The Shake Shack

Today I had lunch at the Shake Shack, which if you aren't versed in Manhattan eats, is the very hyped, uber crowded outdoor dining joint in Madison Square Park. I've eaten there in the past, but didn't pay close attention at the time. This time around I have a couple tips to pass along, just in case anyone out there is considering a Shake Shack snack.

Tip #1 - Get there before Noon. Ideally at 11:30am. Unless, of course, you enjoy waiting for over an hour in line to get a hamburger. Because sometimes that's fun too.

Tip #2 - Unless you're a really big fan of "secret sauce" you should probably just get a cheeseburger instead of a Shackburger. Double cheeseburger? $6.50 each. Shackburger? $7.75 each. Both have lettuce, tomatoes, cheese, and two burger patties. So essentially you're paying $1.25 for ketchup mixed with mayo.

Tip #3 - The Double Stack and Shack Stack burgers are, in theory, amazing. The Double Stack is a cheeseburger topped with a deep fried portabello mushroom which has been stuffed with two kinds of cheese. Yes, you read that correctly. Can't quite picture it? Let me help:



The Shack Stack adds another hamburger patty to the mix, just in case your arteries were a little too free-flowing. The first three bites? The way the cheese explodes out its deep fried mushroom envelope and merges with the hamburger patty and bun below? Heavenly. Unfortunately, as you keep chomping, the grease and oil start to build up, like a cholesterol-fueled Voltron, as the flavorful mix begins a civil war with your stomach. My suggestion? Split this baby with someone else if you're going to try it.

In the grand scheme of NYC burgers, I'm not on board with Shake Shack as my favorite. Burger Joint in the Parker Meridien is my #1 in NYC, with good ol' In N' Out still my all-time fav. Care to disagree? I'm all ears.

They put pee pee in your Coke

From The Guardian in the UK:

Spain's Basketball Federation has published a good luck advert for their men's team, the world champions, in which they stand pulling at the sides of their eyes in a slit-eyed gesture.

There is no obvious intention to upset their Olympic hosts in Beijing, but the irresponsible picture is likely to cause controversy and could be interpreted so as to lead to accusations of racism.

Spanish sport has been mired in rows over racism in the last few years. In November 2004 black English footballers were subjected to relentless racial barracking from home supporters in a match in Spain. Before the World Cup there were calls for Luis Aragones, then Spain's football coach, to be sacked after he called Thierry Henry a "black shit". And last year Lewis Hamilton suffered racist abuse during testing for the Spanish grand prix near Barcelona.

The photo in question appears below:



Terrible right? And the worst part? Some of them are pulling their eyes downwards. Hello? That's JAPANESE. You're making fun of Chinese people, you idiots. Our eyes are slanted upwards. If you're going to be racist, do it right.

Photo of the Week

From the NBA draft, former Stanford player and newly minted Phoenix Sun, Robin Lopez, tries on his new team hat:



Hmmm, so this explains why Sideshow Bob never wears hats on The Simpsons.

From Predator to Capitol Hill

From my friend Duke:

The entire cast of Predator will be leading our nation!

Former tough-guy actor sets sights on US Senate

What should Carl Weathers and Bill Duke run for?

He's right. First Jesse "The Body" Ventura is elected governor of Minnesota, then Arnold Schwarzenegger follows suit as governor of California, now little-known Sonny Landham is making a run for the Senate.

All I know is one thing... the cast of Alien really needs to step it up. That's right. I'm calling you out Sigourney Weaver. Yes we can!

Happy (Belated) Father's Day

Since I wrote an entry about my mom on Mother's Day, I figured it's only fair to honor dear old dad for Father's Day. Sorry to my pops for getting around to this entry a little bit late, but as a Laker fan, he can certainly understand why I was a bit preoccupied earlier this week. Dad, we choked. And yes, Pau is soft.

In any case, of the many traits that my dad has passed along to my sister and me, one of the habits that we try the hardest to shake is our packrat mentality. My dad is the ultimate packrat. A small sampling of his madness:

• He has kept nearly every pair of shoes he and I have ever worn. You know, in case I need those Air Flight II's with the hole in the sole.
  
• He will not allow us to throw away broken electronics, hence our garage is filled with old clock radios, handheld radios, bulky walkmans, cassette decks, cheesy 80's stereo systems, and an 8-track player. If that kid from Hereos comes over and touches everything to fix it, we'll be set with radios for about 9 lifetimes.
  
