Thursday, May 29, 2008

The greatest sporting event you have never seen


Each year there are huge mega sporting events you can not escape in this country - the Super Bowl, the World Series, the NCAA Tournament. Even minor sports, like Horse Racing and Indy car, make a big splash when their big events happen each Spring. As much media hype as they can generate, they all fail to compete with the greatest sporting event, which is occurring this Friday Night:
The Scripts National Spelling Bee

Before you say I am f-ing crazy, let me explain. Why is the Scripts National Spelling Bee so good? Many reasons. It has drama, it has competition, it is always a close contest and a battle, but most importantly it has one element the other events do not have:

Sportsmanship

I am tired of watching over-paid, under-educated athletes compete in a game of who can be the biggest, jack@ss showboat. Celebrations and taunting used to happen rarely, and then it was only done if you were really the best and you were absolutely crushing the other team. Now, it is commonplace. Athletes play for the highlights and the endorsement contracts, not to win games(Manny Ramirez ... yeah, I am talking to you). Worse yet, the biggest jerks are the ones getting in the most trouble with the law. Quick - name one sports team that doesn't have a player that is either in or is facing jail time? I can't.

I don't know whose fault it is; players didn't always used to be this way. It could be ESPN, Nike, Sports Agents, or the public, but a culture has been created that it is not as important if you win or lose, but how big of a showboat jerk you can be. Sportsmanship in the pros is a joke, and the college ranks are not far behind them. Rare is the player who is both (A) successful and (B) someone you would introduce to your sister. Almost no sport is immune. Almost.

Enter the Scripts Spelling Bee. This is the only competition where the players actually play the game like professionals. There is respect for your competitors and the rules. Players behave like ladies and gentleman and they shake hands after good plays. They play to win but they don't play like jerks. And there is drama! Big drama. Pressure under the lights drama by kids who are not used to being in the limelight. Lets face it - most of these kids get picked on and beat up on a fairly regular basis, I'm guessing. But do they use the stage as an opportunity to upstage their competitor? No. They play to win and the bring a drama and intensity I haven't seen in another sport in years. Olympic Spirit? Don't go to Beijing to see it; you have to go to Washington DC for the Scripts finals.

A few years ago, a story came out that a Little League Baseball league had decided to stop the practice of a post game handshake. Too many fights were breaking out. It was at this moment I thought there was no more hope for sports. If we can't even get kids to behave in a civilized fashion after a game, what chance is there for professionals?

For anyone who feels the same way, I urge you to watch the Scripts Spelling Bee, Friday night, 8pm Eastern (7pm Central) on ABC. It will restore your faith in the concept of good sportsmanship.

Wednesday, May 28, 2008

Rebellion Update #2


Greetings Comrades!  

The revolution is gaining strength!  Our fight against right side conformity is building;  we are successfully holding off the advances of the Imperialist Pig-Dogs!

The revolution had appeared to be losing steam; a conformist had struck back and moved my nameplate to the "right" side.  After taking swift and decisive action, replacing my nameplate to the left side, a purge began of infidels within our ranks.  We needed names.  So far our efforts have not revealed the traitor, but our informants are everywhere.  Our enemies cannot hide from the strength of our ideals!

But today, we celebrate a new victory in our battle against conformity!  Last month, the fellow with the mail slot above me ("Milker") left the division, taking with him, his right sided name tag. Normally what happens in this situation is that all the name tags are moved up a spot to prevent any gaps.  This is another manifestation of the culture of conformity.  Milker left the division, with his name tag, yet the mail slots have not been moved.  A gap exists above my slot.

The only conclusion is the mail carriers are afraid of my slot.  It is like a giant chip on my shoulder, daring them to move my left sided mail slot, and they haven't.  They are either scared to act or they are repulsed by the idea of mixing with a left sided slot; either way, this is a victory in our glorious struggle against the righty conformists!

Viva la Mailbox Rebellion!!!

Saturday, May 24, 2008

Amateur Radio Plates


For the love of all that is good and Holy, why are there special license plates for Amateur Radio operators?

For those of you who have never seen these before, certain states have license plates for people who operate Ham Radios.  I don't know what states do it, all I know is I have seen a bunch of them, and their numbers are growing.  Why? I do not know.

Like most things in this world, I would like to think there is a reason behind this.  Unfortunately, I can not come up with one.  Why - WHY - would someone have a plate that alert the world to their participation of this most geeky of hobbies.  

