So the closing ceremonies were, of course, spectacular, but... I dunno... a lot more odd, shall we say, than the opening ceremonies? To some extent you can blame NBC for that, feeling the need to cut away to a 2-minute interview of Michael Phelps *after* showing the spectacular fireworks finale, and *then* going back for a boring song. I mean, c'mon. End on the fireworks. Everybody knows that.

But there was just a lot more oddness in the actual performances, as well. Bizarre pseudo-sexual images, terrible Chinese pop music... I don't know where to start. Although I *do* want one of those awesome round bike things.

Oh, and I thought London's presentation was absolutely brilliant, until my wife explained to me that it wasn't supposed to be funny.

Instead of commenting on the events themselves, I have some suggestions for the next US network willing to pay twelve bazillion dollars to televise the Olympics. These suggestions apply only to prime time programming. The rest is up to them:

1. We probably don't need to see every quarterfinal and semifinal of the various swimming and running events. Yes, we are big fans of Michael Phelps, and of Lolo Jones, but unless these people lose, we'd rather just see, maybe, the semifinals and the finals.

2. More people than you know are actually kind of interested in the track and field stuff that we normally would only see once every four years: Javelin throws. Shotput. Discus. High Jump. Pole Vault. We're not saying you have to make a huge meal out of it like you do with every swimming and running event, but at least for the love of pete show it in prime time. Frankly you'd do a lot better by showing us a variety of events than by spending 10 minutes describing every runner in the eight separate quarterfinals of the Men's blah blah.

3. I know you think you have to show people in skimpy suits, but diving is not very interesting. Synchronized diving is somewhat interesting, but it's not because of the skimpy suits. Even women get bored of watching hot men in small bathing suits. Give diving a rest, okay?

4. I do enjoy watching beach volleyball, but it shouldn't be 25% of your programming. Pick it up in the second half of the winning set - or at another important part of the match. It is your discretion, and since it's all mostly happening a day before, you can pick and choose.

5. My wife said it best when it comes to running: The longer the distance, the less she cares. I agree. Show the last quarter of the 3000 Meter race. Show the last tenth of the marathon. If you're worried about what you will show in the meantime, hey, I (and plenty of other folks I know) would be interested in seeing some Javelin, or Shot Put, or Discus, or... well, you know. Traditional Olympic stuff that we only ever want to see about once every four years.

Mostly, remember that this only happens once every four years. So please, show us a variety of stuff. We can only be bothered to care about this stuff quadrennially, so... show it to us!

A whole bunch of folks won a whole bunch more medals.

<sub>This Usain Bolt guy, he's sort of pissing me off with his effortless awesomeness. Like, I was down with the awesomeness the first four or five times, but could the guy at least break a sweat while cruising to new Olympic and world record running times? Throw the other 99.999999% of humanity a frikkin' bone here, Mr. Bolt.

In unrelated news, I'm lobbying Congress and the President for a thorough carpet-bombing of Jamaica, since they're clearly breeding supermen and superwomen there.</sub>

So a whole bunch of other folks also won some medals. Yay!

_{Is it bad to worry that the greatest Olympian ever, who happens to be from your country, also kind of seems like a bit of a moron and a bit of a dick besides?}

I ask purely for information, of course. The above-mentioned scenario is not, of course, actually happening.

Whole buncha folks won some medals.

_{This Michael Phelps fellow, he's... soemthing, huh?}

The person (or persons) I feel sorriest for right now is whoever is in charge of creating the London 2012 Olympic opening ceremonies.

Because whatever else we may think of the Chinese, they just put on one of the most kick-ass shows that this world has ever seen. The only other spectacle I can compare it to is the awesome shit the French did off the Eiffel Tower for the year 2000. And that only went on for a few minutes, whereas the Chinese blew my freakin' doors off for an hour or so.

I say to London: Go downscale and classy. Have a ceremony where a Jeeves-type butler brings an athlete some tea. Then cut to a chippy. Have everybody smile and wave. Or have them emerge from the Tower of London, heads intact.

