The majesty. The splendor.

There are no jokes to be made here. All I will say is that despite my best efforts, it is impossible to translate the feeling of walking around the immaculate lawn that is Augusta National. Stunning is an overused word, but for one of the few times in my life, it actually felt applicable.

Inside these walls...

Simple across-the-board elitism is not enough for Augusta National. Instead, the club chooses to segregate the patrons into even further levels of high society. Hence, the badge system. If you have a blue badge, you get a certain level of access. If you have a black badge, you have a higher level of access. And on and on it goes.
Being a member of the lowest rung on the totem pole that is the Augusta National caste system, this is the closes I could get to the world's most famous clubhouse . Thus, I am forced to speculate as to what lies on the inside.
Until proven otherwise, I will assume that the entire place is filled with styrofoam popcorn. Why does my mind wander to packing materials? It just feels right.

The cruelty of Magnolia Lane

This is the majestic Magnolia Lane. Where I am standing with the camera is within the hallowed ground of Augusta National, just in front of the clubhouse. Us mere mortals not competing in the tournament are not allowed onto Magnolia Lane itself, but we are allowed to peer down it onto Washington Road to mock all the people outside that couldn't get tickets.
The first thing everyone notices when they enter Augusta National is the sheer discrepancy in beauty between the golf club and the town itself. To say the city of Augusta is a total dump is an understatement — think flea markets, tacky, rotting houses and white trash. The fact that such an exclusive club is housed there seems to be one gigantic karmic joke.

The view from Augusta

After 10-plus years on the waiting list, Hootie Johnson & Friends finally accepted my application to attend The Masters. I think it was the letter of recommendation from David Duke that put me over the top.
As you can see, I got pretty close to one Eldrick Woods. In fact, this exact moment was captured for all of eternity (unbeknownst to me at the time) by the ESPN cameras. I turned on SportsCenter the following day to see the following scene:

Tiger approaches the tee on No. 10
Some goofy-looking schmo on the ropeline sticks a digital camera uncomfortably close to Tiger's face, then turns and displays an exagerrated, toothy, awkward smile to the person next to him — the kind of smirking smile that combines the pure joy of a six-year old at a Hannah Montana concert with the triumphant satisfaction of a post-coital pedophile. What a tool, I think.
Slowly, it hits me... with help from a Tivo replay
Oh my lord, I am that tool!
Debates whether or not to tell friends. Involves weighing the pros of exposure and a temporary, albeit small, sense of fame with the con of complete and utter embarassment at handling of the situation.
Once I spill the beans, the next few days become a perfect storm of mockery and humiliation. I totally deserve it.

Veterans of mediocrity: Rays Report, Game 1

Alright, it's settled: When I form a five-piece shoegazer band, we will be called The Veterans of Mediocrity. And you won't "get us" because our melodies can only be comprehended beyond the human aural spectrum. We will literally be too cool for the human race to understand. I'm fairly certain that we will wear lots of flanel, though.

Rays 6, Orioles 2
So we're one game into the 2008 baseball season, and there is a significant chance that this will be the most satisfying day of the year for Rays fans. I will not be happy with anything shy of a playoff berth, which quite simply means I will not be happy. Awesome.
Some random opening day thoughts:
• James Shields: 7 IP, 5 H, 2 ER, 2 K, 3 BB.
It may have been against the worst team in division (and maybe the entire league), but Shields was damn impressive to the point where he erased any and all doubts that I had about last year being a fluke.
Rarely do you see a pitcher make a concerted effort to throw his best pitch less, but that is exactly what Shields did. By holding back on the changeup , it became an even more devastating pitch when he did throw it. No one hit him hard today.
• The pitch Eric Hinske smacked out of the park was the biggest meatball I have ever seen in the Major Leagues. Still, I wonder why so many teams are down on this guy. I mean, he was a Rookie of the Year in 2002 and clearly has talent buried somewhere those 16 exterior layers of fat. And yet, he has to survive final cuts just to make the Rays roster? Is he raping immigrant babies in his spare time? I don't get it.
• The Rays blogosphere is abuzz with talk that we are pursuing the Cubs' Matt Murton. Reason No. 1,548 why I love baseball: Fans going batshit over Matt freaking Murton. I love that people (myself included) are crazed enough to start pages-long message board discussions debating the merits of trading a possible platoon/bench player to a perennial loser. Is it wrong to take pride in insanity?
• One game in, and all those Dioner Navarro breakout projections are looking alright (3-for-4, RBI, R). Offensively, at least. Orioles broadcaster Gary Thorn made passing mention of high-ranking Rays officials and their disappointment in Navarro's game-calling ability. I was previously unaware of this apparently widespread perception.
• Bullpen watch: 2 IP, 0 R, 1 H.
It wasn't pretty, but the combination of Trevor Miller, Al Reyes and Dan Wheeler slammed the door. Already a huge step up from Camp and Orvella. For his one inning of work, Wheeler was rewarded with a 3 year, $10 million extension. No, I'm not kidding. Just shows you how bad the previous gascans have been.
• The big guns: Crawford 1-for-5, SB, RBI, R. Pena 1-for-4. Upton 1-for-4 2 RBIs.
Pena would have HR No. 1 if he hit the ball anywhere but straightaway center field. And he would have had another hit if he didn't get robbed on a frozen rope. Upton came through when it mattered. And this just in: Crawford is still fast.
• Cliff Floyd must feel like he is 175 years old on this team. Which probably isn't far from his actual age. Rounding first base on his double, you could actually hear his knees creaking through the boom mic.
• I have already ceded that Jason Bartlett will be a permanent black hole on offense, and that every hit he gets this year is just a bonus. I am more than OK with this if he plays defense.
• Please. Bring. Evan. Longoria. Up. That is all.