• He has numerous screws, bolts, nuts, and washers from various projects begun since the advent of his time in the U.S. This collection encompasses about 400 jars and boxes labeled and displayed in the garage.

And the strange packrat syndrome isn't limited to the house. No, it extends outside as well. Like what? Well, I don't think a mere description does this justice. Let's take a little tour of our backyard, shall we?


This is just a small sampling of the various basketballs I have had over the years. There are about 3 or 4 more in the garage itself. Look at that one on the top left:


Yes, it actually has no cover. That is a completely bald basketball. I'm glad my dad is holding onto it for safekeeping.


Someone gave me this cuckoo clock when I was around 8 years old. It now resides in this tool shed that my dad built. But that's not all that's in the shed...


Hey look, it's my old blacklight-ready Twilight Zone poster. Looks great framing the chainsaw and Easy-Off, doesn't it?


And ok, maybe my dad wants to display his golf button. I mean, he does love golf with all his heart. But why the need to display the pink plastic Happy Birthday sign? I think that came from some flowers I sent my mom about 4 years ago.


You know how sometimes you buy souvenirs on a trip and you have no idea what to do with them? Well, I bought a conch shell when we went on a family trip to the Caribbean about 12 years ago. When I brought it home, I really had no idea where to display it. But apparently my dad did. In a random corner of the garden. Sitting upright on a wooden post. Gorgeous!


Of course I saved the best for last. You see that thing in the bushes over there? No? Wait, let me get closer...


Do you see it now? It's right there. Still no? Ok, let me take one more step...


What is that, you might ask? It's a green dinosaur that my sister made in pottery class back in high school. Now it sits at the base of this little bush. Why? Your guess is as good as mine.

So there you go. Grand tour over. Did you enjoy yourself? I know I did. I actually don't mind the packratting so much. It's somewhat interesting to see where the things you owned back in the 8th grade are going to end up next. And my dad is one of the most organized people I've ever met. Although he keeps virtually everything, he can tell you exactly where any of it is should you ever need it. Will I ever need the free giveaway Quentin Richardson poster from that random Clippers game I attended in 1999? Who knows. But if I ever do, I know who to call.

Happy Father's Day, Dad!

The NBA Mole

Have you ever seen that ABC reality show, The Mole? The basic premise of the show is that a group of strangers are brought together to complete a set of missions in order to win big money. The catch? One of the participants is "the mole" -- someone who's job is to secretly sabotage the group so they do not complete the mission.

The mole must be covert in order to avoid detection while they slowly unravel the group's morale. Sometimes the mole outwardly throws competitions. Other times if enough teammates are doing poorly, the mole can just sit back and watch the team lose without having to get involved. Every so often, in order to throw people off the scent, the mole has to put forth a strong effort, just to make it look like he cares about the team's well being before he goes right back to the sabotage.

After watching the first 5 games of the NBA Finals, I think I've figured out who the mole is on the Lakers. His name? Kobe Bryant. There can be no other explanation. How can a team that decimated their more powerful Western Conference counterparts be down 3-2 to a squad that was taken to the limit by the Atlanta Hawks?

The untrained eye may spot someone like Lamar Odom and think he's the mole. After all, he puts his head down and sloppily charges over people, misses wide open looks at the rim and always misses at least one of his free throws with every trip to the line. But you can see in Lamar's eyes that he could never pull off something as complex as being an NBA Benjamin Arnold. His nervous demeanor would never be able to conceal his treachery.

So could it be newcomer Pau Gasol? He did come late to the Laker party, after a mid-season trade from Memphis, so he might not care as much as everyone else about winning. I did suspect Pau for much of the Finals, given his soft rebounding, porous defense and scraggly beard, but reviewing some of the previous games this season proves that his lack of heart is merely an affliction of his Euro-league training.

Could it be members of the bench mob? Sasha Vujacic, Jordan Farmar, or Ronny Turiaf? Nah, none of those guys plays enough to really be able to determine an entire game. Vlad Radmanovic? Too obvious. Derek Fisher? Come on.

No, the mole has to be Kobe. Why? Well let's examine the reasons:

• After two lopsidedly refereed games in Boston, Kobe knew that all he had to do was drive to the rim every single play in order to go to the line. It worked for Dwayne Wade when the Miami Heat came back from an 0-2 deficit to win the title in 2005. But what does Kobe do? He just stands 18-20 feet away from the basket and shoots fade away jumpshots. Kobe's not throwing his body into the paint like Boston counterpart, Paul Pierce, even though the refs are rewarding offensive aggressiveness.


