JW,
I'll be the first to admit that the post-2004 Red Sox overdid things a bit. The bandwagon jumping, the movie, the simultaneous success of Boston's other franchises--all contributed to the fact that a lot of people I know are positively gleeful about yesterday's news that David Ortiz and Manny Ramirez tested positive for PEDs the season before (and probably the season of) their championship. Forget the fact that the '03 and '04 Yankees were practically batting with giant syringes. The Red Sox are tainted, and we're reinstituting the curse.
Here's the thing, though: I just can't bring myself to care that the Sox were juicing. I watched every minute of that ALCS. Hell, I watched every minute of the Wild Card round and the World Series. Our twenty-five guys beat your twenty-five guys, period. I don't care if they did meth between innings. They won. I saw it.
Bear with me for a moment while I explain. More than any other game, baseball works on three distinct levels. Aesthetically, it's far and away the most pleasing of our major sports. Its sights, sounds, and smells are enshrined in the American experience, and while the fact of steroid use may offend our notion of purity (itself an absurdity), it doesn't change the perfection of the grass, the crispness of the uniforms, or the crack of the bat. Without the aesthetic beauty of baseball, the regular season wouldn't exist as a spectator event. The games mean nothing. Who would go?
Secondly, and most importantly for the purposes of our discussion, baseball works because we care who wins individual games . . . down the stretch and in the playoffs. As such, we're concerned about fairness. Or are we?! After all, it's no accident that the Pittsburgh Pirates haven't won the World Series since 1979. Consider the fact that the difference in 2009 payroll between the top spender (the Yankees) and the bottom (the Marlins) is over 164 million. In last season's NFL, by comparison, the spread was 68 million. In the NBA, it was 56. Simply put, the gripes of even a squeaky clean Yankees team would be nothing compared to those of the Milwaukee Brewers. They got outspent in 2004 by 155 million.
Finally, baseball works on a historical level. Even I'll admit that it's fun to sit around arguing about which era was more dominant, which players most clutch. Sadly, the very notion of comparing players from different eras is a fallacy. I know I'm not breaking any new ground here, but factors like the historical game's racial barrier, the vast improvement in conditioning regiments, and the watering down of the leagues through expansion (to name just a few) have made inter-era comparisons ridiculous. Hell, forget inter-era. The ballparks are different sizes! What, exactly, are we supposed to be comparing?
Rather than parse our many asterisks, future generations (quite comfortable with their own performance enhancing drugs, by the way) may wonder what the big deal was. After all, athlete are no longer role models so much as emblems of the highest possible financial and cultural success. And success requires sacrifices. Even ones that make the rest of us a little queasy.
-GM
GM,
I don't care for your attitude. Let's get some things straight. One, steroids have been on baseball's banned substance list since 1991. Well, so was cocaine, but few would consider that type of usage to be cheating the game of baseball. So there's an argument that Mark McGwire, Sammy Sosa, and Barry Bonds did nothing but break the law and that they didn't actually cheat. It's a poor argument, but it has a hint of legitimacy. It wasn't until 2002 that the slowest, weakest, most indecisive commissioner I've seen in my lifetime, Bud Selig, managed to begin penalizing players for positive tests. Even then, it was a joke, but there was no mistaking it--baseball's stance was that the use of performance-enhancing drugs was cheating, just like a spitball or a corked bat.
Ask Ben Johnson, Floyd Landis, and the Michigan basketball program what happens when you cheat. All of a sudden, you didn't win! That's right! All of a sudden, there's some "retroactivity" in the bullpen. Not everyone on those Wolverines teams were cheaters, but as far as the NCAA and the university itself is concerned, those Final Four appearances in 1992 and 1993 didn't happen. I have a problem with your "our guys beat your guys" attitude--starting with the fact that you have no reason to be a Red Sox fan. But I disagree with it anyway. They scored more runs, but if you cheat, and you get caught cheating, no matter when, you don't win. It's only baseball's stubbornness that prevents them from taking away Alex Rodriguez's 2003 MVP award. He was caught cheating that year! Imagine if the Tour de France rules committee said, "Floyd, we realized you cheated and that your cheating probably allowed you to win, but we're gonna let you keep your title." Would anyone ever, ever have reason to believe in the legitimacy of a race again?! Would they even keep watching???
I demand the same type of integrity from baseball (and demanding that baseball keep up with professional cycling's character isn't asking all that much). My respect and interest for the game has withered significantly--not because players tried to get an edge, but because the sport has repeatedly failed to drop the hammer. To my knowledge, no member of the 2004 Red Sox has a positive test from 2004. The same goes for the 2007 club. As soon as they find one, though, they're stripped of their title in my mind, and baseball should impose the same penalty. It is a big deal.
Finally, to answer your point about fairness, I'll talk to you like I would a liberal:
Not everything is going to be equal. Some people are dealt better hands than others. Let's look to be fair first, equal never. There is a difference.
-JW
Friday, July 31, 2009
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Aiming For a Fat, Free America
GM,
Now that the Democrats control absolutely everything in this country except local radio, it looks like there's an actual possibility that we'll see the day of federal fat taxes. Lucky folks like you and I had actual parents to limit our junk food intake, but, realizing that some have still not realized the dangers of excess calories, Uncle Sam may soon assume the role for the rest of the population. As I try to process this and determine which likely liberal motivation would aggravate me the most, I think of a few possibilities.
1. The social agenda to save the world from itself. I've heard the left utter phrases like "Some people don't know better" and "People of color are at higher risk for diabetes." While we're at it, why not institute a "didn't look both ways before crossing the street" tax? After all, it's dangerous, and if the citizen-appointed, self-expanded federal government can't guide us as individuals to common sense, who can?
2. To add fairness to the system. This is clearly the most noble. Perhaps some liberal is out there thinking, "Of course we need to socialize health care, but if we do, we better make sure the sicker people pay more." This can't be the primary reason for wanting a fat tax, can it? I thought the left preferred equality to fairness, so what's the point of socializing health care if we're going to hold people personally accountable for their actions?!
3. To raise $522 billion to "help offset the cost of Obamacare." Now here's a liberal agenda I can believe. Make up for unwarranted spending with unfair taxing.
Some are suggesting that companies, rather than consumers, pay a tax for producing fatty foods, which is even more offensive to any supporter of the free market. But regardless of who pays the initial tax, the cost will be split between the producer and the consumer, with the ratio depending on the steepness of the demand curve. To simplify, McDonald's will definitely effectively pass some of the tax onto the patron if it is taxed for making Big Macs. If it turns out, though, that Big Macs are like gasoline and will be demanded regardless of the price, it will pass almost all of that tax onto the consumer. It works the other way around too, assuming the feds tax consumption. This means people who were smart enough to take advantage of this nation's discipline problem won't be printing money anymore, and that's an
-JW
JW,
I'm torn between so many avenues of disgust, I hardly know where to begin. Yes, this nation is morbidly obese (see Mart, Wal), but just as laws can't make us moral, so taxes can't make us thin. We hear a lot about poverty these days, but the fact of the matter is that Americans are still wealthy enough to live almost entirely on nicotine and lard. Tax us all you want, but we're not going to stop smoking or eating burgers.
Sadly, this means that a new tax on junk food is probably the least of our worries. The next step will be
While I could go on about this at some length, I'd like to turn my attention to the abject stupidity of the American citizenry. My goodness! As recent polls have made clear, Americans believe overwhelmingly that "the quality of their own care [will] decline if the government [creates] a program that covers everyone." Yet the 69% of respondents who answered thus are joined by the 55% who think that Obama's ideas on the subject are better than anyone else's. Do they not know what he believes?! Are they so resigned to getting screwed that they're supporting Obama's plans over some unwritten, devilish alternative? Or, as I suspect, are they simply unable to understand the correlation between ideas? Or the economic fact of scarcity?
As always, Americans want full plates, free healthcare, low taxes, and endless choice. I predict we end up with none of those things.
-GM
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Not My Favre-orite
JW,
As you know, and as our readers have begun to guess, I’m a man of many contradictions. A (rebel) flag-waving Southerner, I dislike most Southern states. A college-educated twenty-something, I detest Barack Obama. A hearty fan of the political invention that was good ole’ boy George W. Bush, I roll my eyes at legitimate good ole’ boy Brett Favre.
Why the attitude? Perhaps it’s due to the potential ending of the Favre news-cycle-that-wouldn’t-die, a culture-defining moment on par with the lunar landing. Now that Favre seems ready to fade into the Mississippi sunset, I’m ready to declare something shocking. Excellence aside, I don’t particularly like the guy.
Hard to believe, isn’t it? Disliking Favre is like disliking fireworks: You’re okay 364 days a years, but once every July you’re just an a--hole. Here’s the thing, though. Favre is one of those guys whose legend has so far outpaced his actual accomplishments, they’re barely visible in the rear-view mirror. Yes, he’s great. Perhaps he’s even in the discussion for best ever. But he’s disgustingly, almost religiously admired by all, and he’s been the subject of waaaaay too much sports journalism. In the end, doesn’t that outweigh the good?
Look, I know the overexposure isn’t all Favre’s fault. Al Michaels, John Madden, and the rest of the fawning cretins who’ve covered him for the past eighteen years are largely to blame, as are the ESPN producers whose Favre-watch marathons have turned the guy into the sports equivalent of Chandra Levy. He practically has his own Sportscenter logo, for heaven’s sake! All joking aside, you’ve got to admit that sportscasters’ love of Favre is the most self-referential love the world has seen since George Foreman named his sons. Consider, for example, the following praise, edited for clarity:
“Favre hasn’t missed a start in all this time [that I’ve been covering the league].”
“I just love [talking about] that guy [for money].”
“He’s such an ambassador for the game [because he’s always in the news].”
“Everyone’s going to miss him [until Tom Brady’s first game back].”
I could go on, but I’d only be contributing to the problem, adding to the trillion words that will be written about the man between now and his inevitable 2010-2011 comeback. So perhaps I’ll leave it at this. Favre will be remembered not for his records (many of which Peyton Manning will surpass) but for his endless, dreadful waffling. For someone who did everything on the field but over-think things, that’s pretty sad.
-GM
GM,
How much can one really like a professional athlete anyway? You might watch a guy and say, "Man, I love the way he hustles," or, "His athleticism is unbelievable," or, "I'd love to just sit down and have a few beers with him." In those ways, I suppose it's possible to like LeBron James, or Phil Mickelson, or Manny Ramirez, or Brett Favre. When it comes down to it, though, we know very little about these guys as people--well, individually at least. Collectively, though, we can all assume they suck. Think about it. These are people who have had their egos stroked and fed since they were children. Few societies offer social rewards like ours to athletes. Right now, there are thousands of high school quarterbacks who are being given every possible indication that they're better than their peers, and most of them won't even play in college. Imagine a kid with pro potential! Is there any way he's not being shaped into the most arrogant bastard in his county?!
