I love it when someone else writes my posts

Bill Simmons, this time, on ESPN.com talking about the statistical revolution in sports, and specifically in basketball.

If I wrote that, there would be two major differences:

1. It would be about hockey, not basketball.
2. 7,335,204 fewer people would read it.

I don't begrudge the man his audience of course, but I feel a kinship with the premise, which is that certain sports (baseball, football) are much easier to break down statistically. I think the reason is that they are much less fluid than basketball and hockey. Baseball is easiest because it is the most static - there are innings, and further there are at-bats and individual pitches. Go to the Baseball Analysts and you can find posts describing the various run-creation formulae... and even insanity such as charting certain pitches placed in certain parts of the strike zone with various permutations of outs and baserunners, and how many runs tend to be scored off those pitches.

(Note - not all that insanity is bad, actually; and lest Bill Conlin and Murray Chass start pounding their 1915 manual typewriters in frustration over all this newfangledry, there are also posts breaking down pitchers' mechanics and old-school "I know good baseball when I see it, consarnit" scouting reports.)

Football is an interesting case. It breaks down similarly by play, but there is a wrinkle that baseball lacks: there are people in football whose sole job is to make it possible for other people do their jobs: primarily the offensive lineman and the humble blocking fullback, who are thus tough to quantify. The venerable Paul Zimmerman, SI's Dr. Z, keeps charts to help him rate the overall performance of such players, but it involves watching truly staggering amounts of game film every week, and thus it's very difficult to duplicate and make generally accessible. (Aaron Schatz and the Football Outsiders folks have taken Dr. Z's work to the next level.)

This wrinkle sometimes hurts cold objective analysis. Why are some defensive units extremely effective with few or even no Pro-Bowlers, while a unit with four can be inferior? Or to use Simmons' basketball example - Carmelo Anthony is clearly superior to Bruce Bowen, but the Spurs played better with Bowen than they ever would have with Anthony. They wouldn't have been able to use a guy like Carmelo in Bowen's role as top-flight defender and grit/hustle player. And basketball runs into far more of those difficulties than football - it is much more free-form. However, it is also high-scoring and has a shot clock; it breaks down into possessions of a sort, resulting either in points or a stop, and that gives the nascent statistician an edge.

What then of hockey, the most fluid of the four major sports?

Well, it's so unstructured that play can conceivably continue without a whistle for an entire 20-minute period, so long as nobody takes a penalty or knocks the puck out of play. Baseball is so structured that players can only play on offense one at a time, have rigidly-defined jobs on defense, and cannot return when substituted. Hockey is so loose that both offense and defense require complete team efforts, in which anyone may find themselves crashing a crease or working in the corner, and in which players make substitutions during the play.

The most structured position is that of goaltender. Not surprisingly, the goalie has the most complete set of statistics: percentage of shots saved, goals per game, wins, losses, and shutouts. This doesn't account for the quality of the shots but over the course of a full season such things tend to even out, or are partly reflected in other numbers. Then there's offense. Hockey features the lowest scoring of the four majors, so again, that's a relatively simple matter of who scored and who set up the goal. (Sometimes not even that. The NHL didn't officially record assists for a while.)

But as a low-scoring game, it's the defense that suffers. The plus/minus is a start, but the stat has a lot of "noise" to it. It sounds simple: plus/minus measures the difference between goals a team scores and those it permits while a particular player is on the ice. If my +/- is +5 it means that, while I've played, my team has scored five more goals than it has allowed at even strength. If yours is -10, well, that means the team is fifteen goals "worse" with you out there than it is with me. Right?

Well, not really. A poor player on a good team can float on the results of stronger teammates. A great player on a bad team will tend to have bad numbers. Some players play almost 30 minutes per game while others play only 7 or 8. A team's best defenseman and checking forwards are expected to shut down the opponents' most dangerous scorers while a third-pair defender benefits from playing against lower-skilled foes. You could be expected to handle future Hall-of-Famers for half of every game while I can only be trusted against scrubs for ten minutes here and there.

And it gets more complicated - if I wasn't around for those ten minutes, would you do worse at your job because you wouldn't be as rested during the game? If I sink to even or minus, should I be benched? What if that sinks your rating to -20? What if your rating is so low because you play with checking forwards who aren't expected to score? What if it's because we have a terrible goalie, so you are more likely to be on the ice when he flubs an easy shot?

With most statistics, outliers are a problem - they skew the overall results and aren't reliable. With a stat like +/-, it almost forces the reverse, where an outlier is not an anomaly but a true measure. That indicates something badly gone wrong with the original stat. Sure, the only player with a positive rating on a bad team full of high minuses is probably that team's best defender, but if takes that kind of a result, the stat is not all that useful. We could tell such a disparity without any stat at all; but if a guy is +8 and another is +10 over the course of 82 games, is that a statistical flub or a true indication that one has had a marginally better season on defense?

