(THE 30TH EDITION OF) NOTES FROM A FRIDAY AFTERNOON
leaking the confidential information of
my mind.
For your consideration: another curious collection
of thoughts, reactions, and observations that didn't make it into a full-length
post this week. So they're sort of like all the things you find when you clean
out your basement; you could never seem to find a place for 'em, but you're
still glad you kept 'em...
• Between the aftermath of Cindy and the build-up to Dennis and the possible arrival of Emily, it's been a banner week for meteorologists, who've responded in full hoot-n-hype-n-holler Chicken Little Mode. The most egregious offender was KDKA's John Burnett -- note to Jeff Verszyla: please hurry back from vacation -- who, every night until it hit the midwest, showed a "potential" storm track for Hurrican Dennis that headed straight for Pittsburgh, which was, of course, about three hundred miles farther east than any major weather service ever suggested it would go. But that wasn't enough for Mr. Burnett. Not when he could invoke last September's Hurricane Ivan flooding and devastation every blessed chance he got. Not when he could go on and on about "a lot of moisture in the air" and possible "gutter gushers." And not when, on at least two different nights, he could solemnly announce the possibilities of "torrential downpours" and "hail" and even "tornadic activity" that no other local meteorologist saw fit to mention and that never, ever did fall from his perpetually falling sky.
• If you drive around Allegheny County this weekend and see people with freshly constructed arks in their backyards, you can bet those people were watching John Burnett's weather forecasts; this week, the AccuWeather Advantage was more like the Armageddon Disadvantage.
• So maybe Karl Rove didn't leak that information to a reporter after all. Maybe a reporter leaked it to him. Uh huh.
• You know, no matter how much it might want to make you puke, you have to admire that right-wing political machinery in action. This latest response might seem like the height of audacity, but when you can turn George Bush into a war hero and John Kerry into a coward, well, spinning this leak in reverse doesn't seem all that difficult. It's only a matter of time before we're told that Karl Rove's ex-wife -- her name is Valerie, you know! -- is actually an undercover CIA agent whose cover was blown by Joseph Wilson.
• As Ken Kesey once wrote, It's the truth, even if it didn't happen.
• While we're on the subject of right-wing audacity... I can't believe it took three years for this little tidbit to surface, but in case you missed it -- and I can't blame you if you did; there hasn't been nearly as much coverage as I thought there'd be -- these last few weeks, when everyone's been paying attention to Hurricanes Dennis and Karl, I'll get you caught up. In a July 2002 essay called "Fishers of Men," our honorable Pennsylvania Senator Rick "the Democrats are like the Nazis" Santorum addresses the Catholic Church abuse scandals thusly: Priests, like all of us, are affected by culture. When the culture is sick, every element in it becomes infected. While it is no excuse for this scandal, it is no surprise that Boston, a seat of academic, political and cultural liberalism in America, lies at the center of the storm.
• Read that again. Slowly. Now read between the lines. That's right, kids: if you're a liberal, it's like you're molesting those kids yourself!
• She's smart, she's funny, she's sexy. She can bring it down, she can rock it out, and she's got one of the most lovely and alluring voices I've ever heard. And just when I thought Margo Timmins couldn't get any cooler, she goes and does something to make me love her even more. On stage for a Cowboy Junkies show in Juneau last month, she took a stand and struck a blow not just for fans of her band, but for thoughtful, considerate fans of live music everywhere. After her polite requests for quiet and cooperation were thrice ignored by the bunch of yahoos yakking and swilling at the bar, she opted for a more direct approach: Let me make it clear what I'm asking. I would like you to SHUT THE FUCK UP! Silence -- save for the roar of approval from equally fed-up audience members -- and an acoustic set that everyone could hear and enjoy, immediately followed.
• I can think of at least ten shows I've attended -- including a few at the dear, departed Rosebud -- where I wish the lead singer had done something like that. And the next time some band member does it -- in Pittsburgh, not in Juneau -- I hope I'm there to hear it.
• I'm finding it hard to get too worked up about missing Emmy nominations for LOST -- the show received twelve, including richly deserved Best Supporting Actor in a Drama Series nods for Naveen Andrews and Terry O'Quinn -- but the omissions of Matthew Fox and Yunjin Kim feel like a couple of first-class rip-offs.
• I'm finding it easier to get worked up about missing Emmy nominations for The Shield. It's easily one of the five best dramas on TV -- why the hell is West Wing, a show even long-time fans say is in the tank, still getting nominated? -- and the writing and direction are consistently top-shelf. It was nice to see Glenn Close and CCH Pounder get some recognition, but Michael Chiklis (who's been nominated before but did his best work this season) and Anthony Anderson (when you go head-to-head with Glenn Close all season and not just hold your own but actually manage to shine, you deserve some kind of reward) were equally outstanding.
• If you own a shirt that says you’re a CHARMER, you really aren’t.
• Tomorrow morning, sometime around 9am, Adam and I will head up to the Squirrel Hill Barnes & Noble and pick up our copy of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. By 10am, we'll almost certainly have begun to read it. Aloud. It's become a regular, wonderful tradition in our house; Wendy and I read the first two books to Adam, and then I -- long after he could read them himself -- read the last three books to him. He's re-read them all himself, some more than once, but the first reading of a new Harry Potter book is always aloud. It takes us a while, and it gets a little frustrating when everyone we know is speed-reading to themselves and getting hundreds of pages ahead of us, but it's an experience we wouldn't trade for anything. The story, the characters, the pure joy of the written word -- they all come magically alive, and we savor every splendid second of them.
• Perhaps tomorrow, or Sunday, or sometime next week, as you're plowing your way through those 672 pages, you might want to give it a try. Even just one chapter. Even if you're the only person in the room. Read some part of the book aloud. I promise you'll feel -- and you'll love -- a little touch of Harry in the air.