So what's to like about Brett Favre? Well, he wears Wrangler jeans (the FTC requires spokespersons to actually use the product they endorse), has a Southern accent (which seems to go well with football), appears to have fun playing the game, is not a criminal, and looks like he's actually trying to answer questions candidly when the media ask them. These things alone have caused many to love the man. They have caused me to assume he possesses higher character than most of his league mates. But I never doubted that he thought a lot of himself--even enough to make entire cities hold their breaths while he took his time. To be honest, I'm going to miss the drama. It was the only saving grace for ESPN programming in July last year. No offense, Title Town, USA.
-JW
As you know, and as our readers have begun to guess, I’m a man of many contradictions. A (rebel) flag-waving Southerner, I dislike most Southern states. A college-educated twenty-something, I detest Barack Obama. A hearty fan of the political invention that was good ole’ boy George W. Bush, I roll my eyes at legitimate good ole’ boy Brett Favre.
Why the attitude? Perhaps it’s due to the potential ending of the Favre news-cycle-that-wouldn’t-die, a culture-defining moment on par with the lunar landing. Now that Favre seems ready to fade into the Mississippi sunset, I’m ready to declare something shocking. Excellence aside, I don’t particularly like the guy.
Hard to believe, isn’t it? Disliking Favre is like disliking fireworks: You’re okay 364 days a years, but once every July you’re just an a--hole. Here’s the thing, though. Favre is one of those guys whose legend has so far outpaced his actual accomplishments, they’re barely visible in the rear-view mirror. Yes, he’s great. Perhaps he’s even in the discussion for best ever. But he’s disgustingly, almost religiously admired by all, and he’s been the subject of waaaaay too much sports journalism. In the end, doesn’t that outweigh the good?
Look, I know the overexposure isn’t all Favre’s fault. Al Michaels, John Madden, and the rest of the fawning cretins who’ve covered him for the past eighteen years are largely to blame, as are the ESPN producers whose Favre-watch marathons have turned the guy into the sports equivalent of Chandra Levy. He practically has his own Sportscenter logo, for heaven’s sake! All joking aside, you’ve got to admit that sportscasters’ love of Favre is the most self-referential love the world has seen since George Foreman named his sons. Consider, for example, the following praise, edited for clarity:
“Favre hasn’t missed a start in all this time [that I’ve been covering the league].”
“I just love [talking about] that guy [for money].”
“He’s such an ambassador for the game [because he’s always in the news].”
“Everyone’s going to miss him [until Tom Brady’s first game back].”
I could go on, but I’d only be contributing to the problem, adding to the trillion words that will be written about the man between now and his inevitable 2010-2011 comeback. So perhaps I’ll leave it at this. Favre will be remembered not for his records (many of which Peyton Manning will surpass) but for his endless, dreadful waffling. For someone who did everything on the field but over-think things, that’s pretty sad.
-GM
GM,
How much can one really like a professional athlete anyway? You might watch a guy and say, "Man, I love the way he hustles," or, "His athleticism is unbelievable," or, "I'd love to just sit down and have a few beers with him." In those ways, I suppose it's possible to like LeBron James, or Phil Mickelson, or Manny Ramirez, or Brett Favre. When it comes down to it, though, we know very little about these guys as people--well, individually at least. Collectively, though, we can all assume they suck. Think about it. These are people who have had their egos stroked and fed since they were children. Few societies offer social rewards like ours to athletes. Right now, there are thousands of high school quarterbacks who are being given every possible indication that they're better than their peers, and most of them won't even play in college. Imagine a kid with pro potential! Is there any way he's not being shaped into the most arrogant bastard in his county?!
So what's to like about Brett Favre? Well, he wears Wrangler jeans (the FTC requires spokespersons to actually use the product they endorse), has a Southern accent (which seems to go well with football), appears to have fun playing the game, is not a criminal, and looks like he's actually trying to answer questions candidly when the media ask them. These things alone have caused many to love the man. They have caused me to assume he possesses higher character than most of his league mates. But I never doubted that he thought a lot of himself--even enough to make entire cities hold their breaths while he took his time. To be honest, I'm going to miss the drama. It was the only saving grace for ESPN programming in July last year. No offense, Title Town, USA.
-JW
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
A Return to Vicksburg
GM,
Positively nothing gets me giddier about sports than NFL drama. A friend called me the morning the Terrell Owens “suicide attempt” story broke, and I was so overwhelmed with exhilaration that I could only squeak out four words: “I’m not working today.” I’m not saying I like it when Junior Seau makes borderline racist comments about LaDainian Tomlinson, when Bill Belichick cheats, when Plaxico Burress shoots himself, or when Brett Favre agonizes over the retirement decision for months on end, but I am saying these things make the world’s greatest league and sport that much better.
And as long as my team isn’t the victim of bad quarterback play—don’t worry; it has been… go Dolphins—I really enjoy the controversy it can deliver. This brings us to what should have been the lead: Michael Vick. No need to go into the history of why he’s been on the shelf, except to remind you that it’s almost been a thousand days since he last took a snap! And even then, his contribution to his team was questionable at best, harmful at worst. ESPN’s Sean Salisbury once insisted that Vick would eventually throw for 4,000 yards and run for 1,000 yards in the same season. This is just to remind you of the outrageous hype that surrounded Vick before the dog-fighting stuff broke. He was Superman to those who wanted to believe, the NFL’s version of Allen Iverson to those who knew better. And now, I get to sit back and watch as a few quarterback-desperate teams who don’t know better vie for the formerly highest-paid player in the game.
My top-four runners up are the Raiders, Jets, 49ers, and Buccaneers. These guys could use somebody. Unfortunately, while we would all squeal uncontrollably if Vick went to the Raiders, it won’t happen, as Al Davis considers JaMarcus Russell a franchise QB. The Jets seem to be content—not necessarily happy—with Kellen Clemens. I don’t think Mike Singletary has the patience for someone like Vick. As for the Bucs, I couldn’t tell you their head coach or QB situation with a gun to my head, so I’ll assume that’s a possibility. But there’s only one place that Michael Vick must end up: Buffalo.
Buffalo, New York! “They have football there?!” I assume some guys have been saying that because Trent Edwards keeps talking about how the media are actually covering the team now. Edwards, who won the title for “Worst QB Performance Ever Without Getting Benched” on a Monday night against Cleveland last year, will already have to deal with the aforementioned T.O. And I don’t have any particular disdain for Edwards—he really is terrible, though—but I doubt I’d be the only one praying that Vick and Owens wind up on the field together. “Abandon the running game early because you want to, late because you have to. It’s the V.T.O. Show, fellas.” It’ll look something like this when done correctly: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oVh0n03DnjQ. The rest of the highlights will come from the locker room and sidelines. I can’t wait.
-JW
JW,
You're right, of course, about Buffalo, though for comedic value, O-Town can't be beat. Just imagine the Moss jersey's urban appeal and multiply it by a million. Forget the mean streets of East Oakland. Gangstas will be wearing this s--t to the electric chair!
I'm surprised, by the way, that you neglected to mention T.O. rolling out the red carpet for Vick earlier this week, an overture that must have coincided with his realization that Trent Edwards is indeed his quarterback. Put yourself in 81's place for a moment and you'll see where this is going. Edwards' wild lobs could potentially be caught by a T.O. still in his prime, but nobody's catching Vick's bounce passes, and Owens knows that blame will be handed out accordingly.
See, that's the thing about the invention of the forward pass. A damnable nuisance, to be sure, it tends to limit those players whose throwing motion propels the ball downward. As things stand, T.O. likes to complain when he doesn't get enough touches. How's he going to feel when no one gets touches? Except for Vick, of course. And the turf. And the other team's safeties.
As far as I'm concerned, now is the time for Roger Goodell to declare that a Vick/Owens pairing is outside the best interest of the league. We're making up the story, for heaven's sake, and I'm already sick of hearing about it! Furthermore, why waste Vick on a washed-up brat like Owens when a washed-up fellow criminal like Marvin Harrison is just waiting for the opportunity?
Can't you just see it? Vick slinging rocks to Harrison as a tearful Tony Dungy looks on from the sideline and fans cower in their seats? Let's make it happen!
By the way, I'd forgotten about the Vick/Owens commercial, so thanks for the link. I wonder, does Vick's jersey really light up when he's about to throw a reckless pass? If so, can we use that information for gambling purposes?
-GM
Positively nothing gets me giddier about sports than NFL drama. A friend called me the morning the Terrell Owens “suicide attempt” story broke, and I was so overwhelmed with exhilaration that I could only squeak out four words: “I’m not working today.” I’m not saying I like it when Junior Seau makes borderline racist comments about LaDainian Tomlinson, when Bill Belichick cheats, when Plaxico Burress shoots himself, or when Brett Favre agonizes over the retirement decision for months on end, but I am saying these things make the world’s greatest league and sport that much better.
And as long as my team isn’t the victim of bad quarterback play—don’t worry; it has been… go Dolphins—I really enjoy the controversy it can deliver. This brings us to what should have been the lead: Michael Vick. No need to go into the history of why he’s been on the shelf, except to remind you that it’s almost been a thousand days since he last took a snap! And even then, his contribution to his team was questionable at best, harmful at worst. ESPN’s Sean Salisbury once insisted that Vick would eventually throw for 4,000 yards and run for 1,000 yards in the same season. This is just to remind you of the outrageous hype that surrounded Vick before the dog-fighting stuff broke. He was Superman to those who wanted to believe, the NFL’s version of Allen Iverson to those who knew better. And now, I get to sit back and watch as a few quarterback-desperate teams who don’t know better vie for the formerly highest-paid player in the game.
My top-four runners up are the Raiders, Jets, 49ers, and Buccaneers. These guys could use somebody. Unfortunately, while we would all squeal uncontrollably if Vick went to the Raiders, it won’t happen, as Al Davis considers JaMarcus Russell a franchise QB. The Jets seem to be content—not necessarily happy—with Kellen Clemens. I don’t think Mike Singletary has the patience for someone like Vick. As for the Bucs, I couldn’t tell you their head coach or QB situation with a gun to my head, so I’ll assume that’s a possibility. But there’s only one place that Michael Vick must end up: Buffalo.
Buffalo, New York! “They have football there?!” I assume some guys have been saying that because Trent Edwards keeps talking about how the media are actually covering the team now. Edwards, who won the title for “Worst QB Performance Ever Without Getting Benched” on a Monday night against Cleveland last year, will already have to deal with the aforementioned T.O. And I don’t have any particular disdain for Edwards—he really is terrible, though—but I doubt I’d be the only one praying that Vick and Owens wind up on the field together. “Abandon the running game early because you want to, late because you have to. It’s the V.T.O. Show, fellas.” It’ll look something like this when done correctly: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oVh0n03DnjQ. The rest of the highlights will come from the locker room and sidelines. I can’t wait.
