Tuesday, December 18, 2012

No contest

So 2012 has been a somewhat forgettable football season all around, as these things go. I haven’t weighed in on it much, as you may or may not have noticed, and I may very well not weigh in on it again unless the playoffs turn out to be amazing. But I figured I could give at least one quick nod to it before it’s all over.

From the fannish side, there have been a pair of middling-at-best campaigns mounted in Pittsburgh and New York (New Jersey) this year for my wife and I to ostensibly cheer on. The Steelers are 7 and 7, the Giants are 8 and 6, but they’ve both been struggling lately, banged up, in freefall, however you want to characterize it. Technically both teams are still in the hunt, as the sports pundits like to say, but it seems less and less likely that either will make good on those possibilities. This may just not be their year, in either case. My wife and I are both reasonably ok with that. I’ve talked before about how statistically unlikely it’s been that one or the other of us has had a legitimate rooting interest in the Super Bowl more of the Februaries we’ve been together than not, and the other day my wife and I were discussing how, frankly, it can be exhausting. We agreed that it would be refreshing and enjoyable to go to a Super Bowl party this winter where we honestly had no emotional investment in the outcome and we could merely enjoy the food, laugh at the commercials, and appreciate the back and forth of a hard-fought game without our heart in our throat. I acknowledge that may sound a bit like sour grapes, but there’s really no self-deception involved. Just reading the writing on the wall and not only not being terribly put out about it, but (at least partly) relieved.

Ooooh, symbolic and artsy.

Meanwhile, on the gambling side, the football pick’em pool has been a lackluster enterprise, as well. My wife simply has not been feeling it, due to the distractions of being pregnant and changing jobs, along with the quirks of an online system that requires setting all the week’s picks up online before the first Thursday night game each weekend (you can always go back on Friday, Saturday or early Sunday morning to switch the non-Thursday picks based on changing situations, but still). There have been a couple of weeks where my wife simply did not submit her picks at all, and that has dragged down her overall score for the season, which creates a vicious feedback loop wherein it’s hard to be motivated to do your Week 13 or 14 picks when you’re so far behind in the overall standings. I, on the other hand, have dutifully submitted my picks every week, but I got clobbered more than once, a couple of weeks where I only managed to pick 5 games correctly and one improbable week where I only got 3 correct. The rest of the season I’ve been utterly unremarkable, getting 7 or 8 or 9 right. I’m currently in a 3-way tie for 21st place out of 35 people. (Or arguably 32 people who submitted picks every single week; in addition to my wife, my cousin skipped doing her picks a few weeks as well, and one of the alleged members of the pool has nothing but 0’s across the board for all 15 weeks.)

I can, however, happily report that my sainted grandmother is still at it, and in fact she won Week 15 with 12 games picked correctly AND the closest guess to the total MNF points. So there’s a bright spot.

But as I’ve alluded to before sometimes it feels like football is kind of slipping outside of our sphere of awareness anyway, in no small part due to our kids, who usually keep us way too busy to devote three or four (or six or nine) hours every Sunday to doing anything that isn’t centered on keeping them amused and out of trouble. We’ve been gradually giving up on the idea that we can all just sit on the couch and watch football together, mostly because of the little guy. He often protests that football is boring (and, to be fair, sometimes he’s right) and when that’s not happening, he’s very likely to be getting unacceptably riled up by the Dolby-mic’ed, Hi-Def contact sport playing out before his eyes. As of the next season opener we’ll have three offspring under the age of five, so we might be on a bit of an NFL hiatus by then, and come back to it some time around 2018 or so. If anybody wants some action on the over/under for expansion teams or relocations between now and then, just let me know.

Monday, December 17, 2012

Words fail

(Yeeaaahhhhhhh this one gets a little heavy, folks. In light of recent events it's probably not shocking that everyone's a little sadder than usual, but fair warning, if you came here looking for a little wacky escapism of the kind I usually supply, today is not your day. Tomorrow, maybe.)

I was hopping like crazy at work last week, the result of which was about as positive an outcome as I could have hoped for (notwithstanding the fact that some of the frenzied activity was my own dang fault as I had to clean up a mess or two I had unwittingly caused) but I can’t really get into a detailed blow-by-blow about the experience because most of it concerns security protocols that I probably shouldn’t be blabbing about online. Suffice to say I was busy last week but I expect things between now and the holidays to be markedly quieter.

