October 2004 Archives

The kids came by in a run of about 45 minutes, from 6 to about 6:45 pm this evening. Then they stopped. It's been more or less quiet since, the loud rush of wind through the palm trees competing with the sound of the wind chimes on the house next door. Some years, there's another bunch of trick-or-treaters at about 9 pm, but usually, when the flow stops, it stays stopped. I don't know about tonight-, but I hope the doorbell stops ringing. For about an hour there, I was reclining on the couch doing crossword puzzles while Fran occasionally answered the door and gave the kids their candy. Bliss. There may be a lot of M&Ms left over. That's fine with me.

We saw "Ray" the other night, and I promised a review. Okay, here: disappointment. There was nothing disappointing in Jamie Foxx' performance, whioch is everything you've heard it is and more- not merely an impression, he really has you buying him as Ray Charles, 100%. He's fine, and worth the discounted price of admission- hell, the FULL price, if we'd been sans coupon.

But then there's the rest of the movie. There's the weak writing with every possible device to get the audience murmuring, like when the eager underage kid with the horn outside the Seattle nightclub when Ray arrives fresh off the bus turns out to be... "Hey, kid, what's your name?" "Quincy. Quincy Jones." And you expect him to wink at the camera, in case you didn't make the connection. THere's a lot of that- "my name is Ahmet Ertegun, from Atlantic Records," says the weirdly shaved-bald guy at the door (hey, it's Booger! Booger from "Revenge of the Nerds" with the top of his head shaved!), "this is my new partner, Jerry, Jerry Wexler" (hey, it's the guy from "The West Wing" with a shave and the WORLD'S WORST HAIRPIECE). And there are the Floating Phony Headlines, the ones that serve to move the story along when director Taylor Hackford can't figure out how else to do it (stuff like "Ray Charles is Rocketing To the Top of the Charts!" that would appear nowhere except in the fevered dream of a hack writer), dashing across the screen the way they did in bad 1950's movies.

But I could put up with ALL of that until the Defining Moment, and if you intend to see the movie and don't like stuff like this given away then stop reading right here there's a scene where his dead mother and brother (who drowned while young Ray watched, pre-blindness) appear to him in a heroin-withdrawal dream and his dead brother says "I forgive you"!!! Really, they put that in the movie!!! And Fran heard some yentas in the ladies' room at the Regal Avenue 13 afterwards say how much they were moved by that!!! And a guy walking out behind us said he was weeping throughout the movie!!!

Now, I'm not one to look down on the public for liking what it likes. Even as I think "geez, how can anyone LIKE that?", I understand that, well, it's OK, some people like Red Lobster and more power to 'em. But when this kind of hack, rote, by-the-numbers work gets praised and sells big, Hollywood gets the idea that it doesn't really have to try harder.

And it doesn't.

And we deserve what we get, and are lucky when we get better.

And I'm okay with that, really, I am. Although it's a shame this movie didn't do Ray the justice he deserved- he deserved an epic and he got a TV movie-of-the-week. With Booger. Who sings. Sigh.

I have a lot to say but it's Saturday night. I've been trying really hard to relax today. trying to forget the election and my reaction to the movie "Ray" (I'll get to that maybe tomorrow) and anything aggravating, and then a friend called to chat and we ended up in an election/terrorism joust- he's lefty, I'm, er, not- and then I remembered what the hell I was trying to do when I initially plopped in front of the TV with a magazine and I had to explain that, no, this isn't personal and it's not because I don't have an answer or I agree or disagree but I JUST CAN'T DO THIS ANYMORE. Not today. And he understood and changed the subject and we were all good (and I heard him refer to it on the radio later, so at least it gave him some material).

And it wasn't personal. It's just that I need this weekend to BE a weekend. And right now, John Zacherle- Zach! The Cool Ghoul!- is on Sirius Satellite Radio's Sirius Disorder channel sounding exactly as I remember him from WPLJ back in the day (and, really, from TV before that), playing Halloween-themed music or just stuff that fits- Joe Jackson's "Cancer"! The Specials' "Ghost Town"! Steel Pulse's "Blazing Fire"!- and it really beats Bush 'n' Kerry, or Osama or anything or anybody else. So I'll go make it a weekend, then maybe tomorrow I'll tell you what annoyed me about "Ray" (not Jamie Foxx, who was worth the price of admission and then some, but the movie as a whole). But not yet- it's only 8:00 and I might still get a few hours of carefree relaxation yet.

Must calm down. Must calm down. Must...

Aaaahhh...

Peacock!:

What's striking about the reaction to the bin Laden tape is how there's a general "oooooh, the Elder has spoken" reaction in the media to it. They're reacting as if The Great One has graced us with his presence to inform us that it was all Bush and the Joooooooos' fault, that, why, none of this would have happened had Bush, you know, done something about it in advance instead of that whole kids-school-goat thing.

Now we know what he's been up to. He rented "Fahrenheit 9/11."

What nobody in the reports on this seems to want to say is that bin Laden's saying that the way to get back in his good graces is to abandon support for Israel and, you know, leave the Jews to him, just like the Europeans have. After all, he says, he saw Israel invade Lebanon and saw towers fall there and thought "we should do the same to them." (Of course, he didn't attack Israel- he KNEW they'd vaporize his sorry ass in seconds if he tried that) And nobody's calling this outrageous. All I see and hear are people wondering how this will affect Bush's chances.

I don't know if America is another Spain or another Australia. I hope for the latter. But if a madman tells you he hates you and trashes the President, why would anyone want to listen to him? Oh, but that's just my prejudice against the Insano-Terroristian community again. Must be more open to worldwide perspectives. After all, murderous megalomaniacs are people, too.

Saw this in the Honolulu Advertiser:

For World Series fans in Hawai'i whose only option was listening to Game 4 on the radio, the switch might have come as a surprise.

During the bottom of the sixth inning yesterday, with Boston already leading 3-0, KKEA began broadcasting the University of Hawai'i women's volleyball game against San Jose State.

It was a contractural thing, but it's just as well- it's different in Hawaii. Major league sports really don't matter much. Women's volleyball- the Wahines- is way bigger. College football ls way bigger. I've been in Hawaii during the World Series- watched some of it in an airport lounge, actually- and it might as well be pre-season curling. Okay, that's an exaggeration- they DO watch some pro sports there- but you get the idea. When you're in Hawaii, you adjust your interests, you adjust to what you pay attention. You do as they do.

I'd like that right now for politics, for the election, for world events- a Hawaii-equivalent to go to where everything's untouched by what's in our newspapers, where the names Kerry and Bush and "Swift Boat Vets" and al Qaqaa don't mean a thing. Someplace where you wake up and the sun's shining, the water's warm, the drinks are cold, and it's like that every single day. No worries about al Qaeda or Kim Jong Il or Ashlee Simpson. Just the sounds of the roaring surf, maybe some reggae off in the distance at some outdoor dive bar where everybody knows your name and nobody will tell it to the authorities.

My happy place.

Okay, so that isn't going to happen. I have to work, have to pay attention, have to keep a roof over our heads... but then again, we COULD just, you know, go. We have no kids. Our families are clear across the country already. All we'd need is a shack by the beach, a little boat, a fishing pole. So we wouldn't get HDTV or broadband Internet or satellite radio. We can live without all that. We can... live... witho...

