy's--they will inevitably not fit or be unwearable for some reason within 48 hours, unless I am no longer in possession of that one decent-fitting pair of jeans (I do eventually get rid of them), in which case the new pair can move into the 'just right' niche. Since I cannot explain this phenomenon, I will fall back on Intelligent Design-style reasoning and will write off this and anything else that seems too complicated for me to understand with "God did it" (for legal purposes He is referred to not as 'God' but as 'The Designer,' but I think we all know who we're talking about, wink wink). Somehow in His wisdom He always provides that one perfect pair.

Now I don't wish to impugn His generosity. I'm grateful for my single useful pair of jeans. But because I have only one pair--and I'm not proud of this--I will sometimes wear that pair several days on end before washing them. After a few days, this can start to feel a little oogy. So perhaps, if it's not asking too much, could the Design of Creation include maybe two pairs of jeans that fit me at the same time? I'd really appreciate that.

Baseball News

Most of the baseball-loving world is focused on the upcoming World Series that will feature the never-been-there-before Houston Astros and a heretofore almost entirely unknown team from the South Side of Chicago. Apparently there has been some sort of American League baseball team in Chicago for some time now--I guess you learn something new every day.

I, on the other hand, was interested--I can't really say "excited"--to learn that professional baseball will be returning to Reno next year. Something called the Golden Baseball League (I know, I never heard of it either) is going to play up at Peccole Park at UNR under the resurrected name of the Reno Silver Sox, a name shared by a Single-A team that moved out of town in 1992. Oh, and for some reason their mascot is a gecko that looks like a frog. I'm not sure what a gecko has to do with Reno, but never mind.

Let's be clear about this: Reno wants, needs and deserves a baseball team. But the baseball team Reno wants, needs and deserves is a team that plays in the Triple-A Pacific Coast League. The PCL has been around for over a hundred years, draws millions of fans and is affiliated with Major League Baseball. By comparison the one-year-old Golden Baseball League considers it a major coup that it managed to sign 46-year-old Rickey Henderson to play for it's San Diego Surf Dawgs, and includes an all-Japanese traveling team called the Japan Samurai Bears. Okay, the Japan Samurai Bears is actually kind of cool, but c'mon.

I really mean no disrespect to this league or their new team. In fact, I'm sure they'll put together a decent product and probably I'll go to a few games because I'm a sucker for this sort of thing. But this is really something that should be going on in, I don't know, maybe Carson City. Reno is a growing city and a great place to live, and frankly we can do better than this. We need a Triple-A baseball team and a Triple-A baseball field (and we need to get over the idea that the answer to every problem is more casinos). Not only is this city ready for this sort of thing, but it will be a lot of fun and will go a long, long way in helping us shed our white-trash image. Golden Baseball League officials say their league will in no way compete with or frustrate Reno's attempts to land a Triple-A team. I hope that's true. What I know for a fact is that plans for attracting a PCL or some other Triple-A team have been in limbo at least since 2001, when I first moved here. I'd hate to think that this is what we are ultimately going to have to settle for.

Arrest Warrant Issued For Tom DeLay

Click here for the story. This is really more a formality than anything else. In the end he'll surrender himself, post bond to get released and have an arraignment set at which he will give an OJ-style "Not Guilty!!!" loud enough for all nearby cameras to pick up. And the propaganda arm of the Republican party, Fox News, will have dozens of chances to use their newest catch-phrase "criminalization of politics." It remains to be seen how this will play out or if these charges will stick. Still, I really enjoyed typing that headline.

Not to be outdone, indictments may be pending for Karl Rove, "Scooter" Libby or other high-ups in the Bush Administration for their respective roles in the outing of Valarie Plame. I was going to write more about this case, but in a weird moment of sychronicity I just heard Bill O'Reilly on the TV in the background (what's he doing on the Today show?--besides pimping his book, I mean) and he says that people outside the Beltway don't care about this story. 'Move along people, nothing to see here--say, isn't there a pretty young white girl who's gone missing somewhere?' For Rove, Libby et al I guess there's nothing more to say until more warrants are issued.

Wiiiiiiilllll-maaaaa!!!!!

Stop me if you've heard this one before. Hurricane Wilma, which looks like it will probably hit Florida, is now the most powerful Hurricane on record. The names given to hurricanes go in alphabetical order every year, and for the first time ever it looks like we're going to run out of names and have to fall back on Greek letters (really, I'm not making that up).

