A Prarie Home Companion

Saturday Evening Rich and I saw A Prarie Home Companion, a movie based on the popular public radio show of the same name. Garrison Keillor, the writer, creater, and host of A Prarie Home Companion, has gathered around him an all start cast (including such luminaries as Meryl Streep, Lily Tomlin, Virginia Madsen, Kevin Kline, Woody Harrelson, and Tommy Lee Jones) in addition to director Robert Altman. The movie takes place entirely during the fictional last show of the radio program, as a big corporation has bought up and decided to shut down the show.

As with the radio show, the movie is about storytelling, music, midwestern wit, bad puns, and the human condition. Although I am only an occasional listener of the radio show, often turning NPR off just as soon as Car Talk is over, I really enjoyed the movie. Some of the performances are priceless, and the stories combine a wide variety of human emotions and conditions. If there is one single theme it is that there is humor and gravity in all human situations.

In one scene indicative of this, a female angel clad entirely in white returns to ask Keillor why a particular joke was funny. You see she'd been listening to the show in her car one evening when that joke started her laughing uncontrolably and she drove off a cliff. The kicker, of course, is the joke. Here's the dialogue from the film:

Garrison Keillor: The penguin joke? Two penguins are standing on an ice floe. The first penguin says, you look like you're wearing a tuxedo. The second penguin says, what makes you think I'm not?

Dangerous Woman: Why is that funny?
Garrison Keillor: I guess because people laugh at it.
Dangerous Woman: I'm not laughing.
Garrison Keillor: Well, you're an angel

The film is also chock full of groan worthy puns. Here's my (groan) favorite: Woody Harrelson's cowboy character says that his horse is awfully smart. He can teach him math and science, but he just can't teach him philosophy. Why not? Because you can't put Descartes before the horse.

Harriet the Tortoise Dies

Harriet the Tortoise, believed to be one of the world's oldest living creatures, has died in Australia at 176 years old. Harriet lived out the final twenty years of her life at Crocodile Hunter Steve Irwin's Austrailia Zoo in Queensland. She was known as Darwin's tortoise because she was reputed to have been one of three tortoises taken from the Galapagos Islands by Charles Darwin on his historic 1835 voyage aboard the HMS Beagle, but there is some contention about this. She was also mistaken for a male and called Harry for over a century before the error was discovered.

While in Australia with Rich and company last August, I was lucky enough to see Harriet firsthand. Here is Charlie's picture of the historic old lady:

Sleeping on the Floor

Some of my friends are having a rough go of things right now. Their difficulties stand in harsh counterpoint to my comfortable existence with its petty problems.

Albert Camus wrote in The Fall, "I've heard of a man whose friend had been imprisoned and who slept on the floor of his room every night in order not to enjoy a comfort of which his friend had been deprived." So it is that I am metaphorically sleeping on the floor for my friends. I am thinking about them, wishing them well, and hoping for the best. I only wish I could do more.

Ludicrous Heat

It's been ridiculously hot the past few days, with triple digit temperatures even in the shade. On the tennis court, beneath the midday (and afternoon) sun, it's easily ten degrees hotter still. My summer tennis teams are literally melting.

The boys slogged through yesterday's matches. Two of the younger ones had to retire in order to stave off heat exhaustion. A couple more felt sick. The soles of one boy's shoes started melting, a victim of the temperature and friction. My one defiantly triumphant player walked off the court with legs covered in white salt, evidence of the extent of his dehydration (despite the three bottles of water he drank during the match).

We've already cancelled today's matches, because it's insanity to continue to play under these conditions. And this is only the first week of summer tennis. I have seven more to look forward to. I hope it cools off at least a little bit, otherwise it's going to be a very difficult summer.

A Brief Lapse

I've fallen behind once again. Although I wrote a fair number of entries last week, I never got around to posting them. In one fell swoop, I now present to you a bushel of backdated posts.