No, actually, I can't. I'd go crazy. I'd need to get to "civilization." (That's one reason I love the Keys- you need to go to Miami, you can drive there in three hours. But that's not quite the Happy Place) I need that TV, that radio, the papers, the Internet. They keep me occupied, my mind working. That's what makes me... what's the word? Not exactly "happy"... it's more like I have to do it because, um, I have to do it.

But I can always use a long vacation. This year, it wasn't to be- no time, no money. Maybe next year. Wait 'till next year, just like the Red Sox fans used to say. Hey, they made their goal, and it took only, what, 86 years to do it? I'll book our flights now for 2090. I bet we get a decent fare.

Too much going on, too many punches in the stomach. And every time I tell myself 2004 can't get any worse, something else happens. I have to stop telling myself things.

But then there was the opening of an article in the L.A. Times this morning (yes, I read it- after yesterday, I felt obligated to make the effort), a piece about a French forum on America:

This suburb of Paris recently hosted a remarkable discussion about whether the world still believes in the American dream.

The panel consisted of nine U.S. authors representing a spectrum of ages, literary styles and cultural backgrounds. The audience that filled the auditorium was French. The debate was part of Festival America, a three-day extravaganza devoted to North American literature.

Many panelists asserted that the image of America has darkened because of the war in Iraq. They trashed the Bush administration's policies abroad and at home. They said Americans struggle harder than ever for the basics: a house, job security, healthcare.

Then Native American author Sherman Alexie spoke up, declaring himself proof that the dream lives. Alexie, whose latest story collection is "Ten Little Indians," grew up in the bleak confines of the Spokane Indian reservation in Washington state. Today his books are published in 18 languages.

"I see white American writers on these stages disparaging the country, when everything they have is because of that country," Alexie said. "The dream has not died. I am a millionaire because of my imagination. I don't know if you could find another society that has ever existed where somebody like me could become what he has become."

A member of America's cultural elite professing to be grateful for the opportunities given to him by this country... this doesn't often happen. While we're beating the hell out of each other over this election, take a few minutes to reflect on that. I, too, am able to make a living (not a millionaire's living, but I do OK) because of my imagination (and my ability to be a professional smartass). And I couldn't have done that in most of the world, or at other times in history. I'm privileged to be around right here, right now, able and free to do what I do.

On a day of tough news, a thought like that does a soul good.

It occurred to me just now that I hadn't fully read today's papers before they were chucked into the recycle bin. It also occurred to me that this no longer matters a whole lot.

It doesn't matter because the news media has finally, irretrievably sold out what integrity they had left in one last attempt to affect the presidential election. Oh, it's not like this hasn't happened before, but that was before the proliferation of blogs and websites that have the temerity to insist that the papers and the networks tell the truth. You know the details- Rathergate, yesterday's missing-explosives story- but even those aren't as offensive as one single fact: two of the largest news organizations in America, the "paper of record" and the erstwhile "Tiffany Network," planned to deliberately hold a story they thought would be damaging to the President and, until one "partner" decided to break the pact, intended to hold it until two days before the election so that the story could not effectively be challenged in time for the vote. Never mind that the story turned out to have a few problems that rendered it less effective than hoped- CBS and the New York Times are on the record as having intended to hold the story until October 31. You do the math.

Here it is in that other bastion of fairness, the L.A. Times:

Jeff Fager, executive producer of the Sunday edition of "60 Minutes," said in a statement that "our plan was to run the story on [Oct.] 31, but it became clear that it wouldn't hold, so the decision was made for the Times to run it."

"That's what happened, and it was only fair to credit them," said Lawrie Mifflin, executive director of television and radio for the New York Times.

Both organizations declined to comment further.

Let's repeat this:

"...our plan was to run the story on [Oct.] 31, but it became clear that it wouldn't hold, so the decision was made for the Times to run it."

Again:

"...our plan was to run the story on [Oct.] 31..."

Why? Why run the story on that day? Why hold it until then? Why wouldn't it "hold"? Here's the explanation CBS offers:

The tip was received Wednesday, and reporters from both organizations were in place Thursday, but by Friday, when the story came together, only a single TV interview had been taped, said one person familiar with the chronology. Over the weekend, the newspaper got wind that other journalists were on the story, and decided it had to break the story Monday, this source said.

CBS, however, had another major story set to air on "60 Minutes" Sunday: new reporting on the racially motivated slaying of 14-year-old Emmett Till in Mississippi in 1955. It also could not tape enough Iraq interviews in time for the Sunday broadcast.

Not enough time to tape interviews? How many did they need? The Times apparently didn't need more than it had. They couldn't work on Saturday with such a huge story ready to break? And holding it to make room for breaking news in a story 49 YEARS OLD? Do they think the public's stupid?

Don't answer that. It's unnecessary.

The rest of the news media, apparently, isn't all that concerned about this. Sure, circulation's not what it used to be- not if they tell the truth, which, judging by the Newsday, Chicago Sun-Times, and Dallas Morning News scandals, may be an institutional problem- but, hey, if the flyover rabble wants the news, where else are they gonna go? Now, there are options, not all owned by Tribune or Knight-Ridder or the New York Times or any of the other modern press barons. No worries, they think, we can just dismiss those as unprofessional non-journalists with partisan axes to grind (except for Kos or Atrios or Wonkette- so cool, and one of us)- let's all just gather at Romanesko's letters page and discuss what really matters, like how many more papers endorsed our man Kerry this week or whether j-school's worth the trouble. Or maybe a letter or two attacking any critic who dares suggest that Jon Stewart- one of us, except when he's not- might just have climbed aboard with The Fonz and jumped that shark. Meanwhile, their house may not be burning down, but there's smoke coming out of the basement. What the New York Times and CBS do reflects on the entire industry, and the entire industry collectively yawns and moves on. (Or points at Fox and says "see? They're biased!" as if that gets everyone else off the hook)

So I didn't read the A sections today. The L.A. Times and the Daily Breeze are now gathering moisture in the bin back behind the garage, pages melding together in the rain. I did read "Get Fuzzy" and "Pearls Before Swine," scanned the sports section, but I missed the front page, the metro sections, the business and lifestyle sections, the editorial pages. And with each passing day of this campaign, failing to read the paper seems more and more like the reasonable thing to do.

Here's how this campaign has affected me: there are missing weapons in Iraq (although apparently they were missing BEFORE the coalition troops ever showed up), Clinton's campaigning for Kerry by telling everyone how much better things were when HE was in charge, Rehnquist is sick and judicial appointments are suddenly a last-minute hot button topic, Kerry's claiming to have been in two places at once in '86 when Buckner booted the grounder and he's claiming to have met with people who say he never did meet with them, and I'm more interested in the Ashlee Simpson acid reflux controversy.

Monday's a long day for me- I have several columns to write, deadlines galore, bills to pay, and an inexplicable pile of dead ants on the windowsill coexisting with an impressive trail of perfectly living ants. EVerything in the campaign's been beaten to death, and I'm about as capable of dealing with it as Manny Ramirez is with easy fly balls to left. (Memo to ManRam: you catch the ball with the part of the glove on your palm side, not the back of your hand. Try to remember that next time) I thought the weekend would help- nope.