• On the sidelines, rather than listen to instruction from his coaches, Kobe berates and demeans all of his teammates and then sits away from the huddle during timeouts. Red Sox pitcher, Curt Schilling was close enough to the bench to hear Kobe's remarks, which he then blogged about for the world to see. As we said, the mole tries to unravel the group's morale. Check.


• During defensive sequences, Kobe freelances much of the time, drifting off his man and just wandering around the court trying to make steals. Many times, this leads to defensive breakdowns since the other players are rotating late while trying to pick up the slack.


• Kobe Bryant is the only one cold-blooded and calculated enough to pull this off. Even during his sexual assault trial, Kobe was so detached from reality that he complained about the quality of the plane the Lakers chartered to bring him to and from his Denver trial.

I'm onto you, Kobe Bryant. I'm not exactly sure why you're sabotaging your own team -- did someone promise you a date with Vanessa Hudgens, Vanessa Williams, and Vanessa from the Cosby Show to complete your "I Heart Vanessa" collection, but only if you throw the Finals? Who knows?

All I know is you're the mole. I dare you to prove otherwise this week, Mr. Bryant. You have two games left.

A Sporting Reason

I am a sports fanatic. Anyone who knows me knows this. From the Lakers to the 49ers to UCLA athletics, I will go out of my way to catch a game involving my favorite teams. At the same time, I know quite a number of people who don't know the first thing about sports. And at first glance, I used to look at them with disdain. Really, you don't follow sports at all? What's wrong with you? But upon further analysis, I think maybe they're onto something.

When it really comes down to it, I can love the Lakers with all my heart, but do the Lakers really care about me? Likely not. And in the grand scheme of things, does my cheering from my living room in NYC really have a bearing on the outcome of the game? No. Doesn't make much sense, does it?

Jerry Seinfeld once made a joke that when someone's on your favorite team you cheer for them, but once they leave, you boo them. You're really not cheering for anyone in particular. Basically you're just rooting for laundry. And when distilled in those terms, sports seem like a silly exercise.

If all of this is true, what is the point of sports? When rooting for laundry brings about heartache after a big loss, does sports really mean anything? I argue that it does. What exactly? Well let's start with community. Sports bring people together.

A NYC construction worker and a Fortune 500 CEO in their midtown office may have absolutely nothing in common on the surface. But get either of them going on the topic of the Yankees, and suddenly their worlds become much more relatable. Following the stats of men dressing in matching uniforms becomes a daily ritual. As much as talking about the world at large, sports become a springboard that propels a conversation.

Sports also serve as a non-verbal tie. Strangers wearing the same team colors can give each other a knowing nod as they walk by each other on the street. It's almost like being in a gang, only without the need to shoot other people and be jumped in. Well, unless you're a Raiders fan.

What else does sports bring us? How about a proxy for life in general? Grandiose claim, you say? Hear me out. Sports teach us at a young age about competition and teamwork. In order to strive for the big prize, you have to work hard and keep focus. And even then, it's really difficult to succeed unless you can also be a great team player. Everyone has their strengths and weaknesses, and sports teach us about how to maximize our own strengths and exploit the weaknesses of opponents. Is any of this so different than understanding what it takes to succeed in the workplace?

Sports also teach us that even the best talent can lose and lose badly. David can outduel Goliath. For every New York Giants team beating the previously undefeated New England Patriots in the Super Bowl, there's a real world corollary. Think Michael Ovitz joining Michael Eisner at Disney only to see the stock sink to record lows while tiny Pixar comes out of nowhere to create box office magic. You never know what the outcome is going to be until you play the game.

In order to truly feel both the wins and the losses, one needs to become fully invested. That's why the heartbreak of losing a 24-point lead in the NBA Finals can reach far beyond the players on a team. The sheer amount of investment in the team is like owning stock in a company. Winning can pay dividends (in the form of smack talk and team pride) and the longer you hold on through the lean years, the larger the reward when victory is achieved.

In the end, I'm not sure that any of this fully encompasses why sports mean much of anything. But I like to believe it does. If not, I've been wasting a hell of a lot of time following a bunch of laundry.

