Random Japan
I’m a big fan of the random bar names in Tokyo. I pass this one all the time when I’m out on walks with Hurley.
Frijoles!
My culinary life in Tokyo has taken a sudden and dramatic turn. It would appear that the food gods heard my repeated questioning of why a city with a food obsession as intense as Tokyo doesn’t have a good, reliable Mexican food option. Not even a quick burrito joint! Indeed, I’ve wondered aloud on many occasions why a place like Chipotle doesn’t exist here, particularly given the Japanese willingness to experiment with different foods and their manic focus on fresh, quality ingredients.
Well, sure as shit, this past November a little spot called Frijoles opened up just down the street from us. And – in a total alignment of the planets moment – it’s modeled exactly after Chipotle! From the ambiance, ordering process, carnitas/chicken/steak/veggie options, multiple salsa choices, bottled beers, even the color scheme of the menu. I tried a carnitas burrito tonight for my first taste and found it to be quite tasty, though certainly nothing like the real thing. The chips were not of the tortilla sort, which was kinda weird, but they tasted strangely good nonetheless. And the mild salsa they include for dipping consists solely of chunks of tomato and onion, so they haven’t quite mastered that element yet. Still, it’ll be good enough for an easy lunch option on a lazy Sunday afternoon, which is just fine by me. Who knows if this place will even last, but they can count on having at least one expat regular!
By the way, a careful reading of the Frijoles philosophy makes for a fun glimpse into the awkward wording that often arises when the Japanese attempt to translate their words into English:
We believe in serving real great-tasting food which you may usually enjoy at fine dining, in casual environment. We prepare our food with gas stove, pots and pans, knife and other kitchen utensil, refrigerator stocked with a various fresh ingredients, herbs and spices, and dry goods. Ingredients we use include marinated chicken and steaks, carnitas (seasoned and braised pork), pinto and black beans and more. And a majority of our food is prepared from scratch in our restaurant, not simply reheated and slapped together to order. We do all of these because we believe food tastes much better when we make it this way.
The Sun Sets In Phuket
Sadly, today marks our final day in Phuket. We leave tomorrow for Singapore, where I have class and where Lizzi gets to take in another country while mingling with some of my B-school buds. The unfortunate reality of our departure was made sweeter by the fact that I awoke to two bits of good news this morning. First, Pete Carroll appears headed to the Seattle Seahawks, which opens the door for ND to pick off some of USC’s commits. It could also portend a halt to Trojan dominance in the ND-USC series, an annual given with which I’ve grown immensely tired. The second bit of good news involved the esteemed Peter King of CNNSi predicting a Super Bowl victory for the Dallas Cowboys this year. In the immortal words of Lloyd Christmas, “Mmm….that sounds good. I’ll have that.”
In a break from the past few days, there’s nary a cloud in sight, which allows me to look upon a wonderfully blue ocean as I sit barside “studying”. I use parentheses because I’m very obviously not studying for the final exams I have on Monday, exams for which I feel woefully under-prepared. Alas, it’s holiday, so I reserve the right to procrastinate. Implications be damned!
Meanwhile, Lizzi is perched on a pool chair, devouring Dan Brown’s The Lost Symbol and exposing her porcelain skin to the sun’s laser beams. As I mentioned in an earlier post, we are by far the whitest folks here, and Lizzi lying out like so makes me nervous for the incoming aircraft that can be easily spotted just to the south of Mai Khao beach. I’ve got to imagine that the reflection she is creating for those poor pilots is making for quite the navigational challenge.
I’ve discovered two personal heroes during our brief stay on this little resort. The first one is an Israeli guy, the same one I referenced in my previous post as the cigar smoker. He’s got an interesting little family – a pretty wife (who’s Slovakian), a cute daughter, and an awkward little boy. I just like his style…he’s got a cool way about him. I saw him kicking a soccer ball with his daughter and it became clear quickly that he’s had some real experience with the sport. He swam every morning before retiring to a chair for some rays and reading. He’d enjoy a late lunch with his family, taking down some champagne and a cigar along the way. He laughed a lot and tanned easily, two attributes that make life taste a little better. The family left yesterday after a solid ten days here, making their way back to the cold of Vienna, Austria. Very cool, indeed.
My other hero is a Russian guy who impresses me with his insatiable appetite. I’ve only had occasion to observe him at breakfast, but it’s quite the sight to behold. The man destroys food, taking down plates of bananas like pistachio nuts and pounding jars of yogurt like they’re shots of lukewarm water. More impressive, though, is the fact that I watched him follow a feast of bread, fruit and yogurt with a solid helping of steak and eggs – and a Corona! All at 8 AM. Well done, sir. Well done.
Speaking of Russians, we’ve got a lot of menacing-looking Eastern European types on our resort. So in addition to affording me an occasional peek at a topless sunbather, it also means that our Sala crew would be in good shape if we found ourselves at war with a neighboring resort. You never know, these things could happen. And I’m restful in the notion that we’d be well-equipped to not only defend ourselves but to launch some pretty effective offensive maneuvers as well. I’d try to make myself responsible for providing strategic guidance while delegating the duties of hand-to-hand combat and lifting of large objects to my Eastern European comrades. Now that, my friends, is a recipe for success!
I’m gonna go finish my book now, er, study. The book I’m reading is a collection of short stories called In Other Rooms, Other Wonders by the Pakistani author Daniyal Mueenuddin. It’s a mesmerizing look into another culture, laying bare the feudalistic impulses of Pakistan while simultaneously capturing the myriad nuances that comprise the human condition. Not only has it been heaped with critical acclaim, but I was happy to learn that one of my favorite voices, Garrison Keillor, absorbed the book during his own winter vacation, so wonderfully captured in his recent Salon piece.