-JW
JW,
You're right, of course, about Buffalo, though for comedic value, O-Town can't be beat. Just imagine the Moss jersey's urban appeal and multiply it by a million. Forget the mean streets of East Oakland. Gangstas will be wearing this s--t to the electric chair!
I'm surprised, by the way, that you neglected to mention T.O. rolling out the red carpet for Vick earlier this week, an overture that must have coincided with his realization that Trent Edwards is indeed his quarterback. Put yourself in 81's place for a moment and you'll see where this is going. Edwards' wild lobs could potentially be caught by a T.O. still in his prime, but nobody's catching Vick's bounce passes, and Owens knows that blame will be handed out accordingly.
See, that's the thing about the invention of the forward pass. A damnable nuisance, to be sure, it tends to limit those players whose throwing motion propels the ball downward. As things stand, T.O. likes to complain when he doesn't get enough touches. How's he going to feel when no one gets touches? Except for Vick, of course. And the turf. And the other team's safeties.
As far as I'm concerned, now is the time for Roger Goodell to declare that a Vick/Owens pairing is outside the best interest of the league. We're making up the story, for heaven's sake, and I'm already sick of hearing about it! Furthermore, why waste Vick on a washed-up brat like Owens when a washed-up fellow criminal like Marvin Harrison is just waiting for the opportunity?
Can't you just see it? Vick slinging rocks to Harrison as a tearful Tony Dungy looks on from the sideline and fans cower in their seats? Let's make it happen!
By the way, I'd forgotten about the Vick/Owens commercial, so thanks for the link. I wonder, does Vick's jersey really light up when he's about to throw a reckless pass? If so, can we use that information for gambling purposes?
-GM
Monday, July 27, 2009
All Over Again . . . And Again . . . And Again
JW,
Today’s sentiment is simple: Screw you, Yogi Berra.
That’s right, one of the most beloved imbeciles of all time has finally chapped my ass a smidge too red. His weapon? “De ja vu all over again,” a loathsome bit of malapropistic nonsense that jumped from the ESPN studio to the college classroom a few years ago and has now shown up in the online column of Stanley Fish (!) writing for the New York Times (!!). Believe me, I like fake wryness as much as the next guy, but there’s a limit to what one man can Berra. As my mother used to say, the first time’s funny, the second time’s silly, and the third time’s a spanking.
Here’s the thing about stupid phrases. Sure, they’re good for irony, but abuse them and they revert to stupid. The sophisticate’s task is constant vigilance, lest the expression reach its tipping point without his knowing it. With apologies to Fish, I’m pretty sure we’re there.
Consider, for example, my Google search, which shows roughly 15 million hits for “de ja vu” and 2 trillion for “de ja vu all over again”! (Okay, it’s half a million, but that’s still a big number. Damn big.) An actual phenomenon that spans languages and cultures is only thirty times more popular than a made-up piece of idiocy! It should be a thousand!
Won’t you join me in boycotting any television program, column, or person who uses this phrase ever again? It’ll be a loss, I know, but not an unbearable one. After all, Yogi got one thing right. If the world was perfect, it wouldn’t be.
-GM
GM,
For me, such a boycott would reduce my television watching--for a few days at least--to Comedy Central. And considering its affinity for one-season wonders (see Michael & Michael, Con, and The Naked Trucker and T-Bone Show), I would be forced to limit my viewing "pleasure" to Jon Stewart, Stephen Colbert, and South Park reruns. If ESPN and ESPN2 actually thought the third time was worthy of a spanking, then you wouldn't be the only one with a beet-red posterior. Chris Berman, Dick Vitale, Stuart Scott, Josh Elliot, Trey Wingo--the list of people who use this phrase goes on and on, and I have reason to believe Berman and Vitale actually fail to understand the joke. The redundancy of "De ja vu all over again" differs slightly from that of John Clayton and Magic Johnson's beloved "and also too" to start a sentence, and it's not quite as overplayed as the sarcastic, Wingo-crafted (I think) "And oh, by the way" or "This just in." It does, however, strike a certain nerve, especially when it's so overdone.
This is why ESPN2's First Take, while miserable from a standpoint of quality sports programming, is actually brilliant for those who enjoy watching Jay Crawford and Dana Jacobson attempt to overcome the awkwardness of what I can only assume is their own writing. And if you think the word "practice" can even be mentioned on that show without an Allen Iverson impression, you clearly haven't watched. Some people just don't understand that a joke depreciates in value. Try telling that to the "That's what she said" crowd. I was attempting (and failing) to convince people that joke had worn thin two and a half years ago!
GM, I would love to jump on your bandwagon and say "No more!" to mindless cliches and trite humor, but I already have to scroll through the Guide whenever I want to watch an NFL game on NBC, an NBA game on TNT, or any college football game that's not on ESPN because I simply don't know the channel numbers. My dependence on ESPN exceeds my irritation with it. Speaking of dependence and ESPN irritation, do you remember SportsCenter anchor Fred Hickman? He was actually the worst sports anchor I've ever seen outside of a student broadcast. Here's an incredibly interesting story about the guy: http://deadspin.com/5100372/the-curious-case-of-fred-hickman.
-JW
Today’s sentiment is simple: Screw you, Yogi Berra.
That’s right, one of the most beloved imbeciles of all time has finally chapped my ass a smidge too red. His weapon? “De ja vu all over again,” a loathsome bit of malapropistic nonsense that jumped from the ESPN studio to the college classroom a few years ago and has now shown up in the online column of Stanley Fish (!) writing for the New York Times (!!). Believe me, I like fake wryness as much as the next guy, but there’s a limit to what one man can Berra. As my mother used to say, the first time’s funny, the second time’s silly, and the third time’s a spanking.
Here’s the thing about stupid phrases. Sure, they’re good for irony, but abuse them and they revert to stupid. The sophisticate’s task is constant vigilance, lest the expression reach its tipping point without his knowing it. With apologies to Fish, I’m pretty sure we’re there.
Consider, for example, my Google search, which shows roughly 15 million hits for “de ja vu” and 2 trillion for “de ja vu all over again”! (Okay, it’s half a million, but that’s still a big number. Damn big.) An actual phenomenon that spans languages and cultures is only thirty times more popular than a made-up piece of idiocy! It should be a thousand!
Won’t you join me in boycotting any television program, column, or person who uses this phrase ever again? It’ll be a loss, I know, but not an unbearable one. After all, Yogi got one thing right. If the world was perfect, it wouldn’t be.
-GM
GM,
For me, such a boycott would reduce my television watching--for a few days at least--to Comedy Central. And considering its affinity for one-season wonders (see Michael & Michael, Con, and The Naked Trucker and T-Bone Show), I would be forced to limit my viewing "pleasure" to Jon Stewart, Stephen Colbert, and South Park reruns. If ESPN and ESPN2 actually thought the third time was worthy of a spanking, then you wouldn't be the only one with a beet-red posterior. Chris Berman, Dick Vitale, Stuart Scott, Josh Elliot, Trey Wingo--the list of people who use this phrase goes on and on, and I have reason to believe Berman and Vitale actually fail to understand the joke. The redundancy of "De ja vu all over again" differs slightly from that of John Clayton and Magic Johnson's beloved "and also too" to start a sentence, and it's not quite as overplayed as the sarcastic, Wingo-crafted (I think) "And oh, by the way" or "This just in." It does, however, strike a certain nerve, especially when it's so overdone.
This is why ESPN2's First Take, while miserable from a standpoint of quality sports programming, is actually brilliant for those who enjoy watching Jay Crawford and Dana Jacobson attempt to overcome the awkwardness of what I can only assume is their own writing. And if you think the word "practice" can even be mentioned on that show without an Allen Iverson impression, you clearly haven't watched. Some people just don't understand that a joke depreciates in value. Try telling that to the "That's what she said" crowd. I was attempting (and failing) to convince people that joke had worn thin two and a half years ago!
GM, I would love to jump on your bandwagon and say "No more!" to mindless cliches and trite humor, but I already have to scroll through the Guide whenever I want to watch an NFL game on NBC, an NBA game on TNT, or any college football game that's not on ESPN because I simply don't know the channel numbers. My dependence on ESPN exceeds my irritation with it. Speaking of dependence and ESPN irritation, do you remember SportsCenter anchor Fred Hickman? He was actually the worst sports anchor I've ever seen outside of a student broadcast. Here's an incredibly interesting story about the guy: http://deadspin.com/5100372/the-curious-case-of-fred-hickman.
-JW
Friday, July 24, 2009
Regular Season Baseball . . . Just Perfect!
JW,
I love regular season baseball. Mind you, I don't watch it particularly often, but the idea of it pleases me a great deal. There's something comforting about the summer-long battle of attrition that is the 162-game stretch. I like knowing that pitchers are winding up and batters swinging all around me, even if I have no interest in them. In a sense, regular season baseball is like really good elevator music. It's made to be ignored, but every so often a good riff catches your attention.
Such was the case yesterday, when Mark Buehrle pitched only the sixteenth perfect game of the modern era (distinguished from the pre-modern era by the fact that today's players don't work in the fields between games). I heard about the game the same way everyone else did--an ESPN ticker told me about it after the fact--and I spent the evening looking for highlights. Having found them, I'm ready to make a pronouncement about perfect games, and I hope you'll agree with it.
Perfect games, JW, are largely a matter of luck, and that's one of the reasons why we care about them. I've said it before, but most people care very little about effort. What we're interested in is that strange combination of skill and luck that makes great plays. Yes, DeWayne Wise's catch was ridiculous, but Wise would have been helpless if Gabe Kapler's potential home run had sailed three more inches. Three inches, and we'd already have forgotten the game, just like everyone but Expos fans and Nelson de la Rosa forgot within a week that Pedro Martinez pitched a perfect nine in '95 before Bip Roberts popped him for a double in the tenth. Free baseball? I think not.
So what are we to make of a sporting accomplishment so fickle, so dependant on the bounce of the ball and the competence of teammates? If only they depended also on pitchers' accomplishments in previous seasons, we could rename them the NBA MVP award.
-GM
GM,
There was a time I actually watched regular-season baseball. Well, two times. The first came when I was a small child and my parents wouldn't spring for cable. As a 7-year-old, I would check the TV schedule every week to see which network would be willing to show a Saturday or Sunday ballgame because I loved watching the pros so much--probably because my coach-pitch games were riddled with embarrassing strikeouts and errors. Granted, I didn't have much else to do at that age, but I actually planned around televised regular-season baseball games. Then we got cable, and then the strike came, and then I got some semblance of a life, and then we were only watching games to see if Mark McGwire would break the record. The height of this generation's baseball controversy, steroids, plagued the headlines and leads for the next few years, and SportsCenter became a pretty good way to keep up with the "juicy" stories without having to endure a 16-9 Yankees/Rangers slugout.