Diary of an Inherently Flawed Team

My column from today's paper:
Why this year's Duke Blue Devils never had a chance

It doesn't happen often, but it did Saturday. I guess college basketball experts and blind squirrels have that in common; they both find success on occasion.
They said Duke was too reliant on the outside shot - that one day, when the bombs weren't falling with quite so much frequency, the Blue Devils would struggle to compensate.And sure enough, on a day when the basket must have looked an awful lot like a pinhole to fellows named Scheyer, Paulus and Nelson, the Blue Devils had no answer. Fifteen straight misses from downtown left the Blue Devils looking about as comfortable as a vegan in a meat-packing plant.

They said Duke couldn't survive without an inside presence - that the day would come when they would need to stop the bleeding with easy buckets from the paint.And when that day did indeed come, Duke had positively no one to turn to. When the Blue Devils seemingly couldn't hit the broad side of a barn from anywhere beyond ten feet out, they couldn't even muster the muscle to break down that imaginary barrier and try something different. Meanwhile, Mountaineer Joe Alexander provided the perfect contrast at the other end, shoving right in Duke's face the very type of player it could have used.
They said Duke didn't have enough intensity on defense.This was never more apparent than it was Saturday, as the submissive Blue Devils waved their arms like bullfighters while the West Virginia ball-handlers breezed by.
They said Duke couldn't rebound.
And in an event surely orchestrated by the mocking college basketball gods, the Blue Devils surrendered 11 rebounds to a reserve guard who stood only 6-foot-2. The final tally saw Duke outrebounded 47-27.
They said a lot of things, almost all of which came to fruition yesterday. Rarely have the talking heads in the world of sports media been so right. And rarely has such a smart guy like Coach K been so wrong.
This Duke team didn't lose because it had an off game, and it didn't lose due to simple errors in execution. This team lost because it was built the wrong way from the start.
It lost because driving and dishing, while a fundamental element of any good team, can only take you so far. Especially when it's all you've got.
Taking after the NBA's Phoenix Suns - a team, by the way, which acknowledged the limitations of its old high-flying style when it traded for Shaq - Krzyzewski tried to flip basketball logic on its head.
Some people, you see, have this crazy notion that buckets are actually easier to come by when you shoot them from closer to the hoop. Coach K didn't buy into any of that nonsense.
Unfortunately for the folks in Durham, plain old reason is undefeated. And Duke is anything but.

The Great Beatles Slaughter of 2008

Idol kicks things off with a restrospective informing us that The Beatles were, in fact, pretty huge. The sad thing is that this seems to be breaking news to most of the show’s audience.

Amanda Overmyer
“Back in the USSR”
Is this even capable of singing without crouching over and assuming the hunchback position? No surprise here: the same vocals for the same rocker-type song. This time she seems even more annoying than usual. Really, she seems to shouting more than singing. It is well past time to give her the boot.
2 out of 5
Randy: Had some problems with it. Called it “pitchy,” gives her 7 out of 10.
Paula: A little sketchy at first, timing was off. “Quintessential, authentic, who you are.”
Simon: “It was predictable, a bit of a mess in parts. It’s the same thing week after week after week.”
Didn’t need the arms raised, armpit-stubble revealing moments of triumph afterward.

Kristy Lee Cook
“You’ve Got To Hide Your Love Away” — She picked it solely based on the title (had never heard it).
First off, what is she wearing? Cause from my view, it looks like the sort of black sequin dress that befitting a go-go dancer.She took the beginning melody out of the song with her arrangement, .then tried to make it upbeat. Seems to have a serious misunderstanding of the song. That was seriously bad. Again.
1.5 out of 5
Randy: “A little boring a little safe. Not even sure you were singing the melody and chorus right.”
Paula: “It’s the best you’ve ever looked…Take some more liberties.”
Simon: “I think you need hypnosis — You are not a good performer.” Calls it “musical wallpaper; you don’t notice it.”
The Beatles thing is new to me, she says afterward.

David Archuleta
“The Long and Winding Road”
Crap. The good Archuleta is back.
Nothing mind-blowing, but clearly better than the rest. And with that, he retakes his seat on the throne. He should win this thing.
4 out of 5
Randy: “David Archuleta brought the hotness back to the game tonight.’
Paula: “The purity of who you are and what you do is very identifiable… That challenge (of coming back) doesn’t build character, it reveals your character.”
Simon: “You were amazing. That was a master class.”

Michael Johns
“A Day in the Life”
He is really good, and it is starting to come through again. With any luck, he can overtake The Chosen One. More than enough to keep him around.
3.5 out of 5
Randy: “Wasn’t one of your good ones, baby.”
Paula: “You’ve got to raise your game.”
Simon: “The long and short of it was that is was a mess. You didn’t hit the right notes, the song went all over the place. You have got to start sorting yourself out.”
After dedicating the song to his dead friend, became significantly less likable. This sympathy mugging has to stop.

Brooke White
“Here Comes the Sun”
3 out of 5
Not as good as last week, but alright. Sticks to the standard interpretation, preventing any calamities. Inherently flawed, nothing memorable, but she’s not going anywhere just yet.
Randy: “That was really awkward for me. It never gelled together.”
Paula: “You can’t help but smile watching you.”
Simon: “I thought the performance was terrible, from the horrible dancing to the absolute lack of conviction.”
Brooke then agrees with all the critiques, admitting that it was shaky.

David Cook
“Daytripper” — the Whitesnake version
An extremely atypical performance for American Idol; loud and brash and in-your-face. He is really getting caught up in the rock star thing. The talk box thing didn’t really work, I thought. Tons of energy, though. He is my horse and I have no choice but to back him.
3.5 out of 5
Randy: “Another solid look for David Cook, I love it.”
Paula: “You’re ready to go sell records.”
Simon: “I don’t think that was as good as you thought it was. You looked a bit smug throughout. And I thought the coda in the middle was a bit stupid. You’ve lost your element of surprise, a bit.”

Carly Smithson
“Blackbird”
4.5 out of 5
She is the pro among this group. She is clearly the best and there is really nothing more to say. This slower ballad just proved even further that she has range to go along with her pipes. If there is any justice whatsoever in this show, she will win.
Randy: “Another great performance. Very nice. Very cool.”
Paula: “A capital F for fantastic.”
Simon: “Thought the song was indulgent.”