Vacation cruises are advertised as luxurious journeys to exotic places, but a chief pleasure is the reading of books and another is making small talk with strangers. On steamer chairs topside or poolside, in the lounges, everywhere you see men and women with their noses in books, devouring them for hours. The Book: Man’s Chief Weapon Against Tedium. Woman’s, too. I read a book of stories by a young Pakistani writer, Daniyal Mueenuddin, and found it riveting, the most wonderful thing I’d read in a long, long time, thanks to the freedom of being at sea, away from CNN and NPR and Google, out in a vast silence in which the details of Pakistani village life loom large, as if one were actually there, sipping sweet tea with Saleema and Husad and Mr. K.K. Harouni.
I should be signing off now. There remains work to be done before we head off to Patong Beach tonight. It’s about an hour’s drive from our resort and is said to be the epicenter of the Phuket experience. We’ve got a 6:30 PM dinner reservation at Baan Rim Pa, and we’ve requested a good view so I’m hoping we catch a nice shot of the sunset as we nibble on Pad Si Ew Nua and sip Phuket Beer. Afterwards, we plan to tackle the horde of street vendors for trinkets to bring home with us, where I’m sure we’ll be able to haggle until our hearts’ delight, negotiations that will stay with us as we settle on a taxi to take us home.
Holiday in Phuket
One of the true pleasures in life is that point during one’s vacation when nothingness becomes not only a reality, but something for which to strive. By nothingness I’m speaking strictly in the scheduling sense. That is, assuming the objective of one’s vacation is some good old R&R, it is not just OK but probably encouraged for that vacationer to keep the schedule as blank a slate as possible. And so I awoke bright and early today – 4 AM to be exact, thank you jetlag – and took a moment to revel in the notion that I had absolutely nothing to do today. Knowing that my biggest decisions would revolve around where to set up our leisurely camp for the day and what to order from the cheery wait staff is an incredibly liberating experience. And now, as I sit with my laptop looking out onto the ocean from the comfy confines of the Sala Resort in Phuket, I’m grappling with the question of how early is too early to begin imbibing when on vacation. It’s 9 AM local time, which sounds about right for a Bloody Mary. It’ll probably come with an extra kick, this being Thailand and all, which is just fine by me. The bottom line is I want a drink. And because I’m American, make it fast since we all know that patience isn’t necessarily a national virtue.
Speaking of national character, I like to observe the behavior of folks from different countries when on vacations like this one. There must be a saying somewhere that ties the way one relaxes to their truest selves. If there isn’t such a saying, let the record show that there should be one. I’ve noticed that Western Europeans are pretty laid back. In addition to making Lizzi and me feel paler than Casper the Friendly Ghost, they do a wonderful job of enjoying their vacation. You can just see it. They like to eat, drink, swim, and be merry. Maybe they’re so good at vacation because they get lots of practice, to which I say good on them. Plus, they’re very secure with their bodies and happily don the most unflattering of swimwear as proof. Again I say good on them. They enjoy downtime the way it should be enjoyed, and we can all learn a little something from that. In fact, I’ve found their approach to leisure somewhat infectious. A guy was enjoying a cigar at a table behind us last night while sipping on champagne with his wife. Rather than getting annoyed at the stench wafting our way, I instead smiled at the realization that he was European, which made it all OK. At least in my book it did. And Lizzi was actually compelled to say that she enjoyed the smell of his cigar, which is an olfactory impossibility as far as she’s concerned. Thusly, I can only conclude that she too had her senses manipulated by the fact that it was a European smoking that cigar and no one else.
I’ve also had occasion to observe my fair share of Russians. This is a stoic lot, rarely exhibiting any form of emotion or sound. Conversations seem to be largely comprised of long moments of silence punctuated by periodic grunts and piercing stares of indifference. And these people can put down food with the best of them, evidenced by the gorgefest I witnessed this morning at breakfast as well as the beach ball some Russian men carry in their stomachs. No he’s not dressing his toast with a glop of butter the size of a trifold wallet! Yes, yes he is. And he’s got an extra three plates of lard that await his expert hand. I’ve heard that some cultures in the world place a social premium on the chub. In China, for example, a round belly signifies wealth. And the wife of a skinny man in Italy is shunned as a bad cook. There must be a similar phenomenon at work in Russia.
With all this talk about weight, I must say that the Europeans wear their fat well. Back home in the U.S., fat tends to roll off in various parts – over the waist, under the arms, beneath the chin. But Europeans appear to be much better proportioned. The fat simply appears to be more evenly distributed. And their skin looks more inelastic than ours, making it less accommodating to the fat itself, offering it little place to go. So instead of the skin giving way to the excess lard, the skin of Europeans seems to be pulled tighter as if it is designed specifically to keep the fat from breaking loose. It’s kind of like an armor that keeps the fat in.
I had this romantic notion to jog on the beach this morning. And I did just that…as the sun came up no less. I’ve heard that jogging on sand is much more challenging than on solid ground, something with which I’m now in total agreement. It’s particularly hard to gain traction as the sand melts away beneath each step, which no doubt requires more exertion from the muscles. And the fact that our beach lies at a bit of an angle makes things even more awkward for the joints. Nonetheless, I enjoyed my early-morning jaunt. I had fun dancing to avoid the water as it washed up the shore (after all, there are fish in that there ocean), and the sound of the waves crashing behind me sometimes made it feel like I was being chased by some intimidating force of nature. Every little bit of motivation helps when on the jogging trail to be sure.