First off - why should this designation be on your vehicle?  Presumably, they are not operating their radio while driving.  This is a big assumption I am making.  I also assume they are not driving to some sort of emergency where a one-way transmission is needed.  It is interesting, since basically everyone in this country has a mobile phone, there really does not seem to be much use for the one way radio.  Also barring some post WWIII type apocalypse, the need for such technology will never occur again.  So why?

The only two reasons I could come up with both have to do with mating - either it is to prevent or encourage it.  My first thought is the license must be being used to stigmatize and prevent mating opportunities for Ham Radio operators.  By branding them with this plate, we will in effect eradicate the "Ham Radio" gene by condemning all of its carriers.  The other options - encouraging breeders - is far more frightening.  It means that there is a segment of the female population that is actually attracted to these guys (because you know only guys own and operate Ham Radios.  Its a law actually.  Somewhere in the Constitution - towards the back).  This creates some very frightening possibilities and pick up lines.  Imagine, somewhere in this great country a woman is actually being turned on by lines like:

"We must be on the same frequency because I am tuning you in."

"My call letters are U&ME"

"My station is tuned to love, baby!"

It doesn't present a pretty picture for the future of our society.  So before I call for a general uprising and revolt against anyone who has a Amateur Radio plate, I am asking for anyone with knowledge on this topic to enlighten me.  

Operators are standing by.

Tuesday, May 13, 2008

what type of jack@ss would want to race a volvo?

So me and my sleep deprived hair were coming back from the Uptown Theater (saw "Son of Rambow". Funny movie about two very different boys who become friends in England - check it out). So on the way back, I guy in a red Lotus Exige (just like the one in the photo on the left) was roaring down Hennepin Ave. He pulled up next to me at the light and - I am not making this up - challenged me to a race.

He reved up his engine (which was impressive). I thought he was just screwing around, showing off his car to impress the girls. But he was looking at me. He was giving me the nod - he wanted to race me.

What type of jack@ss would want to race a guy in a Volvo?

Now, granted, it is a TURBO Volvo, but it is still a Volvo.  The Lotus Exige, for comparison sake, has a 218 HP engine vs about 150 HP for me.  The Lotus weighs about 2000 lbs, the Volvo over 4000 (without me in the car).  The Lotus has a 0-60 of 4.1 seconds; the Volvo is considerably slower, and even if it was faster, who would look at a Volvo and think "I got a drag racer here!"  Plus - who drag races anymore?  "American Graffiti" came out almost 35 years ago and took place over 45 years ago.  Drag racing doesn't happen too often, and certainly not down on the busiest streets in town where you can't go more than a quarter mile without a light stopping you.

Freaking weird @ss people with too much money and too little sense.  

Sleep Deprived Hair

This morning I had to get up early for a meeting.  I am not sure what time it was - something around 5:30 am I think - the whole day started hazy.  It wouldn't have been so bad, but I was up kinda late and I had trouble sleeping.  When the alarm went off, I did not want to get up.

But I did.  I somehow made it to the bathroom and got the water started.  I was still halfway asleep; I was really going through the motions.  It took a while for the hot water to come on but eventually it did.  When I got in the shower, and started getting my hair wet, I noticed it did not feel right at all.  It was like I was wearing a wig.  It didn't feel it was real hair, but considering how far out of it I was this morning, I figured it was just me being tired.

I went through the same motions I do every morning:  same routine, same shampoo and conditioner, same "product", but my hair did not turn out the same.  I had some serious f-ed up afro brillo head problems today.  I won't lie - my hair was off.  I couldn't figure out why; all the steps were the same, except for one thing.  Could it be my hair was sleep deprived?

If I haven't had enough sleep, there are some physical symptoms I can see in myself.  Eyes a bit droopy and lacking life, my posture is generally bad, muscle tone in the arms is non-existent.   All of this happens if I don't have a good nights sleep.  Could this effect manifest itself in my hair?  It seems really odd and highly improbable, but then again.... why wouldn't it?

If anyone has any thoughts on this please let me know.  I am heading out now, wearing a hat.

Sunday, May 11, 2008

My trip to Whole Foods and confirmation of why I do not shop there

It all started with being hungry. I am a simple man and I am motivated by simple things. Food is one of them.