On Automotive Engineering

Entertainment courtesy of the MGOC newsletter:

If a component requires four fasteners to hold it together:

*The English will use four that are made out of a dissimilar material to the unit and through electrolytic action will corrode to the point that they can’t be removed without using a drill.

*The Italians and French will use three spring clip thingies that once removed can not be reused and have not been generally available in the United States for at least fourteen years.

*The Germans will use six stainless steel, fine-threaded metric pieces that are protected by a high grade, semi-transparent, clip over (eight clips) vinyl cover.

*The Americans will make it of ground-up recycled plastic soft drink containers in Mexico and install it in Canada and ask for US tax credits. The part will never fail but at 30,000 mile intervals, it will send a signal to activate a flashing dashboard warning light that has to be reset by a factory trained mechanic with a special tool at the local dealership for about sixty bucks.

*The Japanese will make it out of plastic and it will work fine.

Alternator Installed

I got the replacement rebuilt alternator installed in the MG with a little help from a friend and his impact wrench. Actually, I managed to remove the old alternator and replace it with the new one all by myself. But I needed an impact wrench to remove the pulley from the old alternator and install it on the new one.

Now the car shows 13.8 volts across the circuit at 1,800 rpm (where the car is currently idling). So the charging system is working well again. Next task, lowering the idle.

Unbirthday Party

Last Sunday I hosted an intimate, but very merry, Unbirthday party barbecue. I was glad for the presence of good friends, especially the San Francisco contingent. After a pleasant late lunch, a handful of us made our way to Almaden Meadows Park to explore our collective jai alai, juggling, writing, lounging, and kite flying talents.

Blogsday

The public radio program Open Source aired their second annual edition of Blogsday on June 15th. Patterned after Bloomsday, the holiday observed annually on June 16th to celebrate the life of James Joyce and commemorate the events of the same day in Dublin in 1904 as written in Ulysses, Blogsday is an audio exploration of one day in the blogosphere.

Consisting of two actors responsively reading a variety of blog posts from June 6th, 2006, the Blogsday program lends a sense of beauty, importance, and intimacy to unknown bloggers' written words. Some posts are poignant, some are pithy, but almost all are fascinating. I love the way the show exposes our common humanity as demonstrated by blogs.

If I've managed to pique your interest, you can listen to the Bloomsday program by clicking here.

Big Basin Hike

A couple weekends ago Rich, Bob, and I went for a pleasant hike on the skyline to the sea trail in Big Basin Redwoods State Park. In a departure from my usual Big Basin hiking experience, we hiked inland from the Rancho Del Oso entrance in Santa Cruz just across the road from the beach (which was curiously dominated by kite surfers). Thus we departed from the beach, climbed the moderate trail into the mountains, and descended into the valley beyond. We paused beside Waddell Creek for a classic trail lunch in the company of Messrs. Milano and Tillamook. A satisfying return hike and an encounter with a bananna slug or two later, we emerged from the forest and set out for home in the borkmobile.

A Philosophical Woot Listing

The guys at Woot.com are at it again. Here's a Woot listing that I think many of you will find extraordinarily appropriate for me:

Ethicists differ on the question of speed limits. A moral absolutist might say that breaking the law is always wrong. A moral relativist would believe that, well, maybe there are situations in which breaking the speed limit is permissible. A utilitarian would look at the benefits and costs of driving really fast, and make a judgment based on those. And a certain kind of motorist just says screw you all, I’m driving as fast as I want and if you don’t like it, you know what you can bite.

We’re not here to arbitrate between these positions. But if you happen to belong to that latter group, this Early Warning Radar/Laser Detector brings you closer to actualizing your individualist beliefs. It picks up all radar, laser, and detector-detector systems and guns, from X and K to Ka and Ka POP, including VG-2 and SPECTRE. And this Radar/Laser Detector issues its warnings, omens, jeremiads, and alerts in a familiar voice the Early Warning dudes call “real human technology” – so don’t settle for fake human technology! We’ve got the real thing right here!