Jason Castro
“Michelle”
Kind of a sleep performance, if that makes any sense. Picked things up as the tune went on, but he remains the prototypical middle-of-the-road guy. He will hang around for a while, but definitely won’t win.
3 out of 5
Randy: “It was just alright for me. I didn’t feel like you connected with it that much.”
Paula: “It was a little uncomfortable for me. It was an intimate song that almost became a polka.”
Simon: “You’re very charming and you’re not obnoxious. You’re goofiness kind of makes it work, because it if I were just listening to that song on the radio, I would turn it off.”

Syesha Mercado (with straightened hair)
“Yesterday”
3.5 out of 5
Back on track after last week’s subpar showing. Would have liked it more if she kept the whole thing low key instead of coming with the belting, but it was subtle enough to work. Pretty good.
Randy: “Very, very, very good performance.”
Paula: “You let yourself be very vulnerable. And that is where you need to be.”
Simon: “Probably your best performance so far. It wasn’t incredible, but you chose the best song.” Liked the Eva Cassidy-type arrangement.

Chikezie Eze
“I’ve Just Seen a Face”
2.5 out of 5
Probably the only contestant who truly seems to get better every week. Too bad he started miles behind the field.
Never mind, I take back what I said about him getting better. Ugggh. That harmonica is not doing him any favors, nor is this country arrangement. Should have kept it slow or come up with a better way to bridge the two halves. He is in danger.
Randy: Liked the fast part, not the slow part. Though the harmonica was weird.
Paula: “I loved it. You did it again.”
Simon: “Thought it started off OK, and then you played the harmonica, which was a little bit atrocious. And then it turns into Achy Breaky Heart at the end. Not a song to be proud of. Thought it was gimmicky.”

Ramiele Malubay
“I Should Have Known Better”
Seems forced and robotic, though she got more comfortable as song went on. It is becoming increasingly hard to take your eyes off the 65 metric tons of lip gloss she wears each week. Needs to stick to the ballads and the belting, not the uptempo hoedown numbers.
Randy: “It was alright.”
Paula: “Definitely better than last week.
Simon: “It sounded like Chikezie was on harmonica. The problem was the track sounded terrible and amateurish. You chose a mediocre song that didn’t show the best of your ability.”

SURPRISE OF THE WEEK: Brooke White’s mediocrity
PERFORMANCE OF THE WEEK: Carly Smithson
GOING, GOING GONE: Kristy Lee Cook

The H-Town Massacre

People across the sports radio spectrum will undoubtedly talk about how the Rockets were "exposed" last night.
"They can't defend the inside," they will say.
"They have no post presence."
"They're too reliant on the outside shot."
Those reactionaries will gloat and say "I told you so" and predict a swift first-round exit for Houston come the postseason. I can almost hear them already.
Those people will also miss the entire point of last night's game. Wednesday was not about the end of a historic run or the reality check for a supposedly flukish team. Wednesday was about the Celtics putting the exclamation point on their regular season and proving, once and for all, that they are for real. And not just Eastern Conference real. Larry O'Brien trophy real.
All season long, I have been certain that the Pistons would win the East. Mostly, I have thought this because there seems to be a general misconception that these are your father's Pistons, that Richard Hamilton and Tayshaun Prince and Chauncey Billups and Rasheed Wallace are the keys to their success. This could not be more wrong.
The 2008 Pistons, in actuality, are shaped just as much by the pressure defense of Aaron Afflalo (and Rodney Stuckey) and the inside muscle of Jason Maxiell as they are by the veterans in the starting five. They are a team built on depth, not star power.
For the first time all year, though, I am doubting myself.
After watching the Celtics manhandle the Rockets, I cannot help but think that I have underrated Boston's defense. Sure, I knew that they were ranked No. 1 in all the relevant defensive statistical categories. I knew that they took fewer shots per game than any team in the NBA yet still managed to win the most. And that counted for something.
But not until they completely shut down the Rockets' perimeter game did I become a true believer. It was Paul Pierce, who seemed as energetic on defense as he did with the ball in his hands. It was Rajon Rondo, who wouldn't let T-Mac inside the 3-point line, let alone inside the paint. It was even, in stretches, supposedly offensive-minded guys like Eddie House and James Posey. It was KG being his normal KG self.
The Rockets didn't just have trouble scoring. They had trouble even getting shots off.
Let's just say I came away impressed.
And now, I can't seem to get this crazy image out of my head: Brian Scalabrine polishing his championship ring.
Hell just might have frozen over.

On Melville's Bartleby

Tonight, I read Herman Melville's short story Bartleby, the Scrivener.
Quite an adventurous way to spend a Saturday evening, I know.
(What exactly is a scrivener, you ask? Basically the 1800's version of a Xerox machine. Before there were means to copy documents, humans had to do it. Oh, and once they were done, they also had to go back compare the original with the copy to make sure each and every word was correct. And you thought Excel spreadsheets were tedious.)
Anyways, Bartleby tells the story of a strange man who goes to work on Wall Street. He first loses his will to work, then loses his will to do anything at all. He takes up residence in his new office, without even asking his boss, then refuses to leave when asked to do so. Eventually, he is forced out by the police and dies in jail, fittingly when he loses the will even to eat.
"I'd prefer not to," he politely says in the face of all queries.
It's a pretty awesome story, told by an anonymous (and egomaniacal, if you ask me) narrator.
And here's what I couldn't get out of my head: The unremitting and interminable nature of discontent in the workplace.
I mean, this is a story published in 1853, well over one hundred years ago. It's just good to know that people were still bitching about their jobs then, and that they will continue to bitch long after I am gone. I don't know why that is so comforting to me, but it really is.
I even get the sense that Melville wrote this thing while muttering under his breath. How couldn't he have been? He puts out Moby Dick in 1851, two years earlier, and the thing is a complete and total flop — commercially speaking. It's Moby freaking Dick, and yet no one gives gives a crap. So he writes this short story that is even less accessible, one with no whale chases or crazy peg-legged captains to spice things up. This one, instead, is just about a guy who goes to work and doesn't feel like doing anything. And then he dies.
Bartleby, the Scriver: Melville's elevated middle finger to the rest of the world.

