This has to be one of the strangest stories ever. New England Patriots owner Bob Kraft met with Russian president Vladimir Putin, and allowed him to put on his Super Bowl ring. Putin puts it on, takes it off, puts it in his pocket, and walks away. Yes, it's obviously a cultural misunderstanding, but I don't think Bob Kraft should ask for his precious back. He should tell him that it was a gift and just have another one made.

Putin is a former KGB guy. He's a former stasi guy. You don't ask for gifts back from a stasi guy. I think there's a plaque in the halls of the Kremlin that even says so. Laugh about it, Bob, and move on. Tell the world you meant to give it to him so that Putin is not embarrassed by this. Just do it.

...please...?

I don't believe this was intended as a gift because Bob Kraft would have prepared a statement and it would have been an obvious, formal gift presentation. And if Mr. Kraft DOES THE RIGHT THING and tells the world that OH, I MEANT TO DO THAT, ENJOY THE RING, MR. PUTIN...just forget that it's not the truth. We've been to DEFCON 4 on smaller misunderstandings.

But as scary as Putin has the potential to be, it was nothing short of amazing to see him show up to catch Paul McCartney in Red Square. If you haven't seen it, try to catch the show on A&E, or, what the hell...buy it. Yea, it was a couple years ago, but I had never seen it, and you don't have to love the Beatles as I do to enjoy it.

I was watching it just for the music, but when Putin shows up with his team of body guards, you need to see the faces in the crowd react. Everyone could see him show up because the cameras caught him. People were in tears. The good kind. I got a bit misty, too.

Putin smiling and moving ever so slightly to Let It Be is, well, quite a thing to see. If you only catch that five minute bit, you've seen a lot. It makes you think that everything's going to be okay.

Don't forget the moment, Vlad.

UPDATE: The Associated Press reports New England Patriots owner Robert Kraft claims that he gave his Super Bowl ring to Vladimir Putin out of "respect and admiration." "I showed the president my most recent Super Bowl ring. He was clearly taken with its uniqueness," Kraft said. "At that point, I decided to give him the ring as a symbol of the respect and admiration that I have for the Russian people and the leadership of President Putin." There you have it. The right move, as the world chortles and half-seriously wipes its brow.

Labels: commentary

...that have caught my eyes and ears this week:

• This is cool.
• But this is cooler.
• I'm not going to argue with this selection for the best album of the past 20 years.
• This is a very interesting and unique blog. People from all over submit anonymous personal secrets in postcard format. Most submissions are by artists, who are apparently a rather...disappointed lot.
• Two words: Eat sushi.
• How on EARTH can this happen?
• If you're on hold and could use a break from the mental grind, try this.
• Who would have thought that one of the biggest hazards that climbers of Mount McKinley face is, well, poo? I'd have guessed sharp jagged rocks or slippery slopes would be the dangers to look out for.
• Back to the moon we go? It's about time. We were just getting good at it back in 1974...
• The New CNN? They must have been reading this blog. Surely...
• All this talk about how Saddam loves Raisin Bran and Doritos and HandiWipes has its funny side, but it should also remind the world about how the U.S. truly treats its prisoners. His guards fetch him snacks, he's allowed to smoke inside while many American citizens can't, he's given all the cleaning supplies he asks for to satisfy his anti-germ bent, and gets meals that gibe with his religion and appetites. In other words, he's living better than many Americans. I wonder if the media will try to humanize him to the point that he'll become a sympathetic character. I would NOT put it past them to bake and serve that cake, and I certainly wouldn't put it past the masses to eat it.
• This sounds dangerous. Fascinating, great, cool, all that. But I hope we don't read about a mysterious explosion in Livermore sometime soon.
• I've often wondered what King Tut looked like. Okay, maybe not often, but I have. Twice, at least.
• I still think that, if climate change were to introduce itself rudely and abruptly instead of by a gradual process in which our tolerance and experience changes along with it, we'll see it in the Gulf stream first. I'm not sure why I think that, but I hope I'm wrong.
• Just in case you need it, here's your comprehensive birthday data.

