http://homepage.mac.com/chadhermann/iblog http://blogs.law.harvard.edu/tech/rss en chadhermann@mac.com Chad Hermann Thu, 15 May 2008 16:43:24 -0400 Thu, 15 May 2008 16:43:29 -0400 iBlog 1.4.6 Teacher. Wordsmith. Madman. Random thoughts drifting in and out of the transom of my mind. chadhermann@mac.com Teacher. Wordsmith. Madman. Arts & Entertainment http://homepage.mac.com/chadhermann/iblog/C81732927/E20080515124109/index.html I love Gary Roberts. I do. I love him for his grit and his intensity, for his relentless work ethic and his ferocious, often frightening fearlessness. Hell, I love him for this photo alone:It's obvious that he's brought a great, big equipment bag full of veteran leadership and stability and experience to the Pens' postseason locker room. He's long been one of the game's great warriors. He did a great job of helping set the tone in the first game of the first playoff series. And, yeah, a little bit of silly, goofy, cult-hero worship is always fun.But sheesh.This undying obsession that Pens' fans -- by which I mean, casual fans and immature fans and bandwagon-jumping fans -- have with Gary Roberts borders on the absurd and fast approaches the insane. In a team and a season rife with heroes, a loud and increasingly annoying faction of people has latched on to -- and, worse still, Chuck-Norris-ified -- a guy whose on-ice contributions number two goals, one assist, a +/- rating of -2, a few intimidating stares, and an overblown, if admittedly awesome, bad-ass challenge to fight five Ottawa Senators at once.The Pens have won far more games without him than they have with him -- both in the regular season and in the postseason -- and, had they been without him for this entire playoff run, they would almost certainly boast the exact same record. At worst, they might have one fewer win. If he never plays again in this postseason -- as he will not tonight, thanks to a minor case of pneumonia -- the difference to the team and to its on-ice performance will be slight. The Disciples of Gary will whine and moan and perhaps rend their garments, then resume the laying of laurels and blog posts and text messages at his skates anyway. Meanwhile, the Lovers of Gary But Disciples of Lord Stanley will shrug and sigh and content themselves in the knowledge that the far more versatile Adam Hall will be taking his place in the lineup. Because we know that when Gary Roberts plays, the Penguins are meaner and tougher. And that when he doesn't, they are faster and tighter.And almost always better.(Let's Go, Pens.) ]]> Thu, 15 May 2008 13:08:09 -0400 http://homepage.mac.com/chadhermann/iblog/C81732927/E20080515124109/index.html http://homepage.mac.com/chadhermann/iblog/C1669226185/E20080515102846/index.html It began as a Burgh Blog comment. It became a TWM post. It became an occasional, recurring joke. And now, ladies and gents, it becomes the latest, gotta-have-it, totally cool piece of WearPittsburgh wear:Thanks to the always tireless efforts of Pittsburgh's Guru of Tech and Blogging and T-Shirts and All Other High Holy Hipness, Mr. Mike Woycheck, and to the damned fine design work of Ms. Rachel Carson Sager, a little, simple bit of (honest, accurate) snark has now become a part of Pittsburgh sports, fashion, and entrepreneurial history.You can buy one (or two, or ten) right here, in your choice of 129 different (no, I'm not kidding) styles and colors. I receive no money, no commissions or vacations, no Cadillac El Dorados or sets of steak knives if you do. Just the satisfaction that comes from a small burst of inspiration, a chance to help his a friend build his business, and a dream that someday, sometime, someone will wear one of these shirts to PNC Park on a night the sky is clear and the stars align and the Pirates, after putting together a nice, modest little win streak, get thoroughly shellacked by whomever they're playing. ]]> Thu, 15 May 2008 10:43:46 -0400 http://homepage.mac.com/chadhermann/iblog/C1669226185/E20080515102846/index.html http://homepage.mac.com/chadhermann/iblog/C81732927/E20080514144958/index.html In the Eastern Conference Finals.Like the day before Christmas, when you've waited all year, and you're dreaming about what you'll discover when you unwrap those presents under the tree.Like the day before vacation, when you know the sun will be shining and the ocean breeze will be blowing and you can almost feel the sand warm between your toes.Like looking forward to a long night's sleep, snuggling and cuddling yourself into bed and knowing that, after just a few more sweet dreams, you'll be primed and ready to face whatever the next day brings.Like looking into her eyes and knowing, after a long, long time apart, that you're about to kiss her hello.The last time the Penguins went to the Stanley Cup Finals, I was just a twenty-three-year-old newlywed grad student who loved hockey and counted his blessings and couldn't begin to imagine how it would feel to be 39 and have two sons with whom to play and share the game. I know the Penguins are still one game away. And I know that anything can happen. But I also know that I haven't felt like this in sixteen years and, truth be told, have never really felt like this at all. One game away is, right now, more than close enough for me. If only because, when you really think about them, those magical nights and possible mornings, those almost-theres and especially those off-day afternoons, are the best and most exciting times of your life, suspended between the delicate joys of all that you've already done and the delicious anticipations of all the wonders that await you. ]]> Wed, 14 May 2008 14:49:58 -0400 http://homepage.mac.com/chadhermann/iblog/C81732927/E20080514144958/index.html http://homepage.mac.com/chadhermann/iblog/C202808855/E20080514102206/index.html to follow-up.

Interesting email last night from a regular TWM reader who, in response to yesterday's post about Tony Norman's self-righteous, ahistorical insult to West Virginia voters, admits to being long troubled by the assumptions made about Appalachia. Here's the key paragraph:

I have checked out West Virginia -- time and again -- and can tell you that there is, no doubt, a certain, tacit racism that informs some of the vote. Much of it, though, is a distrust of anyone they sense is condescending to them, and Obama gives off that aura. Tuesday's vote was an extension of the phenomenon that has turned West Virginia into a Republican state in the last two presidential elections: with economic issues mooted by a permanent recession that has turned its youth into emigrants and its unions into ghosts, the state's remaining, older voters make their decisions on social issues that turn on guns and religiously informed values.

Here, just to clarify a couple of points from yesterday, is the relevant part of my response to the email:

I do not, of course, dispute the presence of racism either tacit or overt in West Virginia. Just as I do not dispute its presence in Pennsylvania or, for that matter, anywhere else in the world. But I sure as hell dispute that West Virginia's preference for Hillary is a boiling up of the Confederate rebel yell, and that Pennsylvania's preference for Hillary was the bubbling up of a slack-jawed, lobotomized populace. Mr. Norman has been out front on both of those claims, and I still can't decide whether I'm amused or disgusted by them. I suppose it depends on the day.

Or the post.