Here's what's lodged in my mind at the moment:

1. Lindsay Lohan is in the hospital, but that's not the part that bothers me. What bothers me is that she's in a remake/update of "The Love Bug" called "Herbie: Fully Reloaded." It doesn't matter that it's written by Ben Garant and Thomas Lennon of "Reno 911"- they wrote "Taxi" (the Queen Latifah-Jimmy Fallon bomb, not the TV show), so they're fallible. I can't stress this too much: they're bringing back Herbie the Love Bug. Where's Congress? What's the Supreme Court doing about this?

2. Speaking of Jimmy Fallon, I would not object to his existence despite having no discernible talent and a weaselly, weak manner, except that a) they're remaking "Fever Pitch" as an American love story revolving around the Red Sox, b) Drew Barrymore's in it, and c) Jimmy Fallon's not only in it, he's STARRING in it. Let's get this straight: "Fever Pitch" started out as one of the all-time-greatest non-fiction sports books ever, Nick Hornby's book-length treatise on why he is (and, by extension, all guys are) sports fans (in his case, a worse-than-rabid Arsenal fan). It became a pretty entertaining low budget fictional movie with Colin Firth, a love story to be sure but because it was done on a small scale and because Colin Firth can act, it was perfectly tolerable. Now the Farrelly Brothers (oh, NO) have gotten hold of it and Jimmy Fallon (OH, NO) is the star, and it's about being a Red Sox fan and wooing Drew Barrymore. Jimmy Fallon cannot possibly be believable as a sports fan or someone who would be chasing after Drew Barrymore. I will reserve final judgement because the "American Pie" guys did Hornby's "About a Boy" and it turned out quite good, but I am not optimistic. (And don't get me started about Jude Law as "Alfie." Alfie is and always will be Michael Caine. No arguments.)

3. Robert Merrill died. Robert Merrill. I am not an opera fan, but everyone knew Robert Merrill because he always sang the anthem at Yankee games and he was on "The Odd Couple." Therefore, I am sad.

4. I like cheese.

Can I go now?

Upon further review, I've determined that Wal-Dryls are, in fact, a product distributed not by Wal-Mart but by Walgreen's. Wal-Mart's Benadryl knockoff is called "Equate," as are all of their pharmaceutical generics. I humbly apologize for the confusion.

Now, go back to whatever it is you were doing. It's Sunday. Go do Sunday things.

I'm watching the Series through a haze induced by a combination of the lingering pseudo-head-cold with which I've been afflicted for about a week, a powerful sinus headache, and the two Wal-Dryls (Wal-Mart's generic Benadryl) I took about two hours ago. And all my mind is doing right now is repeating, over and over, Lenny Welch's version of "Since I Fell For You" that I heard on Oldies 540 and 1260 this morning when I was running. Great song, so it could be worse- if I'd heard, say, the Britney Spears version of "My Prerogative" and THAT got stuck in my mind, I'd be stuffing the Wal-Dryls up my nostrils and in my ears attempting to erase it. "Since I Fell for You" is better, but I'd like to be at a more normal function level right now.

Not that today was filled with normal, considering we saw "I (Heart) Huckabees" this afternoon, which is not all that normal. Not bad, either- I feared the worst, an incoherent unentertaining preachy mess, and it's an incoherent entertaining preachy mess, sort of a grad-student-showing-off-what-he-knows movie. Point of the exercise? None, really- some broad swipes at Big Bad Corporate America, some tin-eared, heavy-handed attempts at satirizing marketing campaigns and consumerism, but it ends up being entertaining, although far from universally so (a burly senior loudly proclaimed "well, that was a waste of the last two hours" as he left, then sat on a bench outside the theater warning others not to see it). And Jude Law really IS in every movie this Fall. But this one was okay, not as good as "Flirting With Disaster" but not nearly what I'd feared.

Now, if you'll excuse me, it's Saturday night, the Sox just regained the lead, and the Wal-Dryls are scrambling what's left of my mind. I'll go now.

The Wal-Mart in Long Beach is almost past Halloween and it's definitely already over Thanksgiving- the Christmas stuff already occupies a handsome chunk of real estate. Fran loves Thanksgiving, and wanted some sort of turkey-related decoration, but they were pretty much done with that. Sorry, folks, the calendar may say we're not yet at Halloween, but in Retail World it's late December. Get with the program, people.

So we picked up a couple of odd-looking straw people that maybe kinda sorta suggest a Thanksgiving theme- hey, for $2.88, I won't complain- and headed for the candy aisle. We didn't buy candy for Halloween early this year because of the termite thing- we'd have had to bag the stuff- so we went tonight, and they were already down to a single aisle of limited selection (it's Christmas already, y'see). It's hard to know what to get. Back in the day, you knew what kids liked, because you'd been a kid, too, and you knew what you liked. Snickers, yes. Kit Kats. Reese's. Lollipops were out, and Smarties were OK, but Tootsie Rolls kinda made you sick after a while. Three Musketeers were acceptable, but off-brand stuff was not. We had standards. Now, the watchword is sour, and the kids seem to go for Skittles and worse. But then there are things like white chocolate Reeses- do kids like them or not? Do they even still like Reese's? How about Nerds? Or Baby Ruths? I like Baby Ruths, but do the kids? Dunno. Don't know anything anymore. We settled on a bag of mixed M&M fun-sized treats- plain, peanut, minis, but, sadly, no crunchys. Will the kids like it? Don't know, and I guess I shouldn't care. They're not MY kids. Besides, all they're doing is mooching. Maybe we just shouldn't be home. (Maybe I'd then have to clean the eggs and soap off the house the next day)

None of this, of course, has to do with the election. I see this as a good thing. I need evenings like this where Bush and Kerry and Laura and Teresa and Cheney and the Lawyer are someplace else, far, far away. Tonight, we visited Christmas, almost two months past the election, and it seemed like a better place to be. Let's hope they've figured out who won by then.

The Scotsman reports:

Mr Kerry returned after the two-hour hunting trip wearing a camouflage jacket and carrying a 12-gauge shotgun, but someone else carried the bird he said he shot.

"I�m too lazy," Mr Kerry joked.

According to Mike McCurry, Kerry�s adviser, yesterday�s shooting trip would help voters "get a better sense of John Kerry, the guy."

John Kerry goes shooting at geese.

George W. Bush goes out doing ranch-hand things on his ranch.

We're supposed to think that this makes them, well, you know, men.

Politicians always screw this up. Dukakis in the tank, Kerry in the sperm suit, Bush making small talk with sports heroes, it's all a little painful to me. I'm a guy, and I mean that not strictly in the biological sense (although I am... wait, let me confirm that... uh, yeah, still there). I like sports a lot. I have been known to drink beer. I have been known to drink lots of beer very fast. I have wrestled a large tree out of a swimming pool- solo!- and manually sawed it to pieces in a driving rainstorm. I've replaced capacitors to revive a DVD player. I know what a capacitor is and how to replace it. I read Car and Driver and Automobile Magazine, Maxim and FHM, Viz and Slam. I believe in responsible gun ownership, responsible barbecue operation, responsible large screen TV viewing.

Guy stuff. For guys. I'm a guy. We clear on that? Okay. Now, as a guy, I'm supposed to look at Kerry hunting- more precisely, Kerry walking across a field in hunting camo toting a rifle and claiming to have shot a goose- and feel, hey, he's one of us.