Maybe just as well, since with work-stories struck from the list of potential post material, I can devote today’s post to other things; I can pivot from things I shouldn’t talk about, even though I kind of want to, to things I don’t want to talk about at all, but maybe I should.

I was finishing up my Friday post just when the news was breaking from Sandy Hook Elementary. I was so stunned I’m pretty sure I went immediately into denial, not only because of the horror of what was happening but because of the where. Newtown is where my father, step-mother, brother and sister live now, where my aunts and uncles and cousins have lived for decades. My sister was a student at Sandy Hook five years ago. I was just visiting my dad’s house in Newtown, with my family, back in July. My wife called me in a minor panic, fearing the worst, and I immediately assured her that everyone we knew was fine. Partly I was confident doing that because there was no reason to think any of my family would be at the elementary school on random Friday morning, and partly because my brain was elementally incapable of countenancing any other possibility.

I did eventually get hold of my dad and confirm that everyone was all right. Except, of course, not everyone was all right; maybe my family's physical safety was never endangered, but everyone was shaken, and that of course pales in comparison to the worst of the worst. Part of my initial denial was a belief that the very earliest reports would turn out to be exaggerated and overblown, that even if many people had been shot not all the injuries would be serious and maybe most if not all would survive. But as the afternoon wore on obviously those hopes were extinguished by reality, and by the time I was on the phone with my dad there was just raw shock and hurt, trying and not particularly succeeding to understand how this could happen, at all, in the community my extended family calls home, in the world we all live in.

I thought about blogging in some fashion about the shootings on Saturday, but I didn’t, thought about it again on Sunday, and didn’t again. It should be pretty self-evident that I’m vastly more comfortable blogging about really silly, inconsequential nonsense I take a personal interest than about matters of great depth and import that affect us all. I don’t know what I could say about the shooting that would be worth the time it would take for me to type or you to read. I can come out strongly against the murder of innocent little children but I would also like to believe that such a stance more or less can be assumed without fanfare. I can say that my heart breaks for everyone who lost loved ones on Friday, especially the parents who grieve for sons and daughters not much older than my own children.

That’s one part that’s so hard to reckon with when I try to put something into words. It’s the nature of my thought process, maybe the nature of writing itself, to relate things to my own frame of reference. I can’t help it. I can’t think about the mothers and fathers of Newtown without wondering how I would feel if my son were taken from me violently and without warning. The wondering doesn’t get very far at all before my brain slams down impregnable steel doors and says, “No, no, absolutely not, not even hypothetically, do not torture yourself with something guaranteed to drive you screaming directly out of your mind.” But even so, I feel like it’s unfair to dwell even for a second on my own feelings, when I have the luxury of imagining something that is all too real for others. If I write about anything, I should write about the survivors. But I can’t write about something I don’t understand, and I don’t have the first clue how to comprehend either what happened on Friday or what is supposed to happen now for those who have no choice but to go on.

And yet. To say absolutely nothing, to go on blogging about books and movies and football and pets and getting ready for Christmas and jumping through social and professional hoops at work, just feels wrong. It feels petty, as if I could not care less about even acknowledging that a deeply disturbing tragedy just occurred. It’s tempting all the same, because as I’ve already said, if I resolve to say something I’m at a loss as to what I’m supposed to say. There’s no international charity I can link to for pledging to relief efforts, no political movement I can urge people to support to guarantee this never happens again, no profound life lesson I wish everyone would draw from the collective experience. I’ve spent just about all of my life looking for bright sides and silver linings but I don’t expect to be able to pull one out here.

There’s an old line that often echoes in my head: sometimes it just feels good to be human. In context it’s a reference to acting with compassion even when it might be more materially beneficial to do the opposite, especially for someone who is rarely compassionate at all, for whom embracing the things that unite us all is a costly luxury. I don’t believe I’ve ever considered the flipside of that philosophy before, the notion that sometimes it feels terrible to be human, sometimes compassion and a sense of unity brings with it overwhelming pain and sadness. Clearly right now that is very true. But above and beyond how it feels, good or bad, I can never doubt that it’s important to be human. And that’s about all I can manage to wrap my head around right now. Both on behalf of those most deeply affected by it, and for my own sake, I’m devastated by the tragedy visited on Newtown, CT. That is, and should be, completely unremarkable, because you can’t call yourself a human being and not feel the same way. And I judge it better to stand up and be human and say so in this moment than to say anything else, or to say nothing at all.