Or try to go big: Set the entire Thames on fire. Literally, I mean, pour some kerosene on the river and light it up. WHOOOOMPF! Sure, you'll consume all the oxygen in a 1.5-mile radius of the river, but c'mon. The Chinese would have killed millions to have a bitchin' coming-out party, surely you can sacrifice a few Cockneys to the cause, right?

Right.

It is important to have someone who can poke fun at everything you do and say, and earlier tonight we lost one of the best class clowns our society has ever had.

Goodbye, George Carlin.

Thank you for your relentless mockery. Somebody had to do it. I am glad it was you.

I, for one, as a person, will mourn your loss, as I will also regret your death, and feel that me, personally, will not see your like again, nor will I ever encounter someone just like you, and also, I can say this, that your unique perspective will be sorely lacking, and I will be sad due to the fact that you are no longer in this world: Moreover, it is specifically you and your thoughts which will be lacking from my own personal life, and I will feel that loss deeply at all times going forward from this. I also hope that everyone who reads this understands that this paragraph was a joke in your honor.

George Carlin, you will be missed. Thank you for the laughter you brought into my life, from the time I was old enough to get it until just a few days ago, when I heard your riff on condensing the 10 commandments again.

I hope you went peacefully, and painlessly.

It is the year 2012. In an action which shocked you, your friends and family, and the taxpayers at large, four years ago you were plucked from your current obscurity to become the head of the well-funded Nanotronic Emission Applicable Time Observation government agency, also known as "The NEATO Project."

You quickly took control of the project, directing researchers and spending public money wisely to develop an amazing machine which can see and hear into the past. NEATO, indeed, you thought to yourself. The machine has been tested and found to be true through a series of deeply intricate experiments involving secretive and deeply skeptical scientists writing down words in lead-lined bunkers and the like.

Unfortunately, it also involves an incredible expense in energy - so much so that you simply can't go back and look at the sorts of things which might resolve fundamental questions. The farther you go back, the more energy it takes, so that while 7000 years might be doable, much beyond about 9000 years is nearly impossible. Moreover, the energy expense is so high that you can only see and hear in a particular area for about 90 minutes, with a range of up to about 50 feet wide and 20 feet high - a giant television, really. So just following someone around for an extended period of time is out of the question, though zooming in on a particular area - any area in the world - is relatively easy and quick, especially if you already have a good idea of the specific area. Moreover, you can move the view while you're watching, so you can follow moving events through the 90-ish minutes you've got - but of course the closer you are to the action, the better you can hear. Light and sound waves are directional, dontchaknow.

And of course you can record the video and sound output from your cool machine, so whatever knowledge you gain can be shared with the world.

Limited, yes, but nevertheless, an entire new vista has been opened for historians. So you are ready to set the machine to a new task: Discovering history. What projects will you greenlight?

The restrictions are:

- You're a responsible public servant and will not even consider personal projects such as "Hey, did great-grandma cheat on my great-grandpa back in 1904?" This is public money we're talking about here. No personal projects for you or for anybody else, unless the people involved happen to be historical figures.

- Ethically, you can't look in on the life of anyone currently alive, whether they're a public figure or not. No, you just can't. Please don't be an asshole and say you would anyway.

- Again, about 7500 years prior to today (so about 5500 BCE) is largely the limit of how far back you can go, and about 90 minutes is as long as you can look.

- You can only see and hear, you cannot DO anything. No fantasies about killing Hitler, or trying to change the outcome of a battle or something.

Restrictions stated, this is still a pretty powerful tool. And as the director of the project, it is now your privilege and your duty to set the initial research agenda.

So: What historical projects will you greenlight? Do you want to truly see a tiny slice of life for a medieval peasant? Would you like to really find out what it looked and sounded like when Charlemagne was crowned? Would you like to watch Leonardo da Vinci at work, or for that matter watch Michaelangelo painting or sculpting? Perhaps you'd like to gain some insight into the battle at Thermopylae, or just see into the smoke-filled rooms where Presidents were selected, or where fateful decisions were made.