Then I started working in sports, and I thought it was my duty to try to learn as much about baseball as baseball geeks know. After five years of pretty solid effort, I realized I wasn't up to the task. Too much free agency. Too many names I struggled to pronounce. Too many games. I actually met Gabe Kapler, though. The Red Sox offered him a one-year deal in 2007, and he turned it down to be the manager of their Single-A team, the Greenville Drive in South Carolina. I had a brief conversation with him and thought: "What's this guy doing?! He traded a major league salary, team jet rides, and baseball groupies for a minor league manager's salary, long bus trips, and, ummm, slightly less attractive baseball groupies?!" And if Kapler is married and happens to be one of the few guys in professional sports who practices fidelity, forget the last part, although it's still nice to know they're interested, right?
I will agree that the perfect game does involve quite a bit of luck. Roger Clemens never had one. Nolan Ryan, despite seven no-hitters, never had one. It's a good list to be on, but let's just say David Wells probably won't be in the Hall of Fame unless several more big-time steroids stories leave Cooperstown in need of filling spots. Now, the cycle, that's fluky. I once hit for the cycle in an intramural softball game, and Willie Mays hasn't even done that!
-JW
I love regular season baseball. Mind you, I don't watch it particularly often, but the idea of it pleases me a great deal. There's something comforting about the summer-long battle of attrition that is the 162-game stretch. I like knowing that pitchers are winding up and batters swinging all around me, even if I have no interest in them. In a sense, regular season baseball is like really good elevator music. It's made to be ignored, but every so often a good riff catches your attention.
Such was the case yesterday, when Mark Buehrle pitched only the sixteenth perfect game of the modern era (distinguished from the pre-modern era by the fact that today's players don't work in the fields between games). I heard about the game the same way everyone else did--an ESPN ticker told me about it after the fact--and I spent the evening looking for highlights. Having found them, I'm ready to make a pronouncement about perfect games, and I hope you'll agree with it.
Perfect games, JW, are largely a matter of luck, and that's one of the reasons why we care about them. I've said it before, but most people care very little about effort. What we're interested in is that strange combination of skill and luck that makes great plays. Yes, DeWayne Wise's catch was ridiculous, but Wise would have been helpless if Gabe Kapler's potential home run had sailed three more inches. Three inches, and we'd already have forgotten the game, just like everyone but Expos fans and Nelson de la Rosa forgot within a week that Pedro Martinez pitched a perfect nine in '95 before Bip Roberts popped him for a double in the tenth. Free baseball? I think not.
So what are we to make of a sporting accomplishment so fickle, so dependant on the bounce of the ball and the competence of teammates? If only they depended also on pitchers' accomplishments in previous seasons, we could rename them the NBA MVP award.
-GM
GM,
There was a time I actually watched regular-season baseball. Well, two times. The first came when I was a small child and my parents wouldn't spring for cable. As a 7-year-old, I would check the TV schedule every week to see which network would be willing to show a Saturday or Sunday ballgame because I loved watching the pros so much--probably because my coach-pitch games were riddled with embarrassing strikeouts and errors. Granted, I didn't have much else to do at that age, but I actually planned around televised regular-season baseball games. Then we got cable, and then the strike came, and then I got some semblance of a life, and then we were only watching games to see if Mark McGwire would break the record. The height of this generation's baseball controversy, steroids, plagued the headlines and leads for the next few years, and SportsCenter became a pretty good way to keep up with the "juicy" stories without having to endure a 16-9 Yankees/Rangers slugout.
Then I started working in sports, and I thought it was my duty to try to learn as much about baseball as baseball geeks know. After five years of pretty solid effort, I realized I wasn't up to the task. Too much free agency. Too many names I struggled to pronounce. Too many games. I actually met Gabe Kapler, though. The Red Sox offered him a one-year deal in 2007, and he turned it down to be the manager of their Single-A team, the Greenville Drive in South Carolina. I had a brief conversation with him and thought: "What's this guy doing?! He traded a major league salary, team jet rides, and baseball groupies for a minor league manager's salary, long bus trips, and, ummm, slightly less attractive baseball groupies?!" And if Kapler is married and happens to be one of the few guys in professional sports who practices fidelity, forget the last part, although it's still nice to know they're interested, right?
I will agree that the perfect game does involve quite a bit of luck. Roger Clemens never had one. Nolan Ryan, despite seven no-hitters, never had one. It's a good list to be on, but let's just say David Wells probably won't be in the Hall of Fame unless several more big-time steroids stories leave Cooperstown in need of filling spots. Now, the cycle, that's fluky. I once hit for the cycle in an intramural softball game, and Willie Mays hasn't even done that!
-JW
Thursday, July 23, 2009
A New Hero For a New South
JW,
Driving through a major Southern city this morning, I came across a fellow who had fashioned a pair of testicles out of tennis balls and socks. They were swinging from the trailer hitch of his Chevy pickup, nearly brushing the ground as he maneuvered through traffic. Seeing this display, I realized anew that Obama's attempts to remake this country in the image of socialist Europe cannot be wholly successful. Not while testicle guy lives. Not while he's still out there.
To be honest, I haven't been this proud to be a Southerner since the time I saw a University of Georgia fan teasing a South Carolina fan for liking cocks . . . in front of his granddaughter. Seeing this Chevy was like the first night of Shiloh. We've cleared the field, and the Northern aggressors are fleeing into the Tennessee.
Unfortunately, Obama's press conference tonight promises to be the political equivalent of the arrival of Buell's reinforcements. I know that we've reached the point of destroying our own televisions to rid ourselves of the very sight of the guy, but for some reason, the rest of the nation still seems to enjoy the dithering. Personally, I'm expecting a hearty session of what I've come to recognize as the "Hem and Haw Fillibuster." Receiving a question of any depth from his minions in the press room, Obama will proceed to say the word "um" seventeen times in a row while staring at the left hand corner of the ceiling. The assembled press, astonished by the president's eloquence, will fall into a respectful silence, and the question will pass unanswered. Just you watch.
As for me, let's just say that my evening will consist of the purchasing of some cotton footwear. I've got the tennis gear already. Join me?
-GM
GM,
I also spent some time driving through the South yesterday, and I saw a guy who embodied our vision for America even more. See, he too was driving a Chevy pickup (fittingly, my very next rest stop involved hearing John Mellencamp's "This Is Our Country" while using the urinal). But my guy didn't find an old pair of gym socks and steal a couple of tennis balls from his dog's play area to capture the desired effect (we know your guy doesn't play tennis). My guy actually stimulated the free market by purchasing the testicles from someone who had the balls (yes, literally) to make a business out of it. These things actually have a brand name--probably a few actually--but a quick Google search led me to http://www.bumpernuts.com/. I have little doubt that the person who runs this site makes more money than both of us combined. And that's the greatness that is "Our Country." What isn't "Our Country" is the parental attempt to outlaw BumperNuts and products of the like. Hey, I think testicle guy is a buffoon, and I can't decide if it's a testosterone excess or deficiency, or just a poor sense of humor, that drives someone to "genderize" his truck. But I can't condone any effort to outlaw truck genitalia until BumperNuts includes the entire male reproductive organ. As I just heard Obama say in his speech, let's keep it to a "single-pair system."
What I mainly don't understand is the confusion that automobile owners have expressed over the years when it comes to naming their vehicles. I thought cars and trucks were exclusively female. Perhaps there's a certain poetry to testicle guy's testicular statement. Maybe he wasn't even a guy! Maybe it was a feminist who wanted to draw similarities between GM's historical product development and the typically stubborn man. "A Chevy truck must be a man!" If that's the case, I'll give the devil her due.
-JW
Driving through a major Southern city this morning, I came across a fellow who had fashioned a pair of testicles out of tennis balls and socks. They were swinging from the trailer hitch of his Chevy pickup, nearly brushing the ground as he maneuvered through traffic. Seeing this display, I realized anew that Obama's attempts to remake this country in the image of socialist Europe cannot be wholly successful. Not while testicle guy lives. Not while he's still out there.
To be honest, I haven't been this proud to be a Southerner since the time I saw a University of Georgia fan teasing a South Carolina fan for liking cocks . . . in front of his granddaughter. Seeing this Chevy was like the first night of Shiloh. We've cleared the field, and the Northern aggressors are fleeing into the Tennessee.
Unfortunately, Obama's press conference tonight promises to be the political equivalent of the arrival of Buell's reinforcements. I know that we've reached the point of destroying our own televisions to rid ourselves of the very sight of the guy, but for some reason, the rest of the nation still seems to enjoy the dithering. Personally, I'm expecting a hearty session of what I've come to recognize as the "Hem and Haw Fillibuster." Receiving a question of any depth from his minions in the press room, Obama will proceed to say the word "um" seventeen times in a row while staring at the left hand corner of the ceiling. The assembled press, astonished by the president's eloquence, will fall into a respectful silence, and the question will pass unanswered. Just you watch.
As for me, let's just say that my evening will consist of the purchasing of some cotton footwear. I've got the tennis gear already. Join me?
-GM
GM,
I also spent some time driving through the South yesterday, and I saw a guy who embodied our vision for America even more. See, he too was driving a Chevy pickup (fittingly, my very next rest stop involved hearing John Mellencamp's "This Is Our Country" while using the urinal). But my guy didn't find an old pair of gym socks and steal a couple of tennis balls from his dog's play area to capture the desired effect (we know your guy doesn't play tennis). My guy actually stimulated the free market by purchasing the testicles from someone who had the balls (yes, literally) to make a business out of it. These things actually have a brand name--probably a few actually--but a quick Google search led me to http://www.bumpernuts.com/. I have little doubt that the person who runs this site makes more money than both of us combined. And that's the greatness that is "Our Country." What isn't "Our Country" is the parental attempt to outlaw BumperNuts and products of the like. Hey, I think testicle guy is a buffoon, and I can't decide if it's a testosterone excess or deficiency, or just a poor sense of humor, that drives someone to "genderize" his truck. But I can't condone any effort to outlaw truck genitalia until BumperNuts includes the entire male reproductive organ. As I just heard Obama say in his speech, let's keep it to a "single-pair system."
What I mainly don't understand is the confusion that automobile owners have expressed over the years when it comes to naming their vehicles. I thought cars and trucks were exclusively female. Perhaps there's a certain poetry to testicle guy's testicular statement. Maybe he wasn't even a guy! Maybe it was a feminist who wanted to draw similarities between GM's historical product development and the typically stubborn man. "A Chevy truck must be a man!" If that's the case, I'll give the devil her due.
-JW
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Old News
JW,
Let's be honest. Watching Phil Mickel . . . er, Tom Watson choke away the British Open this weekend had all the emotional significance of seeing a billionaire lose at five-dollar blackjack. Yeah, I feel for the guy, but there's plenty more where that came from. After all, this is a guy who made a living playing golf, who holds the adoration of millions of fans, and who has to be in the top five for best white celebrity voices of all time (right behind Barack Obama). Watson has had a better life than I have any chance of having, and it's not close. So pity him? Not bloody likely!