Sunday, December 16, 2012

The Week in Queen (Conclusion)

I only heard one Queen song in the entire past week ("Somebody to Love" on 102.7 Jack FM, about 8:35 pm on Monday as I headed out to Target to buy more lights for the Christmas tree) which might be attributable to any number of things. Certainly one factor was changing the station on the sleep-aiding clock radio in the little girl's room, to an adult contempo station that basically never plays anything by Mr. Mercury's crew. There's also the reasonable expectation that some weeks are going to be well above average just as others are well below; you sit down at the roulette table betting on black enough times, sooner or later you're going to see it come up red ten times in a row. Plus there's the inevitable Christmas creep in this second full week of December, with the holiday music stations on both the commercial band and the satellite radio getting a lot of airings in our home and cars. But I also have to allow for the possibility that the universe is trying to tell me something about retiring this bit before it wears out its welcome (too late?) and who am I to argue?

So, ultimately and at the very least, I think I proved that I'm not crazy for thinking that I hear a lot of Queen without actively seeking it out. Maybe not every single day, but four or five times a week clearly qualifies as "a lot". (I also, in the process of paying close attention to the songs in the background for a month and a half, unscientifically determined that Billy idol and ZZ Top get ludicrous amounts of airplay as well.) And, as I think I've demonstrated in these posts, Queen deserves to be remembered and re-played because they made some great music. Maybe not life- or landscape-altering, but pretty great.

And in the course of this mini-project, I did a fair amount of research in the interest of fact-checking myself, and I did learn a few things. That always retroactively justifies energy expended as far as I'm concerned. As a parting example, and to bring things full-circle with the "Christmas creep" comment above, I updated my Christmas iPod playlist this weekend, and I added "Thank God It's Christmas" by Queen. This of course doesn't count as just happening to hear a Queen song, as I deliberately sought it out, but I'm not sure I would have done that if I hadn't been so highly focused on the band's legacy lately, which put "Thank God It's Christmas" on my radar screen.

So now I can go back to only half-listening to the radio and not have to stress about illuminating the various facets of Queen's discography with 500 new words a week through the holidays. But it was fun to have a specifically musical theme to keep up with for a while there, so I wouldn't rule out the possibility of something similar coming into rotation in the new year. We shall see!

Friday, December 14, 2012

Ultimately, it's all trivial

I know I say it often enough that it has lost whatever explanatory punch it may have once possessed, but this has been a bit of a week. Yesterday I had a doctor’s appointment which was just early enough in the afternoon that the earliest VRE homeward still would have gotten me there too late, so I rode the Metro, carpooling on 66 both ways with my wife. Of course we had to drop off the kids at daycare in the morning, whereas usually I get gone before they are ready to go (sometimes before they’re awake), and that delayed my arrival. Combined with early departure, that made for a pretty short day. The day before yesterday was my office holiday party, basically a three and a half hour lunch that abridged my daily desktime pretty significantly. The nights this week haven’t been incredibly out-of-control, but throw in some attempts at getting Christmas shopping done here and a bedtime tantrum there and, well, here we are.

But before we move on I do want to provide my annual report on the work party. It was in many ways virtually identical to last year’s; the price of admission had gone up a couple bucks, but the bar was still cash, and the yankee gift swap was still awkward enough that I was glad to have opted out, and otherwise the same obligatory level of merriment was had by all. I should note that one of the lamer gifts in the swap pile turned out to be a large bottle of Listerine, which is one of those things that makes you wonder if the responsible party was trying to be subversively hilarious or simply forgot about the gift swap until the morning of and ran down to the overpriced local convenience store intent on spending $10 as quickly as possible. In any case, Ms. Nonsense was the unlucky sap who unwrapped the Listerine, and although she tried (obnoxiously) to entice others to steal it from her of course she was stuck with it. I am a terrible person, and therefore this all amused me tremendously.