As usual, my thoughts wandered as I ran. Among the things I pondered was the fact that non-Americans refer to vacation as holiday. Around this time of year, I’m peppered with questions from associates of the international variety asking if I’ll be taking any holiday. I resisted the urge to adopt the vernacular at first, insisting in my mind that a holiday must exist to celebrate something. But I now realize that this leisurely activity we call vacation is indeed a celebration of sorts. It’s celebrating our ability to take a step back from the day-to-day grind and slow things down a bit. It’s a time to stop and appreciate the little things, a time to reward one’s hard work with a well-earned respite, a time to put away the Blackberry (though I confess to the occasional peek) and reconnect with all that is dear.
I just saw a woman pass by performing the slowest form of running I’ve ever seen. I didn’t think it was possible to create a happy medium between fast walking and jogging, but she’s apparently managed such a feat. Ahhh…the joys of holiday.
Checking In
Dear Loyal Readers,
Please accept my sincerest apologies for the little sabbatical I took from Eddyfication. Lizzi and I have been stateside the past couple weeks and have been occupied with work, family, friends, steak fajitas, football, beers….and more football. Needless to say, it was great to be back and we very much enjoyed this little slice of Americana. However, all good things must come to an end and we now find ourselves in the United lounge at O’Hare awaiting our flight back to Asia. Of course, my anal self got us here a solid three hours before our flight because those freakazoids on TV told us to do so when, in actuality, we breezed through security in record time. Anyhow, the good news is I’m left with time to catch up on my blogging. And, better yet, we’re not heading back to Tokyo straightaway. Instead, we’re off to Bangkok for a couple nights, which will be followed by five nights in Phuket, where I plan to do plenty of blogging from the beach – or from the back of an elephant. And, lucky us, we got upgraded to first class for our flight out to Tokyo (where we connect to Bangkok), allowing us to feel plenty fancy as we embark on our first real vacation since our honeymoon.
So sit tight and look out for more posts in the near future from Bangkok Dangerous himself. And keep your fingers crossed that we don’t get to experience one of Thailand’s annual coups or anything else along those lines.
In the meantime, here’s wishing you all a Happy New Year!
Cheers,
Eddy
P.S. Jules, I hope you’re wearing makeup as you read this. And tell Nick to put down that Xbox controller, grab a Miller Lite, and follow you to the computer so you can spend some time getting acquainted with the brilliant David Thorne. You can thank me later.
Random Japan
I read an interesting column by Roger Cohen the other day in the IHT that had me grinning with understanding approval. Though I didn’t entirely follow the story’s arc, I thought Cohen made some great points while attempting a brief interpretation of Japan. The piece starts off with a nod to Japan’s quirkiness and penchant for technology that comes in the form of a trip to the gym, where Cohen finds his exercise machine displaying images of calorie-laden guilty pleasures like beer, ice cream and cheesecake. I personally found that a fairly strange source of motivation, but I’m often serenaded by songs like “Never Gonna Give You Up” and “On The Wings Of Love” when at my own gym (not kidding), so perhaps we should just add this to the ever-expanding list of Japanese peculiarities.
The piece had other interesting observations that are worth pondering, many of which I’ve blogged about in the past. There’s always a special joy one takes from journalistic reinforcement!
On Japan’s hobby obsession:
Indeed, there’s a Japanese word, otaku, denoting a whole universe of monomaniacal geek-like obsession, whether with an electronic game, some odd hobby, or the cartoonlike “manga” comic books devoted to everything from kamikazes to kinky sex….Japan is rich enough, bored enough with national ambition, strait-jacketed enough and gloomy enough to find immense attraction in playful escapism and quirky obsession.
On Japanese deference and conformity:
Events have imbued the Japanese corporate warrior with a new insouciance. It coexists with a tremendous conformity. On Sundays, when traffic is closed around the imperial palace, I saw lines of people waiting for pedestrian lights to change even though there were no cars. Smiling deference can seem so uniform as to constitute a gleaming wall. I can see how the urge to escape from this homogeneity could be strong.
Movie Expert
The New Yorker just came out with its top ten movies of 2009. Included among them were three that I saw, two of which I raved about on this here blog. Here’s what the magazine had to say about the two I liked:
Funny People: Judd Apatow’s intricately woven portrait of a lonely and miserable comic actor (Adam Sandler, playing a nasty version of himself) turns into an examination of the specialness of comics and a funny-mournful lament over their distance from ordinary life. The happy jeers aimed at the movie’s weak box-office performance were a perfect example of how bizarrely values have gone askew for the people who do nothing but count the change.
Adventureland: Greg Mottola’s lovely memory of a misspent summer at a tacky Pittsburgh amusement park in the early eighties. Kristen Stewart turns those eyes on Jesse Eisenberg, a toothless non-vampire, as he struggles toward manhood.
Given that I enjoyed these movies despite their lack of popular appeal, and considering that The New Yorker agreed with me, then it stands to reason that I am a master of the silver screen. This is good news for Eddyfication readers because you can now tell your friends that you know a movie expert.
Ruminations Of A Commuter
Just got back from a whirlwind trip to NYC and DC, which I’ll blog about in more detail later (hint: it will be entitled How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Phish). For now, I’m going to share a few insights gleaned from my couple days stateside and from my time spent commuting.