]]> Wed, 14 May 2008 10:22:06 -0400 http://homepage.mac.com/chadhermann/iblog/C202808855/E20080514102206/index.html http://homepage.mac.com/chadhermann/iblog/C81732927/E20080512174831/index.html on the cutting boards.

i•ro•ny

n. a technique of indicating an intention or attitude opposite to that which is actually expected

As when your team, long renowned for late hits and cheap shots and just generally turning hockey into something like rugby on skates, starts getting hit and shot and rugbied in return, and all you, fans of bullies now finding out what it's like to be bullied, can do is whine and complain and beg the refs, whom you've always declared must ignore such shenanigans and just let the players play, to please do something, anything to protect our your poor little boys from getting what they have been giving, and what they have so surely been deserving, for a very, very long time.

(Let's Go, Pens.)

]]> Tue, 13 May 2008 13:38:31 -0400 http://homepage.mac.com/chadhermann/iblog/C81732927/E20080512174831/index.html http://homepage.mac.com/chadhermann/iblog/C202808855/E20080513111402/index.html to pander. at least a little bit.

While we're on the subject of cheap political points...

You will also remember, I'm sure, that one of the (few) things I like(d) and respect(ed) and admire(d) about Senator Obama is was his steadfast refusal to pander to the all the rabbling, quasi-patriotic bullies out there, his firm belief that love of country resides in your head and in your heart, in your civic actions and public policies, not at the end of your flag pole and certainly not atop the pin on your lapel. And yet there he was yesterday at the Charleston Civic Center, making some of those same, excellent points to a crowd of (presumably) non-racist Appalachians, while wearing a flag pin on his lapel.

How disappointing. If not especially surprising.

You can bet we'll see a whole lot more of those sorts of -- I'll be kind -- compromises as the general election draws nearer.

You know, the kind that carry the untoward, distinctive aroma of politics as usual.

]]> Tue, 13 May 2008 11:25:02 -0400 http://homepage.mac.com/chadhermann/iblog/C202808855/E20080513111402/index.html http://homepage.mac.com/chadhermann/iblog/C202808855/E20080513111459/index.html to condescend. a lot.

You will remember, I'm sure, that in the wake of the Pennsylvania Democratic Primary, the editorial board of the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette declared anyone who voted for Hillary Clinton an idiot and quite possibly a racist. At the time, I was certain that I spied -- among other, equally heavy hands -- the ham fists and unctuous words of PG columnist and editorial board member Tony Norman. So you will imagine my lack of surprise when, on the eve of the West Virginia Primary, I opened up the PG and saw even more proof of my theorem:

With the presumptive Democratic nominee running 30 points behind Sen. Hillary Rodham Clinton in West Virginia, the sound we're most likely to hear when the polls close in Appalachia tonight is the Confederate rebel yell boiling up from the swamps of time.

We'll set aside, for now, the questions of when swamps boil, how a yell boils, and what a boiling yell sounds like. And we'll even ignore that Appalachia -- which is hardly synonymous with West Virginia, since the region extends from Georgia to New York state and the Appalachian mountains stretch from Georgia through New England all the way to Canada -- is almost certainly a code-word for Land of the White Trash Hillbilly Racists. But we can not ignore the ahistorical silliness.

You would think someone so seemingly well-versed in -- or at least so willingly haunted by -- the ghosts of the Confederacy would know that West Virginia seceded from the Confederate State of Virginia in 1861, then joined the Union in 1863, when it ratified constitutional assurances of abolition and was thus officially recognized as a state. You would also think that someone so eager to cast aspersions and condescensions upon the sons and daughters of that state's 20,000 or so Confederate soldiers would know that West Virginia provided an equal number of soldiers to the Union. (They all, presumably, have moved to more sophisticated states; if any remain, they will no doubt be voting for Obama.)

But, hey, who cares about rhetorical or historical accuracy when there are cheap political points to be made and even cheaper, self-righteous insults to be hurled? What's a little contempt or dishonor among Appalachian plebes?

]]> Tue, 13 May 2008 11:15:15 -0400 http://homepage.mac.com/chadhermann/iblog/C202808855/E20080513111459/index.html http://homepage.mac.com/chadhermann/iblog/C81732927/E20080512114604/index.html If, as you are so fond of claiming on your ignorance- and homophobia-driven message boards, there’s a league-driven conspiracy askate to deliver the Crosby-and-Malkin-fueled Penguins to the Stanley Cup Finals over your far-more-deserving Broad Street Flying Elbow Brigade, then, even after ignoring the utter lack of penalty calls in the first game and the fact that your team’s stated goal of being far more physical in Game 2 was sure to result in far more penalties called against you, why didn’t the league officials in Toronto just go ahead and award the Penguins a goal in the first period last night, when, as your city’s best sports columnist notes, the puck had obviously crossed the line before Biron brought it back?(Note to readers with IQs higher than Scott Hartnell’s number — and, yes, I know that rules out Scott Hartnell: I’m well aware that the fans for whom this question is intended won't be able to answer it. Just as I'm aware that, thanks to the elliptical syntax, they won’t even be able to understand it.) ]]> Mon, 12 May 2008 11:46:04 -0400 http://homepage.mac.com/chadhermann/iblog/C81732927/E20080512114604/index.html http://homepage.mac.com/chadhermann/iblog/C1703150516/E20080512101920/index.html or, when leonard heard jeremiah...

I'm about a week late to this one -- got behind in some of my reading and am only now getting caught up -- and the piece itself is almost a week late in so (w)rightly lamenting and skewering its subject matter, but...

...The Messenger Who Killed the Message is an outstanding title, metaphor, and dismissal of a series of performances that, as I have already noted, plenty of bloggers and commenters and commentators have tripped over themselves and their condescending best intentions to justify. The whole piece is required reading, but here, for my eye and ear, is the money passage:

If you condemn bigotry when it is turned against people like you, but tolerate it when people like you turn it against someone else, you forfeit all claim to the moral high ground. You are a hypocrite acting only from narrow self interest.

For all that, though, the thing about Wright's lost weekend that stands out most for me is his demeanor in the two speeches he gave: smug, mugging for the cameras, signifying, jive talking, acting the fool.

Did he really say an attack on him was an attack on the black church entire? Did he really make those faces and throw that silly salute? Why didn't he just slap his hands together, yell ''Dy-no-mite!'' and be done with it? Wright came across like drunken Uncle Buddy at the Thanksgiving table, the one who doesn't know he's not funny and won't shut up.

More to the point, he did not come across like a reverend. Or even a Christian.

In this season of political pandering and histrionics, truer words have rarely been written. That they were written by Leonard Pitts, Jr., Pulitzer-Prize-winning columnist, makes them awfully hard to dismiss. That they were written by Leonard Pitts, Jr., African-American, makes them awfully hard to demonize.