This year the mid-meal diversion was a trivia contest (along the lines of a pub challenge, with each table working as a team) and my table won, but the only prize for that was bragging rights. Presumably this was to avoid any acrimony over the fact that it would have been all too easy to cheat with smartphones and whatnot, although I assure you my table did no such thing. What I found most interesting was that the trivia questions were very much in line with the official DoD policy requiring our gathering to be a holiday party and not explicitly a Christmas party, and thus there were Hanukkah and Kwanzaa questions in the mix as well. Of course this was somewhat undermined by the fact that the member of the organizing committee who read the questions aloud was utterly incapable of pronouncing “dreidel” correctly, but as token efforts at diversity go, I suppose it could have been worse.

I ended up sitting at a table which was only half-full (yet all dudes), between a slightly-older-than-me co-worker whom I’ve known since I came onboard this contract, and who is a really nice guy (let’s call him Frank), and another co-worker (I dub him Melvin) who I guess is about my age but with whom I’ve never really interacted. And I doubt I will do so much by choice ever again. As always, life among the cubicles tends to represent the highest incidence of contact with annoying individuals, as we all have very little control over whom our co-workers may be and furthermore are likely to have little if anything in common with them beyond cashing paychecks with the same signature on them. But Melvin happens to represent one of my higher-ranking pet peeves: the nerd who is bad at being a nerd.

Since it’s Friday anyway, allow me to relate a Random Anecdote from my college days. Way back in my freshman year, the dorms were not wired for internet access (actually that was true for all four years I was there) and in order to check one’s school-assigned e-mail one had to go to a designated computer lab, where there were anywhere between eight and a couple dozen public terminals. One day I had gone to a lab and while I was there two other students struck up a conversation about (I know this sounds like something straight out of bad sitcom writing 101 but I swear to Lucas and Roddenberry it happened totally organically) Star Wars versus Star Trek space battles. And one of my fellow students kept repeating what he considered an important point about trans-spatial something-or-others but he was pronouncing it ‘SPAT-ee-ull’. And to give his interlocutor full credit, he nodded along the first few times but finally was compelled to say “You know it’s pronounced ‘spay-shull’, right?”

So here’s the thing: if you’re going to carry on long, loud, animated conversations in public about imaginary technology and cross-fictional hypothetical showdowns, you’re totally owning the fact that you’re a nerd. And, more likely than not, a nerd who is bad at fitting in to non-nerd situations, which is not all that uncommon. Perhaps due to that commonness, it’s also not that annoying (to me). But if you’re going to do all of the above and yet get things wrong, facts or definitions or basic pronunciations, then you are still very much a nerd but good grief, you are not even very good at that. And those kinds of nerds are rare, but they do in fact exist, and fnord help me but they test my patience.

So, getting back to my unfortunate companion at the holiday party Melvin, for whom a certain social awkwardness and clueless arrogance were his long suits, while little things like accurate facts, correct definitions, and proper pronunciation were in shorter supply. Also, he was bad with names. Frank and I got to talking about movies at one point and that ended up being the focus of much of our conversation. Melvin participated in the conversation as well but inevitably lowered the discourse quite a bit. At one point Frank told a story about how recently he was talking to a much younger colleague and asked her if she knew who Cary Grant was, and she said “The British pop singer?” meaning of course Carrie Grant. The existence of the elder statesman of American cinema was not something of which the young lady was aware, and Frank and I chuckled a bit about kids today, and how they have these knowledge gaps concerning someone who was once considered one of the biggest leading man movie stars in the world. To which Melvin added, “And greatest dancers, ever!” which threw me and Frank for a loop until we realized he was thinking of Fred Astaire. That might have just rolled off my back except it was just the tip of the iceberg.

