eclecticism

This is neither pro-Obama nor anti-Clinton in my mind — I haven’t officially taken a stance yet, though unofficially I’m throwing my vote in with Cthulhu (why settle for the lesser of two evils, after all?) — I just think it’s really funny. It’s also ganked in full from the Slog:

Uh oh. Earlier this week Hillary Clinton instructed supporters to bet on the filly in the Kentucky Derby. In other words: Bet on Eight Belles, the only female in the horse race (and, Clinton obviously hoped, a potentially promising metaphor/omen for herself and her chances of winning the Democratic nomination).

Well, as local sports fanatic Seth Kolloen just pointed out via email (and on his blog), it didn’t go so well for the filly today.

In a development that you couldn’t even make up, Eight Belles finished second, but broke both her ankles during the race, collapsed at the end, and was immediately euthanized on the track.

(Oh — while it shouldn’t need to be clarified, just to cover my bases with the terminally dense: no, the injury and death of the horse is not funny. The “seemed like a good idea at the time” and subsequently horrifically botched political analogy is hilarious.)

I think a short passage in this Reuters Photographers blog may have nailed one of the reasons why my interest in sports is limited to football (real football, that is — most of you know this as ‘soccer’):

…there appear to be few sporting images more emotional or exuberant than those “jubo” moments of soccer players celebrating after scoring a goal. The expressions of American football and icehockey players are all too frequently obscured by facemasks. Basketball players seem to err on the side of mean and moody and baseball players appear to be almost permanently underwhelmed. It might be a cultural thing or perhaps just a result of the way those sports are broadcast or sponsored. There certainly isn’t a lack of passion because tempers do fray and fights and arguments are frequent, but there doesn’t seem to be any of the theatricality we see from soccer players, at least not during the game.

The Sonics — who used to be the Seattle Sonics until Seattle voters passed Initiative 91, “which prohibited the city from using tax dollars to subsidize a pro team unless the subsidy generates a certain profit for the city,” and are now searching for another city to house them — want to build a $530 million dollar arena…and they want taxpayers to pony up for $300 million of it.

The Sonics can kiss off, as far as I’m concerned.

I’ve always been flabbergasted at the amount of money poured into professional sports, and especially the amount of money thrown at professional athletes. It just makes my head hurt when those people in charge of such things then ask that the public — many of whom couldn’t give two figs for professional sports in general, let alone any particular team — essentially be required to pay to support them.

You want $300 million of my tax dollars? Put it towards education. Put it towards actually doing something to improve transit in Seattle, instead of half-assing your way through a series of stopgap measures, or instead of bickering about what to do for so long (or stubbornly insisting on ridiculous, expensive, impractical options, like the [thankfully, now dead] tunnel replacement for the Alaskan Way Viaduct) that nothing ever gets done. Put the money towards something — or anything — that would actually benefit everyone, not just those who get their rocks off by watching other people play a game.

Actually, these things are seriously cool. I don’t think you’ll ever catch me actually trying them (I’ve yet to set foot on a skateboard, and I haven’t tried any form of skates — traditional roller, inline, or ice — in years), but they’re still neat. Two skateboard wheels attached to the underside of a small (looks to be about 3” by 4”) board just big enough for your foot. One set for each foot. Skate.

(via MeFi)

“Groove Radio pres. House (full mix)” by Various Artists from the album Groove Radio pres. House (full mix) (1997, 1:13:46).

Prairie and I have been watching the opening ceremony of the 2006 Winter Olympics in Italy, but…it’s after 11pm, the torch still isn’t lit, and according to news reports that give a 3-hour run time for the whole thing, it’s not over ‘till midnight, which is too late for us. It’s a little frustrating — this thing’s on a tape delay, why couldn’t they have started it at seven or eight in order to get it done with at ten or eleven? Urgh.

We’ve enjoyed seeing the first two hours of the show. Mostly.

Good things: The Italians have a wonderful flair for theatrics, and some of the portions of the show have been just wonderfully bizarre. The cow ballet earlier in the show, the sun and moon balloons with the arialists, the dance piece…all very much fun. We were also enjoying watching the parade of nations, where it was rather amazing how many of the smaller republics that just came into existence over the past few years with the fragmentation of Russia and parts of Europe have been able to send delegations to the games. Not to mention North and South Korea marching in together!