I don't even want to get started on whether or not human activity is making hurricanes more common and/or more intense, or whether we are just living through a natural up-cycle in hurricane potency. I suspect it's both, but I really don't want to talk about that because it's one of those debates that swims in so much information, misinformation and wishful thinking masquerading as "expert" opinion that everyone pretty much just listens to whatever confirms their own personal preconceived notions (*cough*Fox News*cough*) and believes whatever they want to.

For now, lets just hope that the damage from this latest massive hurricane is as light as it possibly can be. Indeed, the one bit of good news is that meteorologists seem to think the storm will weaken considerable by the time it makes landfall in the U.S., so perhaps things won't be as bad as they might otherwise be. And maybe somewhere down the road we can start to talk about whether it's really such a good idea to build huge houses on barrier islands that have giant bull's-eyes painted on them.

Just My Luck

I never paid attention to such things before I bought the Fortress of Solitude back in May, but everywhere I look these days it seems I'm reading something about how the housing bubble is bursting. This sort of market is very regional, and there are few hard numbers to back up the nay-sayers so far, but I've got a bad feeling that I bought right at the peak of the market. I suspected this might happen because a.) the ridiculous hysteria surrounding the housing market earlier this year reminded me of nothing so much as the "irrational exuberance" cited by Alan Greenspan that surrounded the tech-stock boom of the late 90's; and b.) I have the crappiest luck in the world.

I know that in Reno, where you can't buy a tear-down for under $300,000, I'm lucky just to own a home at all (even if it is an eighth-floor studio apartment). Still, I can't help but worry. I doubt that the market will crash outright, but the days of homes doubling in value within a year seem to be over.

Juice the Big Orange

Three words: Bring. On. Tennessee.

Coming Soon...

This morning, October 15, I woke up to find that a light dusting of snow high on the mountaintops was visible from town. The white snow, squeezed in between the evergreens and yellow aspens below and the blue sky above, was a beautiful sight. This was just a tiny flurry that came in with a changing weather system, and it will probably melt later today. In fact, the weather is supposed to be warm next week. Still, it's a vanguard of things to come and it has me practically licking my lips in anticipation of the upcoming snowboarding season. I didn't have a camera with me earlier, but here's a picture courtesy of Squaw Valley that gives you a hint of what's to come.

Days Of Schadenfreude

I'm not one to revel in the misfortune of others, even if they richly deserve it. Nevertheless, I can't help but notice with more than a little satisfaction that finally (finally!!) two inexplicably durable cultural phenomena are apparently starting to lose their luster in the eyes of the public. Frankly, I couldn't be happier at the twin declines of late in the fortunes of the Right-wing political machine and Reality TV.

It seems that a healthy majority of my countrymen and women may finally be realizing what an incompetent load our Frat-Boy-In-Chief is. One wonders what took them so long to figure it out when you consider the fact that the guy has a functional vocabulary of about 500 words, but better late than never I guess. Check out the latest numbers in the NBC-Wall Street Journal poll that came out yesterday. Bush's approval is at 39%, the lowest that poll has ever had it (other polls have put him even lower). Worse yet, only 28% believes the country is headed in the right direction. And the number that really shocked me, only 2% of Black Americans who responded said they approved of Bush's leadership. TWO PERCENT! That means that 98% either disapprove or are indifferent. You can't get 98% of any group of people to agree that the sky is blue. Also encouraging is the notion that considerably more Americans feel that Democrats would do a better job running Congress than Republicans. Of course, all of this may mean nothing a year from now, when the next meaningful elections will be held. Still, it is an encouraging sign. And although I shouldn't be smug, I can't help but wonder: what exactly did people expect when they put people who hate government in charge of it?

Bush and the Republican's plummet in popularity mirrors a decline in interest in a popular trend that I have always found just as perplexing as Chimpy's electability: Reality TV. I've been waiting for the backlash against so-called "Reality" television for the better part of a decade now. While many of these shows have experienced painful public implosions (Who Wants To Marry A Millionaire), or enjoyed flashy success before quickly disappearing (Joe Millionaire), or in a lot of cases just never made it out of the starting-gate (Who's Your Daddy--Dear God, was that actually put on the air?), the fact is that this is the genre that has dominated television for years now. Oh sure, there have been rumors here and there, and the genre's death has been predicted more than a few times in the past. But year after year I continue to have to watch mostly cable for innovative and entertaining television--or better yet not watch TV at all, but that's a different post--because year after year it seems all I can find on the networks are overblown karaoke contests or close-up video montages of good-looking wanna-be's bitching about each other.