Finally, a New Alternator

I just received another rebuilt alternator for the MG. After an intensive search for a replacement for my sad electrocuted victim, I ended up buying this alternator for $50 from the same vendor that sold me my last one. Now if only I could find some fools...I mean...friends...to help me install it.

Speeding Motorcycle

A scene from the Infernal Bridegroom production "Speeding Motorcycle," featuring songs by Daniel Johnston. Photo by George Hixson.

A relatively obsucre theater group in Houston is currently performing a musical entirely based around the music of Daniel Johnston. Apropos of this, the new background music is Johnston's classic Speeding Motorcycle.

From the New York Times:

Infernal Bridegroom Has a Hit With 'Speeding Motorcycle'
By Kate Murphy
June 14, 2006

HOUSTON, June 13 — The punk-rock club where Infernal Bridegroom Productions stages its shows is in a rough neighborhood, far from this city's velvet-curtained theater district. So it is not surprising that the troupe's latest offering, "Speeding Motorcycle," is equally far from some of the traditional fare offered at the city's more conventional sites.

An original rock opera, "Speeding Motorcycle" consists entirely of songs by Daniel Johnston, a musician and artist whose childlike and hallucinatory work chronicles his mental illness.

"We have stranger tastes than the norm," said Anthony Barilla, Infernal Bridegroom's artistic director. The company's founder, Jason Nodler, wrote and directed "Speeding Motorcycle," which features several actors playing the role of Joe Boxer, a man who has lost his mind after being rejected by the woman he loves. Flat-top, plasticine headgear gives the impression that the crowns of their heads have been chopped off, leaving a black, felt-lined nothingness inside. Captain America and Casper the Friendly Ghost make cameo appearances. The score, meanwhile, ricochets from toe-tapping, feel-good songs to discordant, despairing dirges, a reflection of Mr. Johnston's bipolar disorder.

This unusual production has won over critics. Everett Evans wrote in The Houston Chronicle last week that " 'Speeding Motorcycle' should be the cult hit of Houston's summer."

Many in the audience have been first-time theatergoers, lured by Mr. Johnston's music. "He's the most important songwriter you've never heard of," Mr. Nodler said.

Mr. Johnston, 45, who lives with his parents in Waller, Tex., about an hour northwest of Houston, has a cultlike following, with a fan Web site (rejectedunknown.com) full of gushing posts by admirers from as far away as Japan. His crude home recordings are considered underground classics, and his pen and Magic Marker drawings were featured in the 2006 Whitney Biennial. A documentary about him won awards at the Sundance Film Festival and the San Francisco Independent Film Festival.

At a recent performance of "Speeding Motorcycle," scores were turned away at the door. Many moped around outside, hoping someone might leave at intermission.

In a telephone interview Mr. Johnston described it as "very cool" and said he had seen the show three times.

Infernal Bridegroom (the name comes from a line in an Arthur Rimbaud poem) was founded in 1993 to develop new audiences by producing hard-edged and challenging plays. But Mr. Nodler, who returned to the company after a peripatetic three-year hiatus to work on "Speeding Motorcycle," said, "More than anything, we do plays that we desperately want to do."

© 2006 The New York Times Company

Czech Republic Beats America 3-0

Czech Republic's Jan Koller, right, scored his team's first goal past Kasey Keller of the U.S. Photo by Jerry Lampen for Reuters.

Our national soccer team was thoroughly dominated by the Czech Republic in their opening match of World Cup play yesterday. The Americans appeared nervous and out of sync in the 3-0 defeat. Scoring chances were few and far between. Unlike the 2002 World Cup where America surpassed expectations by making it to the quarterfinals, largely on the back of Landon Donovan's brilliance, the American team appeared almost passive--content to merely maintain possesion. And as for Donovan, America's best player simply wasn't agressive enough.

The Czechs, meanwhile, silenced the questions about the overall fitness of their team. Pavel Nedved, Europe's player of the year in 2003, and Tomas Rosicky lived up to their reputations. Perhaps more importantly, Jan Koller seemed to be injury free as he scored the supremely important first goal of the game.

