October 2010 Archives

BOO

This year's Halloween totals:

Number of doorbell rings: 4.

Number of kids, total: 10.

Amount of candy left over: Lots.

Amount of candy I like left over, total: Some Snickers, some Three Musketeers.

Amount of candy that can stay until next Halloween: Lots.

It used to be that we'd get a lot of kids in the neighborhood every other year, but no more. It's quiet. Maybe it's the remote nature of our neighborhood, or maybe it's the changing holiday itself. Maybe it's all the houses on our long block that leave the lights off, sending a distinct "go away" message and leaving the street very, very dark. Whatever the reason, we just don't get too many trick-or-treaters anymore. So I just stayed on the couch working and watching "Boardwalk Empire" and the World Series and listening intently for the bands of happy candy-seeking kids who never came around.

I don't know whether to be happy or sad about that.

MARGINAL BEHAVIOR

I woke up at 4:30 this morning to the sound of rain at the window, feeling like a buffalo had taken up residence in my throat. On a typical Saturday, I go for a nice, long, morning run; Today, I got up, fed the cat, coughed up a lung, and went back to bed.

This wasn't going to be an active day, so I ended up spending a lot of it in bed, reading. Reading a book that isn't for reference at work is a luxury I have practically no time to do these days, and I've been complaining that I take books out of the library and never find the time to sit down and read them. So, despite the sore throat, this was a welcome day. I took "Born to Run: A Hidden Tribe, Super Athletes, and the Greatest Race the World Has Never Seen," by Christopher McDougall, a book I've been meaning to read, out of the Peninsula Public Library the other day; I'd put a hold on it and it finally showed up, so I checked it out, hoping that I'd have a day coming up that I could devote to it. Today was that day, and I dove right into it.

The book, despite being just a year old, is worn. I mean, the physical book. It's been checked out a lot, I imagine, and it's a little soiled and the binding's seen better days. I noticed early on that someone had taken a pen to it, marking off passages in ink, scribbling numbers in white space, and I wondered what kind of moron marks up a library book. The answer to that came on page 75.

On that page, McDougall is in the midst of describing how an enterpreneur who brought some of the Mexican runners to an ultramarathon race insisted on being paid $20 to let someone have a picture taken with them. And in the margin, the previous reader of the book wrote this:

"Must be a Jew!"

Who the scribbler intended to be his audience, I don't know. I just didn't sign up for that.

Later in the book, several scribbles later, in fact, a passage discusses the evolution of man and makes a comparison between Neanderthals and the arrival of the first homo sapiens. And there, in the margin, read:

"Where did homos come from? San Francisco?"

I have no idea who wrote this, although I bet the library could figure it out by checking previous readers of the book and examining other books they've checked out. But it makes me just not want to deal with anyone in this area, ever. We know that the Peninsula is not exactly as diverse as other areas; it's mostly white Christian or Asian. Not too many Latinos (yes, there's an area of Los Angeles County where Spanish is not even the second language), very few African-Americans, and not a lot of Jews. I love living here, but sometimes it feels like an enclave in which we're not exactly welcome. I know, it's generalizing. I know, a lot of people here are perfectly tolerant and open-minded. But then I open a book and see those comments, and I wonder what they're really thinking. Is their default position that Jews are cheap bastards and gays are all from San Francisco and to be derided?

Maybe that's what they're thinking. But if there are people here, people educated enough to read a book that isn't filled with pictures and monosyllabic words, who are so uncomfortable with Jews and gays that they have to scribble insults in the margins of a library book, well, that says more about them than about the people they wish to, um, marginalize. And if they have the need to insult Jews, they should have the balls to do it to my face.

But that'll never happen. Casual anti-Semitism and racism and homophobia are easier when you don't have to answer for them.

THE DEATH OF 'FUN

This is cool:

The end of WFUN Miami in January 1976. WFUN was a big Top 40 station in the 60's. Here's a tribute page with some history and a lot of pictures (and the kind of design sense that gives one headaches). WFUN went to a talk format as WNWS (Tom Leykis and Neil Rogers worked there), then meandered through other formats, including Standards and all-brokered; It's now all-Sports as WAXY (790 The Ticket). The guy in this clip is the last Program Director of WFUN, Don Wright; He went on to WMJX (the old 96X, where my current boss Joel Denver worked, too) and then a long run at WRMF in West Palm Beach before his death at 51 in 1997.