*Whenever I read a "classic," I try to go in totally blind on first reading. Afterwards, I read all interpretation of the work. That should explain my above ignorance of all the other supposed themes in Bartleby (the story as a response to Emerson, the roll of charity, etc.): I try to write what my thoughts were in the immediate aftermath, not what I should have noticed before various term papers made me feel exceedingly stupid about my own exegesis.

American Idol: The Final Dozen

Let the mockery begin. Yes, I have caved. I either have no shame, or entirely too much shame. Anyway, here is the Tuesday’s American Idol wrap-up.

Format is as follows:
-Performer
-Song Performed
-My pre-judging comments
-My rating
-Judges opinions
-My post-judging thoughts

After being hit over the head 85 times with details of the new set, we kick things off. Note to FOX: No one cares about your stage or your lights or your mosh pit. Seriously.

Syesha Mercado
“Got to Get You Into My Life”
With her voice, it could have been significantly better. Certainly could have picked a better song. Considering I thought she could win this thing, unimpressive.
2.5 out of 5
Randy: “Alright.”
Paula: “A little pitchy.”
Simon: Actually liked it more than Randy. Didn’t love it, though.
*The first one up always has it rough. Usually, though, they get some leeway for that. She’s safe for this week.

Chikezie Eze
“She’s a Woman”
Goes from stripped-down bluegrass version into a rocker. Actually pretty good, though a bit overdramatic with the stage antics. Kind of Scott Stapp-like, and not in a good way. Actually, I don’t think there is such a thing as Scott Stapp in a good way. His crazy energy is going to save him, though, especially since it is out of character.
3.5 out of 5
Randy: Surprised, says he “smashed it.”
Paula: Loved the risk, says the reward paid off.
Simon: Agrees despite “the fact that you looked drunk.” Thought it was “terrific.”
*This guy has maximized his run more than anyone else, with the possible exception of Kristy Lee Cook. He should have been gone weeks ago, but this performance should keep him around. Has zero chance of winning the thing.

Ramiele Malubay
“In My Life”
Took a great song, slowed it down to a complete snail’s pace, and still managed to sap the beauty from it. I’m starting to worry if I’m taking a huge risk tonight — that these Beatles songs might be ruined forever if I keep listening to these underwhelming renditions. She made it almost into a Mariah Carey song, which is pretty damned horrible. She might have the best voice in the whole competition, but this arrangement choice really, really sucks.
3 out of 5
Randy: “Kind of pretty, but also kind of pretty boring.”
Paula: “It was pretty safe.”
Simon: “I was bored to tears the whole way through.”
*If she picks the right songs, she will make it to the top five. She is that good. If she repeats this week’s performance, though, she is a goner.

Jason Castro
“If I Fell”
Doing the acoustic guitar thing (again), sounds very coffee house. And that is exactly where he should be: playing coffee houses alongside Mark Wahlberg’s character at the end of Rock Star. The other three of you that saw that movie understand where I’m coming from. He is not an American Idol.
2.5 out of 5
Randy: “Liked it, didn’t love it.”
Paula: “I feel your heart.” Huh?
Simon: “It was a little bit student in a bedroom at midnight…Song was quite boring.”
*The exact kind of contestant I hate. He’s not going to win, but he’s not terrible enough to be voted off yet. Totally useless at this point.

Carly Smithson
“Come Together”
She’s an absolute professional. It is apparent that she has done this song many times before. Only question about her is her relatively benign stage presence. Best performance of the night, no question.
4 out of 5
Randy: “Stellar performance…not a note out of tune.”
Paula: “Felt like I was already watching a star.”
Simon: Finally chose the right song. “Reminded me of Kelly Clarkson.”
*Ladies and gentleman, your 2008 American Idol runner up. Should take the whole thing, but because David Archuleta mixes the compassion of Jesus Christ with the tenderness of a litter of kittens, will fall short. I hate voters.

David Cook
“Eleanor Rigby”
Finally gives up the guitar, explaining that the song is already powerful enough on its own. I understand why he did it, but he is so much better with the Les Paul strapped around his back. Performance is ordinary with the song until the end, when he really belts it out. Thankfully, hits some big notes. I was beginning to worry for him.
3 out of 5
Randy: “It was rockin.”
Paula: Calls him the “dark horse.” Thinks he is “fantastic.”
Simon: “I thought it was brilliant. If this show remains a talent competition instead of a popularity competition, you actually could win.”
* For the last month, David Cook has been my boy. He and the previously booted Josiah Leming were the only ones with sort of authenticity. He won’t win, and I will be tempted to stop watching. But I won’t. He’s should be fine for this week.

Brooke White
“Let it Be”
Just her and the piano. Hate to admit it, but she is actually good in spurts. Simple and true to the song, though not original at all. Just solid. Essentially plays the album version, to the letter.
2.5 out of 5
Randy: “Don’t know if this was your strongest performance.” Does call it “heartfelt.”
Paula: “This is your niche, picking songs where we can feel your heart.” What?
Simon: “One of the best performances of the night. A brilliant choice of song. It was believable.”
*Judges liked her more than I did, especially Simon. She seems to be getting a lot of family and sympathy voters, making her a threat to contend for longer than she actually should. Way too naïve and wholesome for my taste.

