It's just around the corner.

The Bills just parked in Me Olde Home Towne of Pittsford, NY for their annual return to training camp. Happy days are near again. (There are still a few folks who have known me a long time who look at me quizzically whenever I mention my affinity for football. I was fairly indifferent to it until about 1997, when 91 Argyle Street was in full bloom. The story has been told, but if you wanna hear it, it bears repeating I guess.) What the hell, nobody reads this anyway. Except you. (Thanks!)

So anyway, the Bills are in Pittsford, and the advent of the 2004 NFL season has made me a weebit eager to deal in football futures. I'll go on record and make some predictions. It's far too early to predict these things with anything resembling confidence, but hey. I'll refer you back to this list in January 2005 and we'll see if my darts hit their mark.

1. The Bills will be better than anyone expects, and will receive Ram-like attention. At least 10 wins.
2. The Patriots will still be better, but they won't make it to the AFC championship game. Just the way the ball bounces.
3. Despite the much-hyped improvement of the Bengals last year, they won't improve much, if at all. 8 wins, tops.
4. The Browns, Chargers, Giants, and 49ers will flat out stink.
5. The Titans, Chiefs, Dolphins, Packers and Rams will take a step back.
6. The Broncos, Cardinals, Raiders, Ravens, and Redskins will take a step forward, but...
7. The most improved teams will be the Bills, Jaguars, Texans, Saints and Lions.
8. The Vikings will be very good, despite Tice.

Hey, it's all the time I had. But just once I'd like to see a political convention where the keynote speech is delivered by a candidate with a giant, oozing cold sore. I'd like to see him/her intermittently dab it with a linen hanky. I'd like to see the fleshtone makeup caked on it and cracking like the ground of the Sahara. I'd like a wily cameraman to zoom in on it with a macro lens.

I'd like to hear ...ffffwwweert... just as one of many waves of applause settles down for the next applausable quote. I'd like to see a light bulb explode harmlessly onto a would-be first lady, making her shriek, and bringing the entire assembly to a 7 or 8-second halt. Then Mr. Candidate makes an awkward joke in an attempt to pick up where he left off, but of course the teleprompter was just hacked by a cunning dyslexic, so he really can't...

They're just so excruciatingly boring, these things.

There's a lot of praise being thrown around for the speech given by Barack Obama. Sorry I missed it. I caught a snippet, and his delivery seemed refreshingly straightforward, clear, and well, good. I liked what I heard in that particular snippet. But something else occurred to me while watching the news coverage of his speech: He's constantly referred to as "black", yet he's 50% white. This fact seemed buried during what little coverage I saw. I'm not making any point here, I'm honestly wondering, and hoping you'll tell me, when is a reference to a black man or woman warranted instead of a white man or woman, when the individual is a product of both races? Is Obama called a black man because he looks more black than white, or is it because black overrides white when there's a 50-50 conflict? This is not a loaded question. I had read once that the EOC actually defined these things...in the same way that the percentage of benefit-qualifying Native American blood in one's veins was set at, what, one-sixteenth? I forgot. One-twelfth? Help me out here...(woa, that's an awkward word there—twelfth. Did I spell that right? Can't be.)

It's like Tiger Woods...he's often referred to as "black", but he's not. He calls himself "Cablinasian." Pretty cool, for accuracy's sake. Or how about Halle Barry...I thought it was odd when she was dubbed the first black woman to win an oscar for a leading role. Isn't she half white? So...why...who...when is...what's the correct formula for understanding the racial identification question, and most importantly, when will the day come when race no longer defines us?

Labels: at home, politics

It's just a matter of time before activists, under the guise of civil liberties, set back security methods even further. We're already disallowed from checking the bags or otherwise interviewing more than two people in any "group," in the name of the idiotic, backwards concept that these activists like to call "racial profiling." Meanwhile, 80 year-old grannies on their way back to Florida are getting strip searched in the name of randomness. It's insane, people. As in, insanity. It means that if 14 Syrians board a plane separately and then act as a group, we need to just sit back and accept it. It turns out that 13 of them had expired visas. Yes, 14 Syrians, citizens of a country designated as a sponsor of terrorism, flying on the same day that a terror warning was issued, were allowed to board the plane with expired visas. I don't care who they were. They should not have been on that plane. Nice job, FBI/CIA/HSD.

