I Take the Checks and Face the Facts

In an attempt to embrace the all-encompassing commercial morass that is Christmas in the YEAR OF OUR LORD 2008, I'm bringing you my Top 5 Nike commercials OF...THE...PAST...YEAR.

Why aren't there any Reebok commercials on the list?

Well, because if you can name a good Reebok commercial, you're a better man, woman, or child than me.

Why aren't there any Adidas commercials?

Because I'm still angry about World War II.

Why are you asking needless rhetorical questions?

I don't know. Let's move on.

Without further ado...the Top 5, in no particular order.

"Take It to the Next Level"

It's directed by Guy Ritchie, the background music is provided by Eagles of Death Metal, and it features some of the European football clubs that I love to hate the most. Plus, who doesn't love a little projectile vomiting in their commercials?

"Leave Nothing"

A steroid-abusing protagonist in Shawn Merriman? Check. One of the league's most enigmatic performers in Steven Jackson? Check. A cut from the soundtrack for Last of the Mohicans? Check. What's not to love?

"Fate"

Call me a sucker for being pulled in by a video directed by David Fincher that features a remix of "Ecstasy of Gold" from The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly, but I'm a huge fan of the latest edition of Nike's "Leave Nothing" series.

"Courage"

Due to the affinity that I have for "All These Things I've Done", especially after it was played non-stop during Insanity for Humanity, I liked this spot from the first viewing, but if you're giving me shots of the Serengeti, Lance Armstrong-homage footage, and John McEnroe's frizzy afro? Well, that's solid gold, my friends.

"Candyman"

Perhaps if you've never held chalk, baby powder, or flour in your hands and felt its power, this commercial might not mean anything to you. If you have, though, and know that feeling of pure joy when the flour leaves your hands bound for some poor sap's face, you can relate to LeBron.

As always, dear readers, let me know where I've gone wrong with my picks.

P.S. Any blame for the idea of Top-5 lists should fall on this guy.

Well I Was Good at Doin' What I Was Told

Congratulations to Mr. Peter Pope for correctly naming "Hook" by Blues Traveler as the Tuesday Song of the Day. I think I've used "Hook" as the Song of the Day at approximately 35 points in the past year, but that is no one's fault but mine, dear readers.

The following story popped up yesterday on a few of my favorite destinations on the ol' interwebs, and it's just too good to pass up here. In fact, if I didn't know better, I would think I was reading a story occupying the front page of The Onion.

Enjoy...

The boy, asked his name, put down a tiny plate and ran behind his father's leg. He flashed a shy smile but wouldn't answer. Heath Campbell, 35, the boy's father, encouraged him.

"Say Adolf," said Campbell, a Holocaust denier who has three children named for Nazism.

Again, the boy wouldn't answer. It wasn't the first time the name caused hesitation.

Adolf Hitler Campbell -- it's indeed the name on his birth certificate -- turns 3 today, and the Campbell family believes the boy has been mistreated. A local supermarket refused to make a birthday cake with "Adolf Hitler" on it.

"Holland Township Man Names Son After Adolf Hitler"

As noted blogger, ahem, Blahger Luke Reeves astutely pointed out: "We have two instances of child abuse here, the name and the mullet."

It Doesn't Matter What I Say So Long as I Sing With Inflection

Congratulations to Ms. Nina Patterson for correctly naming "The Way" by Fastball as the Monday Song of the Day.

Welcome back to 1998, kids. Welcome back.

Good stuff here (as always) from Malcolm Gladwell...

This is the quarterback problem. There are certain jobs where almost nothing you can learn about candidates before they start predicts how they’ll do once they’re hired. So how do we know whom to choose in cases like that? In recent years, a number of fields have begun to wrestle with this problem, but none with such profound social consequences as the profession of teaching.

"Most Likely to Succeed: Who Do We Hire When We Can't Tell Who's Right for the Job?" by Malcolm Gladwell of The New Yorker.

The best part of that article might be Gladwell's subtle prediction that Chase Daniel will one day reach the same level of putridity as Joey Harrington, Tim Couch, and Ryan Leaf, but perhaps that's just me.

Plus, David Brooks offers his thoughts on Gladwell's latest book, Outliers: The Story of Success.

They Won't Make It Home, but They Really Don't Care

I realize that at various points in this history of this blog, I've been chastised by my dear readers for going on ad nauseam about Liverpool, European football, soccer, so on and so forth, Bob Loblaw, ahem, blah, blah, blah.

All of that will change this Sunday, though, my friends. I'll be doing my own small part in fighting the Global War on Terror* as I support Liverpool F.C. in their battle against Arsenal F.C. and I encourage you to join me.

Justin, what in the world do you mean?

Is Arsenal F.C. a hot-bed for jihadists intent on taking down the very foundations of Western Civilization?

Sadly enough, not even I can sustain that level of hyperbole, but I can tell you this: A vote for Liverpool is vote against Arsenal, and a vote against Arsenal is a vote against Public Enemy Number One, Osama bin Laden.