So perhaps I should be cynical and greet the latest reports of the decline of reality TV with skepticism. But stories from CNN and the New York Times detail the shrinking fortunes of such shows as The Apprentice (both Donald and Martha versions), Wife Swap, and the one that really started the onslaught in this country, Survivor. Also noted is that fact that a number of high-profile newcomers to the fake-reality scene like Three Wishes have failed to gain traction, and networks are ordering fewer and fewer of these series for the upcoming season. Both articles are quick to point out that no one is declaring reality TV dead, and frankly neither of these news outlets could really be classified as The Voice Of Red State America, Red America being the portion of the country that seems especially likely to find these shows so irresistible. Nevertheless, these are good signs.

Both the AM-radio Right and "Reality" TV have become too powerful and created too firm a base for themselves over the years to disappear overnight, so both will continue to plague this country for years to come, even under the best of circumstances. But perhaps people are finally getting wise to the sheer ugliness of both of these hideous cultural warts that disfigure the face of a great nation. And if not, well, at least I can enjoy watching the bastards sweat for a while.

October

The aspen trees in the Sierra have turned a quaking shade of yellow, the sun hangs low in the sky and fills the world with rich, golden light, and the Atlanta Braves have once again crashed and burned in the playoffs. Yes, it must be October.

I don't know why, but this time of year always makes me restless. I think it has something to do with the fact that in the high country the whole world seems restless with the knowledge that whatever it is that needs to be done must be done soon because once the snow flies, everything might just have to wait until springtime. These past few weeks have been warm, with temperatures in the 70's even up in the town of Truckee near where the above-picture was taken. Enjoyable as it is, everyone knows it can't last. Winter could still be two months away, or it could start next week. That's just the nature of life in these mountains.

Meanwhile, down here in the Reno, the last big festival of the year finished up today; The Eldorado's Great Italian Festival. Melissa and I made a little time for it this morning:

As you can see, it was pretty much like every other "festival" that takes over the city of Reno between May and October. Virginia Street (the major surface street through downtown) gets shut down to make way for people selling cheap trinkets and greasy food at exorbitant prices. Lousy bands play on rickety stages. Strange people, often of a less-than-savory nature, press and jostle you from all directions. And here's something that really pissed me off today:

You can't really tell in this picture, but that's grape juice from the grape-stomping competition running down into the sewer. I'm sure the grapes that were being used were just low-grade table grapes, but still, it's enough to make a wine-lover's skin crawl.

By mid-day, I was feeling like I just had to get out of town for a little while. So Melissa and I took a leisurely half-hour drive up to Truckee, California. Going up into the mountains always makes me feel better, no matter what pressure from the civilized world is trying to burrow it's way into my brain. And Truckee is such a fantastic place to spend an afternoon. I did a little bit of shopping around for a descent ski jacket--something I've promised myself this season--at Truckee's many outdoor recreation outlets. We stopped in at my favorite grocery store, Lisa's Central Market, just to remind ourselves what fresh produce taste like. But best of all, we went for a little hike up near the Prosser Dam. That's where the picture at the top of this post was taken.

Sometimes I just don't know what I would do without those mountains. Nothing wakes up my mind and touches my spirit like cool, high-altitude air and the scent of pine. I don't understand the strange hold that the mountains of the West have over me, but I know that when I am not close to them, I miss them like I would miss a part of myself. And without question, this is the time of year that I cherish them the most. The light is just different in Fall. Everything is a little brighter, crisper, richer. It all just feels like it means more, if that makes any sense. What a privilege it is to live in such a place.

Pain Don't Hurt

Matt Feeney at Slate.com wrote this article in which he revels in the joys of Guilty Pleasure Cinema, movies that you love to watch despite the fact that you know that you couldn't justify your appreciation of them on an intellectual or artistic level. Here's how he describes them:

"They are studio movies that, though patently contrived, have stood the test of time (i.e., five or six years). Because these pleasures are guilty, I've gone to tiresome lengths not just to justify them to myself, but to define them as well.