Attempts to improve hockey statistics are also underway, but much less known, and one big reason is that they're rather like Dr. Z's Pro-Bowl charts - they aren't that accessible and they do some very strange things with the little raw data available. Measuring strength of opponent, for example - sticking with you and I, the two defenseman - you face better opponents, measured in part by their goal and assist totals, in part by their minutes played (thus reflecting what their coaches think of their skill)... But are not my opponents' lower scoring totals due in part to their own lesser playing time? In part, isn't it also because I am knocking them down with a stick? In spreadsheet terms, it's something of a circular formula: the results of the calcuation are part of the calculation itself.

The only way to be really sure of our relative value would be to play me half the game against All-Stars and you ten minutes against shlubs, and see if I can duplicate my +5 while you remain at -10. Good luck finding the team that is willing to do that merely in the name of statistical analysis. Much the reverse - they would want to see some cold facts to back up the idea that I am suited for a tougher role. In fact, that's why the Montreal Canadiens developed +/- in the first place, back in the '50s (the league at large didn't adopt it until 1967, I believe). Absent that they must go with their eyes and their gut. Well and good for the team, but harder for the hockey fan who wants to argue that their favorite guy deserves a larger role, and who wants to appeal to something more than "I really like that guy." (I am your favorite guy, of course... What? My hit counter proves that I'm a bench jockey? Whyioughta...)

The worst thing would be to drag into hockey the ridiculous conflict between stat geeks and harrumphy "because I say so" sorts. Both call themselves the clear-eyed lovers of fact, and the other side is regarded rather as the emissaries of the Devil - either wanting to empty the sport of its soul, or of its brains. I'd rather not be either a vampire or a zombie, thanks all the same. I don't object to good stats, nor to personal observation. They're both simply means to describe and measure performance, and when they are at odds, something is up. What I object to are bad stats and prejudiced observations, which confuse and mislead. We get this a lot with Martin Brodeur, who recently became the winningest regular-season goalie in NHL history. Some people think he's too brilliant for words, others insist that he's only decent and not excellent, both based on their lyin' eyes. Others point only to the numbers to say he's the greatest, while others point to entirely different numbers to insist that he's adequate at best. (Really, I've heard it.) It's almost like he's the Derek Jeter of goalies...

...except, of course, that Jeter is clearly overrated (though still darn good), while Brodeur is in fact a superb keeper. So say my own lyin' eyes, at least until the stats catch up.

PS - speaking of lyin' eyes, your eyes are correct about the different look to the blog. I swapped templates and tinkered with some of the colors during a dull moment.

Still Seeking the Witch of Endor

Our local fish wrap has a front page above the fold story about the economic crisis causing folks to seek help in unconventional places.

Some people ask about their jobs - whether they'll find one or they'll lose the one they've got.

Others fret about making the mortgage or salvaging their 401(k).

"You can just see the look on their face," says Cissy Mercer, a spiritual healer in St. Petersburg. "They're kind of scattered and all uptight, which is normal with the economy like it is.

"They're worried. We all are."

So worried, they're flocking to Mercer and other Tampa Bay area psychics and mediums for guidance that used to come from career or financial advisers.

3000 years ago the King of Israel, motivated by fear, violated his own decree and sought a medium (1 Samuel 28). Apparently nothing has changed, for fearful people still seek out the supernatural.

I do not fully discount this kind of stuff. I had a pal in college who was a missionary to Indonesia, and he saw stuff over there that would be unheard of here in the USA. (Fly, do you remember the guy who came to our dorm and talked about the supernatural as an intro to the movie The Exorcist?)

Now I am sure that 99% of the spiritists, mediums, psychics in the Tampa Bay area have about as much connection to the spirit world as does the Official Puppy of the Hive. But the reason God forbids this is because it does exist.

But if you are going to go this route, make sure you go to a medium registered with the American Association of Psychics. This organization tests psychics, which is important because you want to make sure you aren’t wasting time and money on a fake, but you get a spiritual healer who actually bows the knee to a demon.

Also, make sure they have a permit with Hillsborough County.

I wonder how that psychic test goes. Must one conjure up Elvis before the Association to get licensed?

Watching too much Stargate

Maybe Obama is the Goa'uld System Lord Apophis, because this weekend he sent out his Jaffa to do his bidding.

Volunteers fanned out across the Birmingham area and Alabama Saturday to pump up enthusiasm for President Barack Obama's budget proposal in much the same way they did to win over voters during the presidential campaign.

About 30 volunteers in Birmingham canvassed shopping areas and other high-traffic
locations to talk about the need for health care reform, an education overhaul and environmentally friendly energy development.

"If we don't change these three things in the next 10 to 15 years, America is over as we know it," Chris DeHaven, told the group of volunteers before they went their separate ways.

God help any of these zombies if they come anywhere near me.

THIS... is American Idol - the good eleven

OK, dramatic lighting, tense music, really bad wardrobe choices - Adam looks like he fled a Flock of Seagulls tribute band. Simon, on the other hand, looks dressed-down and uh-tuhly bored. Maybe because it's Country Week. Simon loves him his Country Week. They should throw him a bone and sing a country song by a non-country act, something like Squeeze's "Labelled With Love" or "Diggin'" by the Seatbelts.