No, he isn't. He can shoot a hundred geese and he's not one of us. He's the guy who called the Packers' stadium "Lambert Field." He's a wealthy patrician politician. He is not a guy. Bush is closer to being a guy- he owned the Rangers, right? He works his ranch, right?- but sometimes I cringe when he tries too hard, like when he recently met the Eagles' Chad Lewis at a fundraiser and a) asked if T.O. is "really as controversial as he'd heard," and b) said Andy Reid is a great coach. Talking points for guy-ness. It's what you say when you've been told what to say. But he's not a guy like most guys are guys.

And that should be okay. Bill Clinton was most definitely a guy, and it got him in loads of trouble. You don't necessarily want a real guy in the Oval Office, because, well, you know. Blue-dress-stain. Nuclear bombs dropping on Manhattan while President Guy is busy watching the Raiders. State dinners involving beer, brats, and copious amounts of vomit emanating from people wearing plastic wedges of Swiss cheese on their heads. You want a compromise. You don't need someone who actually hunts to show you he's a reg'lar feller, you need someone who understands WHY some guys hunt and will let it continue. You don't need someone who works on the ranch- we all know you're rich enough to hire people to do that, Mr. President, give it up- as long as you have someone who appreciates what it is to work for a living. You don't need to make lame comments about the local team or stadium to show you're just like the voters, just tell them what you'll do for them, then do it. Spare us the photo ops. And, geez, Senator, carry your own damn goose.

We returned to the house today after the mass termite execution, and all the dire warnings offered by concerned friends remained unrealized. There was no lingering tear gas stench, there were no piles of dead termite carcasses (well, actually, there were some dead termites and detached wings near the kitchen window, where the last swarms were), the house appears intact, and we're gradually returning to normal.

It is, however, good to be out of the hotel. The Courtyard by Marriott was nice enough- pool, jacuzzi, tiny exercise room, we had a suite, it was clean, the area was safe- but it's no Ritz-Carlton Laguna Niguel and it's just a hotel. Being confined to two rooms, not having a kitchen (a fridge and nuke aren't the same thing), not having the dish with hundreds of channels and a TiVO-like receiver, not having all our stuff with us, not having Ella the World's Most Famous Cat with us... enough of that. It's good to be home.

There's a lot going on tonight but there's really only one thing going on for me, and I bet you think that would be the Red Sox game.

Okay, TWO things.

No, just one. (Although I AM watching the game as I write this. Sorry)

Fourteen years ago today, I said the two most important words I will ever speak, standing in a temple in Tinton Falls, New Jersey, sweating in a tux under hot lights while family and friends watched and waited:

"I do."

Fourteen years ago today. Fourteen years and it seems like an even better idea today than it did back then.

Happy anniversary, Fran.

By the way, can we all agree now that Jon Stewart isn't nearly as funny or subversive as he's made out to be? "The Daily Show" is good but used to be better, but that's not even the point. The point came in this morning's L.A. Times (subscription only, damn it), in Patrick Goldstein's big warm ass-smooch of a profile of Bill Moyers:

I would argue that Moyers' unlikely TV soul brother is Jon Stewart, another master of dot connecting, albeit with sly humor. As Michael Moore put it earlier this year, when it comes to TV political coverage, "There's Jon Stewart and Bill Moyers, everything else is a sugar-coated lie."

There's the L.A. Times and Michael Moore, everything else is positively reactionary by comparison. Interesting choice of quotes. But onward:

For anyone frustrated with the fecklessness of today's news reporting, Moyers and Stewart are a bracing yin and yang antidote, the Jewish smart-aleck who loves to do Johnny Carson spit takes and the sober Baptist sermonizer who can quote from Reinhold Niebuhr, Learned Hand and Euripides without breaking a sweat.

Go ahead and read that a few times and see if it starts to make sense. Maybe it's like one of those "Magic Eye" pictures where if you stare real hard, you start to see the silhouette of a dove before you pass out. Besides the pointless religious references- "one's a Jew, the other's Baptist- what a crazy pair! Still, they're cousins, ideological cousins..."- there's the Euripides thing. I'm as overeducated as Moyers (with the Poli. Sci. degree and a J.D. to prove it), and I can cite philosophers and judges and social scientists all night long, but I don't, because IT'S POINTLESS. You're OBFUSCATING when you do that, you're TALKING OVER THE HEADS of everyone in the room, you're SHOWING OFF. Bill Moyers shows off, and that's a sign of insecurity- a guy who needs you to know he's Smarter Than You. Kinda like certain presidential candidates.

As it turns out, Moyers is a Stewart fan: "The great satirists always used the medium not just to tell a joke, but make a point, which is what Jon does � he gets the connection between satire and political truth."

Great satirists do not take shots at easy, insignificant targets. Big Man Stewart lost me by going on CNN's "Crossfire" to take angry, bitter shots at... "Crossfire." Er, Jon, since when is "Crossfire" worth even THINKING about, much less getting angry about? Why not go on Aaron Brown's shift, or take on Brokaw, Rather, Jennings, Fox News, someone who counts? Tucker Freakin' Carlson? Yeah, man, fight the powers that be! (But take care not to ask anything too taxing of John Kerry- satire's fine as far as it goes, but you might, you know, NEED him later)

And while we're on the Moyers beat:

What really bothers Moyers, who was in the White House when public broadcasting was created in the 1960s, is the recent politicization of PBS. Its two new shows are rightward-leaning: a talk show with Tucker Carlson, and "The Journal Editorial Report," hosted by Wall Street Journal editorial page editor Paul Gigot.

"In my 33 years at public broadcasting, it's the first time I've seen shows that were clearly created for ideological reasons," he said.

And again, it's Goldberg's Rule: you don't see bias if you AGREE with the biased position. It seems to be fair and reasonable to you. Of COURSE Moyers hasn't seen ideological bias there- he's PART of the bias, which explains this:

As for conservative attacks on "Now," he says, "What really gets under their skin isn't my opinions, but that we're telling stories they don't want to be told."

Of course. When HE talks, it's not bias, it's just stuff the other guys don't want to hear. If it's stuff HE doesn't want to hear, it's bias.

But Bill Moyers, if he was ever relevant, isn't anymore (except to the L.A. Times). Jon Stewart's SUPPOSED to be relevant. And I still like him and his show, but can we please just can the "great satirist" stuff already? He's a liberal comedian who takes cheap shots at easy targets and takes himself WAY too seriously. Nothing wrong with that, but, come on. And, unfortunately, he's another example of a guy whose head's been turned because the Very Powerful have anointed him as acceptable. Makes you appreciate Trey and Matt a little more, don't it?

Time stops when you're stuck in a hotel. The news stops coming. Oh, sure, there's CNN and Fox News on the hotel cable-lite, and you can get newspapers- USA Today right at your door, the L.A. Times and the Daily Breeze and the Long Beach Press-Telegram and the L.A. Daily News on my breakfast table- but it just doesn't feel, you know, RIGHT. Hotels are for getting AWAY from news.