Big Brown not as disappointing as his team

I'm not a fan of horse racing. Let's just get that out of the way to start. I actually think it's pretty strange that we care if one random horse can run faster than other random horses. Does the horse itself really care either way? Probably not. But all of the hype surrounding the final leg of the Triple Crown, and the fact that the Belmont Stakes is run here in New York, led me to watch today's race.

For those of you who are not versed in horse racing, a quick primer. There are 3 major races every year -- the Kentucky Derby, the Preakness, and the Belmont Stakes. A horse that wins all three races in one year is considered a Triple Crown winner. The last time a horse has pulled off the feat? 30 years ago in 1978 with Affirmed. So any time a horse wins the first two races, expectations are high coming into the third and final race.

This year, a horse named Big Brown won the Kentucky Derby and Preakness without much trouble, and thus was a huge favorite to win the Belmont Stakes today. How huge? He was a 1-4 favorite, meaning that if you put up $100, you'd only stand to win $25 if Big Brown won.

Well, guess what happened? Big Brown lost. And not only did he lose, but he lost badly. He finished dead last. Over 120,000 people came out to watch this race, with about $6 million dollars alone being bet just on Big Brown to win. Needless to say, a huge disappointment.

In ABC's coverage, story after story was created to add drama to the event. However, rather than making me like the Big Brown contingent, I ended up wanting to root against them. Don't get me wrong, I have nothing against the horse himself. He seems like a nice enough equine. No, my dislike is for all of the people surrounding Big Brown.

For instance:

• Jockey, Kent Desormeaux, had a story about his son, Jacob, who was born with a rare condition called Usher Syndrome. This disease leaves sufferers with hearing loss and vision loss. The sad tale was supposed to be hopeful because if Desormeaux's son loses his vision he'd always have the visual of Big Brown winning the Triple Crown to get him through the tough times. I did feel bad for his son, but the story was done so poorly it evoked little emotion and just seemed like it was exploiting Jacob's disease to make the otherwise cantankerous jockey look more sentimental. At the end of the story, they showed Kent watching, likely to get a teary-eyed visual, but he really didn't look all that emotional about it. When asked about the story, Kent made odd comments, something along the lines of God giving his son this disease so that the spotlight can shine on their family in times like this. And when asked if he would be thinking of Jacob as he rides, he said he definitely would not -- once his legs were over the horse, nothing else matters but the race. I'm sure he didn't mean these words to come out so callously, but it didn't help me feel good about Big Brown's jockey


• It was clearly stated that Big Brown was given steroids by his trainer regularly as part of his training program. This means that Big Brown was juiced for the first two races which he won going away. While it's not exactly illegal in horse racing to use steroids (for what reason I don't know), not all horses use it, so the ones that do draw a suspicious eye. In order to deflect any criticism, trainer Rick Dutrow decided not to inject Big Brown leading into the Belmont Stakes. Were steroids the reason Big Brown was so good in the first two races and so terrible in the third? Hmmm...


• Speaking of trainer Rick Dutrow, they showed a story about his personal life, where he talked about how he was a hard living guy who loved gambling, expensive women, and drugs. It was set up as a heart-warming tale of how was able to dig himself out of his excesses and train a Triple Crown contender. However it came off really strangely. Dutrow detailed how the mother of his child, a former beauty queen in Jamaica who had a terrible crack habit, was murdered by a crack dealer. Dutrow seemed to have little to no emotion about the event. Even worse, they talked about how he then took his daughter, Molly, to live in a horse barn up through age 3 because they couldn't afford any other place to live. Then at age 3, he sent Molly away to live with her grandmother because he couldn't take care of her. Classy statement of the day? Dutrow laughs and says, look I still live a hard life, do you really think I can take care of Molly? I can barely take care of myself! And then oddly the story closes with a note that Molly is now living with him "for better or worse" (yes, the voiceover actually said that). Heartwarming! Dutrow closes the story with a brash guarantee that Big Brown would win. Oops.

All in all, the day was highly anti-climatic, and ABC's coverage was pretty horrid. Perhaps I'll watch another race one day when another Triple Crown hopeful comes to light, but I'll definitely steer clear of the pre-race schlock that comes along with it.

Sarcasm is Lost on Today's Youth

A while back, I wrote a blog entry about red pandas at a zoo in Sydney. The gist of the entry was a sarcastic comment that red pandas were not as cute as the better known black and white giant pandas.