Oh, it's restricted to Grand Ole Opry House Members. They play an audio bed of THE MAN, Johnny Cash. That may be the highlight of the night, unless this week's svengali, Randy Travis, can share some of his magic twang. "Well, I can tell you 'bout training horses," he tells Mike Sarver. Too late, Kristy Lee was on last season. Well, if Randy can't help, maybe St. Patrick will intercede for the poor audience on his big day. And there's always snark to look forward to! (SarahK's snark is here, if you're so inclined, and you should be, dawg.)

Mike "Ricky Bobby" Sarver, Texas native, is singing something with a whole lotta words. "Don't lose the words, your chances of jumpin' back in aren't great," RT tells him. He doesn't lose the words, but I rather wish he had, just for kicks. The vocals aren't bad but this song has the range of a nose tackle, and he's not enough of a showman to bridge the gap. He looks like what he is - a genuine country boy enjoying a fun song, and while that's good, it isn't bringing me in.

Randy gets booed for pointing out all of that. Kara misses the big notes from Ricky Bobby, but he's glad he remembered the words. Paula disagrees with me and compliments him on the harmonica player - which is kind of like complimenting your computer screen for this post. Simon couldn't understand the words at all. RB - "The country folks did." S - "It may as well have been Norwegian." Says he didn't come across as a star, but as a likeable clumsy guy who enjoys country music. RB - "If we were perfect, we wouldn't need this show!" S - "Good point." Then he gives him a 1.2 out of 10 (ooof); I'd say it was a 4, which is still not great.

Allison's turn. "Don't do too much, just sing with the pipes you got," RT tells her. She rocks out to "Blame it on Your Heart." Much better than Ricky Bobby. Lively, connected to the audience. Kara, trying to replace the "phone book" cliché, says that she could sing the alphabet. I think that she could sing the periodic table. I think they should think of other things to sing that aren't singable in order to compliment singers. (My brain hurts now.) Paula, still in Reverse World, says that she'd like to see Allison stretch and be more vulnerable. Simon thought she may have struggled a touch with the lyrics (Allison: "No."), but "rock-solid" vocally. Randy calls it "dope." Simon calls it "precocious." It's supercaligroovingsingingexpidoprecocious.

Kris Allen - "Make You Feel My Love" - sitting and singing w/o his guitar. (I know, I typed that whole 80-letter word and then dropped an abbreviation for without. And then typed three lines about the whole situation. It's really late, and I'm punchy.) RT says that Kris is a strong balladeer who makes the song his. True that. He doesn't sound country on this at all. It's a great vocal. P says "vulnerable" as a compliment. "Vulnerable" is her Secret Word of the Week. Take a slug of Guinness every time she says it and you can be as loopy as her by the end of the night. S - "terrific." Agreed. "Great choice of song, completely in control." Randy calls him "tender dawg," and that is kind of offputting, you know? Kara makes it four thumbs up.

Lil Rounds has only heard country music on movie soundtracks. Someone buy that girl Ray Charles' "New Sounds in Country and Western," stat. She sings "Independence Day" and wants to "honor the country" [the genre, not the United States] by keeping the R & B back a bit. RT tells her to slow down and she'll be fine.

The pedal steel is a nice touch, but the verses are middling. Chorus is bigger and better, shows off her power. Her outfit looks a little like she's stuck in a dinner napkin at a nice restaurant. R - agrees with me. Boooooo! "Just keeping it real." Lil wanted to show more than R & B, defends her song choice. K - agrees, but props for standing her artistic ground. P loves all things, from vocals to outfit. (Erin go whaaa?) Should have cut one verse to get to the big stuff sooner. S - "Oh, of course." Heheheheh. He calls her "Little" instead of "Lil," gets corrected seventeen times or so, and says she sang like someone requested a song at a wedding, and she sang like a duty, not because she wanted to. "There are a million billion songs," he says. See, Carl Sagan was right.

It's Lord Emo's turn. Yikes, he's got cleavage, which he's trying to hide with a Chevron gas station logo. He is performing a Zepellin-inflected "Ring of Fire." RT is completely flummoxed: "I don't see too many guys with black nail polish." Ladybug and I are howling. We remember Trace Adkins last year in the Celebrity Apprentice finale: "I had t'go buy black nail polish. Not fer mah wife - fer some DUDE." We're cracking each other up by saying "wheat-grass juice" is a heavy country accent.

The song is very odd - but hear me out - I think it worked. Johnny Cash, remember, sang with U2 on Zooropa, and that worked. I think he'd get behind this performance. The vocal was wonderful, especially the wailing high notes, which are darn hard to pull off. I didn't care for the weird gyrating or camera-mugging, however. K - "Adam does country!" Uhm - which country? This wasn't even from our planet. P - "True to yourself as an artist." She steals my Zep reference. Grrrrr. I should Twitter this. S - "Don't go to Nashville. They're all probably throwing their television sets out the window. I thought it was absolute indulgent rubbish." Heheheheh. R - "Nine Inch Nails does country, it was HOT!" Ladybug likes the NIN reference. RT is aghast in the audience, but still gentlemanly. It's a remarkable expression.