- Saw a couple movies on my flights, including Public Enemies and Funny People (I also watched Michael Moore’s Capitalism, which deserves its own post). Public Enemies is about the infamous bank robber John Dillinger (played by Johnny Depp) and his cat-and-mouse game with FBI agent Melvin Purvis (played by Christian Bale). Considering the headliners and the plot, I had fairly high expectations for this film but was left disappointed with the final product. While Depp had a decent turn as Dillinger, I thought Bale pretty much sucked as Purvis, and the directing felt strange to me. Lots of pieces just didn’t seem to fit and there were too many stunted moments for what should’ve been an edge-of-your-seat ride. I actually liked Marion Cotillard’s turn as Billie Frechette, Dillinger’s love interest. However, her French accent was way too overpowering for her to pull off a Wisconsin one, which is turning out to be one of my biggest pet peeves when it comes to film and TV entertainment (see the FlashForward post below). On the other hand, I thought Funny People was fantastic. Initially, I had no interest in seeing this film, as I’ve had spotty success with past Judd Apatow productions (Knocked Up, Superbad, etc.). This film, however, was great. It moved beyond Apatow’s standard slapstick humor and actually went for a more visceral and serious treatment of comedy, told from the point of view of those who practice the art as a profession (i.e. stand-up comedians). Adam Sandler plays the lead role as a successful but disenchanted comic whose close call with death sends him down various routes of self-exploration. Taken along for the ride is a budding amateur played by the surprisingly convincing Seth Rogen. The supporting cast includes Jonah Hill, Jason Schwartzman, Leslie Mann and Aubrey Plaza, each of whom is quite good. In addition, Eric Bana has a great turn as Mann’s conflicted husband, and we are treated to an onslaught of pretty solid cameos from the likes of Eminem, Ray Romano, Sarah Silverman, and Norm Macdonald, among others. This is a very good movie. Though it runs a bit long, it is powered by some solid performances (especially Sandler, who revisits the depths he explored in Punch-Drunk Love) and the writing is equal parts convincing and humorous. The jokes delivered onstage are fun and the ones delivered as part of the standard character dialogue are even better, especially since they are done in such nonchalant fashion. See this movie.
- Unless you’re willing to spend an outrageous amount of money, hotel rooms in NYC pretty much suck. Small, stinky, and lacking in amenities would seem to be standard fare for anything less than $500 per night. We stayed at the Hotel 373 near the Empire State Building and would certainly never stay there again. Our room was ridiculously small, it smelled of mold, the TV was tiny and disproportional (making everyone on the tube appear short and fat), and I’m quite certain that the sheets are not cleaned on a regular basis (plus, housecleaning closes at 4 PM – WTF?!).
- I took the Acela Express from New York’s Penn Station to DC’s Union Station on Saturday. This was quite the pleasant experience, especially considering that it took less than three hours to make the trip. My one complaint would be the lack of wifi access anywhere along the route, something I’m told Acela is soon to address. Passing through places like Philadelphia, Delaware and Baltimore reminded me of how close together everything is on the eastern seaboard. Unfortunately, I was also reminded of how substandard our transportation network is in the U.S. In Japan, the bullet train concept is fully-developed and took hold long ago. Meanwhile, our access to such transportation in the U.S. is limited to just the Boston-NYC-DC corridor, making me lament yet again the poor state of transportation infrastructure in our country.
- Speaking of which, we flew out of Washington’s Dulles International Airport on Sunday. This was my first visit to the airport and I must say that I was very impressed (Lizzi would disagree since we arrived separately for different flights and apparently had much different takeaways). What I found was an experience colored by very little waiting times at check-in and security, clean corridors, plentiful shopping and restaurants, tons of pleasing, ambient light, and an ANA lounge that connected directly to my plane. Dulles is now my favorite airport in the U.S. Of course, this is kinda like winning the world’s tallest midget contest, but still.
- Though I was only there for a short time, being in DC reminded me of how much I love that city. I interned there for a summer during undergrad and fell in love with the history that oozes from the city’s pores. And there’s something romantic about the notion that the city’s buildings are not allowed to exceed the height of the Capitol Building, making everything take on a more intimate feel. Maybe I’m growing tired of the concrete jungle that is Tokyo? Whatever the case, I can’t wait to get back to our nation’s capitol for a more involved visit.
- I got reacquainted with two shows that I previously loved but had taken some time off from: Curb Your Enthusiasm and South Park. Both shows are great. Smart, witty, just downright brilliant on so many levels. Anyone looking for some comedy gold should check out South Park’s Margaritaville episode from season thirteen. Among the issues tackled are religion, profligacy, government ineptitude, racism, and the financial crisis. This show has got some serious layers for anyone looking to explore them. Very good stuff.
- Among the things I read during the trip were Soccernomics (the soccer version of Freakonomics) and American Sketches (Walter Isaacson’s newest collection of profiles), to go along with a smattering of magazines. I’ll write more about the books later. The one magazine article that stood out was The Atlantic’s piece on the prosperity gospel and its possible role in the latest financial crisis. The article asks the question, “Did Christiantiy Cause the Crash?“, a loaded question if ever there was one. It’s of course tough to answer with any certainty, but the article at the very least shines an unflattering light on certain elements at play within Christianty and among its practitioners.
27b/6
This website – 27b/6.com – is the funniest thing I’ve seen on the Internet in a long, long time. It’s the brainchild of an Australian writer named David Thorne, who has a wonderful gift for satirical humor. His site is basically a collection of highly sarcastic and witty stories, some of which include actual email exchanges he has had with various people (e.g. bill collectors, his son’s teacher, etc.). This is one of the only sites that I have read that has actually caused me to buckle over with laughter. It is so very good.