A couple weeks later, I followed this entry up with one about boto dolphins which I had seen on the Discovery Channel documentary show Planet Earth. Again, I made a comparison between boto dolphins and their more commonly known ocean counterparts, the bottlenose dolphin.

Little did I know there would be a public outcry for my random musings. A sampling:

Anonymous said...

You know what? You suck, and you are an ugly, warped example of a human. I would prefer your mom anyday!
- January 19, 2008 11:13 AM

Anonymous said...

that is mean God made them the way they are for a reason! and i think they ROCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
- April 04, 2008 10:20 PM

Anonymous said...

I agree with anonymas!!!!!!!! That is tottaly mean! I am doing a report on these animals, and they are amazing! you should care!
- April 22, 2008 10:23 PM

Anonymous said...

Well SOMEONE is RETARDED here. You just wasted space on your blog writing this piece of meaningless crap. I only found this when I googled 'Boto Dolphins' for my project on how endangered they are. Maybe they are endangered because biased, bloody blockheads like you kill them because they're ugly. I don't give a crap about how ugly they are, and no one really does. "Oh, EW! BOTO DOLPHINS SUCK!!!!" That's how you sound, you bloody piece of crap. Go jump off a cliff.
- May 25, 2008 6:04 PM

Wow, there's some major love out there for the boto dolphin. I checked my logs, and there were actually quite a number of hits for this entry, all coming from Google Images. I did a search for "boto dolphin" myself and saw that my page was somehow the number one image listing for this term (oddly enough with a picture of a bottlenose dolphin rather than a boto dolphin).

I guess there are a number of teachers assigning homework about the boto dolphin, and thus a number of kids looking for information about them. I think that's great. I really I do. But I also think today's youth are very lame. Not only do they not understand the simple concept of sarcasm, but look at them:





Ugh, Really? Is that the kind of youth we have in this day and age? What happened to the kids of days gone by who could understand fun and games, like these guys:



Or the kids who really understood how to hang tough despite the odds:



That's what I'm talking about. Sorry lame kids of today who can't spell but insist on leaving comments on my blog. The kids of yesteryear rule!

Graffiti Spoilers

I was wandering through Greenwich Village when I spotted the following:


It made me laugh that someone took the time to deface public property in this manner. But more importantly, it made me realize that there must be a whole world of graffiti spoilers out there. Graffiti that reveals a plot twist or secret ending for the world to see. I am taking it upon myself to collect them all, and to do this, I created www.graffitispoilers.com.

Please keep an eye out and help me on my quest. If you happen to see a graffiti spoiler of your own, whip out your cell phone cameras and send them my way, won't you? I'd appreciate it!

Time to Face Facts

Why must you poke me on Facebook? What does that even mean? Do you like me? Do you hate me? If so, just tell me. I'm not even sure how to respond to a poke. So just stop it.

In fact, I'm not sure how to respond to the Facebook phenomenon. Everyone thinks it's so cool to amass all of these friends. Why? I don't care how many friends you have. In fact, I'm not even really your friend, person I worked with for two months who I once had a conversation about bagels with. Don't get me wrong, I think it's great that you have a Bigger Brain than me and that you loved the movie Iron Man, but do I need a news alert to keep me informed about what you wrote on your friend Mindy's wall? Probably not. And Mindy's way out of your league by the way. Waaaay out.

I think all of these Facebook apps have really gone overboard as well. There's now an app for everything. For my favorite music. For Scrabble. For scribbling on my page. Even for SuperPoking. I don't even like regular poking. Please don't bring your enhanced cyberfinger this way, ok?

The one thing I do know about Facebook is that it can't last. We've seen this story before, haven't we? From Yahoo! Groups, to Friendster, to MySpace, to Facebook, something else will always come along. You know why? Because you're not cool. I'm sorry to tell you this, but you're really not. I mean you're great and people think you're awesome in your own unique way, but you're not cool the way kids these days perceive coolness.

Therein lies the problem. Kids want to congregate where all the cool kids are. But cool kids don't hang out in places where their parents and teachers have set up pages and profiles. They want to be free to poke each other in geriatric free environments. And more power to them. I wouldn't want to set up my "I hate Ms. Andrews" teacher bashing page in the same space that hosts photos of Ms. Andrews drunk in Vegas, as tagged by Mr. Dinkins, the P.E. teacher. Well, actually that would be sweet. But promiscuous teachers like Ms. Andrews are few and far between.