But not, I'm sure, for lack of trying.

]]> Mon, 12 May 2008 10:19:20 -0400 http://homepage.mac.com/chadhermann/iblog/C1703150516/E20080512101920/index.html http://homepage.mac.com/chadhermann/iblog/C81732927/E20080511094007/index.html or, how lots of penguins fans are idiots too.

On Thursday, I went to pains far greater than necessary to point out that, besides being possessed with a couple of skilled players and a whole lot of knuckle-draggers, the Philadelphia Flyers are also possessed of a loyal but often idiotic fan base. It is one thing, after all, to think your team has a chance to win in this series, quite another to pretend that Sami Kapanen could play alongside Evgeni Malkin without suffering irreparable nerve damage. Today, in the interests of fairness, and because I'm sick and tired of hearing these morons yapping at Mellon Arena and on sports talk shows, I'll face a few simple pains and point out, as I've pointed out plenty of times before, that Penguin Nation has its own great Confederacy of Dunces, and that many of them reside in the sorry states of ignorance and denial about one Penguin in particular.

If you want the surest test of how much a fan or a bandwagon-jumper or any other semi-sentient being in Western Pennsylvania knows about hockey in general or the Penguins in particular, ask them what they think of Ryan Whitney. If he tells you that Whitney is a future Norris Trophy candidate, and/or that he had a season characterized by both frustrating lapses of focus and astonishing flashes of brilliance, and/or that he's having a strong playoff run after what he would be the first to describe as a subpar year, then you know you're talking to someone who understands the team and the game and has enough knowledge of both to speak thoughtfully and intelligently and those and many other subjects. But if he tells you that Whitney sucks, and/or that he should be benched, and/or that he's the source not only of the all Penguins' problems but also global warming, the rising cost of oil, and the presence of Al Qaeda in the world, then you'll know that you're sitting in Section C12. Or D26. Or most other sections of a Mellon Arena these days filled to capacity with people who can not tell a bad pinch from a brilliant breakout pass, stupid headhunting from sound positional defense, or Luke Ravenstahl from someone actually qualified to be mayor.

If you encounter people like this, you should, for the sake of your own patience and sanity, simply smile and back away. Shield your children if you have any. And hope the next person you meet will have not just opposable thumbs but also sense and reason and an actual understanding of the sport and the team for which they claim to root. (In other words, hope you find a real Penguins' fan and not just a lazy, loudmouthed Steelers' fan with nothing better to do until July. But I digress...)

A few simple stats, and a few simple moments from Friday night's game, are all I need to prove my point. (Though, to anyone with a real knowledge of the game who's actually been paying attention, the point has already proven itself. But I digress again...)

Right now, ten games into their Stanley Cup Playoff run, two players are tied for the Penguins' lead in +/- rating: Evgeni Malkin and Ryan Whitney. In other words: the two Penguins players who've produced the team's two highest scoring differentials, are the guy everyone (I included) is touting as the best player in the postseason so far, and the guy all the dull-eyed, empty-faced, half-witted morons in the stands and on the phones either want to bench or run out of town on a rail. Which means, of course, that Whitney's +/- rating is higher than any other defenseman -- including recent fan favorite Brooks Orpik, who's been laying out some great hits -- those shots on R.J. Umberger and Scott Hartnell on Friday were top-drawer highlight reel checks -- but whose postseason +/- rating is just Even.

Right now, ten games into their Stanley Cup playoff run, Whitney is second among defenseman in scoring. He has five points (all assists) to Sergei Gonchar's six (one goal, five assists). This despite playing about six-and-a-half fewer minutes per game than Gonchar, and despite being removed from the top power play unit, on which Gonchar still plays, in favor of a fourth insanely skilled forward. Whitney is also second among Penguins' defensemen in Shots on Goal (behind Gonchar) and third in Average Ice Time (only 4 seconds fewer per game than Orpik).

So you can see, of course, why the Neanderthal set wants to see him benched.

Friday night's game, in which Whitney was a +2, had an amazing first assist (more on that later) on Evgeni Malkin's game-winning goal, and logged more ice time (21:48) than any Penguin not named Sergei Gonchar (22:44), is the best example yet of how well Whitney has played and how little the beer-and-more-beer morons have noticed. To Whit:

Yes, Whitney took a careless Delay of Game penalty early in the first period, when he attempted a clear off the glass and flipped the puck into the crowd instead; he seemed a bit too cautious, and he should have chipped the puck off the boards or the glass earlier to get it out. But he missed by inches at worst, and that's the kind of penalty that every defenseman takes throughout the course of the season. And, yes, he took a tripping penalty in the third, but that one was a joke: a clear, oh-I've-been-shot flop of a dive by Scottie Upshall that sold a penalty Whitney hadn't actually committed. And, sure, there were one or two times when he tried to clear the puck but didn't quite get it out of the zone, but if we benched everyone who did that during a game, there'd be no one left to play but the crazies in the stands. Most of whom, I imagine, couldn't clear the puck if you gave 'em a shovel and a pickup truck with which to do it.

Now.

Let's talk about how Malkin's first goal -- the one that came with 6.5 seconds left in the period, that proved to be the game winner, and that everyone's talking about as the turning point of Game 1 -- never would have happened if not for the amazing, tape-to-tape, blue-line-to-blue-line, threaded-through-three-Philly-skaters, diagonal breakout pass that put Malkin into the zone with under ten seconds left. If Whitney's not skating head-up ready to make a play, if he doesn't spot both Malkin and the crease through which to pass to him, and if he doesn't sizzle that puck all the way through the neutral zone right to Malkin's blade, Malkin doesn't break in to the zone untouched, and he doesn't have a clear lane to wrist a shot past Biron. That was a beautiful shot. And it was only possible thank to a beautiful Whitney pass -- the kind that, with all apologies to the fantastic abilities of Sergei Gonchar and Kris Letang, no one on the Penguins' roster can make any better.

We could also talk about the other half-dozen or so beautiful breakout passes -- including the one in the first period, when Malkin's line ripped and roared and cycled for what seemed like a week-and-a-half in the offensive zone -- that sprung an offensive rush or sparked some sustained pressure. Or we could talk about the number of times Friday, just as he has all postseason and all season, that Whitney got the puck to a forward in stride in the neutral zone and allowed him to take off and back off the Flyers in the neutral zone. Or we could talk about the great positional defense he played many times throughout the game, keeping Flyers to the outside of the offensive zone and not allowing them to get a shot off.

In fact, let's talk about one of those situations -- one that true fans of the team and the game recognized, but that all the drooling yahoos completely missed.

