Mets - An Off-Season Update

With all the Obama excitement, or "Obitement" as the kids like to call it, you three faithful B&E readers may have thought that I'd forgotten about my beloved, hapless New York Metropolitan Baseball Club. Alas, I have not.

The first no-brainer of the off-season was picking up the option on Carlos Delgado's contract for another year. There was nothing non-brainy about it until about halfway through this past season. Delgado was the Mets fan's go-to scapegoat (eat your heart out, Kaz Matsui) for about a year-and-a-half until June, when Delgado went on an offensive tear unparalleled in the league. At 36, he's still got it.

Otherwise, there's much rebuilding to be done, particularly in terms of the disastrous Mets bullpen. Mets GM Omar Minaya is seeking relief among Major League Baseball's corps of relievers.

So who will it be? Well, that Francisco Rodriguez had a hell of a year, although I suspect he's just got another couple of decent seasons in him before he becomes yet another Kaz Matsui. And K-Rod, the dumbest nickname for a pitcher ever, will be commanding a giant contract over many years.

There are a handful of other terrific options out there, too, but my heart is set on one man in particular...

That man is J.J. Putz, recently of the Seattle Mariners. Really, I just want an excuse to scream, "You Putz!" at ballgames all season long.

Yes, there will be excitement at the new Shea Stadium, which I'm not ready to call CitiField, although Bailout Ballfield or U.S. Treasury Stadium might work. And I see no reason why the Mets shouldn't have a pitcher whose name means penis in Yiddish.

It'll be particularly compelling on Jewish Heritage Night during International Week.

Reason #89 to Avoid Nightclubs

I never go to nightclubs in New York City. I have many reasons for avoiding them. A few at the top include the following:

- I don't much care for dancing.
- I tend to dislike crowds.
- I'm just not that into ecstasy and crystal meth.

There are other, smaller reasons as well:

- The bouncer probably wouldn't let me in.
- The pumping techno gives me headaches.
- Slutty, sweaty crowds are a Petri dish for syphilis.

So those are really just tip-of-the-iceberg reasons I avoid nightclubs. But thanks to Plaxico Burress, wide receiver of the New York Giants, I've got one more to add to the list...

I don't want to shoot myself in the leg.

I'm not sure that this is required behavior at a Manhattan hot spot, but I'm not taking any chances.

A Day for Thanks

Ah, Thanksgiving...

After less than twenty minutes of the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade, the missus and I opted to get the hell out of the apartment and go see the morning screening of Quantum of Solace. We chose it over Four Christmases mostly because we felt that James Bond really deserves to be seen on the big screen.

It was, like most James Bond films, good enough. We left feeling satisfied. And it was essentially a private screening, since we were the only people in the theater (until about three-quarters of the way through it, when a solitary dude third-acted it).

We went out for our Thanksgiving meal. Once we knew it was just going to be the two of us, we sure didn't want to make any kind of major effort and create a giant mess in our kitchen. So we went to Telepan, near Lincoln Center. It was delicious. I also ate the first real dessert I've had in nearly a month, so I savored the shit out of it. Their pumpkin bread pudding in whiskey sauce with pumpkin ice cream was particularly good. Now I'm off sugar again until Christmas. (Ma, I hope you've got grand plans for dessert at Christmas.)

Fully stuffed, we opted against going out for movie #2 and instead came home to watch one of those Netflix movies that lingers in your home for far too long. In this case, it was Young @ Heart, the documentary about old people singing rock music. See it. If you get through Fred's rendition of Coldplay's "Fix You" without crying, you've got no soul.

Yes, B&E readers, it was a lovely day with the lovely missus, who I remain ever thankful for.

Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade - Final Thoughts

So the Parade is still on in the background while we get ready to go to the movies, and we just caught "Nothin' Like a Dame." One of these days, I'd like to see a rendition of that song that isn't sung by raging queens.

OK, now I'm really done.

Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade - High energy!

We're off to a cheertacular start with about a million cheerleaders doing a routine to a fucked up techno mix of classic hits and other songs I've never heard before. Girls flipping in the background, shit-eating grins in the foreground.

And even the ads are Macy's.