First, a guilty pleasure should induce guilt. It must be neither overtly satirical nor so bad that it can be enjoyed ironically. Satire is its own alibi for a movie's trashy subject matter, and irony, on the other hand, is the viewer's. So, neither Heathers (satire) nor Showgirls (so bad it's good) qualifies as a guilty pleasure. Guilty pleasures tend to operate on the low end of high concept. They usually feature at least one narrative gimmick or ludicrous plot twist, and, at some point, they ditch narrative coherence for the sake of titillation.

Secondly, a guilty pleasure must be a pleasure. I enjoy them as much as I enjoy my favorite "serious" films. And because of their hyper-vivid production values, I can get pleasure from guilty pleasures in circumstances--fatigue, distraction, inebriation--where I can't really give Renoir or Bunuel chin-in-hand attention. This essay, in other words, is a qualified defense of studio filmmaking. Lush sets, beautiful people, exotic locations expensively shot... studio films offer the heightened reality that people have always sought in their trips to the movie house. Or so I tell myself."

His list was fairly good, including movies I enjoy in spite of myself like Devil's Advocate and Wild Things (the latter features Denise Richards in her prime: YOW!). However, I felt like I had to e-mail him and let him know that I felt like he'd left out one vital cinematic achievement. Here's my e-mail:

A respectable enough list, but you forgot to mention what is undoubtedly the greatest guilty pleasure film of all time: The 1989 Patrick Swayze opus Roadhouse. Not as pretensious as any of the films you mentioned, but much more enjoyable. I think it fits your criteria perfectly: I defy you to find one single second of intentional sarcasm or irony in the movie, and despite it's ridiculously self-serious tone it never spills over into 'so bad it's good' campiness (okay, maybe when Swayze says "Pain don't hurt"). No matter how many times the movie appears on cable, no matter how badly sliced-and-diced by the editors at TBS or USA, I will always make time to watch.

As for it's pleasure factor, what's not to love? The Western names (Dalton, Brad Wesley, Emmett, etc.), the uber-macho posturing and over-the-top mayhem, a complete lack of anything that even looks like law enforcement, the 'violence is the only way to resolve any dispute' ethos, and the presence of Sam Elliott, who can almost make a movie a guilty pleasure all on his own. Best ever.

Mr. Feeney was nice enough to write me back. Here's what he had to say:

I *love* Roadhouse. It's always on basic cable, but I can't bring myself to watch it there. The totally gratuitous nudity strikes me as somehow essential. Roadhouse contains one of my all time favorite lines. When the bar owner looking to hire Swayze says he heard he's the best, Swayze demurs: "Wade Garrett's the best." I say that line all the time, usually to myself. And, yes, the total absence of law enforcement. Good call. They just snuck that in and hoped we wouldn't notice. And why would we, with that space being taken up by Ben Gazzarra? I actually thought of Roadhouse, but to me it's more in the so-bad-it's-good category. I know I'm splitting hairs, but I guess that's what I'm paid for.
best,
Matt

I guess he has a point; It would be hard to argue that Road House is even "at the low end of high concept." Still, I think it's my own personal favorite Guilty Pleasure.

So if anyone out there is so inclined, let me know what your favorite Guilty Pleasure is. What movie would you be embarrassed to let the clerk at Blockbuster see you renting, but you will always stop whatever you are doing to watch it whenever you catch a glimpse of it on TNT?

I Guess That Answers My Question

The guys at Sports Illustrated must read my blog, because they've chosen to answer the question that headlined one of my posts a few days ago ("Is Bama Back?") in the affirmative:


Well thanks a pantload guys. I was feeling pretty good about my beloved Tide's future, but nothing can stand up to the dreaded Sports Illustrated Cover Jinx. See you at the Peach Bowl.

Game On

If you know me personally, you'll like this. It takes a little work but it's worth it. After you read this then please click here. When the website for KRNV TV pops up, click on the story that says "Athelete of the Week Thalia McCann"; it's about 2/3 of the way down the screen on the left side. A video will pop up showing Channel 4's sport's anchor talking about a local girl's volleyball player. About 45 seconds into the piece he switches topics and starts talking about the NHL, Melissa's favorite sport. The scene then unexpectedly switches to a live shot of the production room, where you can see Melissa wearing her authentic replica St. Louis Blues home jersey which her loving boyfriend gave her as a birthday present. Man, doesn't Melissa have a fantastic smile?