WHEN YOU'RE HAVING MORE THAN ONE

I'm running late, so why don't you go on without me and have a beer:

Amazing how something that was such a household word can just disappear. Is Schaefer Beer stil around? Apparently. Remember, it's the one beer to have when you're binge dri... er, "having more than one."

The World Series opener was... well, I guess it's hard to say, considering that, for the first time since 2007, I don't much care who wins. Lincecum v. Lee figured to be a great matchup, but neither guy had it tonight, and it got messy, especially for the Rangers. But the difference between a year the Phillies are in it and a year like this is that I put the thing in a window on my computer screen. It didn't rate the big screen, or paying more attention to it than work.

You can't expect a guy to be perfect every time out, but the Rangers have to be bitterly disappointed in Cliff Lee tonight. This was the game they wanted -- needed -- to have, a quick road victory behind a dominant pitcher. But things have a tendency not to work out the way you hope they will. It's far from over, but the Rangers probably assumed they'd be up a game tonight. Back to the drawing board, guys.

BUZZING OFF TO BED

This was a slow-motion day. Work was a slog, running was slow, and every errand I ran included some delay -- long lines at the bank, traffic weirdness, a slowdown at every turn. But I made it to the end of the day, once again with precious little time to do anything but watch a few minutes of the basketball games and go to sleep.

Sleep... yeah, like this:

Yes, kids, TV stations weren't always 24/7. That was KMJ-TV/Fresno's sign off back in the day, featuring the McClatchy Newspapers bee (the Fresno Bee was KMJ-TV's sister at the time, and other McClatchy TV stations used the bee cartoon, too). He's gone to sleep, and so should I. G'night.

OKAY, THIS IS GETTING RIDICULOUS

You know, I'm finding no time to write anything other than work-related stuff these days. It's getting old.

If I had time, I'd tell you about the Incredible Car-Key Eating Ignition, or maybe something about the gym. But nope, no time. Gotta find some time to sleep.

ALL WORK AND NO PLAY

I spent most of the day working. Doing that tends to leave very little material for writing at the end of the day, since what I write about for work doesn't usually lend itself to this site. I didn't get to watch more than 30 seconds of football, seeing only McNabb getting picked. I missed the Eagles' meltdown, missed Favre losing at Lambeau, missed the botched call that gave Pittsburgh the final field goal, missed the Raiders inexplicably exploding against Denver. I did go to the supermarket, but there was no material there. Everything was work. Some "weekend."

Somehow, I have to make time for having a life. These seven-day, all-day work weeks are not helping maintain sanity. I'd like to be able to walk away from the computer for a little bit.

But not yet. So... back to work.

SEASON OVER

Tell you what. I won't talk about this, you don't talk about it either, and we'll pretend it never happened.

(F'in Juan Uribe. F'in team-wide inability to hit. F.) (Sorry, I know, I promised not to talk about it. Pardon me.)

In honor of the American League champion Texas Rangers, here's newsreel footage of their first moments of existence:

It was 1961, the opener (with JFK in attendance) for the expansion Washington Senators, plopped down at decrepit Griffith Stadium to replace the old Senators, off to Minnesota that year. They moved into D.C. Stadium (later RFK Stadium) the next year, and left after the infamous riot game of September 30, 1971. They forfeited that game to the Yankees when fans stormed the field, and I remember toilet paper streams from the upper deck emblazoned with "SHORT STINKS," a protest against owner Bob Short moving the team to Texas. As a kid, it seemed unfair to take a team away from its city, but in retrospect, it made a lot of sense: Washington wasn't supporting the team, and Dallas-Fort Worth was growing fast and plenty big enough to support a baseball team. And that led to a long stretch of futility, including bankruptcy, that ended tonight, at least with the league pennant. I hope they end up playing, and losing to, the Phillies, but they're a nice story nonetheless.

BUSY WORK

Work's in the way. Will post tomorrow, I hope.

TWENTY YEARS

On October 20, 1990, I said the two most important words I will ever say: "I do." And I have never even for a split second regretted saying that. Being married to Fran has been wonderful, and it brings joy to my heart and a song to my lips:

Happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, happy anniversary!