The voice-over announcer keeps promoting an appearance by Miley Cyrus. I have a feeling she won't appear for another two-and-a-half hours.

Snoopy flew behind Al Roker. Selma Blair is very happy about that.

We're twelve minutes into this thing.

Yeah, I'm done. The missus and I are going to an early show at the movies. James Bond or Four Christmases? I guess we'll decide once we get there.

Thanks for enjoying the B&E live blog of the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade!

Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade - Live Blog!

Oh, B&E readers, have I got a treat for you today! Thanksgiving Day Parade! Excuse me... the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade! It sucks every year! How hard will it suck this year?

So far so awful! Matt, Meredith, and Roker are irritatingly chipper!

The ribbon's cut, and they're off! They're reading the special guest stars and I'm already exhausted. Fuck me.

Stay tuned!

Gimme a Breather, You Bastard

It hasn't even been three weeks since the B&E election feature What Stood Out This Week came to its logical and happy conclusion, and fucking Bobby Jindal is trying to make me start it up again.

Oh, excuse me. That's Mr. Fucking Governor Bobby Jindal to me. He went to Iowa to speak at a fundraiser for a conservative Iowa group. Dude. Seriously. Dude.

It's four years before we vote for president again, and if I have to start this feature again more than two years before that day, I'm gonna need to up my blood pressure medication one or two bumps.

I mean, really, Mr. Fucking Governor Bobby Jindal. The most recently elected presidential candidate hasn't even taken office yet, so if you could ease up just a little bit, that would be terrific.

And anyway, don't you still have a city to rebuild? What the hell is the matter with you?

Heh. They Said, "Huge Package."

You really gotta love the many rumors flying in anticipation of an Obama Administration. Who's in what cabinet position? Will Hillary play nice?

The big stories and rumors have mostly to do with the economic meltdown, of course. And my favorite rumor to date is that Obama's planning a much larger stimulus package than what was ever mentioned during the campaign. Yes, this is an idea I'm quite keen on.

Democrats made the rounds on the Sunday Shows talking about how we need a huge package.

And let's face it: no one knows the need for a huge package more than the balls-free Democratic Party. So all this talk of cojones is very welcome from a Party that had the tiniest package ever when it came to standing up to the Bush Administration.

I tell you what: if Obama is bold and ballsy, he could end up the Greatest President Ever.

Let's hear it for a huge package!

It's a Good Use for the Money

For a mere $400 million Citigroup bought the naming rights to the Mets' new stadium for the next 20 years.

Well, after being hit by $65 billion in losses, Citigroup appears to be the next in line for a governmental bailout.

But hey, no worries: even with the missing billions, Citigroup is going to hold onto its massive name and sponsorship deal with the Mets. I mean, hell, Citigroup doesn't have $65,000,000,000; so it's not like they're going to have $65,400,000,000.

Citigroup will almost certainly get its bailout. That Robert Rubin placement within the Obama transition team must feel like a pretty good insurance policy.

But let's get to the important stuff. Can the government bail out the disaster that has been the Mets recent late-season meltdowns? Maybe if the US Government owns Citigroup and the naming rights to the stadium, they'll give it the name it should've had all along: Jackie Robinson Field.

Or hell, what about a name referencing another racial barrier that's being broken these days? Barack Obama Field!

Hope, Change, Mets! Hope, Change, Mets! Hope, Change, Mets!

Get Your Fucking Head in There! Ooooh! TV!

I'm completely fascinated by this video that's been out and about for a couple of days now. And I'm sure it's all over-linked to and over-commented upon. But I've watched it several times now, and it's really mesmerizing.

Be sure to watch at least until the guy comes back with the second turkey.



The chipper attitude, the Starbucks cup, the "Oh, I'm sure they'll find something to criticize with this interview, too" attitude. It's a video that works on many levels.

But I'd like to give a special shout-out to the cameraman - nay, cinematographer - for his brilliant framing of the shot. And other shout-out to a buddy who gave this video the title, "Turkeys slaughtered in background while English slaughtered in foreground."

Man, I can't wait for Thanksgiving. I love turkey.

The Amiable Wackjob

Mike Huckabee is so affable. He's friendly and funny and he made funny commercials with Chuck Norris.