Tell me what you would really, really, really like to know about history.

This may not be the Ugliest Kitchen Ever. But it sure ain't pretty.

So I had this little rant brewing in the back of my mind for the past week or two, because my wife watches Project Runway and they had their finale recently. I watched bits and pieces here and there, but as I sat here at the computer and listened to the finale, I kept hearing the words "wearable" or "wearability."

My initial reaction was, of course, rage: Of freaking COURSE clothes are supposed to be "wearable." People are supposed to be able to WEAR this shit, and this is what is wrong with fashion, these designers come up with insane and elaborate costumes designed to hang together for exactly 20 feet down the runway and 20 feet back, not actual CLOTHES! Why can't you assholes design CLOTHES!

RARR, I raged! Then I kept raging, screaming, "you jerks, if you're just putting together some godawful creation that couldn't be shown outside a gallery, it's not clothing, it's freaking... uh... um... art."

Well, shit. Maybe I have been looking at this the wrong way.

Maybe it's art. And, well, it's not like the stores aren't filled with actual clothes that express "wearability" so much so that it's pretty much all they've got. It's not like the selection at Wal-Mart and Target and Fashion Bee (and to be fair, at better clothing stores as well) change every season based on what happens in Milan. Haute couture is not destroying your mom's ability to buy a nice dress for your sister's graduation.

Hm. So, okay. Let's take "fashion" as its highest expression - runway shows and the like, not just stuff for everybody to wear - we're talking Paris Fashion Week, New York Fashion Week, etc. Nobody but nobody expects these creations to be sold on racks nationwide. They are there to, presumably, show off a designer's creativity.

The question: Is fashion - namely, a highly-designed piece meant to be displayed once, even if that display is on a person's body... is it art?

"She had a burrito on the table... it grew legs and teeth and started to attack her," said a San Bernardino county sheriff, describing a young lady's experience with the natural high from (ab)using recreational Salvia divinorum.

Man, that sentence started off so much better than it ended. But still, stay alert and vigilant - our burritos could come to life at any time. You don't want to be unprepared when the Great Burrito Revolt begins.

This may be shocking to many of you. In fact the weak of heart may wish to look away at this time, but I feel I simply must get this off my chest:

I... I don't really have any desire to play Guitar Hero.

I know, it is shameful for a man of my age to feel this way. I am aware that I am letting down my entire generation. And I am truly, unreservedly, entirely apologetic. Please... don't hate me. Feel sympathy, perhaps, and a share of revulsion. But dammit, I'm still a human being! Also, I suck at those kind of games.

1. I don't suppose anybody needs to be told this, but Epic Movie was really bad. Or at least, the first thirty minutes was. In my defense, I only watched it that long because a) it was on and b) the redhead is kinda cute.

2. I don't particularly dislike Danny Bondaduce. I don't mind when he appears on radio programs that I listen to. He's not terribly offensive or anything, he's just... kinda... there. What I cannot fathom is why someone gave him his own show. Again, not because there's something wrong with him. But I would feel just as bewildered if someone gave, say, my barber a show. It's not *bad* per se, but... why?

3. Anybody heard from Howard Stern lately? Did whichever satellite radio company that paid him 100 zillion dollars have its investment justified? I never really cared all that much, but, y'know. Other people seemed to care a lot, so.

It's not exactly on my List Of Things To Do Before I Die, but it's on the list of "Hey, that would be a cool thing to do," namely, hike at least some part of the Pacific Crest Trail, which stretches 2,650 miles from the border with Mexico to the border with Canada.