No, instead what you have will be teachers who set up fake profiles in the same network as their students, using them to snoop around and read their private thoughts. This has already happened in a well documented case at the prestigious Horace Mann School in New York City. It's only a matter of time before Horace Mann becomes Bel Air Prep becomes Regular Old School U.S.A. and kids move on to the next thing, taking the it factor with them.

So enjoy your pokes while you can, people. Because by this time in a couple of years, you'll be snarking people on PeopleChain or whatever the cool kids choose to call home. It's just the natural thing to do.

Mother's Day Thoughts...

In honor of Mother's Day, I figured I should write a little something about my mom. But let's face it, I'm not good with sappy sentiments. So instead, let's celebrate another brush with my mom and technology. A couple years ago, I documented my mom's exciting experience with On-Star in her new car.

If you click on the link, you'll also see my dad's first (and only) attempt at e-mail. Now my mom's definitely more computer savvy than my dad, but she's also a bit e-mail challenged. Her e-mail Achilles heel? She's an over-forwarder. You know. The people who like to forward things like this:

• A list of fun trivia my mom bet I didn't know (like did you know that "stewardesses" is the longest word you can type with just your left hand, and "lollipop" is the longest word you can type with only your right? Well, you do now, thanks to my mom)
• A PowerPoint presentation of the Beijing Olympic venues (not any actual people or events, just the venues themselves -- yes, photos of buildings)
• A picture of some guy on top of the World Trade Center as a plane swoops in behind him. Yes, the one people sent around back in 2001. And yes, it's still a hoax and still in poor taste -- yet still surprisingly forwardable amongst older Chinese women
• A laundry list of the benefits of drinking green tea. For instance, it fights cancer, prevents Alzheimer's disease, slows aging, is tasty, makes bones stronger, and prevents the flu. I don't think any of this has actually been proven. Except, of course, the line about it being tasty
• A montage of Guinness World Record holders, like some dude with crazy long fingernails, and some lady with a really long neck
• A 22 photo slide show of a kitten and parakeet living together in perfect harmony. Just like this, only 22 times longer:
  

I think the interesting thing about all this is that I've learned a little more about my mom. I now have more insight into the things that she finds amusing and interesting. And sure, I've learned that it encompasses strange facts about typing words with your right hand, freak show Guinness Record holders, green tea, and parakeets and kittens living in harmony. But I'm still glad she's given me a glimpse into this part of her online world.

Good for you mom. Embrace technology with open arms! Happy Mother's Day!

Somebunny Loves Me...

Aww... this explains a lot. Or actually not much at all:



If I'm Laura Bush, I am not standing for this floppy-eared homewrecking. Hey W... less bunny hugging, more Osama hunting please.

Sound Advice

I was watching MTV last night, and saw the following commercial:



Yes, it's Nehemiah and Johanna from the Real World: Austin counseling America's youth on career information. That would be great, if only either of the two actually had a career of their own. Instead, they are just doing Real World/Road Rules Challenges and otherwise hanging out and capitalizing on what little they have left of their 15 minutes of fame. Ah, the epitome of the MTV role model.

Marathon Sessions

One of the things that I love about Bravo, MTV, and VH1 are that they allow you to catch up on their shows by running a marathon of past episodes prior to airing a finale. It definitely helps to build an audience for the finale that may not otherwise tune in. It also allows viewers who have never seen one episode of a certain show to get hooked on a lazy weekend afternoon.

The one thing I hate about these marathons -- during the commercial breaks, they always show a teaser for the finale. I assume this is to let users know what day and time to tune in, but for folks who haven't seen the episodes leading up to the finale, these commercials are total spoilers. Hey look, it's the two finalists for Top Chef. Yay! But I'm only on episode 4, and now you've just ruined every other episode for me. Boo.

Can't these channels put a modified promo during marathons that just say "you're watching the marathon for America's Best Dance Crew, tune in for the finale on Thursday?" It would keep people happily watching the marathon AND get the date and time of the final episode in their minds. Seriously. Is this too much to ask?

An Idol Question

I was watching the results show of American Idol this evening -- yes, I somehow got sucked into watching this show again this season. The thing that struck me today is that the bottom three contestants, ie. the ones that received the fewest votes, get to sing their song again before one of them is sent home.

I guess this has always been the case but for some reason I never noticed until today how utterly ridiculous this is. These are admittedly the absolute WORST three performances from the night before, so why would the producers of the show force us to listen to them again? Wouldn't it be better to keep viewers' interest by showcasing the three best renditions instead? This just doesn't make sense to me.