VERSUS

Premiership giants Arsenal have barred Bin Laden from the ground after discovering that the terrorist leader is a big fan of the club.

"We've seen the reports in the papers. Clearly he wouldn't be welcome at Highbury in the future," said a club spokesman.

According to revelations in a new biography of the world's most wanted man, Bin Laden became fanatical about the team in the 1990s when he was staying in the capital.

"Fanatical About Football" courtesy of BBC Sport. Granted, the story is over 7 years old, but it's just too much fun to pass up.

*Used with the express written permission of George W. Bush.

To Bear the Weight and Push Into the Sky

Here is the great dilemma, my friends...

As a political conservative who still believes in small, yet energetic, government despite the disturbing largesse of the Republican party in the past eight years, I have a distinct problem with governmental bodies sticking their noses into issues where their oversight is not necessary or welcome.

At the same time, I am a devoted fan of the wonderful world of college football, and the canker-sore that is Bowl Championship Series constantly grates on my joy, my sanity, and my devotion throughout Saturday afternoons and evenings in the fall/winter.

This contradiction comes to a troubling head in the following piece of legislation:

U.S. Representative Joe Barton of the Lone Star State's Sixth Congressional District has sponsored a bill that...

"will prohibit the marketing, promotion, and advertising of a postseason game as a 'national championship' football game, unless it is the result of a playoff system. Violations of the prohibition will be treated as violations of the Federal Trade Commission Act as an unfair or deceptive act or practice."

It might be convenient for cynics to assert that Barton is simply kow-towing to pressure from the Longhorn electorate in his district, but the man is an Aggie. If he's sponsoring this bill, I don't think it's out of any desire to heal wounds for folks down in Austin but out of his greater obligation to a tortured college football fanbase.

I'm not sure how much success the bill will have on its journey through the labyrinth that is the American legislative process, but perhaps Rep. Barton should take some tips from a reputable source:

I Ought to See the Man Mulcahy

Congratulations to Mr. Andrew Tuegel for correctly naming "Neighborhood #1 (Tunnels)" by the Arcade Fire as the Monday Song of the Day.

You know how you can tell that Illinois Gov. Rod Blagojevich is truly a twisted and cynical soul?

He wanted to indirectly hurt the Chicago Cubs.

Calls intercepted by the FBI allegedly show that Blagojevich directed Harris to tell investor Sam Zell (who took over the Chicago Tribune a year ago, only to see it stagger to a bankruptcy filing this week) that state financial assistance for Tribune-owned Wrigley Field -- home to baseball's Chicago Cubs -- would be withheld unless members of the paper's editorial board were fired, primarily because Blagojevich viewed them as driving discussion of his possible impeachment.

The Cubbies for goodness sake.

That's like wanting to waterboard Snuggles the Fabric Softener Bear.

Shame on you, Mr. Blagojevich. Shame on you.

Meet Me in the Middle, The Middle of the Town

Why Major Dick Winters, ahem, Damian Lewis might just be the GREATEST actor of our time...

He married actress Helen McCrory on 4 July 2007 and has a daughter, Manon (born September 2006), and a son, Gulliver (born November 2007). They currently reside in Los Angeles. A well-known Liverpool fan; he was spotted performing the "Torres Bounce" in The Albert Pub, shortly before the Liverpool vs Chelsea Champions League Semi-Final First Leg of 22/04/2008.

Thanks, Wikipedia.

Current Reading

Playing for Keeps: Michael Jordan and the World He Made by David Halberstam

P.S. Many thanks to Mr. Andrew Tuegel for bringing the Lewis-Liverpool connection to my attention.

Yeah, Sure, I'll Tell My Story Again

I've often been told that I'm guilty of seeing too many Seinfeld parallels in real-life, but today, I'm absolutely sure of the connection, and this scares me.

Let me explain...

I grew up going to Wilderness Trek in Salida, Colorado, and worked there for 3 and a half summers during undergrad and my first year of law school. About two years ago, Outside magazine named Salida on its list of "Best Places to Live". Now, my intermittent summer home has received another national shout-out, this one coming from the Gray Lady herself, the New York Times.

"The Outdoors Life, With No Attitude" by Rachel Odell Walker.

This is where Seinfeld comes into play, my friends. Observe the following exchange:

GEORGE: Ah you have no idea of the magnitude of this thing. If she is allowed to infiltrate this world, then George Costanza as you know him, Ceases to Exist!

You see, right now, I have Relationship George, but there is also Independent George. That's the George you know, the George you grew up with -- Movie George, Coffee shop George, Liar George, Bawdy George.

JERRY: I, I love that George.

GEORGE: Me Too! And he's Dying Jerry! If Relationship George walks through this door, he will Kill Independent George! A George, divided against itself, Cannot Stand!

That's it exactly, ladies and gentlemen. National Salida is on a collision course with provincial Salida. The small, quiet town where I would pickup a burrito at Patio Pancake Place, look for outdoor gear at Headwaters, and avoid an instant contact high from Salida townies is on the highway towards becoming Aspen-lite.