Probably not all of it at one time. It takes anywhere between 4-6 months to hike the whole thing, and frankly I don't know that I want to commit a third to a half of a year of my life to doing only one thing, no matter what that thing is. I'd probably be skittish about committing 5 months to, say, having sex with the Laker Girls. I mean, sure, it'd be fun and all, but also, maybe once in a while I'd want to read a book, or watch some TV, or whatever. Only one thing? For four to six months? I especially don't know that I'd want to commit that kind of time and effort (and given that in following this trail you have to hike up and down from 2,000 feet above sea level to heights approaching 12,000 feet, and up and down and up and down, so we're talking EFFORT) to something that I don't have to do. It's not like it would be my job.

That said, I think it would be fun to see if I could, say, walk from my house in Los Angeles, CA to my dad's house, in El Centro, CA. Driving, it's about 200-ish miles. Walking it would be a lot more. The Pacific Crest Trail would be a big part of that. But hey, once I got to Campo, man, it'd literally all be downhill from there. El Centro's elevation is literally under sea level.

It may not (in fact probably will not) happen, and that's okay. But it's fun to think about. It might also be cool to hike some of it in Northern California, Oregon, and Washington - I imagine it is beautiful, assuming you really like trees.

I was treated to two excellent shows this evening. The latter (and longer, and mostly most professional) of the two was Mike Doughty, ex of Soul Coughing and a fine, fine performer in a tiny little venue. Very, very enjoyable, but hard to translate to text. Turns out he's happy to be out of Soul Coughing, apparently. Shame he didn't like those folks much, they were really awesome. On the other hand, Doughty is even more awesome in his own right. Also, he often asked the crowd what to play next, and people kept yelling "Los Angeles!" Fuckers, it's called Screenwriter's Blues, and while it would be terribly appropriate (or possibly inappropriate) right now, there's no way he could possibly perform it. Also also, his co-performer, named (apparently) Scrappy, was amazing on the cello and guitar. Also also also, I was pleased with myself for apparently making him laugh by, at a slightly quiet point, yelling out "play a song with a different number of Jennifers!" Um, probably only Doughty fans would get that.

The other concert was the singing performance put on by our own Niblet, who treated us to renditions of the Christmas Song: "Elise Mohvidah! Elise Movidah! From the bottom of my car!... I wanna wish you a Merry Christmas, I wanna wish you a Merry Poppins..."

He also favored us with an old favorite from the Spamalot soundtrack, namely, "I am not dead yet, I mumblemumblemumble I am not yet dead mumblesomethinghey I am NOT DEAD YET I CAN DANCE and mumblethingy BECAUSE I AM NOOOT DEAAAAD YET!!!!"

Good times, people. I, for one, am not yet dead.

So, I like to do crossword puzzles. I have this idea that somehow it keeps my brain sharp. And by "sharp" I mean "can saw through a soda can like a freshly-honed Wusthof and THEN slice a tomato cleanly^*." What the hell is my brain for if not for chopping? (Don't ask my wife, who is currently trimming chicken livers for what is sure to be a delicious pate-type appetizer for our Turkey Day celebrations. My brain is of no use in this case. I guess it's more of a brute force mincing type instrument.)

Anyway, so I recently rediscovered a gift given to me about two years ago, a "New York Times Crossword-Puzzle-A-Day 2006 Calendar." It is deceptively named, because it's actually a Crossword-Puzzle-A-Weekday-Plus-One-For-The-Weekend Calendar. An excellent oiled stone for the often abused yet well-loved carbon-steel tool in my skull. Also I am a bad son because I totally forgot that I got this for Christmas two years ago, yet didn't rediscover it until now. Sorry, mom.

So! The whole point of all this blather was to speak of the Crossed Word Difficulty Curve. Since, as mentioned, the calendar is of no use as a calendar unless I wait until 2012 or so, I'm just plowing through the puzzles with wild abandon. The Difficulty Curve has a seriously exponentially sharp gradient:

The Monday and Tuesday puzzles are a snap. I can generally knock them both out in half an hour or so, give or take. In fact I try to race myself, doing them as fast as I can. Not that I've actually timed myself or anything. I'm not insane... much. I don't generally need to check the answers, as there is rarely any question of whether I'm correct or not.