In the third period, Mike Knuble got a breakout pass and was headed down the right wing. He had only Whitney to beat. As usual, the Cro-Magnons in the crowd called for Whitney to step up! and hit him! Much to their consternation and my joy, Whitney did not. If he had, and missed, Knuble would have had a breakaway, or a two-on-one at best. But the way Whitney played him, Knuble dumped and chased. Because he had a head of steam and was already moving forward, Knuble closed ground on Whitney. Because Whitney had to turn and get to speed, Knuble beat him to the puck. What does Whitney do? Exactly what he needs to do -- assuming, of course, that he's playing good D and sticking to the system and not trying to please the unibrow set in the crowd: he angles Knuble away from the net, keeps him outside, and forces him up the boards, then ties him up against the glass until help arrives to support and retrieve the puck. He kept Knuble -- a big, strong guy with a heavy shot who likes to drive the net -- on the outside, never let him get even a whiff of a scoring chance, and handled that one-on-one situation about as well as you possibly can.

In the midst of that sequence, about the time Whitney had driven Knuble back to the boards, a couple of idiots behind me actually yelled out that Whitney was blowing another play, and that he never should have let Knuble get the puck, and that he should have smashed him into the boards (which would have almost surely drawn a penalty, since Knuble had his back to Whitney the whole time). They were not satisfied with outstanding defense -- no doubt because they wouldn't recognize it even if it bit them on their ignorant asses -- and instead wanted either a big hit, a magic trick, or a repudiation of the laws of physics.

It would take all three, apparently, for the talk-radio dipstick set to be satisfied with Ryan Whitney's play in this postseason. Those of us with IQs -- both regular and hockey -- in the triple digits are plenty satisfied with his performance. Because we know what we see. And because we actually understand it when we see it.

(Oh -- and one more thing:)

(Let's Go, Pens.)

UPDATE, 10:58pm: After tonight's game, Whitney sits alone atop the team's +/- rating at +7. (Hossa, Scuderi, Malkin, and Malone are tied for second at +5.)

]]> Sun, 11 May 2008 14:50:07 -0400 http://homepage.mac.com/chadhermann/iblog/C81732927/E20080511094007/index.html http://homepage.mac.com/chadhermann/iblog/C1703150516/E20080511114052/index.html or, the weathermen blow it again.

It's been a while since I took our esteemed local meteorologists to task for their sensationalism, their rank incompetence, or their inability to know the difference. This is not, of course, for lack of opportunity, but rather for excess of courtesy; after all, you can only hammer these people so often before the point gets made, the joke gets old, and the dead horse gets beaten to dust. But this weekend's performance was so abysmal, so wholly and utterly and pathetically wrong, that I just can't resist a brief chronicle of it.

On Friday, they said, the rain would end by noon. And it did. But then it started again at five. And continued, with varying degrees of intensity, until around seven o'clock Saturday morning.

Last night, they said that today's rain would arrive around four or five in the afternoon. This morning, they said the rain would arrive around noon. As I sit here writing, at 10:05am, I'm listening to the sound of a hard rain pelting off my skylight.

It sounds just like the tapping of my fingers before I post. And the ticking of my head before it explodes.

]]> Sun, 11 May 2008 11:40:52 -0400 http://homepage.mac.com/chadhermann/iblog/C1703150516/E20080511114052/index.html http://homepage.mac.com/chadhermann/iblog/C81732927/E20080510100938/index.html I said it four weeks ago today, after Game 2 of the Ottawa Senators series, and, after watching his mind-blowing, bone-rattling performance in Game 1 of the Eastern Conference Finals last night, I'll say it again: The combination of strength and speed and skill and sheer, indomitable will, the explosive impact he's had all over the ice, the way he's elevated his already stratospheric game to dizzying new heights, the fact that he makes something -- usually, many things -- happen on every single shift, the realization that from the time he goes over the boards until the moment he steps back on the bench you simply can not (and should not) take your eyes off him, all add up to a simple and glorious conclusion: that there is only one word in the language, much less in the NHL vernacular, sufficient to describe his performance:Marioesque.Sidney Crosby and Marian Hossa were outstanding last night. Ryan Malone was a force at both ends of the ice and a workhorse on the penalty kill. Jordan Staal, Jarko Ruutu, and Tyler Kennedy continue to shine on that swooping, rocking, and rolling third line. Marc-Andre Fleury was fantastic yet again. Peter Sykora had maybe the prettiest move and goal of the night.But Malkin. My God.I'll have much more to say about him as this series rolls on. But for now, let's just stick with the simple fact that something else I wrote four weeks ago today has, in the intervening eight games, proven happily prophetic:There is now a second word in the language, the vernacular of the NHL, and the playoff lore of this franchise to describe his performance:Malkinesque.It has a nice ring, doesn't it? And if it keeps on going, it's gonna have another. ]]> Sat, 10 May 2008 10:09:38 -0400 http://homepage.mac.com/chadhermann/iblog/C81732927/E20080510100938/index.html http://homepage.mac.com/chadhermann/iblog/C1181736675/E20080505120910/index.html clearing the bandwagon 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 that damn green tree pollen that's been covering everything in sight the past few weeks. You're not quite sure where they came from, but you know they're not going away any time soon...

• I have long argued that accusations of the Clinton Camp playing the race card have been a bit of a stretch and almost always been blown out of proportion. But when Senator Clinton, no matter how weary and unfocused she may have been, sat down with a USA Today interviewer and said, I have a much broader base to build a winning coalition... Senator Obama's support among working, hardworking Americans, white Americans, is weakening again... There's a pattern emerging here, well, that looked and sounded to me like a whole house of race cards.

• It may well be true, but saying it that bluntly and that gracelessly -- especially now -- feels both dirty and desperate. When I read the text, I had a sudden urge to take a shower. After I heard the sound clips, I did.

• Funny, isn't it, that everyone piled on Hillary for knocking back a shot in an Indiana bar a couple of weeks ago -- she's a poseur; she's stooping to act like she's in touch with the commoners; what a phony baloney bitch -- but no one, at least not in the mainstream media, felt the need to question Obama's sudden interest in (loudly) ordering a beer at a pub in North Carolina. Funnier still when you consider that Hillary knocked back that shot like she knew what she was doing, and that Obama, after brandishing it for all the reporters and photographers to see, sipped that "PBR" like he was drinking a fine sherry.

• The Strange Bedfellows Tour continues, with a link to another Christopher Hitchens piece that seems to me spot on. Perhaps because I made a similar argument just last week. Here's the money paragraph: Nettled at last by the way in which this has upset his campaign, Sen. Obama last week cut the ties that bound him to his crackpot mentor. Well, high time. But those who profess relief at this should perhaps revisit what they thought (and wrote) about the earlier Philadelphia speech in which Obama was held to have achieved the same result with less trouble. If he was right last week, then the Philly speech was a failure on every level, and if it was a failure on every level, and thus left Obama hideously vulnerable to the very next speech made by his foaming pastor, then that must raise questions of eligibility for the highest office.