Scott McIntyre - "Wild Angels." RT - "I didn't tell him this, but I thought, 'not good,'" when he heard the song choice. This show cracks me up. He also tells Scott to pick up the pace a bit. His lowest notes are barely in reach, but going up on the chorus helps him. Tough to judge, following Adam LeBon like that. I'm going to say not that good, maybe a 5 or 6. P - "Solid, impressive." She's in Cloud Cuckoo Land tonight. She then adds that the piano is a bit of a crutch, it hides him from the audience. Scott - "Could we move it closer?" Hahahaha! S - "That's stupid." P - "That's disrespectful!" S - "You're disrespectful. He's comfortable back there. Elton John stays back there. Should he come out from behind the piano?" He says Scott just needs to choose better songs. "THAT'S disrespectful!" someone tells Simon, but at this point even pause and play was too confusing. He says that to nearly everyone. So do all the judges. Help, I am confoozled. They end by making jokes about Billy Joel/Bruce Hornsby/Ray Charles Week so Scott can sing without the piano.

Alexis to the rescue! She loves country music, and will sing "Jolene." RT approves. (Alexis does look rather like a pixyish, punkish Dolly.) It's a good arrangement but she is behind the music, trying to catch up. Vocals are somewhat off. I do like her emotional connection to the song. K thought it was flat; R thought it was pitchy. P liked it better than they did, because happy slurpy sippy cup. S - "it was a little sound-alike." Alexis - whut? S - "meaning, it sounded too much like who you were singing; forgettable." Sad but true. She should skate on the strength of previous weeks, but this was a misstep. So much for my rescue.

Now it's Super Saiyen Gokay, singing "Jesus Take the Wheel." [Aside - the song kind of annoys me just a bit. Jesus is NOT your chaffeur, He isn't going to just steer your car when you completely bail out on driving.] RT made him nervous and he flubbed the words in rehearsal... repeatedly. Poor guy. You just want to hug the big ol' goof (if you're the Ladybug). RT - "I hope he's close to 100% on the night." Close? "But he has a soulfulness most of us wish we had." RT = true gentleman. But yeah, will Jesus take the mic if Gokay forgets the words tonight?

Gokay's shaky early - he has the words but not the notes. Hits the chorus and the stage lights up, turning him into a blinding pillar of music. Do not look directly into the performance! It's Touched by a Saiyen. It was a terrific finish after a bleh opening. K agrees with me. P disagrees. (Shocka!) "He set the stage early, Carrie would buy the record." Geez, he could set the stage on key, couldn't he? S agreed with P on the vocal: "It's like light and shade, he can't scream from first to last." But he hates the jacket. "You look like you're on a polar expedition. It's 80° in Lows Anjuhless."

It's our first time watching the show on widescreen (we're not home). Ladybug notices that the bottom bar with the call-in number isn't a rectangle, as we've always believed, but has tapered ends. What else aren't you telling us, American Idol?

Oh, goody - Anoop + country. Impending fail.

We swap out for a moment to see Marty Brodeur clinch his record 552nd regular-season win. He makes a big stop with about four seconds left and beats Chicago 3-2. (And we picked Scott Scissons in 1990. I will now dunk my head in a bucket of bleach and ammonia.)

Anoop and RT are both North Cackalackians... same state, different worlds. RT liked his rehearsal. He's singing "Always on My Mind," another song I'm not down with. Gee, thanks, you thought of me, but not enough to honor our love and lifetime commitment. Yeah, romance!

But then the darndest thing happens and the whole show drops into Paula's mirror universe - the vocals are really good. He's doing very well. Plagues, forty days of darkness, dogs and cats living together... P - "Anoop is back!" (Uh, he was NEVER THERE.) S - "From zero to hero." (Oooh, good idea, they should have a Schoolhouse Rock Week!*) "One of my favorites of the night. You took a well-deserved kicking, didn't whine, came back strong, good job." R - "The arrangement was dope!" (Rugglesqwertyvussencrispenrangementdoprecocious!)

Megan's turn. She looks 40,000 times better at the rehearsal. She's singing Patsy Cline's "I Go Walking After Midnight." OK - first off, lose the dress in the nearest landfill. It's unflattering, ugly, scary. Sadly, it doesn't distract from the dreadful, over-pronounced vocals. This was strange and horrible. Those twin hammocks... egad, what a train wreck.

R - liked it. (What?) Mentions that she was sick during the week.
K - liked it AND the outfit. (WHAT??) Mentions that she had the flu. (It must be catching.)
P - liked it AND Megan was in the hospital and back this week. (Is this a Python sketch? What the blazes is happening?)
S - You should have the flue every night, better than last week. (I dunno, I think that cawing would have improved the vocals.) Surprised he didn't up the ante on the sickness and said she walked to the hospital and back, through the snow, uphill both ways.

Matt is singing more Carrie. Paula is smelling Simon's forearm. This whole night is officially spacebug insane. Matt is playing the piano and singing a song I don't recognize. It's a very good arrangement (just lose the strings), great vocal (last note was a bit off). K - amazing; P - "authentuh, authnopoly, authentic, authenticity... you're piercing hearts." S - "You don't get enough credit for your vocals. You outsang Danny tonight. You're like Michael Bublé." (I hope I got the accent right.) R - fave of the night.