PEACE REIGNS

It rained today. In the darkness of 3 am, when I started my work day, the thunder and lightning punctuated the morning, and it never really stopped. The radar kept showing storms rolling through, east to west, the opposite direction of normal weather fronts here, and every time i thought it would let up enough for a run, another clap of thunder would dissuade me from stepping out.

But eventually, I had to go out at some point, and that I did, with an extremely abbreviated run in the immediate neighborhood, U-turning the moment I heard thunder and getting inside minutes before another downpour. And it was nice. It was nice because there were no other runners out. No bicyclists. No pedestrians. No dog walkers. Nobody. Rain brings peace to the outdoors, and it was uncommonly peaceful out there. If not for the part where I get drenched, I'd love the rain.

Maybe Seattle would be a good place for me. I might keep better there.

MEMORY FAILURE

Worked on a post for today. After a lot of time, realized I'd done it before, three years ago. You'd think I could recall every entry on this site, considering that there are, what, seven years' worth of daily posts? That's nothing. Piece of cake.

Of course, I don't remember. But maybe, before setting up the graphics and starting to write, i could, say, search the site to make sure I wasn't duplicating my efforts. That would be smart. If I was smart, I'd do that.

Sigh,

UNIQUE, YOU DORK

The last 24 hours have been... unique. Yeah, that's what I'll call it. Unique. Nothing I can tell you about, but rest assured, it was unique. And you know it was unique when I found myself not in front of our TV for the first three innings of tonight's Phillies game.

Now, I'm uniquely fried, so I'll go get some sleep for once and start the week fresh. After a weekend like this, even the usual 3 am work day seems not so tough.

(I know. Sometimes, I'm all about the cryptic)

Here's what I did for lunch today:

Yes, that's Glenn Beck speaking to the talk radio convention I was at. I've run into him before, and he would usually be wearing a plain shirt and jeans and was pretty personable and a typical radio guy. Now, he enters a room with security like the President, with his sidekick/friend Pat Gray leading the parade, everyone in suits and ties. It's a sight, and it was just surreal. I gotta hand it to him for developing his act into, you know, THIS. But I didn't rush up to him to say hello; I don't really know him (I've interviewed him and said hi in passing, but that's all), and I wouldn't want to be waylaid by the Semi-Secret Service surrounding him.

That followed a frustrating morning during which I had to sit and hear other people pontificate about subjects on which I would qualify as being expert, like FM talk radio, considering I was doing it before anyone else in the room was even thinking about it, and was followed in turn by the Phillies' loss, which just sucked. So Saturday wasn't my day. I'm hoping for a rebound tomorrow.

A BETTER DAY

After yesterday's waking nightmare, today hasn't been too bad so far. At least, I was able to get the car started -- can't guarantee I'll get it started after this convention day's over -- and I got a column written, however slapdash and filler-like it may have been. And my phone didn't ring in a crowded session, although it took shutting it completely off to accomplish that.

At the moment, I'm in a session on sports radio, with Stephen A. Smith (!) and one guy I know and one guy I sort of know and two I don't, and it's okay as far as it goes but I'm fading fast. It's hard to maintain energy for a long day in a relatively confined space -- the whole thing's been in a couple of smallish conference rooms plus a large room for the lunches and cocktail parties. I'm tired and a little cranky -- I know, you're shocked -- and I really want to go home and be with Fran and shut off all thoughts about radio for a while.

But I can't, and there are worse fates than to sit through these things. It's not heavy lifting, and I didn't even have to travel. All I had to do is start my car and point it north. At least this morning, that worked as required.

NOT HAVING FUN

I'm sitting in a conference room in a hotel listening to radio people talking about stuff I already know. It's a little stuffy in here. The cell phone on which I turned off the ringer rang anyway, twice. My car wouldn't start this morning, meaning I had to borrow Fran's car, leaving her stranded. This has, frankly, been a kind of crappy day.

You want me to write something here? You have to be kidding.

EVE OF DESTRUCTION

I am not delusional, and therefore am not under the illusion that I can do work, attend a convention, hammer out a column, maintain Talk Topics, cover news, and write anything else at the same time. Not possible.