David Hernandez
“I Saw Her Standing There”
Really overdoes the vocal runs, almost at the end of every line. It would honestly be hard for me to dislike anyone as much as I loathe this guy. Maybe if Oprah mated with Brian Billick, there would be a chance. Just comes off as incredibly fake. PLEASE GET RID OF THIS GUY. NOW.
2.5 out of 5
Randy: “It was a little too overdone. Tried to do too much with it.”
Paula: “I feel like you kind of overdid it a little bit. Need to scale it back. Too many runs.”
Simon: “Corny, verging on desperate. Just wasn’t very cool.”
*Yes! Looks like this might be the end of the line for the former male stripper at a gay bar. Let’s just pray his boyish good looks don’t save him. (Keeping fingers crossed.)

Amanda Overmyer
“You Can’t Do That”
She has absolutely no range. Every song is the same thing, over and over and over again. Would work well if she did the Janis Joplin thing once in a while, but when it’s all you’ve got, it gets old fast. Real fast. It’s way past time for her to go. End the misery, and do it now.
2 out of 5
Randy: “You took a Beatles song and rocked it out in a Southern bar.”
Paula: “I’m blown away by you.”
Simon: “Didn’t think it was as good as last week. Slurring a lot of the words, a little shout-y… You are a breath of fresh air, though.”
*Uggh, right when the judges throw me a bone with David Hernandez, they double-cross me with Amanda. Thanks to their blessing, she will go through. Consequently, we get another week of the crappy Jefferson Airplane wannabe drag queen.

Michael Johns
“Across the Universe”
Does it acoustic. He is still one of the favorites to win this thing, but this performance was uninspired. Blah.
3 out of 5
Randy: “It was OK for me. A little sleepy.”
Paula: “It takes an inner strength and a quiet confidence to do nothing but stand in the center of the stage and sing brilliantly.”
Simon: Agrees with Randy. “A little bit monotonous. It was solid, but you have to let yourself go a little bit. We haven’t heard what you’re capable of doing.”
*For someone so likable and with this much talent, this dude show knows how to waste it. If he would just get his act together, he would be one of the final four for sure. He might be, anyway.

Kristy Lee Cook
“Eight Days a Week”
Oh. My God. That sound you hear is John Lennon puking in his grave.
Makes it into a country song. Just plain weird, despite her prior advice to do more country. She was lucky to even make it this far, so she has to be gone at this point… doesn’t she? Besides, the country thing might turn off a lot of the voters, even if it was done well. And it wasn’t done well.
2 out of 5
Randy: A little forced. “I’m torn with this one. Half and half for me.”
Paula: “I didn’t enjoy it. I didn’t get it.”
Simon: “I thought it was horrendous. Sounded like Dolly Parton on helium.”
*She’s Gone. With a capital G. Not even going to waste my time with any other observations.

David Archuleta
“We Can Work It Out”
Even God fails once in a while, apparently. He forgot some of the words, he employed some strange flailing hand motions and he seemed to be genuinely unfamiliar with the song. Almost seemed like he knew he was in trouble, from the stressed out introduction to the lack of vocal confidence throughout. His worst performance so far. There’s no chance of him being voted off, though.
2.5 out of 5
Randy: “Not on point. This is not your vibe. Felt very forced, didn’t quite work for me.”
Paula: “Wasn’t your best week. It gets tough when you forget the lyrics.”
Simon: “That was a mess. Stumbled over the lyrics. It was all over the place. It was your weakest performance so far.”
*At least his subpar performance saved the audience from another moment of fake humility from The Chosen One. How many times can he act like he has never been told that he can sing before? No acting necessary this week. Just stood there and took his beating. Maybe he won’t win after all… Nah.

SURPRISE OF THE WEEK: Chikezie Eze
PERFORMANCE OF THE WEEK: Carly Smithson
GOING, GOING, GONE: David Hernandez, Kristy Lee Cook

The uber-depressing (yet still breathtaking), heartwrenching, tear-inducing end

We should have known it all along.
We should have known it would be brilliant, because it always was.
We should have known it would be sad, because it always was.
We should have known it would be satisfying, because it always was.
The Wire is over.
And as much as it pains me to put the period on the end of the previous sentence, there is nothing I can do to change it.
All I can do is look back on the near-perfection of the final episode — what turned out to be a mirror image of the Season 1 closing.
So many good scenes, topped off by McNulty's wake at the bar.
So many flawless decisions in the storytelling process, topped by the re-usage of the Season 1 version of the theme song as pictures of a "new" Baltimore — exactly the same as the old one — glide past on the screen.
Youngsters still working the corners. Freamon back with his miniatures. Herc buying rounds at the bar. Kingpins meeting with The Greek. An underqualified police chief. Beadie back at the port. The homeless still homeless. Michael as the new Omar. Sydnor as the new McNulty. Dukie as the new Bubbles. Marlo as the new Stringer. Bunk as the same old Bunk.
Throw in Templeton accepting a Pulitzer and Rawls receiving a promotion to prove that, in fact, nice guys do always finish last.
David Simon has said it before. That while most television dramas are Shakespearian in nature — focused on the turmoil within the individual — The Wire has its roots in Greek tragedy. Man vs. Institution, that is. And the institution always wins.
We should have known.

Van Gundy taking crazy pills?

Midway through the first quarter of the Suns-Spurs game on ABC, Mike Breen and Mark Jackson got into the inevitable point guard discussion. Jackson backed Chris Paul as the best in the NBA, while Breen stuck up for Nash. Then, Jeff Van Gundy added another name to the mix... Rafer Alston.
Yes — that streetball stud, the one they call "Skip To My Lou" (and by they, I mean no one in the history of earth...still, we're told it's his nickname). Rafer freaking Alston!
Let's skip past the part where we wonder how Van Gundy got a hold of Paula Abdul's medication. His point actually underscores something real — that Alston is a big part of why the Rockets have been playing so well, especially in Yao Ming's absence.
I'll be honest: I hadn't seen Houston play much until they started this winning streak (currently at 18 games), at which point they became mandatory Tivo-ing material. And Alston, more so than anyone else, sticks out. He's averaging about 16 points and seven assists per game in that stretch, and it has been pretty clear to see that his impact on the court has stretched well beyond those numbers.
And now, after praising someone named Rafer for two consecutive paragraphs, I need a shower.
At least I didn't call him the best point guard in the NBA.