• In the wake of some bloggers and commenters still contorting themselves to defend -- or even to praise -- the Rev. Jeremiah Wright, here's an interesting email from one of TWM's most regular readers: All I can say is this: a nation that is afraid to expose the inanity, the grotesque immorality, of Rev. Wright is not ready to have a black man or woman for president. We're not sufficiently racially mature if we feel a need to patronize, or to treat Wright's expression of the black "experience" as worthy of respect.

• PittGirl's on a roll today -- even issuing a thumb war/Parcheesi/Guitar Hero challenge to we humble purveyors of the Smart, Handsome, Articulate, Incredibly Dashing, Non-Self-Pitying Boys Society (TM, Patent Pending) -- but this is, by far, her best work of the day. And the week.

• Looking for a sweet, full-featured, shockingly affordable all-in-one printer/scanner/copier/fax for your home (or any) office? I heartily recommend the Canon Pixma MX 310. An inelegant name, perhaps, but one hell of an elegant -- and efficient -- machine.

• After family and friends, there are few greater arrivals at your door than a five-pound box of Wilbur Buds.

• Though I imagine there will be a few more Oh my God! moments mixed in with all the action and suspense sure to dominate the last three episodes, last night's rich, mythology-packed installment of LOST feels like the one everyone will be thinking about and talking about and, no doubt, wildly debating for the next seven months. It was that good. And that much of a wicked, mind-bending tease.

• Yeah, I know it's Sweeps. And I know the show lost what was left of its dignity a long, long time ago. But when I wake up to hear Meredith Vieira telling me that the Today show will tell me more about that huge sinkhole in Texas, and then asking me to wonder whether something like that could be waiting under your town -- or under your house, I just want to scream. And then hope that, if another one of those sinkholes does exist, it's beneath the Today show studios.

• While we're on the subject of great and grating media sinkholes... You know that strange and fabulous days are upon us when I'm agreeing with great swaths of a Bob Smizik column. But today's piece about the rise of Penguins passion and fandom gets it just about right. Here's the rightest of all: The team is positioned to be a contender, if not a champion, for years to come. They have a stable full of young players who are both fan and media friendly. Of greater significance, most of the players, and virtually all the stars, are as wholesome as the boy next door. Some, in fact, are young enough to be the boy next door. Parents looking for role models need look no further. The Penguins are thick with them. These guys aren't packing guns, they're not getting arrested, they're not being sought for child support payments, they're not demanding to be traded. They are the anti-modern day athlete, and no one exemplifies that more than the team's best player, Sidney Crosby.

• Amen to all of that, but especially to the last two sentences.

• Though Mr. Smizik gets most things right in that column, here's one bit he surely gets wrong: the notion of the Penguins' youthful fan base. There's no question, of course, that this team has energized the under-30 and even the under-20 crowd in Southwestern Pennsylvania. And that surely bodes well for the future of the franchise and for the finances of all the people, including all the residents of the city and the county, who stand to benefit from it. But to be a base, you have to have been there from the beginning. Or at least for more than three years. Loyal, long-time fans and season ticket holders are this team's true fan base. Without them -- without us -- the team wouldn't have lasted long enough to excite all these new, young fans. The rock-solid foundation on which this team stood, between the Jagr and Crosby eras, was the core group of fans who continued to support the team even when it was losing, when it was enduring those pre-lockout lean years with little chance of success but a lot of scrap and hope and hard work anyway. I'm thrilled for every fan in the city, the county, and the whole damned region who's discovered this great team and, through them, this great sport. But please don't tell me the newcomers and bandwagon jumpers are the team's base. They're great, and they're a huge part of the future. But they're merely building new levels of support and success atop a foundation that's been there all along. Even when it was watching the likes of Steve McKenna and Konstantin Koltsov.

• Now. After five almost interminable days of waiting, like the weeks before Christmas and vacation all rolled into one, and after five truly interminable days of fan idiocy and media frenzy, it's nice to know the boys will finally get back to playing some hockey tonight. And that all three Hermann boys, along with our surrogate brother and uncle The Blizz, will be there to watch 'em.

• (Let's Go, Pens.)

]]> Fri, 09 May 2008 13:19:10 -0400 http://homepage.mac.com/chadhermann/iblog/C1181736675/E20080505120910/index.html http://homepage.mac.com/chadhermann/iblog/C2140924884/E20080509083206/index.html they gave the last full measure of devotion.

Specialist Jeffrey F. Nichols.

Sergeant Glen E. Martinez.

Lance Corporal James F. Kimple.

Corporal Miguel A. Guzman.

Lance Corporal Casey L. Casanova.

Private Corey L. Hicks.

[Name Not Yet Released.]

[Name Not Yet Released.]

]]> Fri, 09 May 2008 08:32:06 -0400 http://homepage.mac.com/chadhermann/iblog/C2140924884/E20080509083206/index.html http://homepage.mac.com/chadhermann/iblog/C81732927/E20080508095940/index.html and the month. and the season. and quite possibly the decade.

So a friend and former student of mine just referred me to this Facebook Smack Talk Wall devoted to the upcoming Penguins-Flyers series. He thought I'd enjoy the silliness on both sides, but most especially the raging, rampant idiocy of a post made by Tom of Philadelphia at 7:39 this morning:

No way these Flyers gonna lose to the Pens never happened. Never will. Sorry to burst your bubble, but Hossa won't be worth it if you go down to us now. Any team that plays Kapanen on the fourth line is very deep. On, your team, he'd be on lines 2 or 3.

Because I'm feeling uncharacteristically charitable, we'll ignore the suspect syntax, the inelegant diction, and even the sub-grade-school punctuation, and get right to the heart of poor Tom's idiocy: his contention that Flyers fourth-liner Sami Kapanen would be a second- or third-liner on the Penguins.

Now. Anyone who knows anything -- and I do mean anything -- about these two teams knows, prima facie, a priori, and ad infinitum, as surely as he (or she) know his (or her) own name, that this is a flaming pile of horse manure, and that to question the logic of it is to imply, quite foolishly indeed, that even the faintest hint of logic went in to the patently absurd making of it. The statement, devoid of all sense and reason, is its own best refutation.

But, since I'm a stickler for argument and evidence, and because you know it's gonna be a whole lot of fun, let's follow through with it anyway.

Here's Sami Kapanen's 2007-2008 stat line: 5 goals, 3 assists, with a plus/minus rating of -12, averaging 13:19 of ice time per game. Not exactly scintillating numbers. But, hey, I'm sure Tom's seeming lunacy must have some basis in fact. So let's compare those numbers to the numbers of the Pens' second- and third-liners.