Though America is ranked fifth in the world by the FIFA computer, somewhere around tenth is more believable. The Czechs, on the other hand, are deserving of their second place ranking (behind perennial powerhouse Brazil).

The margin of error is now very thin for the American side. With the Czechs having beaten them badly, the Americans must have strong showings against Italy and Ghana in order to advance out of group play.

Nadal Beats Federer

Defending champ Rafael Nadal once again illustrated his supremacy on clay courts, beating Roger Federer 1-6, 6-1, 6-4, 7-6(4) to capture his second French Open title. It seems the mantle of best player ever to play the game may elude Federer a little while longer.

Federer came out strong, hitting big serves and attacking at every opportunity. Nadal, for his part, played a tentative first set. But the defending champion stepped it up in the second, pinning the world's best player deep behind the baseline. Though Federer threw an amazing arsenal of shots at Nadal, he was unable to penetrate the amazing footspeed and defense of the Spaniard.

As the match wore on Federer, noticing Nadal's determination and all too aware of his 1-5 record against him, began to play with decreased confidence. His backhand became erratic, providing an easy target for the relentless Nadal. Federer soon found himself down two sets to one.

Matthew Cronin's article describes the remainder of the match well:

Federer fell behind a break early in the fourth set, but wouldn't give in. Nadal was two points from the match with Federer serving at 3-5, but the Swiss came up with a swing volley winner and service winner to edge to 4-5.

For the first time during the tournament, Nadal grew nervous trying to serve a contest out and paid for it. Sensing his chance, Federer - who had never lost a Slam final in seven attempts - charged, taking a remarkable defensive point at 30-30 by chasing down a drop shot and smoothing a backhand down the line, and then watching Nadal commit an error for the break to 5-5.

Both men held to 6-6 and then the Spaniard showed why he has gained a mental edge over the Swiss in the tiebreaker.

Federer committed two errors on his own serve to fall behind 2-3, saw Nadal rip a service winner and then was forced into a forehand error after Nadal stood strong on the baseline to 2-5.

Federer held both of his service points to 4-5, but then the lefty Nadal smoked another hooking service winner and won the match with a gorgeous forehand swing volley winner. Nadal then collapsed on the court and rolled around on the clay in sheer joy.

Prankster Pitcher Moe Drabowsky Dies at 70

By The Associated Press
June 12, 2006

Moe Drabowsky, the prankster pitcher who delighted in putting pythons in teammates' shoes and wound up as a World Series star for the Baltimore Orioles when they won their first championship in 1966, is dead. He was 70.

Drabowsky died Saturday at the University of Arkansas for Medical Sciences Medical Center in Little Rock, spokeswoman Liz Caldwell said Sunday. He had been ill with multiple myeloma, the Orioles said.

Drabowsky worked for the Orioles' organization the last 13 seasons as their Florida pitching instructor, overseeing players in extended spring training and on rehab assignments.

More than anything, Drabowsky was known for being one of the most zany players in the majors -- he loved to make crank calls from bullpen phones and once gave commissioner Bowie Kuhn a hotfoot. In a 1987 interview with The Associated Press, while working as a minor league pitching coach for the Chicago White Sox, he lamented that the game wasn't so playful anymore.

''Players seem to be more serious now,'' he said then. ''I would tend to believe they don't have as much fun. You don't find the same kind of characters in the game today. Egos are a big factor. And the guys are making so much money.''

The highlight of Drabowsky's 17-year career came in Game 1 of the 1966 World Series. He set a record for relievers by striking out 11 over 6 2-3 scoreless innings against the Los Angeles Dodgers, starting the underdog Orioles toward a sweep.

Drabowsky pitched from 1956-72 with the Chicago Cubs, Milwaukee Braves, Cincinnati, Kansas City Athletics, Baltimore, Kansas City Royals, St. Louis and the White Sox. He was 88-105 with 55 saves and a 3.71 ERA.

Drabowsky also was the answer to several trivia questions. He gave up Stan Musial's 3,000th career hit, was the losing pitcher in Early Wynn's 300th career victory and was the first Royals pitcher to win a game.