The link I’ve posted above takes you straight to an email exchange that Thorne had with his chiropractor, who is seeking payment for a bill that is past due. The bill is for $233.95, which Thorne attempts to settle with a drawing of a spider:
Quite naturally, Thorne values the drawing at exactly $233.95. Obviously, the chiropractor will have none of it and a fun little email exchange ensues. Really good stuff.
Once you’re finished with the spider story, you can spend the good part of an afternoon perusing the list of other stories he has listed on the left side of the page. Among my favorites are “I Wish I Had A Monkey”, “Simon’s Pie Charts”, and “Blockbuster Late Fees”.
I highly recommend this site. In fact, I give it the vaunted Eddy Guarantee. For me, it’s become the blogging version of Arrested Development.
FlashForward
Lizzi and I recently began watching a new television series on ABC called FlashForward. It was described to us as a mix of 24 and Lost, which sounded just fine (conceptually, at least). Speaking of the latter, I gave up on Lost about two seasons ago – I got tired of it once I figured out that the writers had absolutely no idea what direction they wanted to take the show in, likely because they didn’t envision it lasting more than two seasons. I’m at the point now where all I need to know is how it ended. I’ll greet the news that it was all just a crazy acid trip of Hurley’s with a nonchalant “ah, interesting” and then never think about it again. This would clearly fall short of justifying the endless hours we spent mesmerized by the plight of the survivors of Oceanic 815, but such is life.
Anyhow, back to FlashForward. The story is an interesting one and certainly contains some solid potential. The basic premise centers on an inexplicable event – a mysterious two minutes, seventeen seconds when everyone on the planet loses consciousness. While suspended in their dreamlike states, most people experienced a flashforward, during which time they each got a glimpse of their lives on a date about six months into the future (I say most people because those who saw nothing got a glimpse into their own impending mortality).
The primary characters in the show are members of an FBI team who have taken the lead in solving the mystery of the mass blackout, a puzzle piqued by the spotting of a lone, solitary character moving about a baseball stadium while his fellow sports fans lie slumped in their seats (caught on security camera, of course). That means someone must be behind this nefarious deed! Why the mastermind would choose to enjoy his time among the snoozers in a baseball stadium remains to be seen, but an interesting development nonetheless.
While I hesitate to embrace a plot that promises to weave in lots of headscratching moments of time-shifting (thus flying way too close to that sun called Lost), I like the unique gist of the story (which is based on a novel of the same name by Canadian science fiction writer Robert Sawyer). However, there are a couple of things that bother me intensely about this show. First, the acting is atrocious. For some reason, five of the ten main characters are British actors, with only two of them actually playing a character of British origin. This means we get to watch actors spend more time thinking about perfecting their American accents than nailing their lines, which is a painful exercise. Most brutal on this account is the protagonist himself, special agent Mark Benford, who’s played by the very British Joseph Fiennes. Apparently, Fiennes is a rather accomplished stage actor but his turn as an American FBI agent is truly terrible. His portrayal of Agent Benford might be one of the worst acting performances I’ve ever seen on the small screen. And that’s saying something, particularly when we consider the existence of shows like Reba and Walker Texas Ranger. Beyond the brutal performances of Brits trying to speak American (hehe), John Cho, who plays special agent Demetri Noh, is equally horrendous, even in the absence of the need to fake an accent. At the end of the day, I don’t care whether any of the characters in the show lives or dies, an ambivalence that I’m sure the show’s creators aren’t seeking (you may recall that I feel the exact same way about the characters in Grey’s Anatomy, save for the fact that I actively root against Meredith Grey and Cristina Yang).
My second gripe relates to the directing, which I suppose is magnified by my distaste for the acting. The director loves to repeat things so much that I get the feeling he thinks I’m slightly handicapped. It’s like he’s deathly afraid we’re going to miss some key revelation in the story, so he bludgeons us over the head with it sixteen times just to be sure we caught it. And he loves cliches. There are numerous over-the-top cheesy scenes in the series, including the one below, which involves one of those totally lame yet ubiquitous moments. It involves two guys on the same team that earlier had a falling out; they later find themselves in a shootout with the bad guys; one of the good guys saves the other guy’s butt, who greets his savior with a nod of the head while bullets zoom by; and, of course, it’s set to totally incongruous music and is played in slow motion. There should be a keystroke for P-U-K-E. If there were, I’d be pushing it now.
Future Ray Lewis?
This is a great 30-second video showing a six year-old lay some wood during a pee-wee football scrimmage. Hilarious stuff. I’ve watched it about ten times and got some serious laughs out of it. I particularly enjoyed the QB’s reaction after being drilled on the first hit (notice the legs kicking in temper tantrum fashion) and how the RB went airborne on the second hit. Just awesome.
Sad But Funny
This is a funny yet slightly disturbing look at the yahoos that line up to support Sarah Palin. Granted, one could pull a similar stunt with Obama supporters, but the vacuous nature of Palin makes this intentionally satirical series of interviews all the more poignant. By the way, the guy interviewing everyone annoys the hell out of me. He can’t stop swallowing/licking his lips/grinding his teeth. I’m not sure why, but it bothers me!
The Secret Of The Secret
The below is a great post in the comments section of the Amazon.com listing of the book, The Secret. Very funny. h/t to Vuj for the link.
Please allow me to share with you how “The Secret” changed my life and in a very real and substantive way allowed me to overcome a severe crisis in my personal life. It is well known that the premise of “The Secret” is the science of attracting the things in life that you desire and need and in removing from your life those things that you don’t want. Before finding this book, I knew nothing of these principles, the process of positive visualization, and had actually engaged in reckless behaviors to the point of endangering my own life and wellbeing.