(We have a bit of a problem picking a 2nd line, however, because once everyone got healthy, the Marian Hossa trade created what are essentially two first lines; on any given night, either the Crosby line or the Malkin line could be considered the #1 unit. Which means, of course, that either unit could also be considered the second line. So, in fairness to Tom, let's just compare Kapanen's stats to the stats of all six of the Pens' possible second-liners:)

KAPANEN: 8 in 74. -12

CROSBY: 72 in 53. +18

HOSSA: 66 in 72. Even

DuPUIS: 27 in 78. +4

MALKIN: 106 in 82. +16

MALONE: 51 in 77. +14

SYKORA: 63 in 81. +1

That's right, kids: Kapanen's numbers pale (19 fewer points, 16 lower +/- ) in comparison even to those of Pascal DuPuis, who spent much of his season on the third line for the Atlanta Thrashers and only recently joined a top-two line after coming to the Pens in the Hossa deal. And Kapanen has 43 fewer points (and 26 lower in +/-) than Ryan Malone, the lowest scorer on Evgeni Malkin's line. So it looks like Tom's contention that Kapanen could play on the Pens' second line is just as much a festering pile of cow chips as we all already knew it was.

But, once again, in fairness to Tom, he did say lines 2 or 3. So let's give him the benefit of a doubt we already know he does not deserve, and, just for kicks, compare Sami Kapanen's stats to the stats of the Pens' third-liners. For the sake of some context, and because we're at least getting a little closer to reality, we'll also throw in ice time figures:

KAPANEN: 8 in 74. -12. 13:19

STAAL 28 in 82. -5. 18:16

RUUTU 16 in 71. +3. 10:12

KENNEDY 19 in 55. +2. 12:13

That's right, kids: Kapanen averaged more ice time in more games than two of the Pens' third liners, and yet he still only managed half (or less-than-half) of their point totals. While also compiling a +/- rating some 14 (or 15) points lower. Which means that Tom's contention that Kapanen would surely be a third-liner for the Pens is the steaming pile of dog crap that we always knew it was.

But, hey, maybe Tom just got carried away with his pre-playoff exuberance. Maybe his passion for his home team just got him a little too fired up. Or maybe he hit the wrong numbers (and letters) on his keyboard, and actually meant to write that Kapanen is just as accomplished as the Pens' own fourth-liners. So, just for shits and giggles, let's take a look at those numbers too:

KAPANEN: 8 in 74. -12. 13:19

TALBOT 26 in 63. +8. 15:28

ROBERTS 15 in 38. -3. 13:20

LARAQUE 13 in 71. Even. 7:42

That's right, kids: all the Pens' fourth liners have better numbers than Kapanen too. Even the Pens' most lightly used fourth-liner -- tough-guy enforcer Georges Laraque, he of the hands- and skates-of-stone -- has scored five more points than Kapanen, while playing playing in three fewer games and averaging almost six fewer minutes of ice time per game. Which means that Tom's contention, even if we adjust for exuberance and insanity, is just as much of a stinking puddle of cat pee as we always knew it to be.

Now. None of this means, of course, that the Flyers can't win. (They certainly could.) Or that the Flyers aren't deep. (They certainly are.) Or that Sami Kapanen is not a fine and perfectly serviceable fourth-liner for a team in the Eastern Conference Finals. (He is.) But it does mean that -- surprise, surprise -- Facebook Tom from Philadelphia has no idea what he's talking about. That the Penguins are even deeper than the Flyers. And that, if Sami Kapanen were indeed a Penguin, he wouldn't be able to crack the lineup at all.

I've already made that case quite clearly, but in case you need any more evidence, here it is:

KAPANEN: 8 in 74. -12. 13:19

JEFF TAAFE: 12 in 45. +2. 9:35

Taafe, a solid two-way contributor whose numbers are considerably better than Kapanen's even before you adjust for ice time and games played, has yet to appear in a Pens' playoff game.

]]> Thu, 08 May 2008 09:59:40 -0400 http://homepage.mac.com/chadhermann/iblog/C81732927/E20080508095940/index.html http://homepage.mac.com/chadhermann/iblog/C986369087/E20080507143222/index.html Ethan J. HermannSidney2008Oil on Canvas11 3/8 x 15 7/8 ]]> Wed, 07 May 2008 14:32:22 -0400 http://homepage.mac.com/chadhermann/iblog/C986369087/E20080507143222/index.html http://homepage.mac.com/chadhermann/iblog/C202808855/E20080507145144/index.html except when we don't.

You know, this is the kind of crap that makes my head explode...

[From a memo (An Update on the Race for Delegates) sent to the Superdelegatessent by Obama Campaign Manager David Plouffe. Emphases mine:]

...Just as the Presidential election in November will be decided by the electoral college, not popular vote, the Democratic nomination is decided by delegates.

If we believed the popular vote was somehow the key measurement, we would have campaigned much more intensively in our home state of Illinois and in all the other populous states, in the pursuit of larger raw vote totals. But it is not the key measurement. We played by the rules, set by you, the DNC members, and campaigned as hard as we could, in as many places as we could, to acquire delegates. Essentially, the popular vote is not much better as a metric than basing the nominee on which candidate raised more money, has more volunteers, contacted more voters, or is taller.

The Clinton campaign was very clear about their own strategy until the numbers become too ominous for them. They were like a broken record, repeating ad nauseum that this nomination race is about delegates. Now, the word delegate has disappeared from their vocabulary, in an attempt to change the rules and create an alternative reality.

We want to be clear – we believe that the winner of a majority of pledged delegates will and should be the nominee of our party. And we estimate that after the Oregon and Kentucky primaries on May 20, we will have won a majority of the overall pledged delegates According to a recent news report, by even their most optimistic estimates the Clinton Campaign expects to trail by more than 100 pledged delegates and will then ask the superdelegates to overturn the will of the voters.

But of course superdelegates are free to and have been utilizing their own criteria for deciding who our nominee should be...

I could highlight the presumption (that onerous first sentence, most of the first two paragraphs, and the transition to the last sentence). Or criticize the condescension (like a broken record...ad nauseum...alternative reality). Or even complain about the grammar (it should be were somehow, Mr. Plouffe, not was).

But all I really want to do is note the incredible irony -- by which I mean, duplicity; by which I mean, hypocrisy -- of a campaign that crows about playing by the rules and then, two paragraphs later, argues that the rules shouldn't apply, and that following the rules will be a very bad thing indeed. You know, as long as doing so may hurt Senator Obama.

It would be funny, were it not so infuriating. Maddening, were it not so sickening. And surprising, were it not so typical.