Bad things: The show was scheduled to start at 8pm, and I suppose that in theory, it did. However, from eight until nine was just blather about all the athletes, and the actual opening ceremony didn’t start until nine. Commercials, commercials, commercials! Every. Two. Minutes. Ugh…no matter what was going on, they had to break for commercials, and while they at least took advantage of the tape delay for the parade of nations, they didn’t seem to do so for the rest of the opening ceremony. I’m pretty sure that at least five to ten minutes of the presentation disappeared so that we could sit through more SUV commercials. Ugh.

And last, but definitely not least — the commentators were horrid! Here we are, watching the opening ceremonies of the biggest forum for friendly international competition, and every time they could, the commentators were bringing up every horrid, unfriendly, divisive piece of trivia they could. Italy was singled out as the third largest member of the US’s ‘Coalition of the Willing,’ Denmark’s entrance was used as an opportunity to talk about the Muslim cartoon scandal (and even worse, when the commentator couldn’t think of anything to say about Estonia, who entered directly after Denmark, he just returned to blathering about the Danish cartoons)…it was horrid. Badly done, and so incredibly inappropriate.

Hooray for the Olympics, and good luck to all the athletes from all the countries. But a big, big thumbs-down to NBC’s approach to presenting tonight’s ceremonies.

Neither Prairie nor I really know much about football, and we don’t really care to know much. However, that didn’t stop us from kicking back and having a fun time watching the game and doing our own form of silly armchair quarterbacking.

Favorite commentary moment: after a player got injured, the commentator was trying to figure out just what the injury was and said that, “I can’t tell if that’s an ankle or a head.” To which I responded, “good thing you’re not a doctor!”

Best commercials: the “Don’t Judge Too Quickly” series (for an insurance company…I think) were a close runner-up, as was the Bud Light “Streaker”, but my favorite (due to being completely bizarrely surreal) was the Burger King “Whopperettes” bit.

And, in the end, the Steelers took it. Still — at least the Seahawks were there.

And now, a few hours without TV before Grey’s Anatomy comes on. Code black!

Given that Texas A&M is up in arms over the Seahawks’ use of the ‘12th Man’ phrase — which the Aggies have actually trademarked — I must agree with this idea that popped up in LiveJournal’s seattle group.

Someone needs to make t-shirts with the following (forgive the slightly clumsy formatting, I’m not familiar enough with MathML to actually make it work completely correctly, and apparently Safari doesn’t even display MathML correctly, so it wouldn’t matter anyway…):

Y’know, I don’t care about football. Never have.

But even I can’t be a complete curmudgeon about the Seahawks’ win today. First time in thirty years…I guess it was about time.

So…yay. Go Seahawks.

I might just have to pay some small amount of attention to the Superbowl this year. Weird.

Heh — I can hear fireworks going off somewhere outside. Seattle’s going to be a pretty happy city tonight.

“Main Title/Approaching the Death Star” by London Symphony Orchestra, The/Williams, John from the album Star Wars Trilogy: The Original Soundtrack Anthology (1983, 5:22).

I’m not much of a sports fan — the only sport I’ve ever really gotten into is soccer, thanks to my brother’s many years of goalkeeping — but even I am likely to sit up and take notice when reports start hitting the ‘net of pro basketball players jumping into the stands and beating the fans (RealMedia stream here).

Just insane. Bad enough that they got into a brawl on the court — it’s never a good thing, but it happens occasionally — but then to jump into the stands and attack people in the crowd? “He’s absolutely out of his mind!” says one of the commentators, soon followed by, “This is the ugliest scene you’ll ever see.” Sounds about right to me.

Of course, then the commentators just get kind of stupid as they scramble to find something to say, when one of them comes up with, “This is not a pretty sight, but it happens, a very emotional game,” as the players are bodily hauled off the court under a hail of beer cups, food, and at least one chair. Emotional game or not, something this big doesn’t “happen”.

According to ABC, four players have been suspended indefinitely, with more precise suspension lengths to be announced later.

On the upside, maybe we’ll get an update to the old one-liner, “I went to a fight and a hockey basketball game broke out.”

“Mrs. Robinson (from The Graduate)” by Simon and Garfunkel from the album Movie Music: The Definitive Performances (1968, 4:03).

As I walked out of the building for lunch today, I heard some sort of big ruckus going on down towards Westlake Center. Being fond of ruckuses (ruckusi?) in general, I made a quick run back to the apartment to grab my camera, and then went back towards Westlake.

Turns out that there was a rally going on celebrating the Seattle Storm’s recent WNBA championship win.