There oughta be a "Late For Tee Time" siren that you can put on the roof of your car in case of emergencies. You know, like the undercover cops have those blue lights with the magnet that bonds to their roof. They see a perp, and up goes the light. Well, when you're at the tail end of a string of blue hairs in their '87 Oldsmobiles, going 50 in a 55, it's time to throw up "The Ball". It'll be a translucent, dimpled spheroid with a rotating red light on the inside. Remote-directable speakers can play a siren, or you can turn on Microphone Mode and say whatever the hell you need to say. When you're late for a tee time, everyone should know about it and respect your right to pass. It should be the trump card of the roads and highways. People will pull over like they would for a cop on a hot chase. The world will be that much better.

Man, I need one of these.

Cancel I want to be a Hilton, brought to you by the twits at NBC, before it begins.

I don't have many clear memories from childhood. My first vague memory is from age 3, when I had croup. I recall coughing violently. That's about it. My first clear memory is falling down the stairs. I was four or five. Then there's a smattering of memories here and there from that age through eight. At about nine, it seems I have far better retention; more memories are clear to me and I can draw on them. For example, I remember that late one Halloween night, I traded my sister three Mallow cups straight up for three Reeses peanut butter cups. She was a sucker for those gross Mallow cups and it was a major score for me. I also managed to pawn off all of my Mary Janes for some Necco wafers, which she never dug. I only liked the brown ones, but hey—a few brown Necco wafers were well worth a handful of Mary Janes.

I have none of that level of detail from earlier ages. I'd like to recall my first steps, my first taste of ice cream, my first skinned knee, and my first non-family kiss (there was this girl next door but I don't even remember her name, let alone the kiss, which an old photograph suggests came at about age 4—woohoo!)

What's this got to do with...? Well, there oughta be a way to get some of those memories back, short of hitting yourself over the head with a Louisville slugger and hoping for the best. It should be some neat-o gizmo with electrodes that stick to your temples. Two quick minutes of a mild buzzing sensation and voila, it all comes back in colorful detail.

Someone oughta invent this. I would, but it's a little beyond my neuro-engineering capabilitites. If we had better access to our childhood memories, maybe we'd have a better chance of seeing the world with that constant sense of amazement and curiosity. To be able to find a smile in such little things...you know? I just don't say wow as often as I used to.

IMHO, golf's four annual majors run in order of appeal, as far as watching on television is concerned. The Masters is at the top because it's The Masters, and the U.S. Open, which started today, is the most mentally gruelling on the guys. The British Open has its fun quirks and it's kind of a different game, and then by the time the PGA Championship rolls around, I'm already thinking about football.

But anyway, about this week's U.S. Open...it's at Pinehurst, which for me makes it about as good a U.S. Open as can be. Donald Ross (died 1948) courses have one thing in common: they all have character, and each hole looks like a natural part of its surroundings. Each hole inspires you to hit your best shot. And even if you think you've hit your best shot, the green finds a way to trick you in the end. Even if you can't stand watching golf, check it out this weekend. I'm sure you'll watch longer than you figured.

Help me understand why all those starfucker rags at the grocery checkout counter appeal to the masses. Who are these masses, and where can I meet them? I'd like to look them up and down. Take inventory. Ask them a few questions. Maybe deck a few—for their own good, of course. I just can't fathom having any interest in Who's Horribly Fat Now, Who's Cheating, What Former Child Star Is Having Quadruplets, Who Hates Whom in Hollywood, and of course, the ubiquitous Life Of tales featuring Tom Cruise and/or Brad Pitt.

I like Brad Pitt as an actor, especially in the great great Fight Club, but his personal life is no more interesting than your neighbor's. Okay maybe a little more interesting, but not enough to merit a magazine cover "story". I was just at the grocery store and I watched closely to see if anyone would even show a lick of interest in the rag rack. Nobody did, which was heartening. But they're there for a reason. People are paying $3.75 or more to read BS about the lives of strangers who some think they know, or would like to know, because they see them in the moooveees. I don't get it, I don't get it, I don't get it.

Why Why Why Why Why Why Why Why Why Why Why Why?

So Pac Man is 25. Feel old? I still remember the first time I heard about it. I was ten. One day, my twenty year-old sister Amy came home from wherever, excited to tell me something. She had just seen The Coolest Game Ever, and she knew I'd need to know about it.

She told me about it in her room, which I guess didn't have any spare sheets of paper because she drew a picture of the Pac Man screen on the hardwood floor with a standard Bic pen. I think it's still there at my mom's house. At least I know that it was as of 1993, the last time I saw it. I hope it is. This might sound corny, but if it's still there I'll probably take a picture of it and hang it on my office wall. It has that level of meaning.