Yet Drabowsky developed more of a reputation for what he did off the field.

Slipping sneezing powder into the air conditioning system of the opponent's locker room was a pet trick. So was putting goldfish in the other team's water cooler. He was a master at hotfoots and claimed Kuhn as one of his victims, lighting the commissioner's shoe on fire during the Orioles' 1970 Series win over Cincinnati.

Oh, and the snakes: Because of Drabowsky, they'd show up in shaving kits, lockers and many other places. During a reunion dinner in Baltimore, in fact, one of them slithered out of Brooks Robinson's bread basket and frightened him.

Drabowsky made his share of crank calls from bullpen phones, too. He used the one at Anaheim Stadium to order takeout food from a Chinese restaurant in Hong Kong. His favorite gag ever, he said, came at old Municipal Stadium in Kansas City.

''I had pitched there for a few years so I was familiar with the phone system. I knew the extension of the Kansas City bullpen and you could dial it direct from the visitor's bullpen,'' Drabowsky once recalled.

''One game, Jim Nash of the Athletics is cruising against us in about the fifth inning. So I call their bullpen and shout 'Get Krausse up' and hang up.

''You should've seen them scramble, trying to get Lew Krausse warmed up in a hurry,'' Drabowsky said. ''It really was funny.''

Born Myron Walter Drabowsky in 1935 in Poland, he was a young boy when his family left the country and made it to the United States.

Drabowsky, by the way, once said he never intended to be a kooky character. When he broke into the majors, he actually was ostracized by some teammates for being too serious.

''I signed with the Cubs in 1956 for $75,000, which was a lot of money then,'' he remembered. ''Some of the guys used to get on me pretty good, saying I was strange because I carried The Sporting News under one arm and the Wall Street Journal under the other.''

The Stage is Set

The tennis world is abuzz on the eve of the mens French Open Final. Though a Grand Slam final usually draws some attention, this one is special. It's about history.

The match everyone has been anticipating has arrived, Federer vs. Nadal. Roger Federer, far and away the world's best player, currently holds the other three Grand Slam titles. Rafael Nadal is the defending French Open champion, the world's second ranked player, and the best on clay.

Federer is seeking to capture the French to add to his Wimbledon, US Open, and Australian Open crowns--thereby creating a "Roger Slam". In response to the unasked question, it will not be a proper "Grand Slam" unless he holds all four titles in the same calendar year. The title "Roger Slam" originates with Serena Williams who responded to the detractors that denied her the official Grand Slam (peskily noting the calendar year issue) by proclaiming her accomplishment the "Serena Slam".

Whether you call it a true Grand Slam or not, holding all four major titles at once is a tremendous feat. No man has accomplished it since Rod Laver did it in 1962 and again in '69. Pete Sampras, widely spoken of as the best player of the modern era before Federer, never completed it. He never even completed the career slam. In fact, the only thing missing from the 14 Grand Slam titles on his impressive resume is the French Open crown. Eight time Grand Slam winner Andre Agassi completed the career slam, but never even dreamed of the Grand Slam. In fact only six men in history have won all four Grand Slam titles in their careers, let alone in one year.

As Federer has shown himself to be exceedingly versatile and dominant these past few years, the tennis universe has begun to mutter the words "best ever" in association with his name. And while his skills may very well be the best ever, he still has some wins left to record to prove to history that he indeed is worthy of the exclusive moniker. Though he presently holds just half the number of Grand Slam titles that Sampras does, a win tomorrow would probably be enough to give Federer the acclamatory title. So it is that Federer is chasing not just the French Open Title, or even the Grand Slam, but history.

Standing in his way is the undisputed king of clay, twenty year old lefthander Rafael Nadal. Nadal has won 59 consecutive matches on the crushed brick, netting him nine titles including last year's French Open. Since beating Federer in the semis of the Roland Garros last year, Nadal has proven his clay court dominance by beating Federer three more times (all on clay). Nadal is the only man to beat Federer twice in the last two years, let alone four times. In fact, Federer has only lost seven matches total since the start of the 2004 season. Federer has not lost to anyone other than Nadal this year.