The crazy thing was that Frank really wanted to talk about the AFI Top 100 list of movies and how many movies that are considered classics were made back in the 40’s, 50’s and 60’s and how few recent films are revered the same way. Of course after the year I’ve spent digging deep into the classic canon of cinema I was really in a good position to comment on just about any movie Frank might bring up, which just made Melvin’s off-point bloviating all the more painful. At one point Melvin asked if a certain director had made Reservoir Dogs - I wish I could remember who Melvin named, but obviously he did not come up with Quentin Tarantino. I admit I can be an arrogant nerd myself, and I’ve kind of been that way since I was about ten years old, but Melvin reminded me of why I am the way I am. I may rant and rave to excess, often about arcane stuff very few other people care about, but at least when I do so I get the details right. And that is not universally true of those who talk as much or as obscurely as I do.

At a certain point I stopped correcting Melvin when he would whiff on actor’s names or movie titles or whathaveyou, and left things in Frank’s hands, as he would either catch the gist and help Melvin get back on track, or shrug and move on. And then (possibly apropos of nothing as my mind was wandering) Melvin asked Frank if he had ever heard of “rickrolling”. I was dead certain that Frank was just old enough to be firmly outside the demographics who would possibly be familiar with the term, and I turned out to be right. So Melvin proceeded to explain it to him. Except …

OK, first of all, Melvin tried introducing the concept by saying it was a meme. BUT HE MISPRONOUNCED “MEME”. He pronounced it as if it were French. Hey, I took French in high school, too. Plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose, non? I can see the source of confusion, but really it’s just a coincidence and how can you never have heard someone say “meem” out loud? So, strike one. Then, of course, he could not come up with Rick Astley’s name. At least he was paying enough attention to know that rickrolling must involve Rick somebody, and then Frank thought he meant Ric Ocasek, and Melvin said “Yes!” and Frank said “From The Cars!” and Melvin said “No!” while I sat between them and squeezed my eyes trying to make my head not explode. And then Melvin explained that Rick Whoever had once recorded a song with Eric Idle … no, hold on, Melvin corrected himself, it was Billy Idol (you guys, I SWEAR I am not embellishing this in the slightest) and so rickrolling was sharing this old video of the duet between Rick and Billy.

Rickrolling. From Wikipedia. Wherein you may see that there is both a little more to it than that, and that it in no way involves Billy Idol (or Eric Idle), a purely extraneous and bizarrely wrong addition on Melvin’s part. Maybe someday Frank will look it up for himself out of curiosity. Probably not. I also realized it was trivial enough to let it pass without comment at the time, although obviously it’s still a bit of a burr in my brain.

Plenty of things can set my eyes to rotating in deeply aggrieved orbits, but one thing I furiously loathe is anti-intellectualism, and anyone who thinks book learnin’ ain’t all that or similar. And I think that’s why nerds like Melvin get under my skin so, so badly: because they help to make the anti-intellectuals’ case. If all you ever do is read, with minimal social interaction and conversation, then yeah, maybe you have never heard another human being say “meme” out loud, and you have only your own narrow interpretations to go on, and when you do inevitable come in contact with fellow Earthlings it will be an uphill struggle to communicate and relate. I would never suggest that books can completely replace life experience, any more than I would suggest the opposite. They complement one another, and either in isolation has deficiencies. Everyone would be better off pursuing both the received wisdom of recorded knowledge and the unique sensations of first-hand perception as much as they possibly can. Even knowing that, I’m partial to the former and tend to struggle more with the latter, and I’m protective of the former as well. People who embody the worst aspects of the life of the mind, the failings without the redeeming qualities, they just give me more to be defensive about. I think the general holiday cheer helped me keep calm enough to spare Melvin a major bile-spitting “You are the worst!” tirade. Another Christmas miracle!

Then again, this year broke my door-prize winning streak at these office parties, so maybe karma had something to do with repaying my less-than-kind thoughts of indignant superiority, as well. It’s a mysterious universe we live in.

Tuesday, December 11, 2012

Bad case of the you-know-whats

You would think after my dunderheaded adventures in losing and finding my VRE ticket last week that I would have been galvanized to make sure every element of my kit was good to go on Monday morning. But sadly you would have overestimated me.

Over the course of the weekend I managed to forget that on Friday I had worn my heavy winter coat to work. Most likely this slipped my mind due to the fact that the weekend weather was so unseasonably mild, which, don’t get me wrong, was a boon that allowed me to hang the outside Christmas lights on the house easily enough. But that same mild weather was still in effect early Monday morning, and thus I reached for the same light jacket I had been using Saturday and Sunday. And thus the badge which grants me access to the building remained in the inner pocket of my heavy winter coat, at home, as I made my way in to the Big Gray.