At age 36, I found myself in a medium security prison serving 3-5 years for destruction of government property and public intoxication. This was stiff punishment for drunkenly defecating in a mailbox but as the judge pointed out, this was my third conviction for the exact same crime. I obviously had an alcohol problem and a deep and intense disrespect for the postal system, but even more importantly I was ignoring the very fabric of our metaphysical reality and inviting destructive influences into my life.
My fourth day in prison was the first day that I was allowed in general population and while in the recreation yard I was approached by a prisoner named Marcus who calmly informed me that as a new prisoner I had been purchased by him for three packs of Winston cigarettes and 8 ounces of Pruno (prison wine). Marcus elaborated further that I could expect to be raped by him on a daily basis and that I had pretty eyes.Needless to say, I was deeply shocked that my life had sunk to this level. Although I’ve never been homophobic I was discovering that I was very rape phobic and dismayed by my overall personal street value of roughly $15. I returned to my cell and sat very quietly, searching myself for answers on how I could improve my life and distance myself from harmful outside influences. At that point, in what I consider to be a miraculous moment, my cell mate Jim Norton informed me that he knew about the Marcus situation and that he had something that could solve my problems. He handed me a copy of “The Secret”. Normally I wouldn’t have turned to a self help book to resolve such a severe and immediate threat but I literally didn’t have any other available alternatives. I immediately opened the book and began to read.
The first few chapters deal with the essence of something called the “Law of Attraction” in which a primal universal force is available to us and can be harnessed for the betterment of our lives. The theoretical nature of the first few chapters wasn’t exactly putting me at peace. In fact, I had never meditated and had great difficulty with closing out the chaotic noises of the prison and visualizing the positive changes that I so dearly needed. It was when I reached Chapter 6 “The Secret to Relationships” that I realized how this book could help me distance myself from Marcus and his negative intentions. Starting with chapter six there was a cavity carved into the book and in that cavity was a prison shiv. This particular shiv was a toothbrush with a handle that had been repeatedly melted and ground into a razor sharp point.
The next day in the exercise yard I carried “The Secret” with me and when Marcus approached me I opened the book and stabbed him in the neck. The next eight weeks in solitary confinement provided ample time to practice positive visualization and the 16 hours per day of absolute darkness made visualization about the only thing that I actually could do. I’m not sure that everybody’s life will be changed in such a dramatic way by this book but I’m very thankful to have found it and will continue to recommend it heartily.
Thursday Night In Seoul
I’m in Seoul, South Korea at the moment. I’ve only been here for about eight hours but I’ve already been struck by the following observations:
- Seoul feels much, much bigger than Tokyo. I think it’s because of sprawl. Nonetheless, it’s big. And very hectic. I get stressed out just taking a taxi from the airport to the hotel.
- It’s really cold here, despite being on virtually the same latitude as Tokyo.
- Korean taxi drivers are more likely to understand Japanese than English.
- The money game is quite dumb. The highest denomination of bill that can be retrieved from the ATM is 10,000 won, which translates to roughly $8.60 USD. That means one has to tote around a wad of about 60 10,000 bills if a retrieval of $500 is made from the ATM. Stupid.
- I’m staying at the Grand Hyatt, which is where Barack Obama apparently stayed during his one-day whirlwind visit to Seoul at the tail-end of his grand Asian adventure. What this means is I get to enjoy backed up traffic to the hotel, periodic sightings of serious-looking dudes with dark suits and earpieces, and eavesdropping on a conversation next to me in the lounge of two military guys talking about the stresses of setting up the flags that adorn the backdrop of Obama’s many international appearances. It’s all about perspective, I suppose.
More Keillor Gold
Another great piece from our old friend Garrison Keillor, this time telling us about how he manages to appreciate art while strolling through the Art Institute of Chicago.
At the age of 67, I have stopped apologizing for looking at naked women. I don’t stand directly in front of a nude and stare at her, lest I be taken for a pervert. I stand in front of the painting next to the nude and sneak sidelong glances, but nonetheless I am moved by her. Deeply.
Thru-You
This is a pretty cool mash-up of various musicians who post their tunes on YouTube. Someone going by the name “Kutiman” compiles these things under the moniker “Thru-You”. It’s pretty fun. Kinda like the YouTube version of Girl Talk.
Bye Bye Charlie
Notre Dame’s 27-22 loss last night to Pittsburgh likely represented the final nail in Charlie Weis’ coffin. With an overall record of 35-25 as head coach, he’s basically on par with the limited success achieved by the likes of Bob Davie and Tyrone Willingham. The Irish performance against the Panthers pretty much summed up the Charlie Weis era – another listless performance punctuated by myriad miscues, blown chances, phantom tackling and poor officiating. On that last note, the Irish were most certainly screwed by those Big East officials. Not only were the penalty calls massively skewed towards the Irish but the officials totally blew two replay calls that came at crucial moments in the game. There was no way in hell that Jimmy Clausen fumbled that ball there at the end – doesn’t the fact that the ball went forward ten yards indicate forward motion? – and the stripping of an Irish timeout on that review added insult to injury. In all seriousness, this may have been the worst-officiated game I’ve ever seen. How these guys can get things so wrong while having the benefit of instant replay boggles my mind.