If you just want the direct link, it's http://www.krnv.com/Global/category.asp?C=6052&nav=menu113_4.

UPDATE: The link still works, but Melissa's video is no longer on the page. Her fifteen minutes of fame were far too short.

Tagged

I've been tagged by Sugafree9, so here goes.

First its:

The Rules: 1. Go into your archive. 2. Find your 23rd post. 3. Find the fifth sentence (or closest to). 4. Post the text of the sentence in your blog along with these instructions. 5. Tag five other people to do the same.

Okay this is no BS, here's the closest to the 5th sentence in my 23rd post

"Except to mention that Rumsfeld is also wearing a codpiece."

Now for all those questions:

1. Legal First name? Revealing of Secret Identities is against the Code of Heroes.
2. Were you named after anyone? Yes, my father's brother who died when he was five years old.
3. Do you wish on stars? Yes.
4. When did you last cry? When they let her shop in Pretty Woman.
5. What is your favorite lunch meat? Chicken Wings.
6. What is your birth date? May 17.
7. Whats your most embarrassing CD? Bon Jovi's Slippery When Wet.
8. Would you be friends with you? Yes, but I would secretly loathe me and do everything in my power to sabatoge myself.
9. Do you use sarcasm a lot? It's like a second language.
10. What are your nicknames? Bronco. Okay not really, but I'd like it if it were.
11. Would you bungee jump? Yes.
12. Do you untie your shoes when you take them off? Depends on the shoes.
13. Do you think that you are strong? At one point I could bench press 275 lbs. That was a long time ago.
14. What is your favorite ice cream flavor? Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough.
15. Shoe Size? 10.5
16. Red or pink? Red.
17. What is your least favorite thing about yourself? Love Handles.
18. Who do you miss most? My family back east.
19. What color pants and shoes are you wearing? Not wearing either at the moment.
20. What are you listening to right now? Sex and the City. What? Melissa likes that show.
21. What did you eat for breakfast? Same as always--mint-chocolate energy bar and a Diet Dr. Pepper.
22. If you were a crayon, what color would you be? Navy Blue.
23. What is the weather like right now? Autumnal.
24. Last person you talked to on the phone? The 24-hour on-call nurse from Hometown Health. Really.
25.The first things you notice about the opposite sex? Depends on which way she's facing.
26. Do you like the person who sent this to you? As far as I know.
27. Favorite Drink? Full Sail Amber Ale.
28. Hair Color? Brown.
29. Do you wear contacts? Yes.
30. Favorite Food? See #5.
31. Last Movie You Watched? At the gym last night I spent almost an hour on the eliptical machine because The Godfather was on.
32. Favorite Day Of The Year? Summer Solstice.
33. Scary Movies Or Happy Endings? They're both usually pretty hokey.
34. Summer Or Winter? Love them both.
35. Hugs Or Kisses? Kisses.
36. What Is Your Favorite Desert? Sonora.
37. Living Arrangements? Fortress of Solitude.
38.. What books Are You Reading? Collapse: How Societies Choose To Fail Or Succeed by Jared Diamond.
39. What's On Your Mouse Pad? Don't use one.
40.What Did You Watch Last night on TV? Probably The Daily Show.
41. Favorite Smells? The heavy scent of pine that you only get in Spring in the deep woods of the Pacific Northwest.
42. Favorite junk food? See #5.
43. Rolling Stones or Beatles? Stones, baby!
44. What's the farthest you've been from home? Morocco.

It's late, so I'll tag five people tomorrow.

Correcting A Glaring Omission

Having taken much crap at work for posting a bunch of pictures of my trip to Atlanta but failing to post a single picture of the new baby's own mother, allow me to make up for that obvious oversight with a picture e-mailed to me by my youngest sister Katy:


Avery's proud mommy Maureen is wearing red and sitting between me (far left) and my brother Daniel. I notice two things about this photo. One: Daniel is clearly possessed by Satan. Two: Damn, I am one good lookin' dude.

Really, I'll Pay For Your Sax Lessons, JUST SHUT UP!

Here's a cropped close-up of a picture that I took from my balcony looking down toward the small park on First and West:

See that figure in the center of the picture just behind the lamppost? You can't tell in this photo, but he's playing a saxophone. Well, saying he's "playing" it is giving him way too much credit. He's putting the instrument to his lips and sounds are coming out. Horrible, horrible, horrible sounds. Sounds that would make a cat being skinned alive seem melodious. And as it happens that sound is so loud that it can be heard perfectly by me about two blocks away and several floors above street level with my balcony door closed.