If anyone deserves our sympathy, it's the media, for whom a Watson win could only have been topped by Tiger snatching the victory from Colin Montgomerie on the 72nd hole before beating Monty about the head with the Claret Jug. Talk about getting your journalistic rocks off! Now, instead of celebrating the athletic prowess of the aged with golf's largely aged viewership, sportswriters are stuck with the most depressing story I may ever have heard: Old people are almost good enough, but not quite. Yikes.
Still, Watson's saga is a good reminder of why golf can compete with sports that move at speeds greater than a brisk walk. A Hail Mary pass lands in three or four seconds, a jump shot in just over one. Golf's clutch moments, on the other hand, last forever. I made a sandwich in the time it took Watson to miss the clinching putt, and my hands were shaking the whole time! By dragging out its crucial segments, golf gives us time to pass through the whole spectrum of emotional fanhood, from hopefulness to abject despair and back again, depending on the player. With Watson, just like with Mickelson, we knew it was lipping out, or not getting there, or disappearing into the tall stuff, but that hope still existed that just maybe we were wrong about him. You can't get that deep into other sports' individual plays, and I can't help finding the experience exhilarating.
How about you?
-GM
GM,
Golf gives us something that other sports struggle to give: honest emotion from people who look like us. Watson looked like he was about to cry on the 75th hole as his hopes slipped away. And yes, his voice is incredible, which means that his life likely would have been far better than ours regardless of his chosen field--a sad truth, to be sure.
We've been doing this blog a little over a week now, and I think it's time for the usually-to-be-avoided Top-10 list. So you're welcome, folks. My portion of today's blog will be an easy read, as I present to you...
"JW's Top 10 Choke Jobs of All Time That He Has Seen Live and Not Used The Internet to Recall"
(Hey, it may be a long title, but I'm not going to do any cheap stuff like combine similar choke jobs to make for one big one. Chris Berman, I'm looking your way. Oh, and I'm sure I'll miss some good ones, but I'm really not using the Internet except for name spelling. I dare you to check my facts.)
10. Chris Webber's timeout (1993 NCAA Basketball Championship Game)
- This barely, barely made the list. The chances of an entire group of college sophomores executing a game-winning play against North Carolina are slim at best. A choke, in my opinion, is when you have it won and give it away. Remember that Michigan was behind. Also remember that Webber definitely traveled in the backcourt, and that the referee definitely saw it but didn't call it anyway.
9. Trailblazers' Squandered Lead (2000 NBA Western Conference Finals, Game 7)
- An incredibly talented Trailblazers team blew a 15-point, fourth-quarter lead to lose Game 7 and the series to Phil Jackson and the Lakers. Replace "Lakers" with "Bulls" and "Game 7" with "Game 6," and the exact same event occurred in the 1992 NBA Finals, but it's not part of the list because I cannot stand rulebreakers on top-10 lists.
8. Chuck Knoblauch Bamboozles Lonnie Smith (1991 World Series)
- Smith would have scored the eventual game-winning run for the Braves had he not been fooled by Knoblauch's half-hearted fake throw, which led Smith to believe that the ball was back in the infield when it was actually still bouncing around near the fence. The Twins won 1-0 in 10 innings. Still the best I've ever seen, this was the first World Series I watched every game of. The last was 2002.
7. The Bluegrass Miracle
- In 2002, Kentucky had a respectable football team--for the first time since Tim Couch. With one second left on the clock, LSU connected on a 70- or 80-yard pass that was tipped and hauled in for a touchdown--behind the Wildcats' last line of defense. I don't remember a single name from that play, but I do remember a closeup of one of the Kentucky players, who was being comforted by one of the assistant coaches. He was so heartbroken that he punched his coach in the stomach! OK, probably not, but you be the judge (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_c1ANN6EVyU&feature=fvw 1:25). That's the main thing I remember, but of course the Kentucky players drenched the coach and the fans stormed the field thinking they had won. They did this after the final play. Way to watch the whole game, fairweatherers. The only thing that could have made it better is if the situation had been completely reversed. It's unthinkable that LSU fans would ever storm the field after beating Kentucky in football, but take your average degenerate LSU fan. You're drunk off your ass from the 12-hour tailgate, and you're ready to go eat some alligator or tip over a fan bus. You hop on the field, help rip down the goal post, and proceed to commit heinous and lewd acts on anything and anyone in blue. You're finally arrested on a number of charges, some felony, and you learn the next day that your team actually lost. At this point, you're angry enough to drop out of sch . . . er, quit your job at the oil refinery.
6. The Mavericks' Should-be Championship (2006 NBA Finals)
- I don't know if the bigger choke was in Game 3 against the Heat (when Dwyane Wade went crazy to lead a late comeback) or the series as a whole. Either way, I'm irritated that Dallas couldn't stop Pat Riley, Shaq, Jason Williams, Antoine Walker, and Gary Payton from getting rings.
5. Cubs (with Steve Bartman) Fail to Clinch Penant (2003 NLCS)
- The Red Sox had a similar mishap a few days later, but we're still waiting for the Cubs to redeem themselves. Not me, actually; I hate that organization.
4. Mickel-slam Avoided (2006 U.S. Open)
- Phil Mickelson would have won his third straight major if he hadn't used driver. I could be wrong, but I think he missed every fairway on Sunday.
3. Phoenix is San Antonio's Bitch... Again (2008 Western Conference Semi-Finals, Game 1)
- Must I even talk about it? Michael Finley. Tim Duncan. Manu Ginobili. In that order. I knew each of their shots were going in, and there was nothing anyone could do. The NBA god is a boring one who enjoys the halfcourt game, team defense, and rebounding. In the Steve Nash era, the Suns were incapable of losing to the Spurs in a non-devastating fashion.
2. Nick Anderson's Free Throws (1995 NBA Finals, Game 1)
- This would be number 1 if I didn't firmly believe that the Rockets would have won the series anyway. They swept the Magic, but only because Anderson missed four straight foul shots in the closing seconds of regulation, opening the door for a Kenny Smith three.
1. Jean Van de Velde (1999 British Open)
- Need I say more? This guy was put on earth for one reason--to blow a three-stroke lead on the 72nd hole of the British Open by acting brave: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4XU94TwmmYk. This was the wackiest moment I've seen in golf, and it happened when everything was on the line for a guy who, to my knowledge, hasn't contended for anything else in his career. Best of all, Van de Velde is a Frenchmen, and his choke job came from trying too hard to be brave!
-JW
Monday, July 20, 2009
Population Controlled
GM,
If you ever wanted proof of the Left's elitism, racism, obnoxious paternalism, and just plain wickedness, consider Ruth Bader Ginsburg's statements from two weeks ago:
"Yes, the ruling about [Harris v. McRae–in 1980 the court upheld the Hyde Amendment, which forbids the use of Medicaid for abortions.] surprised me. Frankly I had thought that at the time Roe was decided, there was concern about population growth and particularly growth in populations that we don't want to have too many of. So that Roe was going to be then set up for Medicaid funding for abortion."
This woman represents one-ninth of our nation’s most authoritative entity on matters of legality–and, indirectly, social policy and justice–and she unabashedly admitted to trying to limit the birth rate of certain "populations." For her, "pro-choice" would not be the correct term; she is undeniably pro-abortion–at least for certain "populations." She believes in choice, but she would prefer that the "right" choice be applied over and over, resulting in a decelerated birth rate in certain "populations." So here’s the million-dollar question: Who is a member of these populations? The poor? The stupid? The uneducated? The jobless? The invariably ill? Every recipient of Medicaid?!?! Have she and her fellow liberal justices taken it upon themselves to monitor the breeding habits of these people and even, through legislation, nudge them in the "right" direction?
Let me tell you something that you already know. Even before we explore a certain possibility regarding the identity of the "populations" discussed in Ginsburg’s statement, it is itself absurd, bigoted, elitist, paternalistic, immoral, patronizing, backwards, un-American, and evil. It shares a logical basis, though not an extreme, with Hitler’s plan for Germany. She condoned forcing all Americans to contribute financially to what many consider to be a reprehensible act. Obama has us doing this again overseas, but to me, the idea that my tax dollars would fund the abortions of my compatriots is more offensive. I imagine Ginsburg’s stance was: "It is our duty to financially support societal drains, but if we can stop them from giving birth to more people who are likely to be societal drains, it’ll be cheaper in the long run." Any Medicaid recipient should be deeply offended by this remark. "We don’t want your kind having children."
But maybe, just maybe, a certain type of person should be really, really curious about what she meant by "populations." Twenty-two percent of the black population is on Medicaid–the highest of any demographic. I’ve been taught–by liberals–that liberals are the more progressive party on racial issues. But if Ginsburg was referring to African-Americans–a concept so racist that it would seem impossible were it not for the absurdity of the statement even if taken in the best possible light–we need to reevaluate what the American Left actually wants.
-JW
JW,
Deep within the dark heart of liberalism lies the notion that individuals exist primarily as members of racial and socioeconomic groups, and that the competing claims of those groups can be ranked on a moral scale that takes into account both present circumstances and historical wrongs. Hence liberalism's concerns with equality and conservatism's with liberty. Equality is possessed by groups (women equal to men; blacks equal to whites; gays equal to straights), whereas liberty is held by individuals.
I'm not surprised, then, by Ginsburg's thinking in terms of "populations." She's only being true to her underlying philosophy. In Ginsburg's mind, America consists of not one but many populations, and the notion of our country as a melting pot--as having an identifiable culture to be either preserved or lost--is simply anachronistic. Seriously, say the word "assimilation" to a liberal. And then stand back.
Furthermore, Ginsburg's comments are indicative of liberalism's tendency to view human life as quantifiable. (Simply put, she doesn't believe in the existence of the soul.) Thus, abortion is nothing more than a mathematical equation--so many Medicaid dollars for abortions versus so many Medicaid dollars to support those who made it out of the womb, quite literally, in one piece. It's an obscene calculus, yes, but not a surprising one.
Nor is it surprising, I'm sorry to say, that Emily Bazelon (Ginsburg's interviewer) seemed entirely untroubled by Ginsburg's statement. No follow-up question was asked nor clarification requested, and one can almost see Bazelon nodding in agreement as Ginsburg moved America yet another step closer to the forced abortions of "modern" China.
Whether or not the tide is turning, Ginsburg represents a brand of secular liberalism whose devaluing of life renders it unsustainable. God willing, some alive today will live to see the end of it.