So I'll be at this talk radio thing in Marina del Rey tomorrow, and, well, whatever. I can multitask with the best of 'em, but there are limits, and when it means I can't do any of the above as well as I normally do them (no jokes, please), I have to wave the white flag and prioritize. So, for the next few days, I'll have to do my best to show my face at the convention and save some time and energy for the column. If there's nothing here until the weekend, that's why.

And if there's incoherent ranting, blame the convention. That's usually a safe bet.

I could lie and tell you I really, really wanted to write something of substance here tonight but just ran out of time.

The last part is true. The first? Yeah, well, I don't feel much like writing anything tonight. It's hot, I'm tired... nah.

How's that for candor and customer service?

IN MEMORY OF HENRY CABOT HENHOUSE III

When you find yourself in danger, when you're threatened by a stranger, when it looks like you will take a lickin'... There is someone waiting, who will hurry up and rescue you, just call for Super Chicken!

Yeah, it was a busy day. That justifies Super Chicken.

FUN WITH BASEBALL

So the plan was to have three starting pitchers to dominate once October rolled around and the rotation could drop down to three guys.

Yeah, so, that's worked pretty much the way Ruben Amaro Jr. set it up. Maybe they could be hitting more, but when your pitchers are throwing shutouts, you can live with that.

The Reds went three-and-out. Giants or Braves next. This is fun.

THE PLACE TO BE

Another wonderful reason to love the Internet, from YouTube contributor Freenbean:

A "Green Acres" promo from 1965? How the hell did THAT survive all these years? Who had it?

Doesn't matter. I'm just glad it did. And there's this:

Another "Green Acres" promo, this one from the CBC. Cool.

I LOST IT IN THE LIGHTS

Today included a sewer-related emergency, a nice big lumpy hairball on my blanket. and other minor annoyances. And then the Phillies won a sloppy game courtesy of the Reds' fielding meltdown, and all was right with the world.

But this was a week in which I just didn't have time to post anything of substance here (not that I ever do, but humor me). Nor do I have time tonight. I feel like I'm failing in my something-here-every-day mission.

I will get over it. See you tomorrow.

PERCHANCE TO DREAM

Late, column not finished.

Bye.

ROY! ROY, ROY, ROY!

The sound of tonight's Great Moment In World History:

I've seen no-hitters. I've seen great pitching performances. Roy Halladay, tonight, was beyond great. Other than the hard shot hit by the pitcher to Werth in right, and the squib in front of the plate that ended the game, it just felt like there was no way the Reds were going to hit Halladay tonight.

They didn't. When they tote up Halladay's career, when they're voting for Cooperstown, tonight's game will come up. It's surreal (his word, too) to think about what happened, and to think, while it was still in progress, that you were witnessing one of the all-time great performances, so good it was almost routine.

And it's equally surreal to think that this guy is pitching like this for your team, the team you root for and follow and watched lose for so many years. This kind of thing is supposed to happen to the Yankees and Red Sox, not the Phillies. I'm not sure I'm used to this yet.

GO AWAY, KID, Y'BOTHER ME

Not tonight. Maybe tomorrow.

I HATE THESE MEECES TO PIECES

I'm busy.

Here, watch a Pixie and Dixie (with Mr. Jinks!) cartoon featuring racist Asian stereotypes:

Well, it WAS 1958. Thins were different then. No excuse, but, hey, enlightenment was a little ways off. The meeces, they knew not what they were doing.

LEFTOVER D.C. SNAPSHOTS

Oh, yeah, I said I'd post pictures from that first Phillies-Nationals game I saw last week, right? Better late than never:

Here's the general view:

Nice enough. Pretty standard. I did like this, though:

One of several bars in the park. This one had chairs and tables set out like a real outdoor bar. At a real stinker of a game -- probably a regular occurence -- this is probably a more convivial place to be than your seat.

The most important thing Nationals Park has is this:

Five Guys. Always a line, and the best thing you can eat there. (They do have Ben's Chili Bowl and a decent pizza, too)

From my seat, looking to the right:

Pretty decent video board, I'd say. There's a bar out there in left-center, too, with an odd circular message board that's often unreadable. But, also from my seat, there was this view:

You'd think they'd make a bigger deal of that. Maybe they should have oriented the field to have that Washington Monument view from more seats than the upper deck in the right field corner.