My bottom three are Ricky Bobby, Lil Rounds, and HOPEFULLY Megan. The judges were way too kind to her just 'cause she was unwell. Heck, this morning the radio played her version, and then Patsy Cline's original back-to-back... the difference was unmistakeable. "Iya gow waw-KIN.... ayufter mid-nighTTTT!" Errrrrrrrrgh.

* for funsies, how would you assign the songs for a Schoolhouse Rock Week to our eleven contestants? You can leave off the one you think is going home, if you like. (I'm not picking a song for Megan.) Also - extra snark at the Snark Raving Mad, yo.

People all over the world, join in

So, that yurt stuff? It's officially serious business. We even got a comment from a fellow living in New Zealand. (Welcome, sir, both to the blog and to our virtual hippeh gourmand/ bookloving/ charades-playing/ road show.)

Jayne has baked cookies, Tracey's got a book swap rolling... and I'm making a soundtrack. (We've got to have good music on the new frontier.) I've got a bunch of stuff already, keeping in mind things we've discussed elsewhere - fave bands and guilty pleasures alike. I'll keep some of that as a surprise, lest I harsh your collective mellow. Since this is everybody's goofy old commune, I'm open to suggestions for the rest, in the comments. What would you like to hear?

Cry Me a River!

Like I'm going to be laying awake at night worrying about this.

TAMPA - Youssef Megahed is not charged with terrorism.

But whether the Egyptian citizen was a potential terrorist or just an innocent college student has been a central question since his arrest in South Carolina in 2007, when deputies said he and Ahmed Mohamed had pipe bombs in the trunk of their car.

Today, a federal judge will begin seating a jury to decide whether Megahed, a 23-year-old former University of South Florida student, is guilty of transporting explosives and possession of a destructive device.

Although passions have subsided since the Sept. 11 attacks, experts say it will still be a challenge to find a jury that can fairly judge a Muslim defendant.

What this story doesn't tell you is that Megahed and his buddy (who has pleaded guilty) were near a military base when they were stopped. Also, there probably won't be much in the way of protests; the local CAIR clowns already threw these guys under the bus.

I'm too much of an angry right-wing nut to have a snowball's chance in Gehenna of getting on this jury.

She Thought I was a Wife Beater.

An update to this post.

Long ago, in a galaxy far away, I was engaged to be married. Actually I was engaged twice (two different women - I have commitment issues, which is also why I have no tattoos) but this story is about Engagement #2.

One day my betrothed asked me out of the blue, “Are you going to beat me after we get married?” I immediately thought of the old Bugs Bunny - Daffy Duck - Elmer Fudd cartoon, “Are you going to shoot me now or take me home and shoot me?” My answer was witty: “Betrothed, if I was going to beat you I’d be beating you now.” Wrong answer.

But I did find out where she got this crazy idea. My betrothed was studying to be a social worker and one of her classes had the director of a women’s shelter as a guest speaker. This speaker gave the class a profile of the classic wife beater. Poverty, broken home, drunk, abusive father.

Well guys, that’s me! And I was a little hurt, because I had exhibited no evidence that I would do such a thing. I freely admit that I’m still not quite right in some areas but beating on womenfolk isn’t one of them. Ladies, if I’m mad at you I just won’t talk to you. That’s not good, but at least it won’t involve law enforcement and the medical community.

And I am still not quite right. But the Lord healed, and continues to heal..

Why didn’t I marry her? I rarely denied her anything. But on the rare occasion I did she wouldn’t take “no” for an answer. All she had to do was humor me now and then and be satisfied with “no”. And she couldn’t do it.

The First Step In Recovery...

...is admitting you have a problem.

Now … let me discuss the issue that generated the most questions and comments to our publisher. Some readers believe we do a good job of being fair in our coverage and providing a balance of opinions. A few think we’re too conservative. But many more believe that our editorial pages are too liberal and that bias seeps into our news coverage. We have heard you on the bias issue and are taking deliberate steps to address this.

On the news pages, we have several editors who are assigned to look for bias and balance issues in stories and headlines. This has led to fairer coverage — more care in our play of stories as well as more straightforward approaches in headlines and local and wire stories. We continually discuss this issue with our staff and will continue to put an emphasis on critical editing focused on fairness.

How bad must the Atlanta Journal-Constitution be doing financially that they would publically admit to their bias?

I live in Tampa and get the Tampa Tribune. I subscribed for the baseball season; I can't read box scores on a computer screen. They focus on local news, which is fine with me. I don't rely on the newsopaper for news outside of Florida. I'm sure if the Trib had the resources they would be kissing Obama's tush as much as the St Pete Times does.

H/T Newsbusters

Research is my friend

Ricki found a blog about Tiny Houses (called - get this - tinyhouseblog.com). While noodling about this blog I found... well, as background, I should tell you to go to Tracey's and read all about our blog retreat/commune in the Traveling Cosmic Yurt.

THEN you should come back here and click this link. (And don't forget the update link.)

They could ship us a real, factual Traveling Cosmic Yurt to specs. For $40,000 we'd have it all - the "aircraft-grade" skylight; all the pre-fab walls, roof, doors, and windows; even an installation guide! (Hopefully, not in badly-translated English.) Of course we'd have to build it ourselves... but come on, that's a breeze! One snappy montage later, we'd be set for life:



The Internet is sometimes such a lovely place, I could cry.