We're not in a hotel by choice, unless one CHOOSES to evacuate the house while it's being fumigated. Those multilingual signs threatening instant death for anyone who breaches the tent tend to work wonders as a deterrent. So we're in a hotel on the other side of the hill, about 15 minutes or so away from the house, in a suite so my early work doesn't wake Fran up. I'm writing my columns and trying- trying REAL hard- to keep up on what's going on in the world, but I'm on Hotel Time and of Hotel Mind, and even though I'm a few minutes from home and the surroundings are ultra-familiar, right near the gym and the mall and the book store and restaurants and theaters we go to all the time, I feel like I shouldn't be working, shouldn't be thinking about Bush and Kerry or the Sinclair brouhaha or anything more taxing than the Red Sox or "He's a Lady."

It's just as well. I just checked the news pages, and in keeping with the scattershot nature of Kerry's last-ditch assault on key enemy targets, there's a new Most Important Issue of the Election today. It's Social Security this time, because "the flu shot problem is Bush's fault" and "Bush wants a draft" and "Bush killed Christopher Reeve" didn't stick. This one follows the time honored Democratic tradition of telling seniors that THE REPUBLICANS WILL TAKE YOUR CHECKS AWAY! and that THE REPUBLICANS WILL SUCK THE BRAINS OUT OF YOUR LOVELY GRANDCHILDREN AND LAUGH WHILE THEY DO IT! and it tends to work to keep the Boca voters in line, but that's about it- it's playing to the core, and the core's already on board, but since Kerry's assiduously avoiding actually proposing a concrete, workable, reasonable plan to fix Social Security, he's not going to motivate anyone to vote who wasn't already heading to the polls. We could use a plan- Bush is all for allowing future SocSec participants to put their money in the market, but he doesn't have a proposal to fix the current problems- but Kerry doesn't have a plan for now OR later. And this is the Burning Issue of the Day? An issue for which nobody has an answer? Is there THAT little left to discuss this late in the game?

You know, I'm better off NOT checking the news. Every once in a while, I need Hotel Time. I wonder what they have in the vending machine downstairs....

Not too much time for anything but a brief word on today's moviegoing (too much to do, including preparing for getting our house fumigated): "Team America: World Force" is extremely stupid. It's also hilarious and merciless. And foul and disgusting, but in the very best way. Plus, it's a musical. Sort of. And Michael Moore explodes, which is always a good time. The right wing got exercised about this movie before seeing it, but it's more a good hard slap at both sides, especially the Hollywood liberal elite- I imagine Trey and Matt just got fed up with the mindset here and decided to kick everyone in the teeth (or blow their heads off).

If you must see one movie that equates oral sex with one's patriotic duty this year, make it this one. You won't be sorry.

I have a new favorite TV show. It's called "Eat Bulaga." I am not kidding.

"Eat Bulaga" is a show from the Philippines that's kinda a game show, kinda a dance show, kinda a comedy show, kinda "Sabado Gigante," kinda unintentionally demented, in a hybrid of (mostly) Tagalog and (some) English, with what appears to be an army of hosts, opening with a bizarre theme song and a dance number (today, with a bunch of vaguely Michael Jackson-ish Filipinos in black outfits), followed by a giveaway involving a number combination ("Let's Vault In"- today's prize being Alicia Keys tickets for her Manila concert). Then there's a full-fledged game show segment, "Laban o Bawi," involving waves of contestants answering quiz questions (three contestants at a time), surrounded by cheerleaders.

Right now, someone is saying that the country led by Jacques Chirac with the slogan "Liberty, Equality, Fraternity" is the United States. Brilliant. This woman in the middle got the question right and moved on to the final round of "Laban o Bawi."

She won 70,000 pesos but could have won a million. She looked disappointed. I wonder why.

And there are people playing along at home, too.

And "Number Woman."

And "Pinoy Henyo," another game...

These folks are the "Bomb Squad," not a terrorist insurgency. Imagine everyone's relief.

Oh, have I mentioned the Sex Bomb Girls? Yeah, those are the dancers.

Yhere's a little of everything on "Eat Bulaga." It's been on for something approaching 24 years at noon in the Philippines, and it's on KSCI-TV in Los Angeles every day at 4 pm.

It's weird, it's cheesy, it's excruciating. And it's not to be missed.

Of course, reasonable minds may differ.

Well, that kinda sucked.

The blackout, that is. I was trying my hardest to get my work done early so I could maybe relax a little, hang out with Fran, watch some TV, sleep, and then...

Darkness. Sudden and without warning, except for the post-blip glow of my computer screen and the UPS warning, a British woman's voice calmly announcing "POWER HAS FAILED." I shut down the computer, fumbled for a flashlight, found the Edison number, called in the outage. Fran left for an appointment and I stayed behind in the darkness, squinting at a 2 1/2 inch LCD TV screen at a fuzzy picture of the Astros-Cardinals game from a transmitter in Tijuana.

Doesn't sound so bad, and it wasn't, except for a couple of things- the work thing, for one, which because I had no computer available had to go on hold, and for another, I'm a reader. I have to read. I read a lot. If I'm not reading on the computer screen, I'm reading a book, a magazine, a comic, a newspaper. When I watch TV, I read, too. I read at dinner, in the theater until the movie starts, at the ballpark during a game. That doesn't make me smarter or more special- it just means that I need words in front of me to keep my mind occupied. Without them, I feel lost. And in the darkness, forced to direct full concentration on the little screen, I couldn't. I shut the thing off, and then, nothing. I fidgeted. The silence- no fans, no buzz of computers and TV receivers and washers and dryers- was so complete and enveloping that it was annoying. I just sat there for about 45 minutes, lost, confused, and then I went and got the flashlight and got a comic- Viz- and I started to read, one panel at a time, carefully moving the narrow beam from panel to panel and then...

CLICKwhirrrrr

Light! The light is on! I can see!

And I'm now way, way behind on work.

Relax? Not me, not ever.

I was SO CLOSE to an early evening, too. F'ing substation outage. F'ing Edison. F.

Hmm...

Debate or Yankees-Red Sox? Debate or... Deba....

Play ball!

Actually, I watched both, alternating between the two. That gave me the unique perspective of watching a Kerry statement followed by a response from Pedro Martinez, but when it was all over, nothing surprised me. The Yankees won, and the debate, well...

Look, let's call it for what it is- if you don't know where these guys stand, you probably shouldn't be voting. It couldn't be more clear what each candidate's about. So why bother with a debate? It's all about the gotcha, the hope and prayer that someone will screw up. And neither guy, regardless of what you think about their policies, screwed up. They didn't scream, didn't loudly sigh, didn't start swearing or telling Bob Schieffer (who really, deeply sucked as a moderator) that he was possessed by the spirit of Ramtha. They just talked, and that's it. I couldn't bother to live-blog it, because that would have meant I'd have to watch every word. And I don't care anymore. I don't need a debate.

Simple: you either like Bush or you don't, either trust Kerry or you don't. Bush is either a lying sack who's squandering tax money on, er, the taxpayers or a tough S.O.B. who's the kind of guy we need to fight terrorism. Kerry's either a patrician wuss who needs approval of the French and his wife to take a pee or he's a war hero who can steer the swift boat of America through these rough whatevers. If you haven't formulated your ideas about this by now- forget about deciding on for whom you'll vote, it's simply about for what these guys stand- you can't possibly be for real, and PLEASE, don't go into the voting booth and try to guess.