Earlier this week, on my favorite TV show of all time (The View, of course), the Huckster was talking about gay marriage. And what he said at one point was totally true: some people will never see eye-to-eye on the issue.

But he went on to say that the reason gays don't qualify for individual civil rights protection is because they haven't been the victims of violence the way that black people were during the civil rights movement.

First of all, it's apples and oranges (or rather, blacks and gays). You start getting into sticky territory when you compare one oppressed group with another oppressed group, or one mass genocide to another mass genocide, or any current leader to Hitler.

And anyway, Reverend Governor Huckabee, you affable bigot, gay people get beaten and killed all the time. Matthew Shepard? Harvey Milk? And those are just a couple of famous ones.

So tell us, Mr. Pro-Life: how many gay people need to die before they're finally oppressed enough to need protection under the law? What level of violence is acceptable to you, Christian Leader, before gay people reach the threshold you're looking for?

Beware the amiable wackjob!

Focus on the Screwing of Families

I'd like to offer my special congratulations (topped with a long, gnarly middle finger) to James Dobson and Focus on the Family.

Shortly after spending $500,000 to screw gay families in California (that would be Proposition 8 support), Focus on the Family has announced that they'll lay off more than 200 people, thereby screwing families who presumably supported screwing the gay families. (But you know, not screwing them in the dirty way.)

It's nice that Focus on the Family is focused on screwing all families.

Oh, Dobson, you Dickhead.

Man, But I Do Love a Knuckleball

A five-foot, hundred fifteen pound 16-year-old pitcher has become the first woman drafted to play professional baseball in Japan with men. Eri Yoshida's secret? A wicked, side-arm knuckleball.

More pitchers should throw a knuckleball. It keeps catchers on their toes, it goes wherever it wants to, and when it fails to flail, it gets hit and hit hard. It's the perfect recipe for a fantastic baseball game.

I want Yoshida to pitch for the Mets. I really do. Someone get on the horn with Omar Minaya.

It's Almost Like They're Human

So the missus and I watched the Obamas on 60 Minutes last night.

When was the last time the First Couple - or indeed any political couple - seemed to have genuine chemistry and a sincere affection for one another. They had banter, they teased each other, they cracked each other up, they contradicted one another.

They were like real people with real feelings.

Will this make Barack Obama a better president? Goddammit, I think it might. How can being grounded by a loving family not help you succeed?

Death to the Arts!

So I had occasion to peruse the National Endowment for the Arts website the other day, and was drawn to a bit of curiousness.

At the bottom of their donation page (apparently government organizations can accept tax-deductible donations from the public), it reads thusly:

Please note that mail sent to the Arts Endowment is frequently delayed due to security screening procedures, including irradiation. If you mail a contribution, please allow 3-4 weeks for a response.

Really? Irradiation? Are we afraid that terrorists are going to bomb/anthrax the National Endowment for the Arts? "Death to the Arts in America!"?

Look, terrorists. This is America. We're killing the arts just fine without your help, thank you very much.

It's a Twister! It's a Twister!

As coincidence would have it, The Wizard of Oz was on the boob tube in our home last night. Actually, there's no coincidence in that last statement. The coincidence is that twenty years ago today, my high school was hit by a tornado, and that TBS is coincidentally playing The Wizard of Oz to unwittingly celebrate the anniversary.

A tornado hit the town of Topeka in 1966 and demolished much of downtown. The city installed citywide tornado alarms that are still tested every Monday at noon (unless there's a chance of tornado, in which case they cancel the test so no one gets confused).

By 1988, Topekans had gotten pretty relaxed again. Yes, we had our regular tornado drills at school, but mostly it was a chance to smoke or take advantage of a longer open lunch period.

On that day, between fifth and sixth hour, the sky was yellowish-green, a key indicator of tornado weather. I was walking with my scene partner, and we weren't remotely prepared to do our scene in class. I said, "Hey, maybe a tornado will hit, and we won't have to do it!"

About ten minutes into class, the power went out, the winds picked up severely, and a queen-sized mattress flew by the window, which isn't something you see every day. Then it was calm again, but the power stayed out.