Anyway, happy anniversary, Mr. Pac Man.

• The most Earthlike, extra-solar planet has been found orbiting the star Gliese 876 (can't they give the stars better names, like Bill, Guarfdoodle, Homina-homina, and Ed? I mean, come on.) I'm a little disappointed, though, that the NSF would say that the planet's "...oven-like temperatures [are] far too hot for life as we know it." As we know it gives it a hall pass, but still: We already know that on Earth, life finds a way to thrive in extreme conditions like volcanoes, the incredibly hot deep sea volcanic vents, underwater pressures that would turn us into insta-soup, pools of acid, sub-zero temperatures, etc. If we know of such extremophiles in our own backyard, why make such a milquetoast statement about a planet beyond our solar system? They make it sound like the odds are against life. Give me a hostile planet with an environment and a bet, and I'll take life. I like the line they're giving.
• I consider Ferris Bueller's Day Off a classic. What I like most about it that it's not really about Ferris Bueller; it's about Cameron Frye. ...Let my Cameron gooo...
• The pace of progress in the medical field has been particularly interesting in the past couple years. Things like this and this and this are building into a fairly clear conclusion: we're going to see dramatic increases in life expectancy in our lifetimes. I hope it all comes down soon enough for our parents' generation. I don't think it's far fetched to say that someone born in the sixties will be playing golf at 100. Maybe not very well, but that's hardly important.
• Most ridiculous headline of the week: Paris Hilton to retire in 2 years.
• The blogosphere is growing like a weed, and apparently some companies are softening their stance on employee blogging. That's great, but I can completely understand why a company would not want employees blogging on their time unless it was a corporate or research blog and part of their defined roles. Group blogging can lead people down far too many tangents. I'm not saying that I think anyone should be dooced for blogging, unless they go waaaaay over the line, but kummaaahn...group blogging begets blogging begets more blogging and etcetera. It's a black hole of serves and volleys. If I'm running a company, I'm saying ixnay on the logging bay. But I'm not.
• Back-to-back holes-in-one. 17 million to one, they say. Zounds.

I wasn't...but I can't help it. The siege of Guantanamo Bay, led by our own media, is driving me nuts. This is the kind of BS it has inspired: A headline from DailyIndia that reads, "V.P. Cheney Says Alleged Torture Facility Will Stay Open. "Torture facility?" It isn't a torture facility, and everyone in the media knows it, which makes this whole anti-Gitmo sentiment that much darker. Now Time Magazine is joining in on the party. It's a joke. Gitmo has been doing the same thing for decades. There wasn't any noise about Gitmo ten years ago, so why now, when it's packed with known terrorists? These people define their lives by the goal of killing Americans, and yet our media is fixated on their interests instead of the interests of national security.

War and everything that comes with it is not a touchy-feely transaction of diplomatic notes. It's ugly. Always has been, always will be. Important facts continue to go unreported. Time isn't interested in the fact that, per Gitmo policy, guards aren't allowed to walk near prisoners at prayer time because the sound of their steps might distract their prayer sessions. Newsweek isn't interested in the fact that they're fed extremely well, allowed to bathe with a greater frequency they ever have had in their lives, and are on the whole treated better than any country treats its war prisoners. Why do you think Guantanamo Bay is under political siege all of a sudden? Remember, nothing has changed there under the current administration. It's business as usual at Gitmo, except that the vast majority of prisoners are known terrorists or enemy combatants. That's a population that you'd think would give the military more leeway in terms of information extraction. So why now? Why all this attention to kicked Korans and "torture" via bad pop music? It's all pretty transparent from where I'm sitting...

Labels: commentary

Headline of the Week: Dolphins found using tools. Humanity had better watch out. The first dolphin patent application can't be far off.