Amateur Lost deconstruction: The futile search for unreachable answers

Now featuring more verbosity and less insight

On the brink of Season 4, Episode 3 (and the unveiling of another member of the Oceanic Six): Five questions that came out of Episode 2.

1. Who does Matthew Abaddon work for?
A couple things to consider here.
First off, the bearded helicopter pilot (Frank Lapidus) was well-versed in the flight manifest of Oceanic 815. He knew that Juliet wasn’t on it, deducing “she must be one of the natives.” The very fact that he knows natives exist leads us to believe that he must have learned this from Abaddon (aka Lt. Daniels aka Lance Reddick). And the only way I can think of that Abaddon would know about the natives is if he had a Dharma connection (making him aware of Ben’s earlier actions in The Purge).
Based on this evidence, I would guess that Abaddon works for Dharma.
Then again, Naomi somehow knew about Desmond and Penny, which would indicate a Widmore connection.

2. Is the whole “Miles as ghostbuster” angle a turnoff?
This falls into the category of general Lost preferences. I have to say I am one of those people who think the sci-fi quotient has been upped just a little too much. I realize that watching this show takes some sort of suspension of disbelief, but I would like to think that it is at least mostly grounded in reality. I guess what I am saying is that I can handle the on-island craziness: everything from ghosts and monsters to mysterious whispers and disappearing edifices. But when the fantasy extends off the island, I find myself rolling my eyes. And I put the Miles flashback into the category with Claire’s psychic and Walt’s bird episode — I feel like I might was well be watching Battlestar Galactica.

3. What is with the Dharma polar bear in Tunisia?
A popular theory is that the polar bear is evidence of time travel within the show. I, however, choose to view it as simple proof that Dharma has other projects going on around the world in addition to the island experiment. I would cite the time the girls in the Looking Glass hatch were told by Ben that Patchy was on assignment in Canada — they didn’t seem surprised to know that Dharma had other interests in other places.

4. Who is Ben’s man on the boat?
All signs point to Michael. After all, Ben was the one who sent him off on the boat (with Walt) to begin with. And we haven’t seen him since. Who is to say Ben didn’t somehow con him into working for him. Also, Harold Perrineau’s name is in the opening credits for some reason or another, and he is the actor who plays Michael.
Other speculation mentions Ben’s childhood friend Annie as a possibility. I have not doubt that we will see her again (in grown-up form), but not for this.
What’s with the plane wreckage? Its been theorized for a long time that fake wreckage was planted.

5. Who was Ms. Gardner’s murdered grandson?
The Lost creators rarely do anything by accident. And in the flashback scene where Miles is connecting with a murdered boy, the camera focuses on one particular photo for quite a while. After further review, it looks an awful lot like the same person who played the younger version of Mr. Eko. If that is indeed the case, I have no smart explanation for the time frame or why Eko was in Inglewood, California. Just more for us to be confused about. Awesome.

Runner-up questions:
Why were Ben and Locke so surprised that Hurley had seen Jacob’s cabin?
Why was Daniel Farraday crying?
Does Ben really know about the black smoke monster?

On Blogular Nomenclature

If by serendipity someone happens to stumble upon this page, assuming they are not a student of narrative nonfiction, they will probably wonder about the name.
Here is my best attempt to explain it.
"Frank Sinatra Has a Cold" is the title of a a Gay Talese profile of Old Blue Eyes, published in the April 1966 issue of Esquire. It is, quite simply, the work of a writing genius performing at his peak.
I will do my best to summarize what you will find on the article's Wikipedia page.
After writing for quite a while at the New York Times, Talese grew dissatisfied with the limitations and boundaries of newspaper writing, and decided to pursue the magazine-writing life. He signed a six-story contract with Esquire (a one year deal, giving him ample time to delve into each subject). His first assignment was to write an in-depth profile of someone who had turned down interview requests for years, someone shrouded in both fame and secrecy: Frank Sinatra.
As was to be expected, Sinatra did not want to be interviewed. Despite repeated advances by Talese, Sinatra would have no part of it.
Instead of giving up or asking for a new assignment, however, Talese went ahead with the piece the way it probably should have been approached in the first place: via the write-around. He spent three months following Sinatra around, observing what he could about the man and interviewing everyone that would cooperate among Sinatra's entourage — as Esquire puts it, "his friends, his associates, his family, his countless hangers-on." The end result (aside from a $5,000 expense tab) was a truly brilliant work of storytelling about much more than one man. The whole thing is online, if you care to read it. It is also the second entry in The Gay Talese Reader: Portraits and Encounters.

Why do I care for this particular piece so much? Does it lie in the hokey message of perseverance, the way Talese forged on despite the initial and massive roadblock in front of him? Not really, though I do suspect on some level that I unconsciously admire that.
For me, however, it is the pure quality of writing.
It is almost entirely a personal taste thing.
In my line of work, I see so many labored over-descriptions and so many metaphors used for nothing more than the sake of using a metaphor (the retarded sportswriter's cane). I see so many attempts to tie things up in a bow, so much imposing of morals into stories that don't have them. With Talese, nothing is forced. It just flows out to the point where you say "Damn, why didn't I write that?"
"Sinatra with a cold is Picasso without paint, Ferrari without fuel, only worse."
Seriously, why didn't I write that?

There's also the fact that the piece pretty much reinforces my own thoughts and gives credence to my own common complaints. Like Talese, I am frustrated by the newspaper medium and the restrictions that come with it. Like Talese did, I think that primary sources are totally overrated. If you want to know about an athlete or a movie star or a chemist or a philanthropist, the last person in the world you should talk to is the person himself. In fact, talk to everyone but that person.
And like Talese (at least in my mind), I feel like I am wasting away , that I should be doing so much more. That I should be writing screenplays and novels and short stories and broadway shows.
Oh, to be young and naive and marginally ambitious.
My god I sound like a douchebag.