-GM
Thursday, July 16, 2009
And the Race Continues
JW,
I’d like to pause for a moment and reflect on a year-old movie that no one saw—Rachel Getting Married, a plotless, interminable paean to multiculturalism and the spiritual deadness of the privileged American Left. Starring Anne Hathaway and a back-from-the-dead Debra Winger, Rachel consists largely of a cinéma vérité-style depiction of a rehearsal dinner and wedding reception. While there’s some editing, these meandering scenes together account for at least half of the movie, a fact that would be less problematic if the impression created weren’t of watching a stranger’s home videos.
But of course that’s the point, as this is a wedding party to make a liberal’s heart sing! Racially diverse, secular (except for its forays into Hinduism), and utterly lacking in ceremony, the wedding and its accoutrements are not a diversion from the film’s ostensible “plot” (Hathaway’s drug-addicted Kym returning home for her sister’s wedding) but the plot itself, a fact captured neatly by Roger Ebert when he skips talking about the movie in his review in order to move straight into its politics ("Apart from its story, which is interesting enough, Rachel Getting Married is like the theme music for an evolving new age.").
Look, I've got no problem with multiculturalism, as long as it's not asked to carry the entire movie (unless that movie is Coming to America). As you can imagine, however, I was already on edge when I started Rachel, having spent the day watching the Sonia Sotomayor confirmation hearings, whose celebratory air owes as much to the Democrats’ sixty-vote threshold as it does to the color of the nominee’s skin. Sotomayor is all smiles, of course, and while I’m willing to concede that her stunningly halting speech doesn’t necessarily mean that she’s stupid, she seems unaware that her placement on the court is a political ploy—an electoral buried treasure to be unearthed when Hispanics break two-to-one for Obama in 2012. Or maybe she is aware. After all, she’s clearly been taking courses from the Barack Obama Academy of Sounding Thoughtful While Saying Nothing (minus the stuttering, thank God), and her answers have practically shined with focus-grouped polish. As others have suggested, her biography, her gender, and her race are doing the work for her. Why risk a perfect storm of political luck by saying something interesting?
A final note. You know that the term “waterboarding” has lost its cachet when Chris Matthews uses it to refer to the length of the Senate Judiciary Committee’s questioning sessions. It’s like the first time I said “fo’ shizzle.” An entire culture gasped.
-GM
GM,
I wish I could have been there to hear “fo’ shizzle,” as would anyone who knows how far removed you are from slang, fad phrases, and African-American vernacular. (I’m only attributing the phrase to African-Americans because South Park told me that’s where it came from; I’ve primarily heard white people use it.)
I really only want to respond to your point that Sotomayor’s biography is doing the work for her. Isn’t that the point?! I thought being a U.S. Supreme Court justice was just a lifetime achievement award anyway, like the NBA MVP award, the presidency (war hero vs. half-black guy), or any position in corporate America. Everyone knows that, in the Western world, you continue to elevate vocationally until you reach a position at which you finally fail, and there you shall remain. (Hey, it’s better than the caste system.) You become a CEO because you were a good chief financial officer. You become a head coach because of your work as an assistant. You become president because you made for a nice senator (or, in this case, because the opposing party’s execution down the stretch was Maverick-like; pun intended). And half of these people turn out to be complete failures. With politics, though, it’s tougher to judge failure, and with an SC justice, we wouldn’t be able to stop her anyway!
I understand and agree with what you’re saying, but as long as overcoming racism in what is now one of the least racist—and most hypersensitive—countries in history is considered an accomplishment, you should expect it to be rewarded by the guy who had the same treatment. I can only hope that one day I’ll be generously rewarded for overcoming my slothfulness, arrogance, and argumentative nature. It’s only fair.
-JW
I’d like to pause for a moment and reflect on a year-old movie that no one saw—Rachel Getting Married, a plotless, interminable paean to multiculturalism and the spiritual deadness of the privileged American Left. Starring Anne Hathaway and a back-from-the-dead Debra Winger, Rachel consists largely of a cinéma vérité-style depiction of a rehearsal dinner and wedding reception. While there’s some editing, these meandering scenes together account for at least half of the movie, a fact that would be less problematic if the impression created weren’t of watching a stranger’s home videos.
But of course that’s the point, as this is a wedding party to make a liberal’s heart sing! Racially diverse, secular (except for its forays into Hinduism), and utterly lacking in ceremony, the wedding and its accoutrements are not a diversion from the film’s ostensible “plot” (Hathaway’s drug-addicted Kym returning home for her sister’s wedding) but the plot itself, a fact captured neatly by Roger Ebert when he skips talking about the movie in his review in order to move straight into its politics ("Apart from its story, which is interesting enough, Rachel Getting Married is like the theme music for an evolving new age.").
Look, I've got no problem with multiculturalism, as long as it's not asked to carry the entire movie (unless that movie is Coming to America). As you can imagine, however, I was already on edge when I started Rachel, having spent the day watching the Sonia Sotomayor confirmation hearings, whose celebratory air owes as much to the Democrats’ sixty-vote threshold as it does to the color of the nominee’s skin. Sotomayor is all smiles, of course, and while I’m willing to concede that her stunningly halting speech doesn’t necessarily mean that she’s stupid, she seems unaware that her placement on the court is a political ploy—an electoral buried treasure to be unearthed when Hispanics break two-to-one for Obama in 2012. Or maybe she is aware. After all, she’s clearly been taking courses from the Barack Obama Academy of Sounding Thoughtful While Saying Nothing (minus the stuttering, thank God), and her answers have practically shined with focus-grouped polish. As others have suggested, her biography, her gender, and her race are doing the work for her. Why risk a perfect storm of political luck by saying something interesting?
A final note. You know that the term “waterboarding” has lost its cachet when Chris Matthews uses it to refer to the length of the Senate Judiciary Committee’s questioning sessions. It’s like the first time I said “fo’ shizzle.” An entire culture gasped.
-GM
GM,
I wish I could have been there to hear “fo’ shizzle,” as would anyone who knows how far removed you are from slang, fad phrases, and African-American vernacular. (I’m only attributing the phrase to African-Americans because South Park told me that’s where it came from; I’ve primarily heard white people use it.)
I really only want to respond to your point that Sotomayor’s biography is doing the work for her. Isn’t that the point?! I thought being a U.S. Supreme Court justice was just a lifetime achievement award anyway, like the NBA MVP award, the presidency (war hero vs. half-black guy), or any position in corporate America. Everyone knows that, in the Western world, you continue to elevate vocationally until you reach a position at which you finally fail, and there you shall remain. (Hey, it’s better than the caste system.) You become a CEO because you were a good chief financial officer. You become a head coach because of your work as an assistant. You become president because you made for a nice senator (or, in this case, because the opposing party’s execution down the stretch was Maverick-like; pun intended). And half of these people turn out to be complete failures. With politics, though, it’s tougher to judge failure, and with an SC justice, we wouldn’t be able to stop her anyway!
I understand and agree with what you’re saying, but as long as overcoming racism in what is now one of the least racist—and most hypersensitive—countries in history is considered an accomplishment, you should expect it to be rewarded by the guy who had the same treatment. I can only hope that one day I’ll be generously rewarded for overcoming my slothfulness, arrogance, and argumentative nature. It’s only fair.
-JW
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Still Pitched Off
GM,
If you watched the MLB All-Star Game’s pre-game show last night, you’ll know where I’m going with this. If you didn’t watch it, go to Google and enter the following:
obama all-star “why did fox”
There are plenty of results.
The buildup to Obama’s ceremonial first pitch was beyond sufficient. Torn between its two main objectives, achieving high ratings and convincing viewers that they have a cool president, ESPN dedicated significant time to promoting FOX’s All-Star Game coverage. Maybe I’m just being cynical and ESPN shows such as Pardon the Interruption and Around the Horn were simply practicing responsible sports journalism as they always do (except when it comes to interviewing Stephen Curry nine times a quarter). But let’s just say I got sick of hearing instructions like “aim high” and “don’t try to do too much” directed toward a man who should have been too busy to hear them.
They got me, though, and I cancelled exercise plans in order to see Obama’s pitch, hoping it would be dainty enough to draw some criticism from the sports media (since the real media don’t dare). Finally, it was time. Obama stepped out of the cart, took the ball from Stan Musial, shook the hand of the uninformed driver, and trotted to the mound enthusiastically. And this is where it goes downhill.
I’ve been watching baseball on TV since I was 5 or 6 years old. No matter how many advances they make in game coverage, the angle from which the pitch is shown does not change. Sure, we occasionally get a shot from behind the plate, but we’ve pretty much established that the camera needs to be in left-center field and zoomed in on the pitcher, catcher, and umpire. FOX, however, decided to put a camera guy at third base so that all we could see was half the flight of the ball once it left the president’s hand.
I demand to know the politics behind that decision. Naturally, I would assume that it’s the liberal media making sure that we don’t see Obama fail at anything. (Keep in mind that the FOX broadcast network differs from FOX News. See Family Guy, a show that’s not only fiercely liberal but preachy!). But he didn’t fail, as I know from my Internet search, so why not show a replay? It was no post-9/11 George W. Bush strike, but it was still better than 90 percent of the ceremonial first pitches I’ve seen.
So which do you think will come first, GM—an explanation from FOX or a National League win?
-JW
JW,
I was actually listening on the radio, and wouldn't you know it, they cut to commercial the second the ball left his hand.
Seriously, I don't understand what happened, either. It seems to me that the chances of Obama getting it across the plate were about as good as those of George Bush changing the channel back in Dallas. In other words, pretty good. After all, this is the guy who "accidentally" appeared shirtless in a tabloid during the campaign. (Thank God Hillary didn't feel the need to follow suit.) This is the guy who plays basketball! And buys his daughters a puppy! He's just like us, only better. Of course he throws a zinger.
So why does FOX cut away? I'm guessing that the shot you saw was the network's "Capturing a Historic Moment" shot--wide, iconic, and in no way confusable with the standard camera work that the cretins pitch to. Sure, regular sports fans wanted to see if the guy could bring it, but the tens of casual fans who tuned in were looking for a live-feed of the next cover of Time.
If there's a lesson here, it's that liberals were completely justified in their desperation to see the end of the Bush presidency. I swear, I'm so sick of Obama after just six months that I'd voluntarily give up the next seven years of my life. Can't you see it? A contemporary Rip van Winkle, I wake up just in time for the final months of yet another endless election cycle to find that a fresh new face will soon be tinkering mindlessly with the economy, deploying our troops with no underlying military philosophy, and renewing Maya Angelou's White House pass. Maybe a new i-product will have been invented, too.
In any case, let's not get too worked up about missing that pitch. FOX cut back to the correct angle in plenty of time to show the White House Press Corp carrying the president off the field.
-GM
If you watched the MLB All-Star Game’s pre-game show last night, you’ll know where I’m going with this. If you didn’t watch it, go to Google and enter the following:
obama all-star “why did fox”
There are plenty of results.