(Also found - the Spite House! Fabulous.)

As seen on Facebook

And now, as seen on SportsCenter - a Philadelphia Eagles day employee got himself sacked via his online activities.

A couple of weeks ago the Eagles bade goodbye to safety Bryan Dawkins. Day employee Dan Leone wasn't happy about that, and went to his Facebook page to grouse. Now, a public dig on one's employer is probably unwise anyway, but in the infamous words of Robert Downey Jr, he went "full retard" - as in, that's what he called the Eagles. They bounced him for it.

Dan has just learned why so many choose a nom de cyber out here in the WWW. On the bright side, now he can blog about the Iggles to his heart's content. On the downside - he's 32 years old and got himself fired via Facebook, which is kind of lame. (Hopefully this was a sideline and not his actual factual full-time work, since 8-10 workdays a year is hardly enough unless one is actually lining up besides Dawkins.)

Irony alert - after this story, the SportsCenter I saw ran an ad with the ubiquitous Billy Mays for their ESPN360 service. "Now you can watch sports right from your computer! The secret is in the Internet connection!" It was a funny spot, but it's odd that a story about a guy getting fired for online activity gives way to an advert where people say "Sports at work is a lot better than work at work!"

Good story on this from Kevin at Barry Melrose Rocks, normally a hockey blog, but hey - it's good to branch out. (Great picture, too... I love how the guy is posing with a keyboard, all serious. It looks like an album cover: This is my axe, and this is my music! )

A Friendly Wager

Here's the setup.

TAMPA - When 2-year-old Gabrielle Randel didn't go to sleep easily Saturday night, deputies say, her mother's boyfriend picked her up, wrapped her in a towel and began to beat her.

As Kenneth Lopez hit the tiny wrapped figure, Gabrielle stopped crying, authorities say. Sometime that night - authorities don't know whether it was during the beating or later - the toddler stopped breathing.

On Sunday, she was pronounced dead.

Lopez, 21, has been charged with aggravated child abuse. The sheriff's office says the charges might be upgraded after an autopsy determines how Gabrielle died.

Let's say we examine the news in our two local fishwraps for the next year. Every time the shack-up boyfriend beats the kid to death you give me a dollar. Every time anyone else beats the kid to death I give you a dollar.

At the end of one year, which of us would have the most dollars?

I'll let you teachers take a crack at this

There is a new curriculum at our local Tampa schools. Some English teachers don't like it because it does away with some of the classics. I am suspicious because the Advanced Placement students (The classes with college credit) are exempt from this new stuff. And I can't get used to the idea of kids watching movies in class (I know how I sound - get off my lawn!)

How did we get this new program? As our Lord would say, "Where your treasure is there your heart is also", and the late Mark Felt (AKA Deep Throat) would add, "Follow the money."

When the Hillsborough County School District tried SpringBoard at four of its 25 high schools last year, teachers balked at giving up favorite lessons and making drastic changes with little training. There was more angst when the district suddenly announced a districtwide rollout for this school year as it jumped at the chance for $30 million in federal grants to pay for the program over five years.

When you take Obama's money, you must do what Obama says. Are you listening, Governor Crist?

That's all I've got on the subject. If you teachers out there want to weigh in, feel free. Here is a comparison of the old and new.

A continuing story - consolations

Monday morning we woke up and prepared ourselves to help Pops say goodbye to his dear wife.

Before we could hit the road we made sure that everyone had a proper formal shirt and tie for the viewings. Then, I had to run a miniature clinic on tie tying. It had been quite a while since my brother had worn one, and Sister's beau had apparently not been required to since his childhood, clip-on days. The poor rabbits had to circle several trees before successfully ducking down the hole, but we got there, and it was a welcome smile to tide us during the next several hours.

The home was very pleasant. They also solved a grammatical issue I've wondered about - there's usually a sign in the lobby of such an establishment directing the visitors to the proper room for their viewing, just in case the staff happen to be unable to greet folks upon arrival. Such signs usually just have a name and room - Bob Smith, Chapel A; Mary Jones, Chapel B. After all, one can hardly say "We welcome Bob Smith" or "Now presenting Mary Jones." This home said "Caring for ________" on the sign, and I found that the perfect tone.

They were, of course, really caring for Pops, and for all of us. Everyone needs to work out their grief, and a public testimony strikes me as a healthy part of the process; not that we should make every step a public occasion (he said on his blog), but this was important. This was good. We all saw members of the family who had been absent for many years, though never too far from our thoughts. Email and cel phones help close the gap, but there's something about being there together.

It's no wonder that in between the two viewings, many of Pops' kids and their families went next door for a large dinner. There was a lot of catching up to do, and a lot of news to share. Pops did not come; it wasn't the right time for him, and a few of the family stayed with him instead. Each was a proper ministering.

All throughout the two viewings, a remarkable assortment of people came to offer their respects - all of the folks Pops knew through volunteering at the firehouse, and neighborhood friends, and more nephews and cousins; even friends he'd known from 35 years ago when he lived on Long Island, who had moved to a different part of Florida and made the trip when they heard.