So I slapped my forehead when I got to the front door and reported to the security office, surrendered my driver’s license as collateral, and got a temporary visitor pass. At that point I required an escort, but as luck (or my poor planning skills) would have it again, my cell phone battery was completely dead. Therefore I could not call any of my co-workers to come down to play minder for me, because even if I had asked to borrow the phone in the security office, I don’t have any of my co-worker’s numbers memorized since they are stored on my phone. Instead I simply assumed sooner or later I would recognize someone coming into the lobby where I was cooling my heels, and fortunately, one of my co-workers walked into the building about five minutes later, so that worked about as well as I could have hoped.

So I spent eight hours at my desk, technically forbidden from wandering outside of the office suite unaccompanied (also logistically, as the suite doors would have locked behind me if I had left and only a badge can swipe them open). Luckily I had brought my lunch. I also had brought my phone charger, as usual, so I got through the day and got things back on track as best I could.

Until the end of the day, of course. The co-worker who had escorted me up had assured me I should let her know if I needed anything else throughout the day, and since I didn’t take her up on it at any other point I felt only slightly abashed asking if she could escort me back down to the lobby. She agreed and we left the suite, got an elevator, rode as it stopped on almost every floor, and finally hit ground level … at which point I realized I had left my cell phone connected to the charger on my desk. Somehow I managed to convey this to my co-worker without spontaneously combusting in shame, and to her credit she just laughed at me and escorted me back upstairs so that I could grab my phone, then escorted me back downstairs again, when we were finally able to part ways.

I really don’t understand what the difference is between having my badge on my person and being allowed to move around the building of my own solo volition. I know that such a thing as visitor badges with No Escort Required exist, but I don’t understand why that isn’t the default provision for people who work in the building every single day and happen to forget their badge once in a blue moon. With a visitor badge I still wouldn’t be able to unlock the suite door but at least at the end of the day I’d be allowed to show myself out without interrupting anyone else. You would think they could keep a computerized record of who works in the building and has a badge issued in their name and look people up when they forget their badges and give them hall-pass privileges, but no. In fact the sign-in/sign-out process for the visitor badges literally involves a pen and sheets of paper on a clipboard. I suppose it’s just not enough of a priority to get any bleeding-edge upgrades.

Anyway, you would think that with no recourse to physically wander off I would have had plenty of time yesterday to blog, but didn’t I lead this whole thing off puncturing the value of “you would think”s? This is just going to be a wobbly week (tomorrow is the office Christmas party) and the blog is going to reflect that. When things get back to mostly normal (I did manage to remember everything I needed today, at least) you’ll be the first to know.

Sunday, December 9, 2012

The Week in Queen (6)

There’s a profound amount of overlap between Queen’s discography and Hollywood movies. This shouldn’t be particularly surprising, given Queen’s inherent theatricality, but it’s widespread enough to be noteworthy (or at least as noteworthy as the frequency with which I still hear Queen songs on the radio and other accidental sources to this day). The overt connections include music which Queen wrote specifically for certain movies, multiple songs for the original Highlander film and basically the entire soundtrack for Flash Gordon. On the one had the existence of the Queen Flash Gordon score makes me wonder why the trend of allowing elite rock bands to compose the backing tracks for films, especially action sci-fi films, never quite caught on; on the other hand, Flash Gordon as rendered by Queen might have simply been lightning in a bottle.

And then there’s the occasional song here and there co-opted as part of a film’s soundtrack, like “Bohemian Rhapsody” in Wayne’s World or “Don’t Stop Me Now” in Shaun of the Dead. Or, perhaps a little more obscure, “One Vision” in Iron Eagle. Wayne’s World was fortuitously timed to be pitched directly at me and my cohorts, since we were seniors in high school when the movie was released and both able and eager to drive around in one of my friend’s cars re-enacting the “Bohemian Rhapsody” sing-along headbanging scene. But Iron Eagle may have been even more of a perfect direct hit on our young minds and hearts, as it came out six years earlier; seventeen-year-olds may be impressionable fad-followers, but eleven-year-olds can tap into their own kind of unfettered crazy when something gets its hooks in them.