Ah yes, I know why I never really thought about this before. I hardly ever watched the results show, since it stretches out something that should take 2 seconds into one full hour. I'll just go back to my old habit of just tuning in next week and figuring out who's missing. Or maybe I'll just stop watching this ridiculous show. Um, yeah.

Random Thoughts, Canadian Edition

Some random Canadian thoughts for the day as I am sitting on a plane headed back to New York from Vancouver:

• Whistler/Blackcomb is a nice resort for snowboarding. Just a nice variety of terrain for all levels. Although $84 bucks a day is damn steep, especially since the dollar is so weak. Sigh. Stupid U.S. dollar.
• And just to illustrate how weak our dollar is now, I bought lunch from Burger King in Vancouver airport which ended up being $3.84. I whipped out 4 U.S. dollars, handed it to the cashier, and got just one lame Canadian penny back. Ouch.
• I just finished watching No Country for Old Men on my trusty laptop. Can someone please explain to me what the hell the last 30 minutes of that movie were all about? If you looked up anti-climatic in the dictionary, I think a DVD of this movie would be sitting right there, slapping you in the face.
• Why are planes the only place where the bathroom is referred to as a lavatory? No one ever refers to the bathroom as a lavatory outside of this setting, do they? I just find it strange. It would be like if people just started calling a telephone a snog simply because they were using it on a boat.
• In any case, in aforementioned lavatory, I saw this sticker on the toilet (and don't worry, my hands were clean when I snapped this shot, honest):
  
  
  
  Ok, so I'm not supposed to throw cups, bottles, or handkerchiefs in the toilet. I'm not sure why I would think to chuck a bottle into the toilet anyhow. I mean I don't do that in a normal toilet, why would I suddenly think to start doing that on a plane? Even more puzzling, what is that last drawing supposed to be? A bar of soap? A pencil eraser? Why would I even have those things in my possession? I even asked the flight attendants and they were equally puzzled. If nothing else, I think I've sparked a debate that will go down in Air Canada lore of what that drawing is supposed to represent.
• I saw South Park reruns on TV every single night in Canada. Shouldn't Canadians hate this show? All the Canadian characters on the show are morons, and they even wrote a song called "Blame Canada" for the South Park movie, with the lyrics, "blame Canada, blame Canada, it seems that everything's gone wrong since Canada came along, blame Canada, blame Canada... they're not even a real country anyway!"
• I had heard that curling was a huge sport in Canada, but I didn't really believe it until we were flipping channels and saw TSN (the ESPN of Canada) with non-stop curling coverage. They even did that picture in picture thing where they cut away from your match to show you some split screen live action of another curling match in progress. We sat there for 45 minutes watching this thing, and we still couldn't figure out what was going on. Just to give you an idea of how athletic one needs to be in order to compete, there was a guy who was nicknamed "The Kid" and he was nearly 40.

That's all for now, eh?

unnecessary details

I was at Duane Reade today and I saw the following box:



What is the logic behind the photos detailing what an unhealthy nail looks like versus a healthy nail? Are they hoping people will wander the aisles, happen to see the photo of the unhealthy nail, think to themselves, "holy crap, that looks like my nail," and then purchase the box?

Because if that's the goal, congratulations Myococide MS! I had no idea my mangled, yellow, half-eaten nail was in fact unhealthy until I saw that box. Six bucks later, and my nail is now shiny and clear. Thanks Woodward's anti-fungal cream!

And... scene.

a lesson in race

As I was walking back home from getting a haircut in the East Village, I stopped at a corner waiting for the light to change. An African-American woman wearing a bicycle helmet looked at me and started saying something. I couldn't quite hear her, so I walked closer and politely said, "I'm sorry, I didn't hear you."

The woman then said something to the extent of why the hell are you here, go back to China where you belong because nobody wants you here. I was a little taken aback, given that I've never really encountered racist remarks directed specifically at me. The fact that she too was a person of color also threw me off a bit. I mean, the only ones who really have the right to say, "we don't want you in our country," are American-Indians, so I don't think this lady had any more of a claim to the corner of 1st and 1st than I did.

She kept screaming at me as she walked, to which I yelled, "I think you need to tighten that helmet, because you've obviously bumped your head too hard." But perhaps instead of resorting to such insults, I should have spent some time enlightening her on the beauty of the Chinese culture, and all of the advances we've introduced into her life.