I wouldn't have a problem with this if the guy could actually play the saxophone. Please believe me, this isn't me being a snob and saying 'I don't like his style' or 'I don't like his tune selection.' This guy HAS no style. He doesn't know how to play. I am not exaggerating for humorous effect; he literally and very obviously DOESN'T KNOW HOW TO PLAY A SAXOPHONE!!! He just blows three notes over and over! You would think he just picked the thing up yesterday and started blowing into it. The only reason I know that this isn't actually the case is because HE KEEPS COMING BACK!!! I can't imagine anyone gives this guy money for the noise he makes, unless it's hush-money.

Whoever you are, whatever sort of street-musician you consider yourself, please just hear my offer. I know you aren't going to stop torturing downtown Reno with your "art" just because I ask you to, and calling the police would be pointless, so how about this: You attend saxophone lessons and send me the bill. Just please stop your little farce, because you're embarrassing the whole neighborhood. Stop pretending you don't suck. Study how to play your instrument of choice with someone who actually understands the how and why of putting notes together to create music. Do this for, I don't know, maybe six months. You won't be great, but at least you will know a few songs, which is way more than you can claim now.

Is Bama Back?

You might have missed what I considered to be the biggest sports story this weekend. Alabama's big and very convincing win over the Florida Gators got a pretty fair amount of media coverage, and the powers-that-be have taken notice by bumping Bama up to #7 in the latest AP poll, but for Tide fans like me it's hard to overstate just how big this win was. First of all, Alabama didn't look like a scrappy underdog pulling out a miracle win against a vastly superior foe; no, they absolutely manhandled once-mighty Florida (hey BTW, how's super-genius Steve Spurrier doing these days?), which came into the game ranked #5 in the nation. The final score was 31-3, but the game wasn't really even that close. Alabama was simply a stronger, faster and tougher team than the hapless Gators.

This is bigger than one game, though. The last six years have not been kind to the fortunes of the Crimson Tide, this once-dominant college football powerhouse. The glory days of National Championships under Wallace Wade and Bear Bryant and Gene Stallings have seemed like a very distant memory as coaching changes, scandals and losses to lightweights like Hawaii and Northern Illinois have made the last few seasons a continuing embarrassment to the 'Bama faithful. Like a faint light at the end of a very long tunnel, Saturday's game was a long-awaited glimpse of what the future just might hold. If the Tide can establish that what happened against Florida was not a fluke and that they really are as good as they appeared to be, then they will definitely be the team to beat in the SEC this year.

Of course, it's a little early to be thinking about naming streets in Tuscaloosa after head coach Mike Shula just yet. The season is still young. VERY big games loom on the horizon against old and bitter foes like Tennessee, LSU and, as always, Auburn. The loss for the season of pint-sized dynamo Tyrone Prothro (and yes, he still needed to be in the game at that point, so don't even start that) will be a tough one. And no matter how impressive 'Bama looked, Saturday was just one game.

For now though, with the victory still fresh and cheers of "Rammer Jammer Yellow Hammer" still echoing across the state of Alabama, I'm going to allow myself to believe that maybe, just maybe, the corner has at last been turned.

Pictures From Atlanta

Well, I'm back in Reno having survived Atlanta. The trip was too short (as it always is when I go visit my family back east), but I did at least get to meet my new niece, Avery:

I know, I know; although no one will ever say so, there's nothing more boring than some else's vacation photos and/or someone else's baby photos. Well too bad, because I'm showing both.

Here are pictures of Avery being held by both her father Michael and my sister Katy:

Michael looks tired, because he is. Being around he and my sister Maureen (Avery's mom) is the sort of thing that really gives a person appreciation for just how difficult it is taking care of a baby. And of coures, in addition to their jobs and taking care of Avery, they've also got a precocious three-year-old to chase around. Here's a shot of my brother Daniel and his girlfriend Rebecca (who I know reads this blog occasionally--so how's it feel to make the big time, Rebecca?):

So despite the short trip and the hastle of flying America West Airlines--which called me Saturday night to tell me that my return flight was cancelled and that I'd have to leave several hours earlier, only to end up not actually cancelling my flight--it was a great trip and wonderful to see my family again. And wow, do Maureen and Michael have a nice house.