• If there's a funnier program than Comedy Central's Daily Show, I'd like to know what it is. Jon Stewart is quick.
• It's a damn good thing that the Manhattan stadium proposal appears to be DOA. The idea of asking western N.Y. to pay MORE taxes for NYC might have been the straw that broke many people's backs. (Imagine Bills fans having to pay the bill for the Jets' new stadium—Preposterous.) Besides, NYC doesn't need a new stadium. And CERTAINLY doesn't need the Olympic games. Besides...ahem...parking?
• Behold, another story with an "Our borders are swiss cheese" theme. I'm no protectionist, but this is ridiculous.
• The number of U.S. millionaires jumped 10% in 2004, which is an incredible figure. I'm not one of them, but I love seeing news like this. Another reason why everyone is trying to get into this country and nobody is trying to get out. Congratulations to all you strangers out there who have found a way to, as they say in Vegas, "get the money out!"
• On the flip side, this is the kind of report that'll keep you up at night. It's chilling that some of the most "secure" facilities seem to lose things like this an awful lot lately.
• Tell me this won't become a new trend in appeasement. Please tell me so. Can we leave the zoos, museums, and planetariums to science, please?
• Ancient North American legend has it that white buffalos are a good omen the world. Brought to you by a farm in Canada, a good omen for the world. Yes yes, we know it's just a rare recessive gene, but hey. Let it be. With insane beliefs fomenting hatred around the world, we could probably use a little ballast like this.
• This look at Kerry and Bush from their Yale years is pretty funny, but not particularly interesting. I don't think good grades in college is necessarily a good indicator of smarts and potential for wisdom. I knew too many straight-A idiots and straight-C geniuses.
• Live 8 has quite a lineup.
• I've often wondered, where are all the Rembrandts and Mozarts of today? They exist, but nobody cares. Back then, the arts and music were it. Now, music is Britney and classical painters are largely ignored. Unless the composer is 12, of course. Then people pay attention. I'd like to hear this kid's stuff.

Labels: ponderage

I pulled a beer from the fridge and had a sip. It was slightly colder than room temperature. I opened the fridge. Not cold in there. That smell...is that fish funky already? Power on? Check. Running sound? Check. I opened the freezer. It was cold enough to chill a beer but not cold enough to freeze anything. Chicken breasts that were once hard as bricks were now malleable. I checked the settings. They were all where I expected them to be.

Oh, wait. Appliances break sometimes. This must be one of those times. We have a dozen people coming over in two days, three nights.

Me: "It just has to pick the worst possible time to crap out."

Nik:"Is there a good time for a fridge to crap out?"

Me (stubbornly):"...yes..."

I vacuumed lint off the coils. No help. I stood with the door open, staring helplessly at approximately two hundred bucks worth of food on a steady downward decline toward room temperature. It's now 9:00 p.m. Home Depot is open until 10. Vroom, we're there.

Looking at the many different refrigerators, we realize we were so tired and aggravated by the timing of all this that I forgot to bring the measurements. Sigh...Vroom, we're home. Vroom, we're back at Home Depot. No wait a minute, it was Lowe's.

Within five minutes we realize that our fridge nook is seriously limiting what we can buy. We want X, but we can only fit Y. Food spoiling, beer warming, 33 condiments going to hell. And we're about to buy a fridge that we wouldn't have given a second look had our available dimensions not been an issue. There was much grumbling.

Conversation culled from the moment:

Nik: "Let's get the Frigidaire. It has a much better logo.

Me: "Oh, that's a good reason to buy a fridge."

Ten minutes later I was agreeing with her. The two fridges being equal, that logo does look...cooler...than Whirlpool's. Let's get it. But wait...look at this. The height and width are perfect, but the Frigidaire is too deep for our fridge nook. That nook is killing us. They deliver the Whirlpool tomorrow.

Labels: at home

I had to buy some saffron the other day. First time I ever bought saffron. I think maybe I'll quit my job and grow saffron full time. If you're asking yourself why, then you've never bought saffron.

Because this much saffron costs FOURTEEN BUCKS, that's why. If the jar was packed full, like the other spice jars, I probably wouldn't have blinked. But it's only 1/3 full.

It isn't packaged like this. They put it in a little white baggie, fold it up illicit-style, and stick it in the jar. Keeping it extra extra fresh? I doubt it. It wasn't sealed, so it would be no different than having it out in the jar. They do it because selling a fully packed jar of saffron would cost about eighty dollars, and who's gonna buy that? And they're not about to create a special spice jar just for the saffron. Then they couldn't run it through all their labeling and capping machines. So yea, I get it, but that's not the point. The point is, what the hell is so damn precious about saffron that it can fetch fifty cents per thread the size of an eyelash?