It's not like these guys are revealing anything of themselves now, anyway. "I have a plan" isn't cutting it for Kerry, mostly because the details of his plans appear to be in the same vault as Saddam's WMDs right now. And Bush can't stammer enough to hide when he really doesn't have an answer for something. But waiting for Bob Schieffer to ask the questions you or I would ask is a waste of time. Something about the moderator's chair sucks the common sense out of those guys.

But it doesn't matter, as I said, because the debates, sans huge gaffes, are pointless. Without the Big Flub, everyone thinks his or her favorite candidate won and the other guy committed all sorts of mistakes. But there was no Big Flub, just two politicians droning. You'd have been better off watching the Red Sox flail at Jon Lieber pitches. Predictable as well, perhaps, but more entertaining.

I don't normally remember dreams, but here's what I dreamed this morning:

I was in Providence, Rhode Island. (Incidentally, I have never been in Providence, Rhode Island) I was in an office waiting for a license renewal for a TV station. There were other people in the office, walking back and forth and in and out of doors. I saw no faces- just suits, from the neck down. I did not look up. The doors were 1940's office style, the kind where you'd see "SAM SPADE" stenciled on the glass, backwards; the entire office was 1940's style, with one of those half-wall dividers topped with frosted glass. I was looking at a map of the TV station's coverage in the Television Factbook spread on a desk, but for some reason, instead of one big transmitter, the station was a series of about a dozen tiny transmitters covering about a city block each. More men walked in and out of the room, all clad in suits. I still didn't look up. A cat meowed. It was Ella. I was suddenly in bed next to Fran, the alarm clock read 4:55 am. The dream was over.

What the hell was THAT?

Pardon me for being a little incoherent this evening, but I just had to review a couple of hours of radio programming, and it wasn't exactly the kind of stuff I'd choose to enjoy if I wasn't doing it for work. I'd describe them to you, but that would be unfair- that's a separate job for a separate time.

But when I have to do that- it's what I have to do as a Big Time Radio Consultant Guy- it means that I have to be disconnected from the rest of the world. I understand the Astros won, but I didn't watch an inning. There's the Kerry "nuisance" thing, but I haven't had time to write anything about it, and by now, everyone else has weighed in on it- damn you, Speedy Hewitt! Curses, Powerline!- and all I can say is, er, yeah, whatever they said. Or something. And if you're here for more radio ranting, check out the entries below- today, I don't trust myself to say anything, lest I NEVER WORK IN THIS GODFORSAKEN BUSINESS AGAIN.

So I'm dry right now, my brain cells wilted from listening to radio shows from many, many miles away. I'll give y'all this: that bulge in Bush's jacket in the first debate that so many of Our Friends On the Left are jumping up and down over? Receiver of signals from the home planet. Or one of those ridiculous canteen things weekend warrior runners and bikers wear on their backs. Or Dick Cheney's secret hiding place. Or the electroshock panel by which Karl Rove controls every movement, because he's TAKING OVER THE WORLD ha ha ha ha haaaaaaaa...

You know, paranoid pals, it really didn't make a lot of difference. You're working too hard. Everyone is. I am. Just calm... the frick... down.

I will note, however, that while Lileks believes that he's been able to review the new "The Office" specials before anyone else (in Tuesday's Bleat), I in fact did so in a brief note on All Access in January. That we don't archive those columns means I can't PROVE it, but I did, watching copies (widescreen! No pesky commercials!) I was able to obtain in a highly secret manner immediately after the shows aired on BBC One on Christmas and Boxing Day 2003. Ha! So there! (Brent goes on painful dating-service-arranged dates, Dawn visits from Florida, Brent does the nightclub circuit, Gareth is a boss, and Tim and Dawn... well, watch it yourself when it airs later this month on BBC America, but the final episodes wrap the series up and leave the characters the way you'd want them to be left. I love that show.)

You thought I was kidding.

The NAB? White guys in suits!:

White guys in suits!:

The White Guy in a Suit on the left runs a household-name radio group. He's shown here relaxing, very much unlike how he appeared before Congress.

Whatever. It's over, and I'm home. And by popular request- okay, just one, by Joe, who sent me the new one, here are my Donovan McNabb bobbleheads, one old (standing in a toilet bowl... er, the Vet) and one new (standing in a bidet... er, the Linc).

And here they are with their friends Jim, Eric, and Pat.

My Lord, it's over. Some meetings today, then we bailed and hit the road north.

Just past La Jolla to just past Del Mar, then around Encinitas Blvd., then a stretch through San Clemente and Dana Point, then a long stretch around South Coast Plaza where we got to sit in front of Paul and Jan Crouch's Trinity Broadcasting Network headquarters (no longer sporting the "HAPPY BIRTHDAY JESUS" lights all year round), then in spots all along the rest of the way.

Ken Jennings?

"What are the places Fran and Perry got stuck in traffic on the way home today?"

That is correct.

"Perry's Thoughts on the Debate" for $100., please.

Not now, you self-satisfied jackass. Perry just got home and he's in no mood. Go get some sleep.

There's no getting around it- the Manchester Grand Hyatt in San Diego stinks. Literally. I'm not kidding. There are parts of the building that have the distinct redolence of Eau de Portapotty. Nobody seems to mind. Maybe because they're all radio people, and that ship's been taking on water so long they're used to the pong of stagnancy.

THe NAB's Eddie Fritts gave his annual opening remarks this morning, and he was pretty upbeat for a guy whose organization is, to put it charitably, getting its clock cleaned on a regular basis.

I don't know about you, but I get the sense that there is a terrific buzz surrounding this convention.

I don't know about you, but that buzz is the air conditioning. And the sound of thousands of radio personalities calling their agents desperate for a job at Sirius.

For example, we have thus far been successful in protecting against additional interference from low power FM radio.

I'll get back to this one in a little bit. Don't go away.

We've helped establish a stable regulatory framework that protects your licenses and allows you to better serve listeners.

I have no idea what this means.

Local radio has its pulse on the community, most graphically demonstrated by the onslaught of hurricanes that recently ravaged Florida and neighboring states.

We received countless reports of continuous coverage stations undertook under horrendous circumstances.

Station employees rarely had time to consider their own personal circumstances - and in some instances saw their own homes destroyed.

But they stayed on the air, and listeners attributed broadcasters' efforts to saving lives.

Even now, these stations are raising funds for victims, spearheading food drives, and continuing service to their communities.

That's what local radio is all about.

This is what the radio industry is all about- congratulating itself for DOING ITS JOB. Radio stations in Florida provided hurricane coverage and raised relief funds? That's what they're EXPECTED to do. It's when they DON'T that it's remarkable. That's like a plumber fishing for special compliments for fixing the leak in your toilet for $65. an hour.

So where does radio stand in 2004 - with the combined explosion in technology and competition?

As we look at new challenges, our answer is to compete technically and with compelling content. Radio is combining the new digital technology of HD Radio with its bedrock of localism - to do what satellite services, iPods, and other MP3s cannot do.

I think the time is now for HD Radio.

There you go. Radio's losing audience, it's perceived as uncool, it's driving talent like the most famous, successful personality in its history, Howard Stern, to satellite radio, and the solution is to switch the same crap programming to digital delivery. EGBOK, everyone, everything's gonna be OK.

This industry has always been a business filled with risk-takers.