A hall monitor came in, "That was a tornado; take your positions." We did. In this particular building, it meant lining up against the lockers.

No alarm ever went off (they were supposed to be on generator but weren't). We heard rumors of another tornado on the way, so we were all told to make our way to the library basement. When we got there, we were turned away: no room. So we went to the cafeteria basement: no room. By this point, the sun was out, and the danger clearly over. So I went to my car.

This particular tornado was a bouncer, and although it had skipped over my classroom, it demolished the front parking lot where, as fate would have it, all the teachers and poorer kids parked. Good times. There was minimal damage to the school - a few shattered windows and a couple of temporary trailer classrooms roofs were ripped off - and no injuries, miraculously.

Dude. That shit was 20 years ago. I'm fucking old.

Reading That's Good For You

It's been about ten days since the electorate chose Barack Obama as its next president, and during that time, there have been numerous occasions when I've been moved all over again at everything from the symbolism to the actuality of the meaning of an Obama Administration.

One such occasion was when Amy Goodman hosted Alice Walker on her Democracy Now! program. Walker read her open letter to Barack Obama:

Dear Brother Obama,

You have no idea, really, of how profound this moment is for us. Us being the black people of the Southern United States. You think you know, because you are thoughtful, and you have studied our history. But seeing you deliver the torch so many others before you carried, year after year, decade after decade, century after century, only to be struck down before igniting the flame of justice and of law, is almost more than the heart can bear. And yet, this observation is not intended to burden you, for you are of a different time, and, indeed, because of all the relay runners before you, North America is a different place. It is really only to say: Well done. We knew, through all the generations, that you were with us, in us, the best of the spirit of Africa and of the Americas. Knowing this, that you would actually appear, someday, was part of our strength. Seeing you take your rightful place, based solely on your wisdom, stamina and character, is a balm for the weary warriors of hope, previously only sung about.

I would advise you to remember that you did not create the disaster that the world is experiencing, and you alone are not responsible for bringing the world back to balance. A primary responsibility that you do have, however, is to cultivate happiness in your own life. To make a schedule that permits sufficient time of rest and play with your gorgeous wife and lovely daughters. And so on. One gathers that your family is large. We are used to seeing men in the White House soon become juiceless and as white-haired as the building; we notice their wives and children looking strained and stressed. They soon have smiles so lacking in joy that they remind us of scissors. This is no way to lead. Nor does your family deserve this fate. One way of thinking about all this is: It is so bad now that there is no excuse not to relax. From your happy, relaxed state, you can model real success, which is all that so many people in the world really want. They may buy endless cars and houses and furs and gobble up all the attention and space they can manage, or barely manage, but this is because it is not yet clear to them that success is truly an inside job. That it is within the reach of almost everyone.

I would further advise you not to take on other people's enemies. Most damage that others do to us is out of fear, humiliation and pain. Those feelings occur in all of us, not just in those of us who profess a certain religious or racial devotion. We must learn actually not to have enemies, but only confused adversaries who are ourselves in disguise. It is understood by all that you are commander in chief of the United States and are sworn to protect our beloved country; this we understand, completely. However, as my mother used to say, quoting a Bible with which I often fought, "hate the sin, but love the sinner." There must be no more crushing of whole communities, no more torture, no more dehumanizing as a means of ruling a people's spirit. This has already happened to people of color, poor people, women, children. We see where this leads, where it has led.

A good model of how to "work with the enemy" internally is presented by the Dalai Lama, in his endless caretaking of his soul as he confronts the Chinese government that invaded Tibet. Because, finally, it is the soul that must be preserved, if one is to remain a credible leader. All else might be lost; but when the soul dies, the connection to earth, to peoples, to animals, to rivers, to mountain ranges, purple and majestic, also dies. And your smile, with which we watch you do gracious battle with unjust characterizations, distortions and lies, is that expression of healthy self-worth, spirit and soul, that, kept happy and free and relaxed, can find an answering smile in all of us, lighting our way, and brightening the world.

We are the ones we have been waiting for.

In Peace and Joy, Alice Walker

You can also watch her appearance here. There's a pretty good introduction from a Uruguayan writer who reminds Obama to remember that the White House was built by slaves. It begins about eleven minutes into the video.