Just after writing this, I decided I'd try to answer my own question. Conveniently enough, there's a saffron.com, and it has a FAQ that addresses this:

Saffron it is not expensive because you use very little. When you buy an ounce for $35.95, divided into 670 portions, your cost per portion is 5 cents. Note that only our saffron will yield that many portions because it has 230/255 degrees of coloring strength.

I wish I had known that saffron is as powerful as it is. It looks so harmless. Practically odorless, too. You look at it and you'd think you need to toss in the whole lot. I'm just now beginning to learn the finer points of cooking. I don't know much about spices. I knew nothing about saffron other than a recipe called for it. That bit about "coloring strength" is absolutely true. The other day I decided to "wing it", and learn some culinary lessons by trial and error. I was making Pork Cutlets A la Guess; I threw in some wine, butter, garlic, salt, pepper, onion...and what the hell, let's try some of this new saffron shit.

I pulled out a pinch, ground it up in my fingers, and dropped it in the gurgling sauce. The red thread thingies instantly dissolved and turned the entire batch bright yellow. I wasn't expecting that. Red threads. Intense yellowing.

The cutlets tasted okay but you couldn't look at them. They turned a bilious yellow. A dinner of spleens. Nik had a few bites and passed on the rest.

D minus. Hey, I'm learning.

Sack Him

DenverBroncos.com has employed a ...writer... to poorly execute a bad idea. If it was a well executed bad idea, it might pass muster. What's this sort of dreck doing on an NFL team's Website in the first place? If I was forced at gunpoint to use onomatopoeia to describe this embarrassing piece, I'd say thud.

Broken Record Time

Ted Turner is a strange, strange man. But he's dead on here. The CNN founder thinks CNN has gone downhill fast, and I certainly won't argue that. What frustrates me about CNN and network news more than anything is their curious refusal to investigate and report the many fascinating stories all around us all the time. Instead we get Flavor of the Week stories that are beaten like a dead horse while real news is happening in every corner of the world. This is also why I like Wired magazine. They get it. They cover what's cool. They report what's amazing. They are closer to being my personal town crier than any other news source, and they're not really a news source.

Labels: at home

This is the last thing I'll say about that Newsweek/Koran story: This article perfectly encapsulates everything I wanted to say about it. If there are a handful of people left who don't believe the media products we consume are agenda-driven, they're too busy playing Bingo.

Political correctness continues to run amok. I had bookmarked this gem a while ago but I blocked it out of my mind. For maximum impact, be sure to say ...wha...?... upon reading it. Yes, that's right. Pah-wints don't want their widdle chiwdwen to get huwt by the shock of wed ink on their tests. Awww...

When Al Franken was on Saturday Night Live, I thought he was pretty damn funny, even though his Stuart Smalley bit got old pretty quickly. If I had to guess why he didn't get many other gigs in comedy beyond Smalley, I'd say it's because he's a one trick pony. Still, I had heard a while back that he has a radio show ("Air America") so I figured I'd give him some of my eartime. I gave it a week, and I can conclude with confidence that Al Franken is a pseudo-intellectual jerk. His show is impossible to listen to. He just doesn't have the gift for radio, yet he tries, oh how he triiees...and in the process he comes off as intolerably smug. I also heard him talking about this, which didn't seem right to me and lo and behold, it wasn't. Al Franken is a bitter man and I doubt his show will survive. He's too full of shit. Hey Stuart: Buh-bye.

The first time I heard about kudzu was a review of R.E.M.'s first full-length LP, Murmur. Or, I should say, the great, great, Hall Of Fame-worthy LP Murmur. I was fourteen and in love with an album and the cover picture adorned my locker for the duration of my high school experience. (Sigh) Anyway, if you don't know already, kudzu is a practically unstoppable, creeping vine that pretty much covers everything down south. The last time I thought about Kudzu—I believe—was in 1990 when some friends were married in Georgia. I looked everywhere for some kudzu but I must have been in the one place it wasn't. Anyway, I say all this because kudzu is in the news for a surprising reason, and reading it pushed me down the tangent hole.

Yahoo has a new app in beta called Mindset, and it's pretty cool. Nice to see them introduce something that Google hasn't already. (It can't be easy competing with the minds behind Google.) What I like best about Mindset is that this very thingy is the #2 result (for now, anyway) when you search for thingy. Isn't it time you switched to Mindset for all your searching needs?

Labels: commentary