There are risk takers, but the vast majority of managers in radio are risk-averse. You get one risk taker and, if the risk pays off, a hundred copycats grateful that they didn't put their own asses on the line and can still reap the reward (and take credit).

But in my view, the real risk is for those unwilling to embrace the promise of HD Radio.

Yes, it DOESN'T MATTER WHAT CRAP YOU PUT ON THE AIR, AS LONG AS IT'S DIGITAL CRAP.

Today, because of e-mail, anyone can easily file comments or complaints at the FCC. Interest groups are routinely generating thousands of comments at the Commission.

And this is an FCC that is paying close attention to those comments. There are currently numerous FCC proceedings under consideration.

One of those is the so-called localism inquiry, wherein the FCC is asking whether or not stations are adequately serving their communities.

"So-called"? It's a localism inquiry. What else would you call it?

The activist groups are seizing this opportunity to change the rules and set new standards by which we are judged at renewal time.

It is vital that every broadcaster take this opportunity to tell your community service story by filing comments at the FCC.

The deadline is November 1.

Here's the best part: you don't need an expensive DC lawyer to file on your behalf. NAB is making it easy for you to submit your own thoughts right on our NAB Web site - www.nab.org - which will be automatically submitted to the FCC.

Here's what I'd like to see- there are two stations licensed to the South Bay area of Los Angeles County where I live, KZAB in Redondo Beach and KFOX in Torrance. I'd love to see them tell the FCC what service they provided to the South Bay. You know what? I'll help: none. KFOX is all-Korean aimed at Los Angeles. KZAB spent most of the last few years simulcasting a Spanish music format aimed at Los Angeles and is now hip-hop aimed at Los Angeles. The South Bay is not Los Angeles. The radio industry abandoned the South Bay.

And it abandoned Orange County, too. But hold on, we'll get to that.

It's your business we're talking about here, and this is serious business. Citizen activism is alive and well across America, and at the FCC.

Oh, NO! Citizens are active! We must stop this before they start demanding things like public service!

We need broadcaster activism to be alive and well, also.

Licensing renewal stability that broadcasters have gained can be quickly lost.

Those automatic renewals no matter whether you lived up to your license obligations? Endangered.

So I walked out of there and I thought, geez, did he really blow off the whole localism issue? I've been hot and heavy on that one, because, living in an area with no local radio, I'm a little sensitive to the issue. The very first edition of this column talked about a station that was doing the kind of local-yokel radio I remember from my youth, the kind that REALLY serves the public- high school football, remotes from the diner on Main Street, school lunch menus. And that went away not because people didn't want it but because any station with a rimshot signal to a larger market is automatically going to abandon Main Street and try to serve the bigger town, getting higher ad rates and getting valued at a higher dollar figure.

And that thought was still rattling in my head when I sat in on what the NAB optimistically called the "Group Heads Supersession." I had the heads of Clear Channel, Citadel, Greater Media (my former employer!), Access.1, and Entercom right there in front of me. And these are the kinds of companies who took advantage of deregulation to take stations that served their communities and moved them to serve other communities, leaving places like my hometown without any place to hear local news, without any station for the mom-and-pop stores to advertise.

So I listened as they congratulated themselves on hurricane coverage, listened as they blew off the loss of Howard Stern- why, Infinity and Joel Hollander are smart, they'll find someone even MORE compelling than Stern, Stern's had his day- and I got more irritated. How are they gonna find a more compelling talent than Stern and keep him or her in the business if they put a zero-tolerance, violate-a-rule-we-can't-explain-to-you-and-you're-unemployable-for-life condition on that "more compelling" person? And as they moved on quickly to congratulate themselves on reducing ad inventory- ignore how we ripped you advertisers off for decades, we're better now- I thought, geez, the head of the NAB was only able to cite one achievement for the year and it was to thwart local competition, he blew off the whole localism thing, and these people are congratulating themselves on being "local"? I gotta SAY something.

So for the third time at this conference, I did. I got up and asked a longwinded question that boils down to this:

1. Whole areas near big cities used to have local radio with news and stuff, and now they don't.
2. Companies like yours did that, abandoning those areas and abdicating the local responsibility.
3. Nobody can reverse that because the cost of entry requires service to the bigger city.
4. The NAB thwarted the only proposal for restoring local radio in those areas by fighting the questionable interference the low power FMs might cause.
5. So... would you, out of a sense of public service, accept limited interference to allow for additional radio service to those areas? And if the answer is no...
6. What do you tell people who can't get local radio because you won't let them have it?

The answer: Huh?

Then Clear Channel's Mark Mays said he'd tell the people to go buy a TV station. He later said it was intended as a joke. Let 'em eat cake! Ha ha, only kidding!

Then Greater Media's Peter Smyth said he owns stations in New Brunswick that really serve New Jersey, which is true except that it's because the signals don't reach New York.

Then David Field of Entercom said no way would they accept interference.

Then they stammered and changed the subject back to their wonderful new plan to cut ad clutter.

Localism? They're all for it, until it's time to actually implement it.

They all say that satellite won't hurt them because satellite can't be local. Then they do everything in their power to prevent anyone from actually being super-local. And then they congratulate themselves for doing something they shouldn't need to be congratulated for doing.

Can I go home yet? Please?

Okay, so I caused a little trouble today. Sorry.

The first incident came at a panel on indecency. After listening to Bob and Tom's GM proudly talk about how his guys stay away from that troublesome material, and Mancow's GM tell about how his guy is really just a celebrity interviewer, and Lex and Terry's guy talk about how his guys do an advice shows (despite "drunk bitch Fridays"), I had to ask why, if this is all true, nobody is fighting to defend talent. I wanted to know why, instead of supporting the creative people in the business, the NAB and the group owners and GMs and PDs are just looking for ways to make the FCC and the politicians happy.

Answer: it's someone else's problem. We're publicly traded and we're not going to wave the flag and fight. Next question.

Emboldened by this (and the dirty stares from the panel and some of the audience), I went to the Programming Executive Supersession, where I waited through discussions of Howard Stern's move to Sirius (no opinions) and a large amount of self-congratulation over talent devlopment- why, we're all nurturing and coaching talent all the time!- and finally I could take no more and asked what they can tell new creative talent when anyone who's creative and talented will take one look at the one-strike-and-you're-out atmosphere in radio and see Stern and others bolting or fired, and how they can expect talent to work in radio anymore.

And the most amazing thing happened- John Dickey of Cumulus said that those people are, well, we throw the term "talent" around too loosely, they're NOT talent, they're salacious and not creative and they pick off "low-hanging fruit." And the guy from Clear Channel said, well, it's not our job to defend them, it's the voters' job to voice their displeasure, and we have Bob and Tom and they're very nice and acceptable.

If I worked on the air in terrestrial commercial radio, I'd be begging Sirius and XM for a job. Any job. I'd clean Handsome Dick Manitoba's toilet for free, just to get away from an industry that refuses to have my back when things get tough.

And nobody's asked these questions before, yet Howard Stern leaves the business to go where they'll leave him alone and they're shocked.

What a business.

11:45 am: Showed up in San Diego to find my room reservation screwed up- why should the hotel have it right wnen they had a mere FIVE MONTHS to get it right?- and the place crawling with White Guys in Cheap Suits.

OK, so I didn't expect anything else. It's still strange to me.