I am not a good cook, and the thought of cooking for another person terrifies me. I have tried taking classes, but even specialists have been unable to make a dent in my failings here. So I try to practice and get good at a few items so if I ever am forced into a situation of having to cook for someone I can be reasonably sure of not causing serious illness or death. I found a new recipe on Yahoo! foods, that looked interesting and possibly makable by me. There were a lot of ingredients, but the actually cooking part seemed easy enough, so I decided to take the challenge and make this new dish.

First thing for me to do was shopping. I went to Penzey's in uptown to buy 5 of the 6 spices I would need but I didn't own. That was relatively painless, and surprisingly not that expensive. I was going to go to Lund's, my favorite grocery store in town, to get the other items, but having missed lunch and in the mood for fruit, I drove over to the Jamba Juice. Jamba Juice shares a space with Whole Foods.

I don't shop at Whole Foods. I used to go to Whole Foods when I lived in DC, but that was mostly because the quality of the fresh food at the only other option, Safeway, was highly questionable. Once the Harris Teeter opened up in Arlington, I gave Whole Foods the Auf Wiedersehen and made the 30 minute one way drive to HT. I didn't like Whole Foods for several partially formed reasons floating around in my head, which only I could possible decipher or comprehend. The stores themselves look nice, and they had good music playing, but something about the way they presented themselves bothers me.  Any corporation, like Whole Foods, which makes such an effort to promote their liberal values seems very hypocritical. They make it seem like they are above making profits (ask their board of directors and shareholders if that is true).  That type of hypocrisy bothers me, along with the fact that when you go in their store makes it feel like they have a monopoly on helping Mother Earth. So outside of Jamba Juice, I never go in the place.

I don't know what caused me to do my shopping there today. I don't know if it was because it was a new recipe (new recipe, new store?). Or maybe it was a desire not to waste gas on such a nice day (it was 50 degrees outside and I drove with the windows down!). But, probably it was because I have been watching a lot of "Top Chef" and this is where the chefs go shopping for the contests. Anyway, I made the decision to give it a try again. 

First thing that struck me as odd was the shopping carts, namely all the little mini-carts. I don't know about anybody else, but whenever I see a man over 30, shopping by himself, using one of those half sized grocery carts I immediately think he is a homosexual. I know this is a horrible generalization, but something about pushing around those carts seem a bit too dainty for a straight guy. I kept this observation to myself as this seemed to be the norm at this Whole Foods.

The next thing I noticed is how crowded and disorganized the store was at the entrance. When I find a store I like, I stick with it. I learn where things are and I get a rhythm and pattern down for shopping. I don't like wasting time in stores; I am all about efficiency. I know up front that just going to a new store is going to slow me down.  This problems was magnified by the layout of Whole Foods. One stereotype that I think is (unfortunately) true about my liberal brethren is complete disregard for organization and planning. There did not appear to be any thought as to how the store traffic might flow - they just let it be (man! don't try to put your rules in place here! live free man!). Needless to say, this caused a jam at the entrance, and I began to rethink my stance on the mini-carts, which provide a practical advantage in getting around (its not like they have rainbow coalition stickers on them).

I needed to buy carrots, onions and zucchini. It seems simple, but it wasn't. Part of the veggies were on one side, part on the other, and there did not seem to be a reason why one was away from the other. At first I thought it might be a split between "Natural" foods and "Organic", but this was not the case. As best as I can figure out it was based on color of food and the packaging in came in (if any). All veggies which were Yellow, Green or Orange were on the left side. Red, White and any other colors were on the right. But if the veg was in a plastic container or bag, and it was Yellow or Orange, it was on the right. If it was green and in the bag, it was still on the left. Also, Red veggies in a bag were on the left side (not with the Green, but close). It was all very confusing. All told, it took me 10 minutes to navigate my way for these three items. At Lunds, I would have been done and out of the section in 90 seconds, tops.

The next thing I noticed was how rude everyone was there at the store and how little effort was made to make way for other shoppers. The rules of who had right-of-way seemed to be skewed as well. I am used to stores, like Lund's or Herris Teeter, where the rules of normal society still hold true; you make way for your elders and the staff makes way for you. Not the case in Whole Foods. Here, the rules seemed to be the more granola you were looking the more you felt you had the right to push everyone else around. It was almost like a "I am more holier (or granola) then thou" attitude so get out of my way! Funny thing is, if you are really a granola type, you either (a) shop at a co-op or (b) grow your own food. You don't shop at a store owned by the man. I realized now that my issue with Whole Foods duplicitous image transcended the stores and infused their customers. They were a bunch of phonies, too.