I've always known that Pops and Grandma love us all; it's amazing and wonderful to see how much they are loved in return.

... developing ...

The Guy in the Glasses with the big ol' Bible...

....is one of my pastors. Pastor H, known on this blog for taking Mrs H to a Rays playoff game as a wedding anniversary present.

He is in SoCal at The Shepherds’ Conference, which is the biggest gathering of evangelical pastors of which you have never heard.

Who goes to The Shepherds’ Conference? It would be easier to say who doesn’t go. Mainstream Protestants aren’t there. Emergent guys aren’t there. Pastors who sell books at Wal-mart (Osteen, Meyer, Warren) or are being investigated by the government (Randy & Paula White, John Hagee and my man Creflo Dollar) aren’t there.

Now all these folks are more than welcome; they choose not to participate. What goes on there is five days of hard core preaching of evangelical theology. Pastor G (my other pastor, the one from the Bronx) would bring back huge books with big words like modalism and syncretism.

Sadly, many evangelicals have no interest in learning doctrine; the what and why you believe. The Curt Jester and the Creative Minority Report do a great job of chronicling Catholics in public life who misrepresent or reject key Catholic teachings. I would argue that this is a greater problem on my side of the tracks.

But that issue deserves its own post. It will probably the most offensive post I will ever write on this blog.

I am a horrible person

Everywhere I look on the web, there's folks whom I've missed for a couple of weeks since I've been back - and in catching up with them, I find that without exception all of them have lost a family member or suffered some personal setback or work-related outrage.

And of course, this is all about me feeling bad for missing the news and not being able to say "I'm sorry for your pain." My condolences are extra-powerful and without them these poor souls are bereft - bereft, I say!

Oh - don't believe me? Well, why did all this lousy stuff go down when I wasn't around? Huh? Because my preventative powers weren't available, that's why. Because my all-important and oh-so-amazing widdle feewings are THE determiner of other people's reality. I could prove it, too, if those folks with the white coats would just stop sticking me with needles for a few hours.

Worrying more about how I appear to others, rather than how they feel, is what makes me such a horrible person. Simple math, friends. Please accept my honest condolences and well-wishes, forgive me my horribleness, and thanks as always for reading.

A continuing story - information

Sorry for not continuing my continuing story. Look for something more on Friday, I think. Thanks for your patience.

A Belated 50th Birthday Present

I went to the doctor at the VA hospital for a tune up and oil change. He said, "Happy Birthday" gave me an envelope and sent me to the outpatient lab for a prostate cancer test.

The envelope? It was a colon cancer test. I have to mail it back to the VA with samples of my poop. Just a light smear, the instructions say. As if I was going to slap it on like Spackle.

This is what you have to look forward to in about 13 years, Fly.

In the studio with the Barking Spider

This has been in the works for a long time. I have not been allowed to blog about it until now.

The past two Saturdays our church music team has been in a recording studio. We are one of the few churches that has songs which are Bible verses set to music. And since four of the five of us are over 50, we decided that we needed to record these songs for posterity.

The studio had a lot of Styrofoam in the ceiling and the walls. We were set up in the Beatles style. The two ladies, melody and alto harmony shared a mic, and so did the male melody singer (that's me!) and the tenor harmony/guitar player shared a mic. A padded wall separated us. We were circled in towers of foam in which to soak up sound. The other non-singing guitar player was in his own little padded room. Dan Smith, our engineer, chose not to give us headphones in which to hear ourselves. Since we were rookies he wanted to make it as close to our Sunday morning live performance as possible. I'm glad because I don't think I could take hearing myself in the headphones.

We spent about five hours in the studio each day. Boy was I beat! I took some getting used to singing without seeing my fellow singers. While we were listening back to our work, the female melody singer (which is my pastor's wife), was telling stories of when she worked at a very famous recording studio in New York called the Power Station back in 1981. Name dropped a few guys, like this 19-year-old kid who worked there named Jon Bon Jovi.

My work is done. All that's left is overdubbing percussion and post production. We recorded 130 minutes of music and we need to pick 80 minutes for the CD.

One more thing. On listening back to the recording, I realized that I can't stand the sound of my own voice. I have to take the word of others that I'm not terrible.

Don't go, Gentle, into that good night! AI eliminations

“What have we done,” Ryan asks while looking over poor Nick Mitchell. Uhm… you tell me. It wasn’t any voting of ours that put him on that stage. (Timely clip of Randy at Nick’s audition: “OK, yes, whatever!”) This is American Idol!

The judges are appropriately all in black tonight. Ryan tries some bantering about Simon’s tan and he comes back with “Can this be less about me and more about the show?” I feel the bromance, friends.

The group sing is “I Just Can’t Stop,” guys first, girls joining in. I like the arrangement. I have a soft spot for these group gigs. Heh, Nick looks so annoyed at being buttoned down Mr. Normal. He busts out four seconds of Norman Gentle right at the end. Ryan then keeps me through the adverts with the promise of a “hidden audition clip.” It’s someone I don’t recognize belting out “It’s in His Kiss.” Kara does a touch of the backup vocals right at the end, it almost looks unwilling… Bleh. That was an anti-climax.