I can't stand political conventions. They're tough to watch, let alone listen to. I watched ten minutes of the Dem convention last night. Smart decision by Clinton to use rhetorical questions to get his points across. Bill, our glibbest President. His popularity is interesting—especially considering he left office with a 40% positive public opinion. Time, she heals all wounds. I don't think I'll watch tonight. It's just not good television. But Bill is certainly a good orator.

I've always been pro-choice, and I've always respected everyone else's view on the subject...with the obvious exception of the deluded few who bomb doctor's cars. But when rabid choicers go too far, I want to run screaming from their ideological "side" and take cover in no-man's land. I mean, take a look at this T-shirt from Planned Parenthood. Are you *kidding me*? Who the hell could wear such a thing? How could anyone or any organization, particularly a federally funded organization like PP, be this disgustingly cavalier about it? If this doesn't *at least* irk you, check your head.

First, read this. Try not to shed a tear, now. And yea, yea...it's a CNN article. I couldn't find it on Reuters.

Then come back and enter your best guess as to what his Bush poem reads. (English, please.) It's Monday, so hopefully I'll get at least one entry. Use any rhyme scheme you like: terza rima, iambic pentameter, haiku, whatever.

Ready? Set? GO

On an entirely different note, Sam Kellerman has predicted this year's Superbowl winner: Al Davis' collection bin of the nearly-retired, known also as the Oakland Raiders. One word for you, Sam: PPFFFTTT. It's July, training camps have yet to start, the Raiders have a new head coach, the players have to learn a whole new offense and a new defense, and of course, they're stacked with old, slow players. (Gushing over Bobby Hamilton? Is it April 1st or what?)

Hey Sam: I'll give you 50-4 odds that you're wrong.

Your Thursday itinerary is as follows: Take a ten minute trip to Molvania, the land "untouched by modern dentistry". From there, fly directly to the desert and explore the chasm. If you get hungry out there in the dry heat, fear not. You can now have a moist snack in the driest of dry places, thanks to brand-new urine tech.

Three of CNN's chosen headlines for the day:

1. Jenna Bush sticks out tongue at photographers
2. Britney Spears' fiance a father again
3. Mary-Kate Olsen to return home soon

1. Democratic advisor Berger absconded with classified documents in his pants*
2. Berger, Under Attack, Steps Aside as Kerry Adviser
3. Berger: 'I Deeply Regret' an 'Honest Mistake'
4. New Report to Back Up Iraq WMD Claims

Interesting, no?

I remember when Viagra was new. I remember Bob Dole, er—pitching it—not long after he had lost his bid for the Presidency. It was strange enough to have our almost-President dropping figurative trou on national television. And it wasn't one of those ads that you see only a few times—no, Phizer drilled it into the nation's heads day and night for months. It was 1998, and the Viagra revolution had begun.

These ads for the Original Anti-flaccid promised more than increased worldwide turgidity. It promised a brave new world of drug commercial saturation. Most of these ads don't provide any indication of what the drug is for, so you're left to wonder why the hell you'd want to risk that laundry list of possible side effects. They give you images of tastefully dressed, white-toothed smiles, soft-focus handholding through parks, kids on swingsets, and random shots of racially diverse faces grinning assuredly back at you, as if to say, "I'm oh so much better now.

The drug names are usually pretty funny, like Levitra. At least someone in marketing knows his Latin etymology. But they're not quite as funny as the side effects—I never thought I could chuckle at a random reading of ailments. It must be the delivery: About 1.5 to 2X speed, always in soft tones to dull the impact, and always ending with the rarest possible side effect, to leave you with that "rare" notion floating in your head.

More recently, drug companies have revealed a new strategy. It's the Lets Turn Ailments Suffered By Few Into Ailments Feared By Many Movement, or LTASBFIAFBMM. I've seen at *least* 200 instances of the Lamisil commercial. What's Lamisil for? Oh, yellow toenails, basically. The new scourge of the 21st Century. Dry, flaky, yellow toenails that just might...gulp...thicken. Oh, the humanity.