• Lumos!
• Between the aftermath of Cindy and the build-up to Dennis and the possible arrival of Emily, it's been a banner week for meteorologists, who've responded in full hoot-n-hype-n-holler Chicken Little Mode. The most egregious offender was KDKA's John Burnett -- note to Jeff Verszyla: please hurry back from vacation -- who, every night until it hit the midwest, showed a "potential" storm track for Hurrican Dennis that headed straight for Pittsburgh, which was, of course, about three hundred miles farther east than any major weather service ever suggested it would go. But that wasn't enough for Mr. Burnett. Not when he could invoke last September's Hurricane Ivan flooding and devastation every blessed chance he got. Not when he could go on and on about "a lot of moisture in the air" and possible "gutter gushers." And not when, on at least two different nights, he could solemnly announce the possibilities of "torrential downpours" and "hail" and even "tornadic activity" that no other local meteorologist saw fit to mention and that never, ever did fall from his perpetually falling sky.
• If you drive around Allegheny County this weekend and see people with freshly constructed arks in their backyards, you can bet those people were watching John Burnett's weather forecasts; this week, the AccuWeather Advantage was more like the Armageddon Disadvantage.
• So maybe Karl Rove didn't leak that information to a reporter after all. Maybe a reporter leaked it to him. Uh huh.
• You know, no matter how much it might want to make you puke, you have to admire that right-wing political machinery in action. This latest response might seem like the height of audacity, but when you can turn George Bush into a war hero and John Kerry into a coward, well, spinning this leak in reverse doesn't seem all that difficult. It's only a matter of time before we're told that Karl Rove's ex-wife -- her name is Valerie, you know! -- is actually an undercover CIA agent whose cover was blown by Joseph Wilson.
• As Ken Kesey once wrote, It's the truth, even if it didn't happen.
• While we're on the subject of right-wing audacity... I can't believe it took three years for this little tidbit to surface, but in case you missed it -- and I can't blame you if you did; there hasn't been nearly as much coverage as I thought there'd be -- these last few weeks, when everyone's been paying attention to Hurricanes Dennis and Karl, I'll get you caught up. In a July 2002 essay called "Fishers of Men," our honorable Pennsylvania Senator Rick "the Democrats are like the Nazis" Santorum addresses the Catholic Church abuse scandals thusly: Priests, like all of us, are affected by culture. When the culture is sick, every element in it becomes infected. While it is no excuse for this scandal, it is no surprise that Boston, a seat of academic, political and cultural liberalism in America, lies at the center of the storm.
• Read that again. Slowly. Now read between the lines. That's right, kids: if you're a liberal, it's like you're molesting those kids yourself!
• She's smart, she's funny, she's sexy. She can bring it down, she can rock it out, and she's got one of the most lovely and alluring voices I've ever heard. And just when I thought Margo Timmins couldn't get any cooler, she goes and does something to make me love her even more. On stage for a Cowboy Junkies show in Juneau last month, she took a stand and struck a blow not just for fans of her band, but for thoughtful, considerate fans of live music everywhere. After her polite requests for quiet and cooperation were thrice ignored by the bunch of yahoos yakking and swilling at the bar, she opted for a more direct approach: Let me make it clear what I'm asking. I would like you to SHUT THE FUCK UP! Silence -- save for the roar of approval from equally fed-up audience members -- and an acoustic set that everyone could hear and enjoy, immediately followed.
• I can think of at least ten shows I've attended -- including a few at the dear, departed Rosebud -- where I wish the lead singer had done something like that. And the next time some band member does it -- in Pittsburgh, not in Juneau -- I hope I'm there to hear it.
• I'm finding it hard to get too worked up about missing Emmy nominations for LOST -- the show received twelve, including richly deserved Best Supporting Actor in a Drama Series nods for Naveen Andrews and Terry O'Quinn -- but the omissions of Matthew Fox and Yunjin Kim feel like a couple of first-class rip-offs.
• I'm finding it easier to get worked up about missing Emmy nominations for The Shield. It's easily one of the five best dramas on TV -- why the hell is West Wing, a show even long-time fans say is in the tank, still getting nominated? -- and the writing and direction are consistently top-shelf. It was nice to see Glenn Close and CCH Pounder get some recognition, but Michael Chiklis (who's been nominated before but did his best work this season) and Anthony Anderson (when you go head-to-head with Glenn Close all season and not just hold your own but actually manage to shine, you deserve some kind of reward) were equally outstanding.
• If you own a shirt that says you’re a CHARMER, you really aren’t.
• Tomorrow morning, sometime around 9am, Adam and I will head up to the Squirrel Hill Barnes & Noble and pick up our copy of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. By 10am, we'll almost certainly have begun to read it. Aloud. It's become a regular, wonderful tradition in our house; Wendy and I read the first two books to Adam, and then I -- long after he could read them himself -- read the last three books to him. He's re-read them all himself, some more than once, but the first reading of a new Harry Potter book is always aloud. It takes us a while, and it gets a little frustrating when everyone we know is speed-reading to themselves and getting hundreds of pages ahead of us, but it's an experience we wouldn't trade for anything. The story, the characters, the pure joy of the written word -- they all come magically alive, and we savor every splendid second of them.
• Perhaps tomorrow, or Sunday, or sometime next week, as you're plowing your way through those 672 pages, you might want to give it a try. Even just one chapter. Even if you're the only person in the room. Read some part of the book aloud. I promise you'll feel -- and you'll love -- a little touch of Harry in the air.
• Lumos!
Posted: Fri - July 15, 2005 at 05:46 PM
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Published On: Aug 28, 2008 10:24 PM
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Published On: Aug 28, 2008 10:24 PM