The day of reckoning is upon us. We shall finally see whether the grace, speed, and artistry of Roger Federer can overcome the extreme spin wielding juggernaut that is Rafael Nadal on clay.

A Very Merry Unbirthday to Me

Now statistics prove that you've one birthday. Imagine just one birthday every year. Ah, but there are 364 Unbirthdays. Precisely why we're gathering to cheer.

For the benefit of those of you that did not receive the invite by other means:

I'm hosting an Unbirthday party BBQ at my house this Sunday at 1 pm. If you're reading this and you know me (a fairly safe bet), then you're invited.

And a Very Merry Unbirthday to you.

Woot Frogs

Somehow I missed the Woot offering for The Frog Family Desktop Bundle. Appropriate for this blog, no?

Here's the text of the Woot listing:

You thought you’d weathered the worst woots we could throw at you. You thought you know just how low we would go. You thought you’d seen too much to ever be disturbed, horrified, and bewildered by a woot ever again.

You fool. You poor, naive, deluded little fool.

Submitted for your disapproval: the Frog Family Desktop Bundle. It’s perfect for anyone who’s ever said “I could get a lot more work done if my peripherals were bright green and staring at me.” Let’s get the specs out of the way, as if they matter: both the 107-key keyboard and the three-button mouse connect via PS/2, while the speakers use a standard 3.5mm audio plug. Oh, and they all have oversized, terrifying eyes that never blink, or look away, or betray a single moment’s compassion.

Maybe you know a kid who might think they’re fun. Maybe you’re assembling a museum exhibit about early 21st-century consumer design atrocities. Or maybe you’ve been looking for new toys for your next excursion into the great lysergic beyond. In any case, woots this horrendous don’t come along very often. Are you going to let history pass you by?

Wonder of Wonders

The Woot.com Bags of Crap have arrived. In the interests of slaking the unquenchable curiousity of my loyal readers, here's what was actually contained in one of the much hyped packages:

1) A Small Samsonite Camera Bag
2) A Notebook Optical Mouse
3) A book entitled, "Dear Valued Customer, You are a Loser". Subtitled "Over 100 Embarrassing and Funny Stories of Technology Gone Mad".

Some cheap temporary tattoos were thrown in for good measure.

Umpire Eric Gregg Dies

Former major league umpire Eric Gregg died Monday evening, a day after suffering a stroke. He was 55. Gregg was known for his large size and will largely, but unfairly, be remembered for his wide strike zone in Game 5 of the 1997 NLCS. In that game, Marlins pitcher Livan Hernandez struck out 15 Braves en route to a 2-1 victory.

Deisring to be a part of the game but lacking the talent to play it, Gregg decided he would make it to the major leagues as an umpire. He made it to the bigs in 1975 and worked as an upmire in the National League for over 20 years. He was proud of his work, telling The Associated Press in 2001, "For a kid from the ghetto, I've done things you've never dreamed of."

Gregg lost his job in 1999 after he and 21 other umpires resigned in an attempt to pressure Major League Baseball into contract concessions. The move backfired and Gregg was not rehired.

Gregg was also noted for letting his personality show on the field, as shown in this excerpt from his AP obituary:

Larry Bowa, a coach for the Phillies in the 1990s, remembered a steamy day in Florida when Lenny Dykstra argued balls and strikes with Gregg, hoping an ejection would give him an extra day off.

"Eric said, 'Lenny, I know exactly what you want me to do. You want me to run you out of this game.' And he says, 'If I got to stay in this heat, you got to stay in this heat, so it doesn't matter what you call me, how many times you call me, I'm not running you out of this game,'" Bowa said.

Toy Box Photos

Arcane Autos gathering for the tour:



The Toy Box:














Dick DeLuna in the 1917 Hall Scott. SF Chronicle photo by Christina Koci Hernandez.