And that IBS with constipation commercial, with about a dozen nice and flat female stomachs on display (with all skin tones present and accounted for, of course). You can't convince me that the number of women out there with IBS warrants the media saturation. I'm not particularly, um...stool-savvy, but I don't believe that there are so many bowel-troubled females out there that hourly commercials are required to spread the word about it.

The increase in patient requests for inquiries about particular drugs must be increasing exponentially. It used to be that you tell your doctor about some symptoms, your doctors checks this or that, and then a medicine is prescribed, if any. Now it's, Hey Doc, I have these yellow toenails. Got any Lamisil?

Isn't this a weebit strange?

In a way it makes perfect sense, but it's amazing nonetheless. This Wired story details NASA's recent discovery that plankton, of all things, can control weather. If we can figure this one out, and I'm sure we will eventually, imagine the good it could bring.

The prosecution of Martha Stewart is such a joke. She did something that a zillion millionaires have done before: she heard a tip and acted on it. Yes, yes. Insider trading is a bad thing. I'm not saying otherwise. But that's not what happened. What she did is so utterly insignificant in the corporate context that it should whiten the knuckles of anyone with a sense of justice. They made an example of her, and it had more to do with the bizarre hatred for Martha than it does her stock situation. By the way, this whole fiasco has led to more than $100 million in personal losses for this maker of cakes. Martha built a giant domestic empire, and that made her a delicious target. Liberals everywhere have thoroughly enjoyed the process. It's hard to believe what motivates some people. It's hard to believe that so many people can carry such misdirected and unwarranted hate. It's sad. Really, really sad. Martha Stewart in jail? How embarrassing...

If you're of the mind that the current administration went to war in Iraq because they wanted to install a few defense contractors, claim some oil, and generally wreak havok on some Iraqi bodies, then you must be an actor. Or intellectually lazy, whichever. Maybe my memory is better than anyone in Hollywood, but I doubt that. Before Bush was elected, the language coming from the Democratic party about Iraq was, well...this article summarizes it nicely.

Even more interesting is this video experiment.

I was a little creeped out this morning when I read that the CDC is dispensing millions of chemical weapon antidotes to New York and Boston. But if I dwell on that, I won't get anything done. So I'm not going to talk about that stuff.

I think all the new pictures from the Cassini space craft should be required viewing. Immediate perspective. They're not nearly as stunning as Hubble's amazing views, but hey. These are new.

Cheers, Bill Cosby. You did more in one speech than Jesse Jackson has done his entire career. And your words apply to everyone. Thanks for having the wisdom, initiative, and balls. I wonder how many people will call you an Uncle Tom. Sigh...

I never would have thought I could feel envy for a flea market riffler. Until now. I remember once reading about the "lost Mal Evans archive." Figured it was apocryphal. How cool.

"Partnership For a Drug-free America", an organization whose name reflects the futility of its mission. Achtung, PDFA: The country will never be "drug free." If you want to sharpen your image and effectiveness, start by sharpening your language.

I have nothing against Oral B. I have an Oral B toothbrush. They're generally good for mouths worldwide. But my impression of them as a company took a hit yesterday when I saw their commercial for Brush Ups. First, the product: I'll go out on a limb and predict that it's terminated in a year or so. After all, public tooth brushing is kinda creepy. And the idea of people missing the garbage can when they discard their plaque-infested Brush Up prior to boarding the subway will bring a whole new brand of Heebie-Jeebies to pedestrians nationwide.

But the commercial was worse than the product itself. They brought in a choreographer and a platoon of attractive, well-dressed "actors," who move through some kind of mall-like place like a boy band posse and "sing" about this merger of thimble, glove, and toothbrush as if it promises its bearer waves of unending ecstasy. And they do all of this poorly.

Anyway, I doubt the folks at Trident are concerned.

Strange. Some of the most intelligent, creative, knowledgeable and generally aware people I've met in this wee life are, by their own assessment, financially unsuccessful or at best, moderately successful.

The word alone—successful—conjures up dollar signs at first glance or mention, does it not? Pity, that. Such a narrow view of something so broad and multi-layered as a human life. How about the achievement of any goal? What about being particularly good at something...anything? If you make the best damn...muffins...in the world but you don't make a red cent from them, you're still a success in my book, because you're a successful muffin maker. Shit, yesterday I referred to the pachysandra in my back yard as successful, and it is.