You may have never seen or even heard of Iron Eagle, so I will do my best to bring you all up to speed: it is a child’s wish fulfillment fantasy in the immediate wake of Top Gun mania. It is about a high school senior who is an Air Force brat, whose dad is shot down over a hostile Middle eastern country, and when the US Government makes it clear they are not going to risk an international incident, the son and his plucky fellow brats, along with one grizzled AF vet with a heart of gold, come up with a plan that involves sneaking around the base, obtaining classified information, falsifying flight plans, and getting the kid and the vet airborne in two armed-to-the-teeth F-15s to go rescue the dad before he is executed and give the Gulf bad guys a major black eye in the process. Cue explosions, rock and roll, and God Bless America. It also has a weirdly star-studded cast (including Lou Gossett Jr. as the grizzled vet). I haven’t watched Iron Eagle in decades but I would sit down for a viewing in a heartbeat if the occasion came up, even though I am positive the film is pretty terrible. I would probably even cheer along again.

“One Vision”, if I remember correctly, gets played through in its entirety in the movie, during a sequence where the high school senior, Doug, is using a flight/combat simulator on the base (it’s technically only for pilots but since he’s Colonel Masters’ son he gets to sneak in and use it whenever he wants). I distinctly remember (again, this was a 1986 flick) that Doug had a large Walkman and a Velcro belt he used to strap the tape player to his thigh while he was using the simulator, which to my sixth-grade eyes was totally badass. Doug hops in the simulator, fires up “One Vision”, goes through a mission program, and gets shot down right as the song reaches its final notes. The sequence, like the movie overall, is fairly dumb yet also an exhilarating thrill. And it burned the song into my brain, as did the video for the song on MTV, which of course made liberal use of footage from the movie, as those synergistic pairings used to work back in the day.

You’ll notice “One Vision” hasn’t appeared in any of my weekly trackings, and I doubt it ever will. It isn’t considered one of the everlasting hits, much as Iron Eagle has been relegated to the discount dvd bin of history. But I have a soft spot in my heart for it, from back when I was young enough to think that fighter pilot was the coolest job in the world, even though it was so simple any moderately industrious teenager could handle it.

And here's the week that was!

Monday: Borderline Queen-free? Gruden didn't namedrop his favorite song during the MNF broadcast, but at one point I could hear "We Will Rock You" echoing across FedEx Field. I suppose if I counted three seconds worth of a song heard before I swatted the snooze button last week, I can count a good ten to fifteen seconds here.

Tuesday, 7:00 am: "Fat Bottomed Girls" on 102.7 Jack FM as I was driving the kids to daycare.

Wednesday: Queen-free.

Thursday, 7:50 pm: "Fat Bottomed Girls" on Big 100 FM, heard through the wall playing in the little girl's bedroom as I was putting the little guy to bed. Also, about half an hour earlier as I was still in the little girl's room and settling her down with a little walkin' and rockin', Big 100 ran an ad for their next Live In Concert program for this coming Saturday night, with Queen as the headliner. The ad contained snippets of live versions of "We Will Rock You", "Another One Bites the Dust", "Bohemian Rhapsody", and "We Are the Champions" (in that order, lest you think I'm arbitrarily splitting up the natural "WWRY/WATC" pairing). I doubt I will tune in, personally, but I'm duly reporting the incident.

Friday, 4:50 pm: "Under Pressure" on 102.7 Jack FM as I drove home from the train station.

Saturday, 12:20 pm: "We Will Rock You"/"We Are the Champions" on Big 100 FM during the little girl's naptime.

Sunday: Queen-free.