Then it’s on to the highlights, which would be maybe four or five people. Unfortunately they show all twelve. The first four were a wasteland last night. Misery.

Ryan asks Nick, “If you don’t make it then what can we expect from you?” Nick: “I’m always looking for work.” Heheheh. Nick’s a much more pleasant and likeable guy than Norman, and of course a better singer. Why does he need to put on the act? I don’t get it. Matt Beitzke, our soulful welder, has good answers too. Simon snarks him.

Yeah, so that breaks up the happy portion of our evening. It’s time to see who gets packed off and who gets to sit in one of the Eggcups of Joy. Allison is called up first. Ohhhhh no. Too early. Please cross me up here. Ryan calls Jessie and Matt B up alongside, and this is more promising, since Allison was clearly the best of these three. Yes! She’s in! Big sigh of relief here in Chez Nightfly. Allison’s so flustered she forgets that she should sing and has to be called back. Then after the break she allows that she’s “so friggin’ happy right now!” America’s win streak is up to four.

Kris and Megan next. LB and I agree that this looks like a pair of nos. BUT! Matt the Lesser and Jeanine are also up. This couldn’t be a rare quad Fail, could it? No – Ryan says one is certainly through. Paula says there’s no way to predict the result, so Ryan cuts Jeanine and Matt to help.

Heh, Kara starts rambling and Simon calls her on it.
K – “I’m trying to give some advice; it’s part of what I’m here to do! … I really like you, I think you’re talented.” [Which is praise, not advice – I guess that’s the other part of her job.] “Megan, you could be a big recording artist, blah blah blah, I like kitties, long walks at sunset, and singing backup during the auditions…”
S – “Kara, take your time.”
[much laughter at Chez Nightfly. We really should have invited him to our wedding. “OK, so listen, the first dance was brilliant, but the cake cutting was a boring, derivative mess. Uhtuhly forgettable. It was like some ghastly Elks Lodge initiation. Sowry!”]
K – “Do you ever shut up?”
NF – “Hey, you’re the one running longer than War and Peace, chickie.” Sowry!
K – “Well, I WILL take my time!”
Ryan – “No, I’ll take it from here.” HA! Ten points.

Annnnd – it’s Kris Allen! We’re five for five! Booya! My jinxin’ days may be over at last. Kris is properly humbled and agog. He also rocks the re-sing.

Fast-forward commercials, including the one with Carlton’s dad from Fresh Prince failing all the little children of the world by not letting them be the teachers and leaders when they don’t know anything yet. Then Jack comes on to cleanse the brain.

Sappy recap time – set to “What a Wonderful World.” I am such a pushover for these. We get the three singing cowboys, the Asian Liberace (We’re brothers! Forever!), Clay and Ruben and Daughtry and the Pickle… also the water tosser and a guy dressed as the Statue of Liberty. Ah, our Philly friend who’s going for actressing, dropping slo-mo F-bombs all over during the exit interview. I’m surprised they didn’t also show her reprise from this season, when her kinder, gentler side blistered Simon after another strikeout. They also show the huge geeky Clay fan who completely freak-spazzed when the actual Clay came onstage with him.

EEEEEEEK it’s the Hoff! And Sanjaya’s OMAC hairdo. (Evacuate the theater! Sanjaya is going to destroy it!) William Hung. They close with a lot of crying winners and big group hugs. (Funny, Taylor’s the only guy who didn’t seem to have any emotion about winning, just that cornpone grin of his.) All together now…. Awwwwww. And in keeping with that general feeling here’s Brooke White to sing her first single (she co-wrote), “Hold Up My Heart.” See that girl, bare-footin’ along. The song’s decent, a fluffy lite-country number. Very Brooke.

The last five of this year’s contestants are up en masse. Ryan intros my my my Mishavonna, Kai, and Jasmine – skipping over Nick and Adam. (Foreshadowing!) Yeah, my win-streak looks over. The three are excused and Nick’s left with Lord Emo, who shall surely triumph. Ryan stretches it out by asking Simon if he did, indeed, pray that Nick wouldn’t advance. Simon – “For about five or six hours, actually. I hope that God and I have a good relationship right now.” He’s brilliant. Don’t be envious, Kara.

Enough suspense. Lord Emo vanquishes the Jester. “That’s… too bad.” [/walkenvoice] The re-sing is somewhat less annoying but he still mugs for the camera. Maybe Mishovanna can grab a wildcard. (Lisa, you're our winner for this week! Congrats.)

Next up – the cussinest show on television, Hell’s Kitchen! Everyone knows Chef Ramsey’s well-practiced vocabulary, but this year’s contestants take it to a completely different plane of ghetto. They’e a shocking pack of vulgarians. It makes the Sopranos sound like Davey and Goliath.

Homegrown success story

When I was taking journo classes back at ol' RU I had a classmate, a big kid named Tim, was a backup tight end on the football team - smart guy, good egg.

Tim is about to be named the Athletic Director at Rutgers University. I, on the other hand, get to be named things I can't repeat on a family blog every time I ref a game. Life's funny that way.

Still, I like my life and I'm grateful for how things are going thus far. Congrats to Tim Pernetti, and good luck.