Utterly Anonymous

So, right now this blog has precisely zero regular readers (myself included).
Pros to having no site traffic:

1. If, for some inexplicable reason (because it certainly will not be due to my diligent efforts, I can promise you that) the blog takes off or if it gets linked by some bigger site, I can pull the whole "I came from nothing" angle.
I am especially looking forward to the part where I compare myself to Mahatma Gandhi or someone similarly tasteless, and equate my situation with theirs. "I was left for dead!" I will almost certainly say, most likely in my best approximation of the way Daniel Day Lewis might say such a thing.

2. I can be a hypocrite and an egomaniac.
Along with the vast majority of the human population, I think "personal diary" blogs are the scum of the earth. But here I am, using "I" or "my" in every sentence. With no audience, this does not become too much of a problem.

3. I can be lazy and negligent.
With no one I am trying to impress, I do not have to post every day, or even every week. I can be literally "As Procrastinatory As I Want To Be" — coincidentally, also the name of Dennis Rodman's unreleased second book.

4. I can post what I want.
For example, I may not discuss Gilbert Arenas' testicular situation if, say, I knew my mother would be reading. She will inevitably find this place, though, and I will be ruined.

5. These very paragraphs, in which, I speak to no one but myself about the fact that I am, in fact, speaking to no one but myself will serve as a built-in insanity defense in the event that I ever commit a crime.
Unfortunately, I am far too big of a pussy to ever knowingly commit a crime. If I do accidentally disobey the law, my dream is that it will be some sort of white-collar crime.

Saturday linkage

SPORTS
*A compilation of Chris Berman videos, capturing his typical, jovial off-camera state of mind. I can't figure out whether I have more or less respect for him now. (Sports By Brooks)

*Which MLB pitchers are most likely to throw a no hitter? Joe Posnanski discusses, in serious depth. John Maine at No. 9? Huh?

*JP also looks at how successful MLB teams have been with their 1st round draft picks in the last ten years. Pretty much enforces the notion that Billy Beane is a genius, though we now now that genius juice does not necessarily rub off on those around him (I'm looking at you, Paul DePodesta.

*The awesomeness never stops from Gilbert Arenas. Here, he discusses his favorite drink and most painful injury. Hint: The words "scrotum" and "keloids" come into play. (D.C. Sports Bog)

*Will Shaq return to the Heat for a day? This interesting TrueHoop post discusses what will happen when Miami and Atlanta replay the finish of the game that incorrectly disqualified Shaq with five fouls. The better question might be whether Miami would want him or not.

ENTERTAINMENT
*Maybe there is justice in TV land. Lost and House doing well in ratings, Lipstick Jungle tanking. Then again, Friday Night Lights and The Wire still can't find an audience. And American Idol continues to sneeze at Napoleon's run of dominance. (BuzzSugar)

*Styleguide outlines how you can look and dress like your favorite Lost character. Just one question: Who is in such a rush to go to Hurley for style tips?

*Slate documents the backlash against Juno. I, for one, don't understand it. When did people stop going to the movies for pure enjoyment and start going in search of some bigger significance? I loved Atonement and No Country for Old Men, but no movie in the last year was more enjoyable for me than Juno.

POLITICS
*I'm no political strategist, but I can't see how McCain could have any chance against Obama (assuming he gets the nomination). The whole "old and aging" versus "young and excuberant" angle seems like it would be impossible to overcome. Ariana Huffington and Slate seem to agree.

Amateur Lost deconstruction: The futile search for unreachable answers

Featuring increased verbosity and decreased insight
In honor of tonight's episode, here are five questions that came out of the Season 4 premiere:

1. Who are The Oceanic Six?
Totally awesome name for a jazz band, by the way — Is there a person alive who wouldn’t fork over five bucks to see Miles Davis and the Oceanic Six? (If for no other reason, than to see how well Miles’ corpse was capable of hitting the blue notes)
We already know Jack, Kate and Hurley find their way off the island, leaving three others. Then we have the unknown person in the coffin (according to Jack, “neither” friend nor family). And if we assume Desmond’s prognostications are correct, Charlie died so Claire and Aaron could get off the island. Since I assume that Jack would label Claire and Hurley friends, and since he told Kate about the funeral in the Season 3 finale, that only leaves a couple options. It could be baby Aaron, but in that case Claire would have been at the funeral.
That leaves just one lone ranger who Jack does not consider friend or family. The most logical choices, I suppose (probably far too logical), are Locke and Ben.
So there you have it: Jack, Kate, Hurley, Claire, Aaron, and your choice of the Locke/Linus pupu platter.
Then again, Jack could have a falling out with one of his supposed “friends,” or Desmond could prove to be a poor substitute for Nostradamus. And why wouldn’t there be any members of the news media on hand to report the death of one of The Oceanic Six? Maybe more make it off the island, but only six are acknowledged publicly.
The moral of the story, as always: I know nothing.
I guess the good news is we’ll have our answer soon if the flash-forwards continue.

2. Is Charlie actually dead?
Here’s what we know:
a) Hurley’s friend in the loony bin is able to see Charlie after supposed death
b) Hurley feels it when Charlie slaps him in the face after supposed death
c) Hurley can make Charlie disappear at will (the whole counting to five thing) after supposed death
d) Hurley has a history of seeing people that aren’t really there (i.e. Dave)
e) Jack’s dad Christian has appeared on the island after his death off the island (real or imagined, we saw him)
f) Jack’s flash-forward in the Season 3 finale left us unsure if Christian is alive or dead back in the real world
g) Boone appeared once or twice on the island after his death in dream sequences, but we have been led to believe he is, in fact, dead
Of all the seven facts listed above (and there are many more I have left out: Mr. Eko and his brother come immediately to mind), the one I give the most weight to is the last one. Boone died on the island, and we have been given no reason to believe that he is anything but dead. Same thing goes for Ana Lucia, Libby, Paulo, Nikki and all the others I can remember dying on the island. Because Charlie’s case relates most closely to theirs, I am going to go ahead and assume that he is truly dead.
Perhaps a better question would be ‘What happens to the Losties in death?’ Boone appeared to be completely different in the afterlife, and Charlie went for the American Badass look with aviator shades, short hair, a leather jacket and a v-neck print T-shirt. Perhaps the creators are trying to tell us something about death.