At the end of the day, though, the Irish deserved to lose that game. And, unfortunately, Charlie Weis deserves to lose his job. This is a bittersweet development for me, as I believe that Charlie has done a wonderful job rebuilding the program after the Willingham experiment in talent destruction. I also believe that Charlie is a good guy who has run a clean program. However, he’s just not getting it done on Saturdays. So we now get to turn our attention to ND’s search for his replacement, which one can only hope is handled with more professionalism and efficiency than was witnessed with the last coaching search.
Slice Of Awesome
As part of its salute to our soldiers on Veteran’s Day, the folks over at The Huffington Post put together a heartwarming collection of clips showing dogs welcoming their owners home from stints in the military. Really good stuff, providing yet another example of why dogs make such great pets.
My Friend, Oliver
As I was leaving a restaurant in the Grand Hyatt hotel last night, I passed a man who looked strikingly similar to Oliver Kahn, the now-retired German goalkeeper who may be one of the best ever to have played his position. One of the guys who I was with walked over to the man and asked him pointblank if he was said goalie. Sure enough, it was the man himself. So that’s cool.
Never Trust A Man Named Manuel
A buddy of mine just booked his hotel for our friend’s upcoming wedding in Puerto Rico. Upon learning that the guy with whom he booked his room was named Manuel, I was prompted to go off on the following random – but fun – tangent. Perhaps we can consider it the Eddyfication travel manifesto.
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Who’s this Manuel character? Sounds fishy to me, and I don’t like it one bit. Not one bit I tell ya!
My years spent as a road warrior have taught me a few valuable lessons. Included among them are things like:
- When in an emerging market, never drink an unidentifiable juice being sold on the side of a road and served in a clear plastic bag, no matter how cute and pleasant the old lady is that is selling it;
- Never assume the pedestrian right of way applies anywhere outside of the U.S.;
- Never eat chicken in Asia (except maybe Thailand);
- If you ever find yourself wondering if the email you’re about to send is being monitored by the government of your host country, then it most definitely is so you’d better act accordingly;
- Always say yes when a flight attendant offers you an immigration form, even if you think you’ve already filled everything out;
- The more excited someone is to give you a ride to your hotel from the airport, the less excited you should be to accept that ride;
- Unless it’s an emergency, never send your clothes for dry cleaning at hotels when a hot, steamy shower would do the trick;
- When traveling on the company dime, never expect to be thanked for taking measures to save the firm money – there’s no such thing as cumulative goodwill when it comes to expense reports;
- When possible, avoid drinking alcohol on a flight and try not to eat the food being served…i’ve found that it’s virtually impossible to maintain a buzz at 35,000 feet, the food sits like a brick in your stomach and all you can do is sit there, and the combo of alcohol and salty fare will surely leave you dehydrated – breakfast bars and water are your friend;
- Never say no when a local acquaintance or colleague offers to take you out for a night on the town, no matter how tired you may be;
- Always remind yourself that not everyone speaks English in this world and never lose patience with someone who doesn’t – remember, you’re the asshole who doesn’t speak their language;
- Always make an attempt to take some form of public transportation when in another country – it’s a great way to get a feel for the place and it’s good for the planet;
- Always assume that the woman trying to chat you up at the hotel bar is a prostitute;
- When packing, remember that jeans never get dirty so you can wear them as much as you want;
- Never exchange your currency at a shop whose sole reason for existence is to maximize its spread on such transactions;
- Never believe that the guy chatting you up on the street actually has a brother who went to school at Northwestern, and always turn down the chance to follow him back to his office (which you’ll soon find out is his shop selling crap art) so he can grab his business card for you;
- No matter how silly, never laugh at the military training rituals that you sometimes come across in foreign countries…unless, of course, that country is Japan;
- When packing your gym shoes and workout clothes, stop for a second and ask yourself if you are absolutely certain you’ll actually use them on this trip – no need to weigh yourself down unnecessarily;
- Always try to avoid checking luggage – you eliminate the possibility of lost baggage and your exit strategy from the airport is dramatically improved;
- Try to be adventurous when sampling the local fare and always remember that beer makes everything taste better;
- Never lose patience with airport security workers – not only do they have the ability to make your life more difficult, but I assure you that their lack of desire to be there at that precise moment far exceeds yours, so it’s better not to pile on; and
- Never, under any circumstances, trust a man named Manuel.
Blessing In Disguise
I’m one of those people who didn’t really want Chicago to win its Olympic bid and so took the loss as a stroke of good luck. Sure it’s a bad thing whenever the U.S. loses an international competition of that sort, but the reality is that hosting an Olympics isn’t really all it’s cut out to be. Besides gaining a bit of extra panache, it’s hard to identify any sustainable tangible benefits for the host city. Instead, while city recognition may indeed get a bit of a pop, which is likely better suited for emerging cities looking to make a statement, the host city is most often saddled with an extraordinary amount of debt. And the venues built with that debt often fall into disrepair thanks to years of underuse, begging the question of whether there was any worth to it all in the first place. This WSJ article on the financial albatross that has become China’s Bird’s Nest stadium sums the issue up rather nicely.
A Woman Possessed
The below clip is making the rounds for very obvious reasons. It shows a University of New Mexico female soccer player going absolutely ballistic during a match against BYU. What amazes me about this video isn’t necessarily the thrashing that she imparts during the game, which is certainly brutal in and of itself. Rather, I’m more amazed by the lack of action on the part of: 1) her teammates/coaches; and 2) the referees. Clearly, her coaches not only condoned the behavior but, given their blatant inaction, may have also directed her to act in that fashion. I mean, any normal coach would rip that girl out of the game after the second violent infraction, so it stands to reason that the coaches were more than just OK with her behavior. And her teammates deserve plenty of blame as well, for any one of them worth their salt would’ve intervened to shut her down.