For example, I'm sure she enjoys a tasty bowl of spaghetti from time to time... who doesn't? Who is responsible for spaghetti? Italians, you say? Well, sure, but where did Italians first get the idea for noodles? That's right. China.

And this woman probably flew a kite as a child, marveling at the amazing heights reached by a simple piece of cloth soaring into the heavens. Hey, guess what, lady? That joyful memory that was brought to you by, you guessed it. The repulsive Chinese.

The July 4th fireworks display you love to watch each year off the Hudson River? China invented gunpowder and fireworks. Reading your favorite newspapers and magazines? Us too... we invented movable type printing. Silk boxers? Yeah, the Chinese thought of silk. That wig you're hiding under your crazy bike helmet? Mmm hmm, made in China. Toothbrushes, toilet paper, and wheelbarrows? China, China, and China.

So why all the hate, miss? Look at all we've done for you! You should be thankful to have such a talented, proud culture living in your midst. I think once I told her all this, she would have agreed, put aside her hate, and then called all her friends to tell them about the nice Chinese boy she met. Oh well. Maybe next time.

nothing says "sales leads" like racism!

I was watching the Super Bowl this Sunday with about 10 other friends, and we were having a great time critiquing not only the game, but also all of the Super Bowl ads that were peppered throughout the broadcast.

One that stopped us in our tracks cold was the following by SalesGenie.com:



There’s nothing like a racist panda bear cartoon to silence the room in disbelief. SalesGenie.com also had another ad airing during the Super Bowl, this one depicting an Indian worker as a nebbish loser who needs a job to support his 7 children. Again, way to work those stereotypes!



Did we just see two obviously offensive stereotypically racist commercials airing during the biggest advertising day in the U.S.? Really? And did SalesGenie.com really think this was a smart way to get the word out about its product?

Hmm… apparently so, since not everyone was as negative on the campaign as I was. Check out this post on AdRants, where author Steve Hall touts the ads in the following manner:

Still sort of cheesy but both spots are dead on message: Salesgenie will give you 100 free sales leads and improve your sales. In our eyes, Salesgenie has redeemed itself and is assured of not winning the Worst Super Bowl 200 Award of the Year.

Really? "Dead on" message? Not the worst Super Bowl ads? Umm, unless the message was "hey, we think ching-chonging Asians is crazy hilarious," I kind of missed the theme that Hall touts as "dead-on." I guess SalesGenie.com should try to ding a couple of other nationalities next time around to really get Mr. Hall’s attention.

Unless you're down with racially insensitive advertising, I suggest you boycott SalesGenie.com. What's that you say? You have no idea what you'd use the company for anyhow? Hmm, good point. They're probably happy I'm even wasting my time writing about them in any way. Touché, racist jerks. Touché.

one giant step for man(ning)...

As a die-hard 49ers fan, I could hardly believe it when I found myself rooting loudly and proudly for the New York football Giants in the Super Bowl this evening. I mean, these are the same Giants that knocked my beloved Niners out of the playoffs in 1990, on a Roger Craig fumble as he was trying to run out the game clock. The Giants went on to defeat the Buffalo Bills, 20-19 in Super Bowl XXV a week later – a victory I always felt rightfully belonged to my Niners.

In my defense, I do live in New York now, so it’s hard not to feel good for a city that I’ve grown to love. And the Giants were near 14-point underdogs going against a humorless, cocky, robotic team known as the New England Patriots. Not only did the Patriots team seem way too confident about their chances, but each and every Patriots fan on the planet was über obnoxious in their support for their team.

Tack on the fact that the Patriots were undefeated going into the Super Bowl and were crushing their opponents and running up the score up to humiliate them, and all I have to say is this: Karma’s a bitch, fellas.

Ding-dong the wicked witch is dead, and three cheers for the most unlikely Cinderella since NC State took out Olajuwon and Drexler in the 1983 NCAA Tourney. Ok, too obscure a reference for the non-sports-initiated reader? How about Marisa Tomei winning an Oscar for My Cousin Vinnie as an equally unlikely underdog victory (seriously… any movie where the phrase “what the hell is a youte” doubles as the best joke in the movie does not deserve a statue).

So go, go, go Giants! Well, at least until next year, when I go back to rooting for my gutty (polite word for crappy) 49ers once training camp starts.