Last night in his North Carolina victory speech, Senator Obama lamented that John McCain's plan to win in November appears to come from the very same playbook that his side has used time after time in election after election. He warned of attempts to play on our fears and exploit our differences to turn us against each other for pure political gain. He said that the real question, then, is not what kind of campaign they'll run; it's what kind of campaign we will run.

Your campaign manager's memo to the Supers, like many other things we've seen and heard these past few months, gives us a pretty good idea, Senator. And you know what? It may sound different, but it sure does look -- and smell -- the same.

]]> Wed, 07 May 2008 13:51:44 -0400 http://homepage.mac.com/chadhermann/iblog/C202808855/E20080507145144/index.html http://homepage.mac.com/chadhermann/iblog/C212657653/E20080506132844/index.html and putting his money where his mouth is.

Remember, about a year ago, when Nine Inch Nails creator and resident musical genius Trent Reznor gave an interview to the Australian Herald Sun decrying the sorry state of his own record label, the festering bureaucracy of the Recording Industry of America, and the wanton, miserable greed that both perpetuate upon fans of his and other bands' music? Here's a refresher:

I created a little issue down here because the first thing I did when I got to Sydney is I walk into HMV, the week the record's out, and I see it on the rack with a bunch of other releases. And every release I see: $21.99, $22.99, $24.99. And ours doesn't have a sticker on it. I look close and, oh, it's $34.99. So I walk over to see our live DVD Beside You in Time, and I see that it's also priced six, seven, eight dollars more than every other disc on there. And I can't figure out why that would be.

Well, in Brisbane I end up meeting and greeting some record label people, who are pleasant enough, and one of them is a sales guy, so I say, Why [are our records and DVDs priced seven or eight dollars more than other releases?] He goes, Because your packaging is a lot more expensive.

I know how much the packaging costs -- it costs me, not them; it costs me 83 cents more to have a CD with the color-changing ink on it. I'm taking the hit on that, not them. So I said, Well, it doesn't cost $10 more. He goes, Ah, well, you're right, it doesn't. Basically it's because we know you've got a core audience that's gonna buy whatever we put out, so we can charge more for that. It's the pop stuff we have to discount to get people to buy it. True fans will pay whatever. And I just said, That's the most insulting thing I've heard. I've garnered a core audience that you feel it's OK to rip off?...

That [extra $10 is] not going into my pocket, I can promise you that. It's just these guys who have fucked themselves out of a job essentially, that now take it out on ripping off the public. I've got a battle where I'm trying to put out quality material that matters, and I've got fans that feel it's their right to steal it, and I've got a company that's so bureaucratic and clumsy and ignorant and behind the times they don't know what to do, so they rip the people off.

I have one record left that I owe a major label, then I will never be seen in a situation like this again. If I could do what I want right now, I would put out my next album, you could download it from my site at as high a bit-rate as you want, pay $4 through PayPal. Come see the show and buy a T-shirt if you like it. I would put out a nicely packaged merchandise piece, if you want to own a physical thing. And it would come out the day that it's done in the studio, not this Let's wait three months bullshit.

In the almost twelve months since he gave that interview, Reznor negotiated himself out of that last major label contract stipulation and, months before selling copies of it in stores, released a double disc of 36 instrumentals for free on his band's website. Today, he takes the next step, stays true to -- and, in fact, even exceeds -- his promise in that interview, and, as firmly and defiantly as any artist I can remember, puts his music where his money where his mouth is by releasing the band's brand new album, The Slip, for free, in multiple audio resolutions, on the NIN web site.

Enter an email address, get a download code, and choose your resolution. That's it. You can't even give them money, a la Radiohead, if you want to. Though you can, come July, purchase CD or vinyl copies if you're interested in the physical product.

You don't have to like the guy's music -- and, though I love it, I certainly understand why some people don't -- but you sure as hell have to admire and respect (and maybe even salute) him, his word, and his steadfast commitment to the integrity of both his fans and his art. The gesture would be pretty punk, if it weren't so damned, defiantly rock & roll.

]]> Tue, 06 May 2008 13:28:44 -0400 http://homepage.mac.com/chadhermann/iblog/C212657653/E20080506132844/index.html http://homepage.mac.com/chadhermann/iblog/C1703150516/E20080506093349/index.html but the rest of us will.

Part me of thinks I should not disparage anyone who wants to support the Penguins during this (or any) playoff run. But then another part of me endures loutish, drunken fans at the Arena -- I went to a Pens game two weeks ago, and a Steelers game broke out -- and silly, ignorant fans on talk radio and silly, awkward editorials in the morning paper, and, well...

Spare us the wagers of cheesesteaks vs. Iron City.

Spare us the unfortunate mix of a little knowledge and a lot of cheek. If only because no one would ever wager cheesesteaks against Iron City. They'd wager cheesesteaks against Primanti's sandwiches. Or maybe pierogies. And Iron City against Yards. Or maybe Yuengling.

Any way you mix the two, hockey fans know it's going to come out bitter.

Oh, yes. Very bitter. Especially in Pennsylvania, where the masses cling to sports and sticks almost as much as they do to guns and religion.

Isn't that right, Barack Obama endorsers?

That's how it's always been with the NHL's Pennsylvania rivals, the Pittsburgh Penguins and Philadelphia Flyers, who will open a best-of-seven series here Friday night for the Eastern Conference title. For anyone not paying attention (and it's hard to understand how), this is the playoff round before the Stanley Cup finals.

If they're not paying attention, I doubt they're still reading. And if they really want to be informed about hockey playoff rounds, I doubt they'll be looking just below British shocker: Voters dump the Labor Party in local councils on your editorial page.

That's Stanley Cup as in championship.

That's repetitive as in redundant.

That's championship as in the kind the Penguins haven't copped since 1992, when star center Sidney Crosby was still shy of his fifth birthday.

That's awkward -- as in grating -- parallel structure. Please stop.

And another thing: Copped? Copped? Who are you, Raymond Chandler?

But let's not get ahead of ourselves.

Too late.

The young Pens have come this far, capturing two rounds of playoffs in the remarkably short span of eight wins and one loss, just by doing that -- taking it one game at a time.

Did anyone proofread this thing? Or did they just decide that a couple of paragraphs so awkward in tone may as well be equally awkward in syntax?

They also have counted on every man to find his one shining moment, as newcomer Marian Hossa did in his overtime goal Sunday.

One shining moment? Who wrote this? Jim Nantz? James Brown? Verne Lundquist? In the middle of a PG editorial, a bad CBS Sports broadcast (yes, I know that's redundant) broke out.

Not that Friday night's face-off will be just another game. The Pens go up against their cross-state nemesis, who beat Pittsburgh in five of their eight meetings this season, including an 8-2 humiliation in December.

Whatever the Pens suffered in that loss, it was, I assure you, no more humiliating than the printing of this editorial.