In a life summed, how many goals must a person achieve to earn the "successful" moniker? Or is the achievement of one or more goals irrelevant, and it's all just a race to see who dies with the most money, cars, and property? That would make for an entertaining cosmic gameshow, but this is life, and we all have the same lifeless destiny.

Is Mr. Smith, with his 7 million in assets, three houses, four cars and a timeshare jet, more successful than Mr. Jones, who has none of that? Even though Jones is kind and generous; a man who raised two intelligent children, wise beyond their years and intensely curious about their world, is an accomplished poet, pianist, and artist who constantly strives to broaden his and his children's lives...? Smith, meanwhile, has left betrayed friends, family, and women in his wake, can't tell you much about history before his own birth, even if he cared to, and generally doesn't give a damn about anything that doesn't directly benefit his own bottom line. If the consensus pick for the "successful" tag goes to Smith, I'll have to sound my barbaric sigh over the rooftops of the world.

I'll say no more. But I'll say this:

The variety of personality types in this species of ours never ceases to fascinate me. How those personalities navigate through their world is even more fascinating. Some navigate seemingly effortlessly, while others seem rudderless. Some of the rudderless are happy with rudderlessness, insofar as they don't reflect on it and go about their lives free of the confines of concern and ambition. We have names for these folks. Others are rudderless because they lost it, but they know precisely what color and shape it was. Still others can't determine which is the correct rudder because they like so many of them, or so few.

Then there are those who simply find one that'll do. One that will get them to the other side. They might not expand anyone's horizons but their own, but that's enough, especially when you're on the other side looking back at those adrift. Stick your flag in that land, it's yours now.

The country is full of millionaires or quasi-millionaires who are not particularly impressive in any discernible way. Some are born into a situation that doesn't require much if anything in the way of insight, creativity, ability, or effort. Others are pulled in by others, or mere happenstance hands them a golden context. For every Paris Hilton in this world, whose uncountable sums belie the emptiness of their heads, there are a thousand anonymous people with astounding intelligence, talent, and wisdom who punch a time clock.

It's nothing to feel angry or jealous about. It's just part of the Human Comedy. The fact that there are so many idiots with meritless wealth is a single Grand Irony in a giant sack of Grand Ironies. Reach into the sack, pull one out, and tell us remind us what it is.

With the same half-pissed, half-whimsical tone of Andy Rooney, I often ask myself, "why is that?" Asking oneself "why" is often fruitless, so today I figured I'd foist the burden of answering two peculiar questions onto you.

Why doesn't the US have Maglev? It's 2004. In the 70s, the era of the Maglev train was born. In the United States, we're still feeding it formula and confining it to the crib. Japan has it. Germany has it. Europe will eventually have lines everywhere. Germans can travel between Berlin and Hamburg (292 km) in fifty minutes, including stops, for DM 90 ($45 US). Trains leaving the station every 10 minutes. Compare this to a one-way flight between these cities for DM 320 ($160). Less hassle. Less money. Fast. Safe. Clean. Easy.

Now imagine if the United States had picked up on this in the 70s, when Japan and Germany had the clarity of vision to realize that it was an important cog in their future. The only good news is that the US government didn't pick it up. They would have ruined it, just like they ruined Amtrak and continue to butcher the US road and interstate system.

No, imagine that the major airlines had the foresight to enter the Maglev fray. Imagine that a few of them pooled some R&D, received a few grants, and took some risk to put some air-quality travel on the ground. By now there would be a Maglev network in the US, which would give us more travel options and foster more price competition between airlines. Don't tell me that that's the reason why it doesn't exist here, because I'm suggesting that the airlines themselves are cashing in. Had they had the vision.

Interstate travel would explode, as would the travel and service industries. There would be fewer belching cars on the road. We could get to places that aren't quite far enough to board a plane, but are a pain in the ass to drive to. The benefits would ripple far and wide.

Okay, so maybe the car companies hated it.

When viewed horizontally, why does the human spine look a helluva lot like the common millipede?

I think the answer to this one is the same answer to the question, "why does an orchid look so...so vulvar?"
Nature likes its likenesses.