3. Is the mysterious leader of the Others — Jacob —the same person as the supposedly deceased Christian Shephard?
There is no doubt that Jack’s father was the one on the rocking chair inside Jacob’s cabin: the actor’s name listed in credits (John Terry), and screencaps clearly show it is him.
Then again, we also know that Christian lie dead in a coffin when the plane originally crashed, that Jack saw a suit-clad version of Christian at various locations on the island after the wreck (Season 1), that Christian was mentioned multiple times in a hospital flash-forward (as if he were still alive, in Season 3), and that the hallucination-prone Hurley saw Christian’s visage last Thursday despite never having met him before (from what viewer’s are aware of, at least — we don’t know what’s happened off-camera).
Where does that leave us? Essentially nowhere.
There was another person in the cabin, however. So maybe that was Jacob.
I give up.

4. Why do the escapees want to go back to the island?
It was Jack in the Season 3 finale, Hurley in the premiere of Season 4.
The Lost producers have clearly been propagating the following scenario:
The Oceanic Six get off the island sometime in the near future, but at the expense of leaving the other survivors behind (Remember the Oceanic representative’s cryptic “Are they still alive?” comment to Hurley, sans business card). The Six then reach some sort of pact where they agree to lie to the world about the number of original survivors, and the happenings on the island (This is why Hurley denies knowing Ana Lucia in the interrogation scene). Ultimately, though, the guilt is too much to bear for those back in the real world. In the series finale, they go back to the island.
That would be much too predictable for Lost, however. Hopefully, it is all a red herring.

5. Will we only get flash-forwards from this point on?
This is more of a structural question, but perhaps the most important one of all since it will determine how the rest of the series plays out. Here’s the thing: We know that Lost will air for precisely six seasons. And the flash-forwards start at what is essentially the exact halfway point. That seems too coincidental to be pure chance. I have to believe that we are looking at an extended run of flash-forwards for the foreseeable future.
Which, if you ask me, is a good thing. The Season 4 premiere was as captivating to me as any of the previous ones. Hopefully, the flash-forwards will be just the shot in the arm that the show needs to be consistently good the rest of the way.
Every season so far (especially Season 2 and Season 3) has featured a noticeable lull in the middle, one where the show loses steam for a few episodes. I have nothing against character building and a more methodical style of pacing, but Lost seems to turn it on and off so abruptly that viewers become bored. The good Lost, chalked full of a questions and action, makes the average Lost (i.e. the Bai Ling episode) seem like terrible Lost, if that makes any sense.
Hopefully the flash-forwards will cut down on the number of average episodes.

Runner-up question:
What is the deal with Jacob’s portable shack?

An Open Letter to FOX

Attention: FOX boneheads, nitwits and morons.
I write to you today on behalf of the American public.
As football fans, there are only two things we truly need from a television broadcast. The first-down line, the super Slo-Mo replays, the sideline reports, the injury updates, the line-of-scrimmage audio, the celebrity cutaways — they’re all nice amenities we’ve come to expect and rely on. But in truth, only two are absolute necessities: the clock and the score. They are so basic, in fact, that we take them completely for granted (as we should) until they go missing.
Which is exactly what happened Sunday, on the second most-watched broadcast in the history of television.
Excellent work, guys. Way to rise to the occasion.
Oh, the score was there. The clock, however, was not. Or rather, it was so inaccurate for such a large portion of the game that it may as well have been invisible. As many of the almost 100 million viewers undoubtedly noticed, FOX’s ticker was often stopped when it should have been running (especially in the first half). It sometimes ran when it should have been stopped. And any sight of the play clock was a pipe dream.
The only time viewers had any idea what was going on was in the brief moment when the camera panned past the actual scoreboard inside University of Phoenix Stadium.
It’s not like that stuff is important, important, though. The space-time continuum is so overrated.
I do understand the conundrum you’re faced with, however. I mean, you only have so many man-hours to go around. And I wouldn’t want you to pull anyone off that hard-hitting red carpet coverage. Decisions had to be made — And if hiring an accurate timekeeper came at the expense of a John Travolta interview, well… Who wouldn’t want to know what Danny Zuko thought about the big game?
For future reference, though, I thought of a few cost-cutting measures that might enable you to keep someone around with a better understanding of the complex motor skills required to start and stop a timepiece.
1. A Ryan Seacrest shaving moratorium.
Think of all the wasted razorblade funds your ubiquitous host must have gone through to achieve that amorphous blotch of facial hair below his chin. Next year, clarify things by letting him grow the full beard. That way, viewers won’t wonder whether their television set is smudged or if the contrast is off.
2. Eliminate the use of replay.
FOX’s producer’s seemed to be catering to that rare species born with X-ray vision Sunday. It was almost uncanny how poor the replay selection was. If there was a question about whether or not a receiver caught the ball or pinned it on the ground, we were sure to get the view that showed his back to the camera, precisely the least helpful of all the 456 vantage points at hand. Eradicate this problem by doing away with replay altogether next year. The broadcast might suffer, sure, but production quality doesn’t seem to be too high up on your list of priorities, anyway.
3. Stop stealing music.
You may have thought you were saving money when you decided to use a snippet of Arcade Fire’s “No Cars Go” in a promo without asking the band’s permission. But now that they have decided to sue the pants off of you, it seems that strategy has backfired. Rid yourself of this pitfall by only using music in the public domain next time around. I’m thinking “Frere Jacque” for the intro and Bach’s “Fugue in C-Sharp minor” as we head to the first commercial break.
So there you have it. I’ve got plenty more ideas if you need them.
The clock is ticking. Not that you guys would know.
Sincerely, A Concerned Citizen