Throughout the store, groups of people (mostly women) would congregate in the busiest sections and talk about.... nothing. A lot of vapid, self absorbed suburbanites talking about the latest organic this, or natural that, when in reality, it looked like these woman have never cooked a meal in their life. And they were everywhere! Every corner you turned, there they were. This, plus the narrow little isles, made it even tougher to get around (causing me to really, REALLY, rethink my stance on the mini-carts). Isn't there a Starbucks near by that they could go to instead and let those of us who want to get their shopping done do so in peace?

I found the remainder of my items (sort of). Most of them were canned items, of some organic variety, that did not come in standards sizes. Why must liberals (or pseudo liberals) be so difficult. If the US market has accepted that a standard size for crushed tomatoes is 16 oz, why does your organic crap have to come in a 14.5 oz container? Do I buy two now and have to waste one? Will they let me do that here, if they know I am going to toss it? Will the Whole Foods waste police be after me now?

I got in line, trying to get out of there as fast as possible. The bag boy came up, and I was really tempted to ask for a plastic bag (Why do they only offer paper bags? I thought killing trees was a bad thing? I use my plastic bags for garbage, so they get reused. Plus, a lot of the food in the store comes in plastic containers, so what is the big freaking deal).  I walked back to my car, making sure to give a wide berth to anyone in Birkenstock and shorts and drove home. 

I drove by Lunds on the way back. I was thinking about taking another path home, so I wouldn't feel shammed driving past it. I didn't though, and as I drove past it, with its green awnings and brick facade, it almost looked at me, as if to say, its okay. I know you will be back.

PS - Whole Foods crappy a$$ bag ripped apart after I got out of my car. Fricken waste of a tree.

Tuesday, May 06, 2008

Ankle Jokes

In case you were wondering, people gimping around with sprained ankles don't really find "Eight Belles" comparisons too funny.

Just sayin


Monday, May 05, 2008

"You can take my PBR out of my cold, dead, hand - no wait"


Latest installment of "You can't make this up."  Thanks to Former-MC and our good friends at AP for this one!

------------------------

Illinois man orders custom beer-can coffin

Bill Bramanti will rest in peace surrounded by Pabst Blue Ribbon memories

SOUTH CHICAGO HEIGHTS, Ill. - Bill Bramanti will love Pabst Blue Ribbon eternally, and he's got the custom-made beer-can casket to prove it. "I actually fit, because I got in here," said Bramanti of South Chicago Heights.

The 67-year-old Glenwood village administrator doesn't plan on needing it anytime soon, though.

He threw a party Saturday for friends and filled his silver coffin — designed in Pabst's colors of red, white and blue — with ice and his favorite brew.

"Why put such a great novelty piece up on a shelf in storage when you could use it only the way Bill Bramanti would use it?" said Bramanti's daughter, Cathy Bramanti, 42.

Bramanti ordered the casket from Panozzo Bros. Funeral Home in Chicago Heights, and Scott Sign Co. of Chicago Heights designed the beer can.

Saturday, May 03, 2008

Google can now read your mind


So the other night I had a very weird dream.   Our company had decided to open a new subsidiary in Iran.

In my dream, my VP had been picked to head this up, by her former mentor and Executive VP of our Consumer Business. Apparently, Home Depot was moving into Iran, and we needed to be there to support their efforts, and she was just the person to do it.  In the real world this EVP was born in Iran;  I think my subconscious knew this, though I didn't consciously remember this fact.  

I do remember in my dream that I questioned setting up a business in Iran.  I remember asking that didn't the US have an embargo against Iran that prevented us from doing business there?  My concerns were dismissed.  I questioned this move again and asked, are you sure you don't mean Iraq?  That seemed to make more sense to me; I could kinda see the need for home improvements in Bagdad (however infeasible it might be).  "No!" I was told, "we mean IRAN!" (you idiot).

I have no idea where this dream came from.  The only thing I can think of is that there was a potentially lethal combination from dinner.  Apparently, salad with vinaigrette dressing and grilled shrimp, PBR and Advil do not mix, and you should avoid combining them at all costs.