Now, I’m no big fan of sports in general, but it was fun to wander around the rally for a while. Local cover band The Hit Explosion was playing a surprisingly good set of 70’s disco and funk (amusingly, I think they played just about the entire Muppets From Space soundtrack), so the background music was quite bearable, and it was a fairly welcome break from the usual day-to-day routine.

Some photos from the day are in this flickr photoset, as usual.

“Dirty Epic” by Underworld from the album Dubnobasswithmyheadman (1994, 9:55).

Many, many thanks to Tim for finding this one.

Sometimes, the best part about the Olympics isn’t the events or the athletes themselves, but the commentary…

Weightlifting commentator: “This is Gregoriava from Bulgaria. I saw her snatch this morning during her warm up and it was amazing.”

Dressage commentator: “This is really a lovely horse and I speak from personal experience since I once mounted her mother.”

Paul Hamm, Gymnast: “I owe a lot to my parents, especially my mother and father.”

Boxing Analyst: “Sure there have been injuries,and even some deaths in boxing, but none of them really that serious.”

Softball announcer: “If history repeats itself, I should think we can expect the same thing again.”

Basketball analyst: “He dribbles a lot and the opposition doesn’t like it. In fact you can see it all over their faces.”

At the rowing medal ceremony: “Ah, isn’t that nice, the wife of the IOC president is hugging the cox of the British crew.”

Soccer commentator: “Julian Dicks is everywhere. It’s like they’ve got eleven Dicks on the field.”

Tennis commentator: “One of the reasons Andy is playing so well is that, before the final round, his wife takes out his balls and kisses them…Oh my God, what have I just said?”

“Bring the Higher State of Noise” by Public Enemy vs. Winx (1999, 5:28).

See what I get for not paying attention to sports? I almost entirely missed hearing about the latest overblown controversy involving an adult choosing to pose naked for a magazine being sold to adults (though not an “adult magazine”, i.e., porn).

From her statements in this Seattle Times article, I think that Seattle Storm team member Lauren Jackson has exactly the right attitude about her photo shoot.

Storm star Lauren Jackson, after being asked in 2000 and again in 2002, finally agreed to bare all for an artistic Australian photo magazine called Black+White. Jackson appears on the cover, with the title “The Athens Dream,” in tribute to the upcoming Summer Games in Greece. Wisps of Jackson’s bleached-blond hair dangle over her creamy skin. Inside the magazine, Jackson, 23, reveals everything except her, ahem, down under.

[…] “Do you really think it’s that big a deal?” she pondered when asked about the nude pics after practice yesterday. […] Feeling too young at 18 to participate in 2000 and too busy with her Storm season during the 2002 shoot, Jackson mulled over the idea for this year’s magazine with her family in the offseason. She wasn’t paid to pose, but she was flown to Sydney to work with award-winning photographer Steve Lowe and a makeup artist in a private session that took about seven hours. Jackson handpicked her pictures, getting complete control over the process. After the Olympics, all the photos used in the magazine will be auctioned to benefit charities. “I feel really comfortable with my body and shape I’m in, and I know I’m not going to be like this forever,” Jackson said. “I was really nervous at first, but it was conquering one of my fears. I felt very much empowered at the end. “It’s me all over and I’m really happy with the photos. As athletes you work so hard to get in shape for competition. This celebrates the athletic body and how much work you put in. We do it the right way; we don’t starve ourselves.” Jackson said she doesn’t view the shots as objectifying women, either. Especially because the magazine, which will sell for $40, is equal parts men and women. […] “I really did it with the Australians in mind,” Jackson said. “It’s a prestigious thing in Australia. Believe it or not, but my mom and dad (Maree and Gary) loved it. My dad saw it the other day, called me and said he was so proud of me.” Jackson’s teammates share the sentiment. Bird loved Jackson’s hair, and fellow Australian Tully Bevilaqua adored the cover shot. “She looks sensational,” Bevilaqua said. “The human body is nothing to be ashamed of.”

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p>Damn skippy.

I just may have to do some shopping before work tomorrow.

Purely for research purposes, of course.

iTunes: “Superstar” by Lords of Acid from the album Heaven is an Orgasm (1998, 3:54).

I’ve been reading various accounts of yesterday’s “accident” during the SuperBowl when Justin Timberlake removed part of Janet Jackson’s top, exposing one of her breasts on live television. Viacom, CBS, and MTV are all madly apologizing, and apparently there is going to be an FCC investigation into the incident.