Let's hope the Flyers had their fun. This is the series that counts.

And this is the editorial that hurts.

These hungry Penguins won't be denied.

Cramming two clichés into just six words. Impressive. If not necessarily creative. Or admirable.

Someone call Gene Collier. Quick.

Go ahead, bring it.

If you say so, Mr. President.

My God. If there's anything more desperate and pathetic than newspaper editorial boards trying to sound hip and cool by writing about a local sports team, it's newspaper editorial boards trying to sound hip and cool by writing about a local sports team in an arch, affected vernacular that even the team's players would not dream of employing.

Sidney Crosby: If you want a rivalry, there's one right there. As players, we know that the playoffs are always intense, but it throws some spice into it when it's Pittsburgh-Philadelphia.

Marian Hossa: We're going to enjoy this, have a day off, and then we're going back to work to get ready for the next opponent.

Ryan Malone: It's going to be a battle. We've worked hard to get where we are now. Why not play them and have this big rivalry? It's going to be great for the fans.

PG Editorial Board: Go ahead, bring it.

Whatever the Flyers bring, it is sure to be only marginally less dignified on the ice than the PG Editorial Board is here in print. For anyone not paying attention (and it's not hard to understand why), that's the final, and most lamentable, insult of all.

]]> Tue, 06 May 2008 11:13:49 -0400 http://homepage.mac.com/chadhermann/iblog/C1703150516/E20080506093349/index.html http://homepage.mac.com/chadhermann/iblog/C202808855/E20080505204033/index.html With a tip of the hat and a tilt of the axis to Chadwick Matlin (great name) over at Slate.com, I offer here my own, slightly souped-up graphic to illustrate the creative -- by which I mean, phony; by which I mean, unprofessional; by which I mean, unethical -- graphing strategy they were, until about an hour ago, using on the BarackObama.com ResultsCenter page:The first bar graph is the one they had been using before Mr. Matlin's piece (charitably titled Obama's Fuzzy Delelgate Math; it should have been called Obama's Bullshit Delegate Graph) appeared at 5:35 this afternoon. The second bar graph illustrates the correct proportion that Senator Clinton's 1,611 delegates should have filled. It's a considerable difference. And so a considerable ginning of both the image and the relative strength of the numbers.Now. The Obama Camp deserves some credit for correcting the image so quickly. (You know, the kind of credit deserved by a teenager who, caught in a lie, admits the truth instead of just lying again.) But it deserves far more blame, and at least a little bit of scorn, for producing and posting the image in the first place. It's a simple case of Stats 101. Or Graphic Communication 101. Or Ethics 101. (Hell, my BusComm sophomores knew better by the third week of class.) You don't tweak or twist or fudge or otherwise knowingly misrepresent proportions on a graph. Not when you want to be honest and forthright about the data. And especially not when you claim to possess the ethical and intellectual high ground.I've said it before (and before, and before, and before), and I'll say it again: new kind of politics, my ass. ]]> Mon, 05 May 2008 20:40:33 -0400 http://homepage.mac.com/chadhermann/iblog/C202808855/E20080505204033/index.html http://homepage.mac.com/chadhermann/iblog/C761126909/E20080505123921/index.html the little that is all.

Remember when some people -- including that all-high arbiter of cultural identity, Professor Cornell West -- were wondering if Barack Obama is black enough? It's safe to assume, I suppose -- Professor West, after all, is now a staunch Obama supporter and advisor -- that everyone worried about such things decided that he is. But I've been wondering whether those same people are now afraid that Hillary, long-time favorite of African-American voters and wife of the former First Black President, is perhaps too black.

While Senator Obama orates himself across the country, telling us that he has a dream of hope and change, Senator Clinton takes a more fierce and occasionally radical approach, stirring up trouble and angering the establishment and doing her best to win the nomination by any means necessary. It's not just Senator Breath of Fresh Air vs. Senator Sniper Fire; it's Senator Dr. King vs. Senator Malcolm X.

Which means that John McCain must be Senator George Wallace.

]]> Mon, 05 May 2008 12:39:21 -0400 http://homepage.mac.com/chadhermann/iblog/C761126909/E20080505123921/index.html http://homepage.mac.com/chadhermann/iblog/C523444681/E20080505110139/index.html for those of you who were born yesterday.

The Pittsburgh Post-Gazette is reporting that a visiting professor at Carnegie Mellon has discovered that the mood people are in strongly affects how willing they are to follow advice.

I eagerly await the results of her next study, in which she will attempt to prove once and for all that people really do cry when they're sad.

]]> Mon, 05 May 2008 11:01:39 -0400 http://homepage.mac.com/chadhermann/iblog/C523444681/E20080505110139/index.html http://homepage.mac.com/chadhermann/iblog/C81732927/E20080504182215/index.html Photo Credit: Peter Diana, Pittsburgh Post-Gazette.(Let's Go, Pens.) ]]> Sun, 04 May 2008 18:22:15 -0400 http://homepage.mac.com/chadhermann/iblog/C81732927/E20080504182215/index.html http://homepage.mac.com/chadhermann/iblog/C81732927/E20080504102143/index.html here at the end of (undefeated) days.

It is a testament to how jaded we've become, how melodramatic we always are, or how ham-fisted Ron Cook and his Post-Gazette sports editors can be -- I'm casting a third of a vote for each -- that a single playoff loss after seven consecutive playoff wins can be called adversity, or that a single subpar night and a couple of boneheaded decisions after seven games of unmitigated brilliance can produce a headline like Crosby, Malkin seek redemption today.

I suppose if they lose today, the Pens will have endured a calamity, and Sid and Geno will need to seek the divine absolution that only Bishop Zubik, or a couple of Game 6 power play goals, can deliver.

To avoid that scenario, the inevitable infuriations of the newspaper columns to follow, and the idiotic ministrations both would demand of local sports talk radio -- let's just end the series today, shall we, boys?

(Let's Go, Pens.)

]]> Sun, 04 May 2008 10:21:43 -0400 http://homepage.mac.com/chadhermann/iblog/C81732927/E20080504102143/index.html http://homepage.mac.com/chadhermann/iblog/C1238986065/E20080504095707/index.html With a tip o' the hat and a flip o' the Triptik to one of PittGirl's Facebook minions, I must direct your attention to my new favorite internet make-your-own: CustomMotelSign.com. It's a great, throwback, road-trip kinda concept, and what sets it apart -- besides some excellent execution -- is the impeccable taste with which its creator, Tom Blackwell, chose the original sign.By the time you see the second N, it's like you're looking at the fourth star. ]]> Sun, 04 May 2008 09:57:07 -0400 http://homepage.mac.com/chadhermann/iblog/C1238986065/E20080504095707/index.html