I was telling some friends about this the next day at lunch, and we all had a good laugh.  I then went back to my desk and checked gmail, and on the side bar was an advertisement for "Jobs in Iran."  

That kinda freaked me out.  Google usually places ads based on key words in the eMail, but outside of my discussion, I hadn't shared that dream with anyone.  There was nothing in the mail I was reading or had sent that mentioned the words Iran, Jobs, or Home Depot, much less Salad, PBR, and Advil.  How the h#ll did they know that there was some relevance for me with that ad?

The headline of the ad was in English, but the rest was in Arabic.  I tried to copy the ad to share it with others, but before I could take a screen shot, I got distracted and lost the image.  I went back to Google searching for "Iran Jobs" in the hopes of finding the ad again, but it has not reappeared. 

This has compounded my problems.  Not only is Google reading my mind, but my employer is probably a bit freaked out by my obsession with finding a job in Iran.  This is not a good thing.

If I ever find the ad, I will be sure to post it.  In the meantime, I advise you all to avoid the said combination of salad, PRB and Advil at all costs.

Good dreaming.

No one was more surprised than me


On May 1st, I officially accepted a new job at my current employer.  I don't think anyone is more surprised than me.

I will be a New Business Development manager, developing and launching new product platforms for our division, while working on Mergers & Acquisitions to round out our global presence.  It is a very good job with a nice promotion attached, and I will work for my former boss.  This is a better job than I could have hoped to find elsewhere.  It is like I won the frickin' lottery.

When I was first approached with this new job possibility, I had a lot of mixed emotions.  It was a great job and a great chance to be reunited with my former boss whom I personally like and greatly respect.  It was a chance to grow and develop (i.e. add new skills to the resume).   Everything about the job is great.  So why was I conflicted?

I got this job almost exactly 6 months after a reorg that occurred, which almost caused me to quit the day it happened.  I have been ready since November to walk out the door and never return.  I had removed most every personal effect and gotten folks to switch away from my work eMail.  I didn't have one foot out the door; I barely had one foot in the door.  Mentally, I was gone.

My relationship with my employer has been rocky from the start.  It is a great company and I have had the benifit of working for several top notch managers.  I have also had some bad times - lies told me when I joined, broken promises and threats of termination (twice), plus some other events I will not get into here that have caused me to want to leave for a long time.  Last November was the final straw; no way I could stay (or so I thought).

I had made the mistake over the past few years of feeling very trapped in the situation I was in.  This is no ones fault but my own.  The last six months was spent as a great re-awakening for me.  I was trying to give myself an injection of confidence, and thanks to the help of friends and family, I thought I was going to finally make the move to something, and possibly somewhere new.  I am not so old that I can't go somewhere new, try something different, and if it didn't work, I could still try again.  For the first time in several years I was excited by the prospect of what the outside world offered and I felt I had the confidence to do something about it.

Then this job with my employer shows up, literally at my feet.  I didn't ask for it, I didn't search it out, and I didn't even interview for it.  It was brought to me on a silver platter.  All I had to do was say yes.  

And I did.

So it is with very mixed emotions I will continue working for the same company which I have had a love-hate relationship with for the past seven years.  I don't know if I am more disappointed in myself for letting myself get suckered into working another year at a company where I have been very frustrated, or if it is because after building up my confidence to make the move, I suddenly take the easy way out and fall back into staying in a safe job in the midwest, where my only reason for really staying right now is work.  I know that was a horrible run-on sentence but it personifies the run-on emotions I have about this right now.  

I am trying to be a pragmatist about this situation.  This was the by far the best option available today, which was far superior to what I was doing.  It does not prevent me from exploring other options, and it may open new opportunities for me at a future date.  If some of the plans I have been working on materialize, there is nothing stopping me from going forward with them.  Unfortunately, I think my own stubborn nature which won't let me get past the fact that this feels like a defeat.  

So in the interest of putting a positive spin on this situation, I am going to have a "not-going away happy hour" next Friday (May 9th), 5pm at Brits Pub, downtown Minneapolis.  Unlike all the other dozen or so coworkers who have left in the past few months, I am going to buck the trend and have a happy hour for someone who is actually staying!   All are welcome.   Hopefully the weather will be good enough to be outside (yes, we had a threat of snow last night).  

And if I every complain about work ever again, you all have permission to kick my ass.