The buildup to Obama’s ceremonial first pitch was beyond sufficient. Torn between its two main objectives, achieving high ratings and convincing viewers that they have a cool president, ESPN dedicated significant time to promoting FOX’s All-Star Game coverage. Maybe I’m just being cynical and ESPN shows such as Pardon the Interruption and Around the Horn were simply practicing responsible sports journalism as they always do (except when it comes to interviewing Stephen Curry nine times a quarter). But let’s just say I got sick of hearing instructions like “aim high” and “don’t try to do too much” directed toward a man who should have been too busy to hear them.
They got me, though, and I cancelled exercise plans in order to see Obama’s pitch, hoping it would be dainty enough to draw some criticism from the sports media (since the real media don’t dare). Finally, it was time. Obama stepped out of the cart, took the ball from Stan Musial, shook the hand of the uninformed driver, and trotted to the mound enthusiastically. And this is where it goes downhill.
I’ve been watching baseball on TV since I was 5 or 6 years old. No matter how many advances they make in game coverage, the angle from which the pitch is shown does not change. Sure, we occasionally get a shot from behind the plate, but we’ve pretty much established that the camera needs to be in left-center field and zoomed in on the pitcher, catcher, and umpire. FOX, however, decided to put a camera guy at third base so that all we could see was half the flight of the ball once it left the president’s hand.
I demand to know the politics behind that decision. Naturally, I would assume that it’s the liberal media making sure that we don’t see Obama fail at anything. (Keep in mind that the FOX broadcast network differs from FOX News. See Family Guy, a show that’s not only fiercely liberal but preachy!). But he didn’t fail, as I know from my Internet search, so why not show a replay? It was no post-9/11 George W. Bush strike, but it was still better than 90 percent of the ceremonial first pitches I’ve seen.
So which do you think will come first, GM—an explanation from FOX or a National League win?
-JW
JW,
I was actually listening on the radio, and wouldn't you know it, they cut to commercial the second the ball left his hand.
Seriously, I don't understand what happened, either. It seems to me that the chances of Obama getting it across the plate were about as good as those of George Bush changing the channel back in Dallas. In other words, pretty good. After all, this is the guy who "accidentally" appeared shirtless in a tabloid during the campaign. (Thank God Hillary didn't feel the need to follow suit.) This is the guy who plays basketball! And buys his daughters a puppy! He's just like us, only better. Of course he throws a zinger.
So why does FOX cut away? I'm guessing that the shot you saw was the network's "Capturing a Historic Moment" shot--wide, iconic, and in no way confusable with the standard camera work that the cretins pitch to. Sure, regular sports fans wanted to see if the guy could bring it, but the tens of casual fans who tuned in were looking for a live-feed of the next cover of Time.
If there's a lesson here, it's that liberals were completely justified in their desperation to see the end of the Bush presidency. I swear, I'm so sick of Obama after just six months that I'd voluntarily give up the next seven years of my life. Can't you see it? A contemporary Rip van Winkle, I wake up just in time for the final months of yet another endless election cycle to find that a fresh new face will soon be tinkering mindlessly with the economy, deploying our troops with no underlying military philosophy, and renewing Maya Angelou's White House pass. Maybe a new i-product will have been invented, too.
In any case, let's not get too worked up about missing that pitch. FOX cut back to the correct angle in plenty of time to show the White House Press Corp carrying the president off the field.
-GM
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
I'm Pulling For You, ESPN... for my own sake
GM,
I was watching TV last night, and I saw a show that had a little of everything: emotion, shouting, awkward moments, a live studio audience, a rational and understanding host, and some black guy from Mississippi. At one point, the crowd starting chanting, “Jerry! Jerry! Jerry!” Of course, I was watching Homecoming, the new ESPN show hosted by Rick Reilly, and Jerry Rice was the guest of honor. Were you expecting something else?
I’m pretty sure ESPN has assembled an entire team dedicated to deciding how to fill programming after the NBA playoffs come to an end. Title Town USA, Who’s Now?, My Wish, 50 States in 50 Days—these are all gimmicks that ESPN uses to try to keep ratings high when baseball and poker are the only competitions that could possibly be worth watching. If I only knew the number of any of my channels besides ESPN, ESPN2, and Comedy Central, I’d give something else a try.
You would think that the world’s sports leader could come up with something better to get us through the two months of angst before football season. For us, however, the challenge is to think of something worse than the aforementioned snoozer segments.
How about Almost Relevant: an inside look at all the runners-up in unpopular sporting events who were devastatingly close to becoming a blurb on SportsCenter. “Have you heard of Marwa Moustafa? Didn’t think so. She was one solid hit away from clinching the Women’s World Golf Croquet championship in 2007, and her life has been heartache ever since.”
Personally, my biggest thrill would come from watching Cold Pizza/First Take lowlights consisting of one of those top-25 countdowns for “Dumbest interview questions asked by Dana Jacobson and Jay Crawford.” Considering her propensity to deeply offend Christians and his to allegedly sexually harass makeup artists, shouldn’t they have talent to offset the cons?!
Can you think of any killer segments?
-JW
JW,
How about This Week in Slow Motion (alternate title, Frame By Frame)? If we're aiming for the gutter, I can't think of a better starting point than the most loathsome development in sports since Joe Buck. Picture this: Erik Kuselias and Dan LeBatard attempting to fill air time while unforced tennis errors and wild pitches drag to forty-five seconds each.
Actually, I think I'd watch that.
Perhaps the bigger issue here is the coordination of the worst part of the sports calendar with the least tolerable months of the Southern year. It's one hundred degrees outside, the folds of my gut have created a suction effect, and the only thing on television is people talking about first-half baseball. If it weren't for the British Open this weekend, I'd be considering a crime spree.
Speaking of which, how about a segment devoted to Places in Sports You'd Rather Be Right Now? First we see the pastoral dunes of Turnberry, followed by the view from my living room window—Hiroshima circa 1945, but hotter. I love the idea of living vicariously through ESPN's camera crew, and as long as they're willing to turn on the sprinklers, any number of ballparks could be featured.
Just think: The final shot could be the lovely halls of 935 Middle St., Bristol, where athletes roam free like so many Serengeti antelopes, and the swimming pools are icy cold. What else could scratch that self-mythologizing itch that's so troubled ESPN lo these many years? What else could remind us that NL-only Fantasy Baseball coverage is over when they say it's over?
Come on, SportsNation. Let's demand it.
-GM
I was watching TV last night, and I saw a show that had a little of everything: emotion, shouting, awkward moments, a live studio audience, a rational and understanding host, and some black guy from Mississippi. At one point, the crowd starting chanting, “Jerry! Jerry! Jerry!” Of course, I was watching Homecoming, the new ESPN show hosted by Rick Reilly, and Jerry Rice was the guest of honor. Were you expecting something else?
I’m pretty sure ESPN has assembled an entire team dedicated to deciding how to fill programming after the NBA playoffs come to an end. Title Town USA, Who’s Now?, My Wish, 50 States in 50 Days—these are all gimmicks that ESPN uses to try to keep ratings high when baseball and poker are the only competitions that could possibly be worth watching. If I only knew the number of any of my channels besides ESPN, ESPN2, and Comedy Central, I’d give something else a try.
You would think that the world’s sports leader could come up with something better to get us through the two months of angst before football season. For us, however, the challenge is to think of something worse than the aforementioned snoozer segments.
How about Almost Relevant: an inside look at all the runners-up in unpopular sporting events who were devastatingly close to becoming a blurb on SportsCenter. “Have you heard of Marwa Moustafa? Didn’t think so. She was one solid hit away from clinching the Women’s World Golf Croquet championship in 2007, and her life has been heartache ever since.”
Personally, my biggest thrill would come from watching Cold Pizza/First Take lowlights consisting of one of those top-25 countdowns for “Dumbest interview questions asked by Dana Jacobson and Jay Crawford.” Considering her propensity to deeply offend Christians and his to allegedly sexually harass makeup artists, shouldn’t they have talent to offset the cons?!
Can you think of any killer segments?
-JW
JW,
How about This Week in Slow Motion (alternate title, Frame By Frame)? If we're aiming for the gutter, I can't think of a better starting point than the most loathsome development in sports since Joe Buck. Picture this: Erik Kuselias and Dan LeBatard attempting to fill air time while unforced tennis errors and wild pitches drag to forty-five seconds each.
Actually, I think I'd watch that.
Perhaps the bigger issue here is the coordination of the worst part of the sports calendar with the least tolerable months of the Southern year. It's one hundred degrees outside, the folds of my gut have created a suction effect, and the only thing on television is people talking about first-half baseball. If it weren't for the British Open this weekend, I'd be considering a crime spree.
Speaking of which, how about a segment devoted to Places in Sports You'd Rather Be Right Now? First we see the pastoral dunes of Turnberry, followed by the view from my living room window—Hiroshima circa 1945, but hotter. I love the idea of living vicariously through ESPN's camera crew, and as long as they're willing to turn on the sprinklers, any number of ballparks could be featured.
Just think: The final shot could be the lovely halls of 935 Middle St., Bristol, where athletes roam free like so many Serengeti antelopes, and the swimming pools are icy cold. What else could scratch that self-mythologizing itch that's so troubled ESPN lo these many years? What else could remind us that NL-only Fantasy Baseball coverage is over when they say it's over?
Come on, SportsNation. Let's demand it.
-GM
Monday, July 13, 2009
Trouble in the Aisles
JW,
I knew the Obama era of racial harmony was doomed when I saw an interracial fight in a Wal-Mart checkout line the day after the election. Woman A was complaining about Woman B’s speed behind the register when Woman B committed what can best be described as a linguistic violation of customer service. Voices were raised, managers were summoned, and Woman B was escorted out of the happily un-unionized aisles to which she had grown so accustomed. Today, my wife called from the same location to report that speakers all over the store were emitting a strange, high-frequency squeal, just above the threshold of audibility. Several shoppers, she said, had taken to pushing their carts with their elbows so that their hands could be used to stop up their ears. An older woman of frightening girth was clutching her husband and sobbing that she simply couldn’t take it anymore, and everywhere the vulgar strains of human misery sounded forth.
And yet no one seemed to be leaving. No one seemed opposed to the notion that discounts, ironically, must be bought at a price. And while I’ll admit that I’ve got to be the most sophisticated customer ever to set foot in a Wal-Mart (I’m listening to classical music and wearing slippers as I type this), I can’t be alone in thinking that the grocery shopping experience has gotten significantly worse since we were children.
So here’s my question. Forget union-busting and suburban sprawl. Can we abandon the fiction that liberals dislike Wal-Mart for anything other than aesthetic reasons?