An outraged Federal Communications Commission Chairman Michael Powell on Monday ordered an investigation into the broadcast of the Super Bowl’s halftime entertainment show, during which singer Janet Jackson’s right breast was exposed.

During the break in the National Football League’s championship game, pop singer Justin Timberlake reached for Jackson as they sang a duet and tore open part of her black leather bustier. “That celebration was tainted by a classless, crass and deplorable stunt,” Powell said in a statement. “Our nation’s children, parents and citizens deserve better.”

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p>I’ve got to admit, in some ways, this whole thing has been amusing me to no end.

In the middle of a heavily-publicized violent sports event (maybe not as overtly violent as boxing, but when many players are injured and hospitalized each year, sometimes gravely so, we’re not talking tiddlywinks), in the midst of a halftime show known for excess and pushing the boundaries, the world got a momentary one-or-two second (accidental?) glimpse of a single breast.

One breast. A couple seconds. And it’s instant controversy.

Roughly half the world’s post-pubescent population already has two breasts of their very own, and I’m assuming that unless they ensure that all lights are off every time they get dressed or take a shower, they’ve probably already seen those; and the other half of the population generally spends a fair amount of their waking hours trying to find ways to see those breasts that they don’t have! This isn’t exactly a new thing, folks.

Ah, well — my views aren’t about to change anyone’s mind. Still, I’m constantly frustrated by a culture that glorifies violence and vilifies sexuality (unless it’s being used to sell something). Seems pretty backwards. But that’s just me.

One thing I just noticed this morning, though. When I first saw pictures of the dastardly deed last night, it looked for all the world like Janet was wearing a pastie on the exposed breast — which, when combined with the conveniently detachable breast cup, definitely called into doubt the “accidental” nature of the flash. This morning Drudge Report posted some better-quality images though, and when zoomed in, it’s apparent that it’s not a pastie — but rather a nipple piercing with a silver sun shield around it.

Okay, so maybe it was accidental. I’ve gotta say, though — I do like the piercing and the shield. Apparently Janet’s got some decent taste in body jewelry. Good for her!

Update: Lane posted video footage — that does not look “accidental” to me!

iTunes: “Groove Radio Presents Alternative Mix (full mix)” by Various Artists from the album Groove Radio Presents Alternative Mix (full mix) (1999, 1:13:21).

I’m not a big baseball fan — heck, I’m not a big sports fan — so I haven’t been paying much attention to the baseball games. I’d seen people mention the Cubs here and there, knew that there were big games coming up, but it just wasn’t a big thing for me.

Then the news broke about That Guy in Chicago reaching for the foul ball. So far, I’ve been absolutely disgusted at what has been done to this poor guy — practically within minutes of the event, his name, workplace, and even address had been published across the ‘net, with thousands of angry Cubs fans blaming him for the Cubs loss. Bad enough that the guy might have to wonder whether the ball would have been caught if he hadn’t reached for it — but now he has to worry about his privacy and, quite possibly, personal safety. The handling of the event by the media and various websites has been absolutely horrible.

At least there seem to be as many people also disgusted by this and concerned for the guy as there are people upset with him. Wil Wheaton has a wonderfully written (and funny) open letter to That Guy:

I used to be on this big cult TV show that had lots of very passionate fans. Many of those fans absolutely (and irrationally) hated the character I played on that show. Most of them wrote me nasty letters and heckled me whenever I’d show up at one of their events, they never called my house, or tried to hurt me, but I can sort of imagine what you’re going through. That thing that makes a sports fan wear only paint and a diaper to a ball game when it’s 15 degrees outside? It’s the same thing that makes a Star Trek fan wear the same unwashed uniform for 5 days in a row at a big ass con.

I’ve read that just about every Cubs fan in the world is giving you hell for going after that foul ball. Well, That Guy, last time I checked, baseball fans like to catch foul balls. It’s something we do, like paying too much for terrible beer and screaming at a player for not picking up that slider that we’re so certain we’d be able to hit if they’d just put our fat asses in the game. Hell, I’ve been going to 20 or 30 games a season at Dodger Stadium for almost 30 years, and I try to catch a foul ball every single time I’m there. I’ve even had my hot wife flirt with the teenage bat boy in a pathetic effort to score one. To date, I am still empty-handed. But that bat boy, Jesse, is convinced that my wife’s going to leave me just as soon as he gets out of high school.

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p>Rock on, Wil. And good luck and best wishes to That Guy.

That. So. Rocked.

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