Regarding the referee, he or she should be suspended a couple weeks at the very least. In my opinion, I’d say this person doesn’t deserve to ref ever again. This isn’t simply a case of missing a few calls; this ref was completely asleep at the switch, allowing this nutjob to run rampant over her opponents and put several BYU players at risk of serious injury. It’s not just a bad game for this referee, it’s one of the worst cases of successive misjudgment that I’ve ever witnessed as a long time player/fan of several sports. And it’s totally unacceptable. We all have bad days at the office, but this goes well beyond that.
Celestial Musings
This is a panoramic view of the Milky Way, which was made possible by the splicing together of 3000 photos by an astronomer from Central Michigan University. As a refresher of its magnificence, and how our little planet is but a speck of sand on the celestial beach, our galaxy has anywhere between 200 billion and 400 billion stars. You think that’s a lot? Well, it’s not. Our neighboring galaxy, Andromeda, is estimated to have one trillion stars. To drive the point home further, consider that astronomers estimate that there are over 100 billion galaxies in the observable universe (indeed, there are limits to what our telescopes can see since some parts are likely too far away for the light to reach us).
Just stop for a second and get your head around those numbers. Once you’ve done so, try to seriously consider whether we are special, whether anyone has a “plan” for any of us, and whether anything that happens on our tiny, inconsequential planet has anything to do with anything in the grand scheme. I further urge you to consider how, given the law of large numbers, we could make fun of people who believe in the possibility of alien life while we simultaneously espouse the notion of a magical creator who cares about what we do with our lives and makes time to intervene when it’s deemed necessary.
Let’s put some teeth on this little brainstorm. Going back to our neck of the woods, it is estimated that there are 100 billion planetary systems in the Milky Way (i.e. stars with planets orbiting them). From this, astronomers have extrapolated that our universe contains roughly 10 trillion planetary systems in total. Using our existence as a guide (one out of 100 billion), we can estimate that something like .00000000001% of planets contain life as we know it on Earth (of course, it stands to reason that we could be drastically underestimating this number since we don’t know much about 99.99% of the other planets in our own galaxy). If we were to apply that number to the 10 trillion planetary systems across the universe, then it would seem a mathematical given that there are 100 planets in the universe that are Earth-like in nature.
This is why I love science and it’s just one of several blunt instruments I like to use whenever engaging in philosophical debate about the meaning of life or the existence of god. I’ll take numbers and logic over man-made superstition any day.
Oh, Betty!
Just one of many reasons to love AMC’s Mad Men. Those looking for more of Betty Draper (real name January Jones) should check out this month’s GQ.
Tough Win
The Irish pulled off a rather predictable 40-14 victory yesterday against the Washington State Cougars. I say predictable in the sense that the Irish were expected to dominate – which they did – and because I knew they wouldn’t totally blow the Cougars out of the water (which helped me win $30 since I took WSU +28). For whatever reason, ND doesn’t have it in them to run up the score Tecmo-style, so I felt good about taking the points in this one.
This was a good win, if not for the sole reason that the Irish pulled off a victory without having it go down to the game’s final moments. However, this win did not come without its cost. ND suffered a handful of setbacks that came in the form of key injuries, including a rolled ankle for their best offensive lineman, Trevor Robinson, and a possible destroyed knee to their QB of the future, Dayne Crist. Plus, uber-star Jimmy Clausen aggravated that stubborn turf toe injury he’s been nursing since the Michigan State game.
Luckily, Navy strolls into town next week, which should make for another fairly easy victory. But a very tough Pittsburgh squad awaits the Irish the week after, which could spell doom for a squad looking to play its bowl game on New Year’s Day. Plus, the Irish Spring practice period just got a lot more interesting. Assuming Clausen jumps at the chance to make millions next year in the NFL, the Irish could literally be without a healthy scholarship QB on the roster for the critical Spring period. Doh!
By the way, I need to say something. I am a Dallas Cowboys fan, which means I’ve been forced to root for guys I didn’t like. That is, through dedication to my team, I’ve had to cheer on the likes of Terrell Owens, Michael Irvin, and Deion Sanders, guys who are clearly assholes but whose talent helped my squad achieve success. Unfortunately, I now find myself in a similar position with this year’s Irish. Despite their immense talent, I think Jimmy Clausen and Golden Tate are pricks. They are selfish, cocky players who are in it for themselves and nobody else. This means Clausen will no doubt follow the dollars to the NFL after the season instead of sticking it out with his team and his coach for a possible national championship run next year. And I’m quite certain Tate will follow the yellow brick road to play major league baseball next year, which will leave the Irish – and college football – without two of the most potent offensive players in the game. I suppose I can’t begrudge their desire to get paid, but I can lament the situation as a dedicated fan of the sport and the team. But for their skills, I’d say good riddance!
Slice Of Awesome
This is a smart commercial that certainly appeals to the sports fan/business traveler in me.
Cartoon IQ
I’m a huge fan of The New Yorker cartoons and have even submitted a few entries of my own to the magazine’s weekly caption contest. I checked the mag’s website this morning and was happy to see that they were running a cartoon IQ contest, designed to test one’s ability to derive meaning from comedic art. Naturally, I eagerly took it and am happy to report that I scored a perfect 5 out of 5. Does that make me a cartoon connoisseur?
Anyone looking to waste a bit of time at work today should take this fun little test. Below is a little taste of the types of questions posed:
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