Time to go cover stuff. Talk to you later.

The NAB Radio Show starts tomorrow, and I have to go. It's a suit convention- a throng of white guys in suits, and that includes the attendees who are female or people of color. Something about the convention drains the sexuality and ethnicity right out of people.

Needless to say (since I said it last year), this is not my most comfortable venue. It's been better, though, since I stopped going as an attendee and started going as a reporter. Covering the convebtion is exhausting, but it provides a measure of protection for me, since it means I really don't have to be as social, and therefore as lost as I used to be. I'm Jimmy Olsen, Cub Reporter, serious as anything and in no mood to be anything but all-business. Plus, it's someone else's responsibility to deal with the rubber chicken galas. (I'd rather sneak out for fish tacos, anyway)

So it's off to San Diego on the next leg of World Tour 2004. I'll let you know how it goes.

So I'm sitting there watching the huge Mitsubishi HDTV in my sister-in-law's living room in Tampa, and something's not right. The analog channels are stretched to fill the widescreen, but that's to be expected. What isn't expected is that the picture on the digital and HD channels looks, well, not right. Shows I know are in HD- some HBO movies, a football game- look stretched and fuzzy, too. And blocky with the occasional breakup. At best, it's distracting, at worst, unwatchable. I ask about it and I'm told there seem to be problems getting the set and the cable converter to work together, that there's a lot of breakup and that the set and the converter box seem to have their own ways of doing things.

This presents me with a challenge, which I proceed to meet by managing to wipe out all of the programmed channels. That's because, despite having some level of technical expertise and a thorough knowledge of HD, I couldn't get the TV set to stop downconverting everything to standard definition and then stretching it, even the HD widescreen programming. Imagine a football game, then imagine it being Silly-Puttied so that everything looks squashed and the score box is cropped neatly off so you can't tell the score. Yeah, like that. Anyway, my attempts at finding the format reset ended up wiping the channels. We restored them, eventually, but it wasn't easy. And silly me, I assumed the "Format" button would lead to being able to select the format of the programming. No such luck.

It's frustrating, really, because the digital picture is so much better than the analog version you get now. Say you're watching a football game- in analog, you really can't make out all the details. That quarterback's jersey is so blurry, you can make out the number 5 but the "MCNABB" above it is indistinct. Compare that with the HD signal, on which the name above the number is easy to read as "MRAIUHFKA." That's because the signal just dropped and the picture's breaking up. Better adjust the antenna. I'll stay here and tell you when you have the signal nailed. The ladder's in the garage.

So I came home to L.A. and was greeted by this:

Today, FCC Chairman Michael K. Powell launched a multi-year, multi-phased consumer education and outreach campaign � �DTV � Get it!� - designed to inform the public about the digital television (DTV) transition and the availability of high-definition and other digital content and to provide resources for Americans interested in joining the DTV ranks.

Powell recognized the significant advances made by the government and the industry over the last several years in increasing the availability of digital and high-definition programming available to the American public. He also cited the growing popularity of DTV, and acknowledged consumer confusion about the changing digital television landscape.

�Although for the vast majority of American households, digital television may be uncharted territory, we will not let them go it alone,� Powell said. �If you have questions about digital television, the FCC is ready to serve as a primary resource for quick answers. Then we hope they will get DTV � get the set, get the connection, get the content,� he said.

Oh, yeah, Powell? Fix this.

I went and looked at the website they put up for this initiative, and I saw a lot of "what is DTV?" and "what's on DTV?" and other sales stuff, but not a word about HOW TO GET THE DAMN TV TO WORK. Not a word. Because you CAN'T, not without professional (and expensive) help, and a huge antenna, and a lot of money, and a lot of patience. And even then, you can get screwed. The HD set in Tampa is a nice one, and the thing was set up by the good folks at the Bright House Networks cable system, and it DOES NOT WORK. Oh, you can watch it, but it ain't high definition, not even the channels that are SUPPOSED to be in HD. And just try to get the signals without cable- Tampa's flat, their house is near the bayshore facing east towards the Riverview antenna farm with no obstructions, and the signals there just plain suck, analog and digital. They're a mess. Even the local signals on cable and DirecTV are ridden with interference.

So it may or may not work, and you can't count on experts to get it right. And the sets aren't at all intuitive- the remotes resemble airplane cockpit controls, with several buttons helpfully labeled "*" or "#" or with triangles. But what if I take the plunge and buy a big flat plasma set for several thousand dollars- what can I expect here in my neighborhood? Well, the government website has a helpful link to the CheckHD.com website, into which I plugged my address and got this:

WHAT YOU'LL GET WITH DTV


No Stations Found

Great. But they do provide the names of several retailers where I can buy digital sets.

And I can always get cable, which will provide me with the ABC, CBS, NBC, and FOX affiliates. That'll cost me a minimum of $18.50 a month for those four channels- ten bucks for one converter and $8.50 for digital cable (plus forty five bucks for installation). Well, I don't need digital cable, because I have the dish, which will provide me with HBO and Showtime in HD for no additional cost, plus CBS and TNT. But I'd have to buy a new receiver for that, and if I want to keep the ability I have now to record stuff with the DVR, that'll be a cool thousand bucks for the receiver.

Or I can wait and watch TV the way I do now, no additional cost. I won't get the amazing HDTV picture, but, apparently, I can't get that too easily anyway. Bottom line: if you think you can just go to the store, buy a set, bring it home, plug it in, and watch HDTV, you're in for a surprise. Unless you're a big MRAIUHFKA fan.

Just got back. Uneventful trip- two celebrities on the plane, Donald Faison of TV's "Scrubs" (gray Knicks t-shirt, Walt Disney World shopping bag, traveling with some friends) and some guy from one of the home remodeling shows- maybe "Extreme Makeover: Home Edition," Fran was unclear on which- with a Fred Segal suit-bag. Reminder to self: Song Airlines is OK, but try to fly JetBlue in and out of Long Beach next time. And after that, too. If JetBlue doesn't fly where you need to go, take the bus.

I get to spend two days here, then it's off to San Diego for the NAB. Then I'll get home in time to spend a few more days here until they tent the house for termites and I have to go spend a couple more nights in hotels. It's getting old.

You want to know what I think about the campaigns and the Dodgers and stuff? Wait until I'm awake.

First, the French onion soup. Tangy and tasty, covered with a thick layer of cheese and accompanied by little toasts- some garlicy, some molasses-laced.

Next, a Newcastle Brown Ale. Always welcome.

Then a salad, then the main course- filet mignon, medium well, tender and flavorful, with a hint of garlic butter. Baked potato, long strips of zucchini and squash, carrots shredded with just a hint of candying, onion rings- more like strands of onion, lightly battered and addictive.

Finally, after a brief tour of the kitchen and wine cellar, upstairs to the dessert room, where my Vintage Chocolate Lush- a thin, dense layer of chocolate cake topped with vanilla ice cream and joined with a thick, heavenly hot fudge- was matched by Fran's "Chocolate-Chocolate-Chocolate," which had the requisite several types of chocolate cake and mousse all mushed up into one cylinder of chocolate insanity.

And we didn't even touch any of the 7,000 bottles of wine.

Yeah, dinner at Bern's in Tampa. You expect me to write about politics or sports tonight? Come on.