The Wednesday puzzle is not much harder, I can usually have its number in less than half an hour. Oh sure, I might end up with one of those things where there is one letter in the middle of two clues - "49-Down Tony winner for Best Lighting 1976 Tharon _____" and "58-Across 4th Largest River in Uzbekistan: Abbr." I can live with that. When I look at the answer, the letter more often than not turns out to be an "R."

The Thursday puzzle usually makes me sweat. It's got tougher clues, longer words, obscurer references. It's also almost always the place to find the really annoying type of cross-referenced clues, such as "32-Across 59-Down was the first one of these" and "59-Down See 32 Across." The things I say when I come upon these sorts of clues, they are not gentlemanly.

And then there is the Friday puzzle. The Friday NY Times crossword puzzle may not exactly be diabolical, but if you stand at the top of 1-Across, you can generally catch a whiff of sulfuric compounds from Hell. The sad truth is that I often end up having to look up an answer or two, because man, "2-Down Up" is freakin' 12 letters, and the stuff it crosses with is even harder and more obscure. The secret seems to be to work from the middle wherever possible, where the answers are shorter. But I still sometimes end up stymied and having to look at the answers, because I'll come up with what seems like a perfect answer to "5-Across Checks On" - how about SEESABOUT? Sweet! Oh, but no, it was actually "REACCOUNT!" Wah wah wah wah. So yeah, sometimes when I'm stuck I'll check the answers to see if I've gotten a word wrong (I'm good at flipping the thing over to just see the word without, usually, seeing the surrounding stuff.) So I can at least do most of it, and shut up, okay? Shut UP. I'm not in this for pride, it's about cutting things up with my brain!

The Saturday/Sunday puzzle (which I assume was the Sunday puzzle at some point) is definitely not easy, but it's eventually doable, if you have the patience, which I don't. Brains this sharp do NOT wait around.

So you probably knew all that already. Nevertheless, I invite any comments you may have about either crossword puzzles or your own brain-sharpening activities. (I already know what you do to dull your brain, you drunken pothead roller-coaster-enthusiast.)

^*Yes, exactly like the Ginsu knives you used to see in those commercials, except not like a Ginsu inasmuch as it is actually good outside of filmed demonstrations.

No doubt you remember this incredibly interesting post from January of this year, in which I posted an obituary of a scoundrel. errforce1 (aka Erik R-C) responded with an obituary of one Captain Davy Jones - as he put it, a Live Lived. Earlier today I received a response to (presumably) that obituary, which I reproduce here:

DAVY JONES CAPT.
HE GOT AROUND AND AT AGE 21 HE WAS THE YOUNGEST SEA CAPTAIN EVER AND BY AGE 24 HE WAS THE ONLY SEA CAPTAIN TO BE ALLOWED TO PARK HIS OWN SHIP IN ALL THE MAJOR PORTS OF CALL WITH OUT A HARBOR MASTER AT THE WHEEL BECAUSE HE KNEW WATERS AS GOOD OR BETTER THAN THEY DID DIRECT QUOTE FRO MY MOM LORRAINE JONES NOW OF STAINT PAUL,MN AND HIS 1ST WIFE. I AM DONALD R. JONES 2ND SON OF FIRST MARRIAGE AND I THINK MY OLD MAN CAPT DAVY JONES WAS AN ASS AT BEST HE WAS A MEAN SON OF A BITCH.

I salute you, Donald R. Jones, and your father as well.

I am a bad human being, probably. And no doubt I will be the death of us all. But man, I love air conditioning. I do my best to use it as little as possible in the house, but in my car I crank that stuff up. Cooooool breezes, my friends. Oh yes.

Somebody tied a necktie around the streetlight pole on the corner of my street yesterday. Apparently our entire street was having sex, and we were warning our roomies south of Beverly not to come in.