Saturday, December 8, 2012

Saturday Grab Bag Seventeen Shopping Days Left

It's been a while since I talked about the recommendation algorithms of websites, but of course I am still obsessed with it and think about it all the time. I had a phenomenal run-in with this particular instance of computer logic this week. Amazon alerted me to the availability (and indeed, the very existence) of the following product:

Feel free to check out the product listing yourself, but basically this is specialized equipment which you might find in a home bar. It's Heineken-emblazoned, and while I am fond of many different types and styles of beer, I don't particularly care for that brand. Which got me to wondering how exactly Amazon concluded it needed to get this in front of my eyeballs. Fortunately, Amazon is at least semi-transparent (translucent?) about these things, and when something is recommended you also get a link to information about the whys and wherefores, as well as the option to "Fix" the recommendation. (E.g. if Amazon keeps recommending Blake Shelton albums because you bought your aunt a Miranda Lambert album once, in spite of your personal distaste for "country" music, you can indicate that the purchase was a gift for someone else and not indicative of your own personal tastes. You probably already knew that, I just never fail to find that pretty nifty.)

So, curiosity piqued, I clicked on the Why? link and was informed that Amazon had based its recommendation off the fact that I had recently viewed a certain style of baby gate with built-in pet door. I hadn't even bought that gate (I think I got as far as adding it to my shopping cart, but later deleted it.) So, a reaction in three parts:

1. There is seemingly no more connection between a pet-doored baby gate and a set of beertender tubes than the connection between any two given products located by opening a catalog twice at random.

2. However, in my case, there's a fairly straight-line connection. We recently relocated the little guy's train table to the basement, which is also where my bar is set up. This has led directly to me working on organizing the bar a bit better, if only to make it easier to secure the whole thing against inquisitive little fingers. It has also led to some brainstorming about how to (a) let the little guy play by himself in the basement while (b) keeping his little sister (and soon enough his baby brother) from tumbling down the basement stairs after him while also (c) leaving the door open so that whichever grown-up is home/upstairs can hear if the little guy needs something while also (d) preventing the dogs from wandering downstairs and helping themselves to the litter boxes' contents while also (e) permitting the cats continuous access to said litter boxes. So, bar supplies and barriers which are sound/cat-permeable yet crawler/toddler/dog-proof? Yes, those thoughts have crossed my mind in close proximity to one another.

3. But how in the deepest data-mining hells did Amazon know that???

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I hate to put up a beer-labeled post where all I do is badmouth a certain variety, so I would also like to add that on Wednesday night this week, I had some friends over for gaming, and one of my buddies (who, full disclosure, has a professional association with the brewery in question) brought me some Starr Hill The Gift because he figured it was up my alley. Indeed it is! So, The Gift gets my Undiscerning-and-Cretinous-Palate Stamp of Approval.

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Speaking of gifts, on Tuesday night, in the absence of anything else remotely watchable on tv, my wife and I returned yet again to our Buffy the Vampire Slayer re-watch project. This may very qualify as egregious misuse of mental resources, but I do keep a bookmark in the back of my mind re: which episode we need to pick up with, and I was legitimately looking forward to our next spin of the dvd's because we were up to the episode The Wish, which not only introduces Anya the Vengeance Demon (one of my favorite characters) but also invokes an alternate reality (one of my favorite tropes). It occurred to me on the second watching that The Wish is really a dark and twisted version of It's a Wonderful Life (actually It's a Wonderful Life gets pretty dark, too, Christmas standard status notwithstanding), since the alternate reality hinges on the idea that Buffy never came to Sunnydale and thus the Master vampire began a reign of terror and indiscriminate feeding. Kinda like George never being born and Mr. Potter's subsequent reign of terror. Have I mentioned I love It's a Wonderful Life, too? The interesting wrinkle in The Wish is that it's not Buffy at the end of her rope who wishes herself out of the picture, it's Cordelia in a fit of pique. Perhaps in a separate post I can unpack the significance of that.

At any rate, my wife and I pressed on to the following episode, Amends, which actually is the Christmas episode from Season 3! I had no idea, and yet there we were watching the story of regrets and redemption and miraculous Christmas snowfall (which prevents Angel from being immolated at dawn since the sunrise is obscured), well within the comfort zone of appropriate Yuletide merriment. Maybe not a full-on Christmas miracle, but certainly a happy accident.

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And just as a follow-up, I can happily report that the little guy stayed up and watched the Grinch last night AND cajoled us into letting him watch it again this afternoon, on the logic that last night he had simply sat on the edge of the couch in rapt attention, and thus he needed a second viewing in which he could run around and act along with the story, exactly as Mickey's Clubhouse has taught him is de rigeur.