P.S. I also enjoy how the slideshow in the article refers to Bongo Billy's, a local coffee-shop, as "Bong Billy's". That's what we might call a "Freudian Slip", my friends.

That's Alright, I Was Desparate Too, I'm Getting Pretty Sick of This Interview

Congratulations to Mr. Joseph R. Halbert for correctly naming "D'You Know What I Mean?" from the Oasis album Be Here Now as the Wednesday Song of the Day.

Just watch how Liam stands there singing with his hands in front pockets of his coat. I remember how one of my first professors at ACU, this fine gentleman, would lecture for almost an entire class period with his hands stuffed into the pockets of his sport-coat.
Despite Dr. Hamilton's undeniable brilliance, it just wasn't quite as cool as a Gallagher brother belting out a rock anthem surrounded by helicopters, girls, and flares. Close, though.

Coming In a Mess, Going Out In Style

Congratulations to Ms. Stacy Villescas for correctly naming "I Am the Walrus" by the Beatles as the Tuesday Song of the Day. Since I've never indulged in recreational drug-use, I don't think I've been able to fully enjoy "I Am the Walrus", but if you have, the following video is my treat to you.

My favorite story of the day?

This one, courtesy of Politico.com:

Ros-Lehtinen Hangs Up on Obama. Twice.

Is Ileana Ros-Lehtinen a little paranoid?

Maybe.

On Wednesday, the Republican congresswoman got a call from President-elect Barack Obama, didn't believe it was him, and hung up on him. Twice.

According to Ros-Lehtinen's flack Alex Cruz, the congresswoman received the call on her cell phone from a Chicago-based number and an aide informed her that Obama wanted to speak to her. When Obama introduced himself, Ros-Lehtinen cut him off and said, "I'm sorry but I think this is a joke from one of the South Florida radio stations known for these pranks." Then she hung up.

Moments later, Obama tried again, this time through his soon-to-be chief of staff, Rahm Emanuel.

"Ileana, I cannot believe you hung up on the President-Elect," Emanuel said. And then--yes, you know what's coming--she hung up on Emanuel saying she "didn't believe the call was legitimate."

What was not noted in the story is the striking resemblance Ros-Lehtinen bears to a certain Springfield bartender.

Corporation T-shirt, Stupid Bloody Tuesday

Congratulations to Mr. Andrew M. Tuegel for correctly naming "Folsom Prison Blues" by Johnny Cash as the Monday Song of the Day. Because I'm feeling generous on this Tuesday evening, I'm giving you the Man in Black singing "Folsom Prison Blues" to the inmates at San Quentin. I'm sure Chuck Manson loves him a little Johnny Cash.

Wait, that didn't sound quite right. Just enjoy the music.

Moving on to stories that don't involve Charles Manson, I'm proud to give a little publicity to one of my favorite endeavors in the entire world, Wilderness Trek. Mr. Edd Eason, the Executive Director of Trek, has once again set up a deal with Coffee With a Cause so that $3 dollars of every bag of coffee purchased through Coffee With a Cause will go directly towards supporting Trek's scholarship programs.

If you thought I was going to write about Trek and not post a picture of the hideous beard that I grew during the summer of 2006, well, you're just confused my friend.

Current Reading
Lone Survivor: The Eyewitness Account of Operation Redwing and The Lost Heroes of Seal Team 10 by Marcus Luttrell with Patrick Robinson

When I Hear That Whistle Blowin', I Hang My Head and Cry

Ladies and gentlemen, this month has been a bit sparse on the posting front, but I would be doing myself and the rest of this band a disservice if I did not tell you about my voyage to the Sommet Center on Saturday night to watch the Nashville Predators take on the Minnesota Wild.

I should take time here to tell you that I tried out the "More like the Minnesota Tame" and "More like the Minnesota Domesticated" trash-talk at one point on Saturday night, and let me tell you, it went over like the Hindenburg crossed with Gigli. A complete and unmitigated disaster. In fact, it was probably one of the comedy low-lights of my life. Let's just move on...
Naysayers and doubters might point out that the hometown team ended up on the short end of a 6-2 scoreline to the visitors from the Land of 10,000 Lakes, but I choose to focus on the fact that the Predators won each and every one of the five (or six) fights that they were involved in on Saturday night. I'm not sure that Elton John gets much air-time in NHL locker-rooms these days (or any days), but the Preds and the Wild repeatedly decided that Saturday night was alright for fighting.
The highlight of the evening was Nashville fan favorite Jordin Tootoo, (yes, that's his real name), taking on an unnamed (or more likely unremembered) member of the Wild at the conclusion of a three-fight string/melee.
Tootoo's arrival on the ice was always an event because numerous fans in the Sommet Center would blow mini-train whistles whenever he leapt over the boards to enter the game. At first, I kept looking around wondering where the Thomas the Tank Engine convention was taking place, but eventually I noticed Tootoo come over the boards to the clarion call of Tennessee train whistles ringing in my ears.

Good times, my friends.

Good times.