-GM
GM,
It’s funny you should mention Wal-Mart. Last night, in dire need of a razor and even direr need of deodorant, I made my first visit there since seeing the documentary Wal-Mart: the High Cost of Low Price. (I was on the road for business, and the actual deodorant part of my deodorant stick was nowhere to be found. It hadn’t just run out; it had fallen out. So why in the hell would I have put an unfilled deodorant stick back into my shower kit???) Upon seeing the film, it occurred to me that a working person’s only possible social justification for shopping at Wal-Mart would be that he also collected his paycheck there while wearing a royal blue vest or navy blue shirt. Are they so cheap that they can’t update the uniforms all at once?!
I support the free market because simple economics (the only kind I’ve learned) prove it to bring about the greatest surplus of wealth. Within the free market, however, I would encourage anyone middle-class and above to investigate Wal-Mart’s disputed level of corruption to determine if its policies offend the social conscience. And don’t even begin to paint me liberal because I wish for Wal-Mart to fail if it doesn’t change. The liberal wants the government to shut down Wal-Mart; I want the more-powerful-than-ever consumer to do it—or at least inspire change. People don’t realize that Wal-Mart’s failure to take care of its employees costs taxpayers money. It’s the closest situation we’ve had in a while to coalminers working 16 hours a day for a dollar at the company store. Most of their paychecks go back to Wal-Mart! And with most Wal-Marts having a fast-food joint inside now, employees are likely to work, shop, and even take breaks at Wal-Mart! I almost died thinking about that life just now!
I’m sure the high-pitched hum over the intercom was simply market research. “We’ve already offended the other four senses; will they even leave if we torture them audibly?!” My best Wal-Mart experience may never be topped. I found a 4-pound ham in electronics and searched for about 10 minutes before I found an employee. “I found this in the wrong section, and I don’t know if it’s spoiled by now.” I grimaced as I handed the ham to the woman worker. She had a full goatee.
-JW
I knew the Obama era of racial harmony was doomed when I saw an interracial fight in a Wal-Mart checkout line the day after the election. Woman A was complaining about Woman B’s speed behind the register when Woman B committed what can best be described as a linguistic violation of customer service. Voices were raised, managers were summoned, and Woman B was escorted out of the happily un-unionized aisles to which she had grown so accustomed. Today, my wife called from the same location to report that speakers all over the store were emitting a strange, high-frequency squeal, just above the threshold of audibility. Several shoppers, she said, had taken to pushing their carts with their elbows so that their hands could be used to stop up their ears. An older woman of frightening girth was clutching her husband and sobbing that she simply couldn’t take it anymore, and everywhere the vulgar strains of human misery sounded forth.
And yet no one seemed to be leaving. No one seemed opposed to the notion that discounts, ironically, must be bought at a price. And while I’ll admit that I’ve got to be the most sophisticated customer ever to set foot in a Wal-Mart (I’m listening to classical music and wearing slippers as I type this), I can’t be alone in thinking that the grocery shopping experience has gotten significantly worse since we were children.
So here’s my question. Forget union-busting and suburban sprawl. Can we abandon the fiction that liberals dislike Wal-Mart for anything other than aesthetic reasons?
-GM
GM,
It’s funny you should mention Wal-Mart. Last night, in dire need of a razor and even direr need of deodorant, I made my first visit there since seeing the documentary Wal-Mart: the High Cost of Low Price. (I was on the road for business, and the actual deodorant part of my deodorant stick was nowhere to be found. It hadn’t just run out; it had fallen out. So why in the hell would I have put an unfilled deodorant stick back into my shower kit???) Upon seeing the film, it occurred to me that a working person’s only possible social justification for shopping at Wal-Mart would be that he also collected his paycheck there while wearing a royal blue vest or navy blue shirt. Are they so cheap that they can’t update the uniforms all at once?!
I support the free market because simple economics (the only kind I’ve learned) prove it to bring about the greatest surplus of wealth. Within the free market, however, I would encourage anyone middle-class and above to investigate Wal-Mart’s disputed level of corruption to determine if its policies offend the social conscience. And don’t even begin to paint me liberal because I wish for Wal-Mart to fail if it doesn’t change. The liberal wants the government to shut down Wal-Mart; I want the more-powerful-than-ever consumer to do it—or at least inspire change. People don’t realize that Wal-Mart’s failure to take care of its employees costs taxpayers money. It’s the closest situation we’ve had in a while to coalminers working 16 hours a day for a dollar at the company store. Most of their paychecks go back to Wal-Mart! And with most Wal-Marts having a fast-food joint inside now, employees are likely to work, shop, and even take breaks at Wal-Mart! I almost died thinking about that life just now!
I’m sure the high-pitched hum over the intercom was simply market research. “We’ve already offended the other four senses; will they even leave if we torture them audibly?!” My best Wal-Mart experience may never be topped. I found a 4-pound ham in electronics and searched for about 10 minutes before I found an employee. “I found this in the wrong section, and I don’t know if it’s spoiled by now.” I grimaced as I handed the ham to the woman worker. She had a full goatee.
-JW
Sunday, July 12, 2009
What I'm Ultimately Fighting...
JW,
As you know, I'm always upset when a fringe sport like soccer, fishing, or anything that involves driving a car attempts to break into the pantheon of the wholesome American Big Four of football, baseball, basketball, and hockey. You can imagine my dismay, then, at the ruckus being currently raised by UFC 100, an event just a bit too similar to the kind of thing I regularly saw from my living room window when I lived in Brooklyn. The way I see it, the sports fan who wishes not to fall outside the standards of decency may allot himself as much as he wants of the aforementioned four; somewhere in the neighborhood of eight days' annual interest in both golf and tennis; and exactly three days' annual interest in horse racing. And that's it. The success of Ultimate Fighting is one of those cultural warts akin to the Saw movies, top-40 radio, and the kind of contemporary art that consists largely of blank canvases. While I'm assuming that "100" is not the number of events that UFC has had (is it?), they've still had way too many.
Here's the thing. I'm not impressed by anything that I could do myself if I just got off my ass. Hitting a professionally-thrown baseball isn't one of them. Neither is returning Andy Roddick's serve or splitting the fairway at Bethpage Black. But Ultimate Fighting--well, the only reason I'm not their champion is that I'm just plain lazy! (The same goes for Cirque du Soleil--yeah, the human body is capable of some incredible things, but those guys have to spend a really long time stretching.) Give me athletic feats that require more than a ridiculous amount of time in the weightroom. Give me grace. Give me a competition that isn't almost totally composed of writhing.
Your thoughts?
-GM
GM,
Where do I begin? I view professional fighting in the same way I view soccer. I can’t possibly deny the athleticism or skill of the participants, only their judgment. (As for the spectators who appreciate these sickening displays of fruitless running and needless bludgeoning, I openly question--even sometimes deny--their intelligence. You, however, have decided to attribute their success to dedication alone, which, as we know, is no less than a forehanded insult. It’s like the NBA team that tries so hard during the regular season, wins 50 games, and gets swept out of the playoffs three years in a row because of a glaring talent deficiency. No one respects those teams--no one who still likes the NBA anyway.
Look, if natural ability is your standard for deciding who should make millions of dollars for activity that doesn’t even resemble work (and I don’t necessarily oppose such a stance), let me tell you a few things. First of all, different people have different body types with varying levels of strength potential. A 5'7", 130-pound World of Warcraft veteran could never benchpress 500 pounds even if he dedicated his whole life to the cause. So strength alone involves some natural ability. Secondly, the skill of fighting is a combination of quickness, toughness, and intelligence. These are all God-given qualities, although the last in the series is clearly less God-given than the others. Why would anyone decide to fight for a living?! Isn’t “winning” a fight simply losing by less than your opponent? If any of these guys aren’t doing it solely for the money, then they took too many blows to the head even before they chose that industry.
And if they want to help their chances of taking fewer blows by getting in shape and lifting weights for two hours a day, let’s not judge. After all, “Why should the race always be to the swift… or the jumble to the quick-witted?” – Montgomery Burns, The Simpsons
I know it’s not for us, but some Americans still appreciate hard work.
-JW
As you know, I'm always upset when a fringe sport like soccer, fishing, or anything that involves driving a car attempts to break into the pantheon of the wholesome American Big Four of football, baseball, basketball, and hockey. You can imagine my dismay, then, at the ruckus being currently raised by UFC 100, an event just a bit too similar to the kind of thing I regularly saw from my living room window when I lived in Brooklyn. The way I see it, the sports fan who wishes not to fall outside the standards of decency may allot himself as much as he wants of the aforementioned four; somewhere in the neighborhood of eight days' annual interest in both golf and tennis; and exactly three days' annual interest in horse racing. And that's it. The success of Ultimate Fighting is one of those cultural warts akin to the Saw movies, top-40 radio, and the kind of contemporary art that consists largely of blank canvases. While I'm assuming that "100" is not the number of events that UFC has had (is it?), they've still had way too many.
Here's the thing. I'm not impressed by anything that I could do myself if I just got off my ass. Hitting a professionally-thrown baseball isn't one of them. Neither is returning Andy Roddick's serve or splitting the fairway at Bethpage Black. But Ultimate Fighting--well, the only reason I'm not their champion is that I'm just plain lazy! (The same goes for Cirque du Soleil--yeah, the human body is capable of some incredible things, but those guys have to spend a really long time stretching.) Give me athletic feats that require more than a ridiculous amount of time in the weightroom. Give me grace. Give me a competition that isn't almost totally composed of writhing.
Your thoughts?
-GM
GM,
Where do I begin? I view professional fighting in the same way I view soccer. I can’t possibly deny the athleticism or skill of the participants, only their judgment. (As for the spectators who appreciate these sickening displays of fruitless running and needless bludgeoning, I openly question--even sometimes deny--their intelligence. You, however, have decided to attribute their success to dedication alone, which, as we know, is no less than a forehanded insult. It’s like the NBA team that tries so hard during the regular season, wins 50 games, and gets swept out of the playoffs three years in a row because of a glaring talent deficiency. No one respects those teams--no one who still likes the NBA anyway.
Look, if natural ability is your standard for deciding who should make millions of dollars for activity that doesn’t even resemble work (and I don’t necessarily oppose such a stance), let me tell you a few things. First of all, different people have different body types with varying levels of strength potential. A 5'7", 130-pound World of Warcraft veteran could never benchpress 500 pounds even if he dedicated his whole life to the cause. So strength alone involves some natural ability. Secondly, the skill of fighting is a combination of quickness, toughness, and intelligence. These are all God-given qualities, although the last in the series is clearly less God-given than the others. Why would anyone decide to fight for a living?! Isn’t “winning” a fight simply losing by less than your opponent? If any of these guys aren’t doing it solely for the money, then they took too many blows to the head even before they chose that industry.
And if they want to help their chances of taking fewer blows by getting in shape and lifting weights for two hours a day, let’s not judge. After all, “Why should the race always be to the swift… or the jumble to the quick-witted?” – Montgomery Burns, The Simpsons
I know it’s not for us, but some Americans still appreciate hard work.
-JW
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