I like this blurry shot only because it's Roy Oswalt in the process of firing a pitch:

And, yes, they have this:

That's Teddy Roosevelt, one of the horribly deformed "President" mascots from the Presidents' Race. Teddy never wins, their idea of a running (no pun intended) joke. It's not funny, and when I walked into these guys the next day, I just felt, um, sad.

These next shots are from Saturday morning, while running:

Lincoln Memorial to the left, Washington Monument to the right, from the Mount Vernon Trail across the Potomac. And that trail takes me to the 14th Street Brodge, which drops me right here:

The Jefferson Memorial. My running route takes in all of that, plus much of the Smithsonian, the Holocaust Memorial, the Bureau of Engraving and Printing, many federal agencies, the Reflecting Pool, Memorial Bridge, the Pentagon, and, oh, yeah, the White House.

Yeah, I knoda like Washington. Always have.

THE TRIP WEST, AND WHAT CAME BEFORE

They let babies on board airplanes. This has been the case since there have been airplanes, I believe (it would have been since there have been babies, but I believe babies predate airplanes. I can't be sure about that. Both predate me).

That is to say, I spent five hours on a plane from Dulles to LAX today directly across the aisle from a screaming child. The screaming started the moment the plane started moving and continued until, mercifully, a flight attendant took the baby and somehow lulled her to sleep. I felt bad for the mother, who spent the whole time frantically trying to calm her daughter down, but it meant that the entire trip, including my failed attempts to catch a nap, was accompanied by the sound of infant anguish.

And thus ends my business trip to Washington, which went okay, I guess. The convention was more of the same, but it was a productive few days nonetheless. Plus, I did get to see those Phillies games, eat some Five Guys burgers (sure, you can get them here now, but it's somehow cooler to eat one in a D.C. original location), and run past the monuments, including this morning, when they were setting up for the big union rally. They can say whatever they want about who showed up, but it was largely a union-organized affair, something that was made plain by the check-in tables I saw set up this morning at 6 am along the trail next to the reflecting pool: most were for particular unions, a few were for other left-wing organizations, but it was clearly a union thing. And that's fine; they surely have as much a right to be represented as anyone. But it was as organized and backed-by-special-interests as the same people claim the Tea Party people are. Frankly, the prospect of gathering with tens of thousands of people on either side is not my idea of fun. I'd have preferred the people doing the AIDS Walk on Pennsylvania Avenue to that, and had I not needed to be packed and checked out and on the Metro by that time, I'd have stopped there on my running route, paid the $25 or so, and run the 5K.

But I had to go, meaning I missed the AIDS Walk and missed the Crafty Bastards festival in Adams-Morgan and didn't get a chance to go up for a meal at Ben's Chili Bowl this time, or to go out to Virginia and visit our friends there (sorry, guys). Next year's NAB is in Chicago, and that will be cool, but I do like to do business in Washington. I probably wouldn't think so if it was government work. Or if it involved rallies on the Mall.

(One quibble: The Five Guys at the B gates at Dulles does NOT do the thing where they put your burger in the bag, then the cup of fries, then a scoopful more fries. They leave the scoop out. The scoop's the best part!)

WRAP

Here's a preview of sorts for next week's All Access column, based on my observation in this week's column that there was still another day to go for the convention and I'd be writing about it next week. Here's what happened today:

Nothing.

I spent all morning in sessions and, well, nothing. So it's over. The highlights? Seeing friends and eating and running my favorite D.C. route past the monuments and across the bridge to Arlington. Back to L.A. tomorrow. That's a good thing.

March 2012

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Who?

    Perry Michael Simon. Talk radio guy. Editor of the News-Talk-Sports section at AllAccess.com. Editor and writer at Chris Hardwick's Nerdist.com. Former Program Director, Operations Manager, host, and general nuisance at KLSX/Los Angeles, Y-107/Los Angeles, New Jersey 101.5. Freelance writer on media, sports, pop culture, based somewhere in the Los Angeles area. Contact him here. Copyright 2003-2012 Perry Michael Simon. Yeah.

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