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My love affair with Smartwool; continued

I'm flying* from New Orleans to Houston on a completely empty Southwest flight. There is plenty of space to stretch out, make yourself comfortable, and let the dogs breath. My dogs are breathing. And they are happy. Very happy. They have a pair of Smartwool light hikers on. That is my definition of happy feet.

*This passage really was started on the flight; I have no idea when it will finish itself, but it likely won't be during the 32 minutes of electronic usage time I am currently enjoying. (Note: I'm only talking to you because I left my new Scientific American at home. It is the Origins issue -- and I cannot wait to wade into it. Andy: have you read it yet; is it awesome?)

The light hikers haven't been the sock of choice for the past two years though. I actually haven't bought a new pair of light hikers* in at least that long. Why?, because I've been living in Houston. They came out today because I was going to have on the steel toes and wanted to treat the feet during the plane ride.

*Do you own a pair of Smartwool light hikers? I hope you do. If you are my friend, I sincerely hope you have a pair or eight. If I don't know you, I hope that you own a pair. Even if you are a jerk, I still hope that you'll treat your feet. Why?,** because they make your feet happy. Put on a pair and I defy you to tell me that your feet are not instantly happier. If you are a complete jerk, I defy you to not be less of a jerk wearing light hikers. (Can someone tell me if all those negatives came out the way I intended?) Seriously: they are euphoria in a legging. Light hikers are the crack of the hosiery world.

**The ?, is a bit of punctuation that has been needed for a while. First off: it completely baffles the grammar checker and you’ll notice your CPU speed dramatically dip as MSWord tries to figure out what’s going on. Second: if you are going to be running around asking me “Why?” in the middle of my story, then what makes you think your intrusion deserves any more than a fragment? The ?, allows the fragment retort with the disguise of a complete sentence. Perfect.

And my happy feet have me thinking about November; about the end of autumn and the beginning of winter*; about sitting next to a fire with a fleece blanket, a hot tea, and a book; about how my toes like to brag to their cousin digits that they will never know the warm embrace of the light hiker.

*Wait a second. Autumn, Winter, Fire? You live in two season Houston: hot and hotter. True. But that's going to be changing and it is going to be changing pretty soon. I'm looking to move to Providence, RI at the end of October. The why is a story that can be summed up by me telling you I will now be working out of my company's Massachusetts (Boston area) office. The office is actually closer to Providence than Boston; and after living in Texas for two years, this Delaware boy needs to find himself back in a small state. Daily border crossings that don't require air travel: Boo-yah!

But enough about job relocation and new work assignments - let's go back to talking about my feet. You know what they have all over greater New England? Hiking trails. It's true. Know what you should do when you set out to do some hiking? That's right - smack on the Smartwool*. Now you're getting the concept!

*I gotta be honest SK, a big part of me wanting to write this was piece was the thought of you laughing at my summertime volleyball wool socks. Don't fear; my feet have been in wool pretty much the entire time they have been socked in hot Houston. Plus, I'm not sure if the V’s know that I'm moving. Anyhow, I am.

If you just read that side note to SK, you've ascertained that I'm a bit of freak about the wool socks. You are also pretty nosy. Actually, I'm beating that you figure out the freak part by sentence three of paragraph number one; so, thanks for sticking around. I do love the wool sock – guilty, and I'd honestly prefer to wear nothing but. Wool socks and Tevas: yes please. Wool socks for a workout: yep. Wool in the hot & humid Houston summer? Yeah. What can I tell ya that you don't already know*: I'm a freak.

*You may not know that it is time to power down all electronic devices. Well, it is.

And with that, I am bringing this announcement that I’m moving to Providence (exact locale yet to be determined) to an end. No, it didn’t really seem like a moving announcement to me either. However, that was its original intention – inspired by my feet being happy. I hope to be in New England on a somewhat regular basis by the beginning of November 2009. If you are looking to get me a house warming present – I wear a size large.

2009 Song of the Summer

Blog reader exclusive:
the 2009 Song of the Summer is going to be "Clocks" by Coldplay
I'm sorry Styx. I just am.

Please visit www.songofthesummer.com for full details.

Song of the Summer -- Artist Release

We are not ready for the full Song release, but this pre-announcement (for blog readers only) is letting you know that the 2009 Song of the Summer is going to be a song from Styx (or maybe not). Get your radios ready!

edited: as of 6pm CDT the SoS for 2009 is still in Flux. Styx is still in the lead, but it may change radically. Stay tuned.

Bathroom Etiquette

There are a host of unwritten rules (and steadfastly adhered to) of bathroom etiquette which dictate how men choose and act around bathroom urinals. For example, when you walk into a bathroom with three urinals, one unoccupied, every self-respecting man in the universe will choose the furthermost other urinal. This is innate knowledge; I was never told or instructed that I should/had to act this way.

However, I have no idea how to act when I encounter a urinal in a co-habitational bathroom. Here's what I just encountered: men & women's bathroom, one urinal, one stall, one sink. Everyone associated with this installation should be quarantined in an educational camp - like what the commies did with Jed & Matt’s father in the movie Red Dawn*.

*This is just occurring to me, but Patrick Swayze might merit consideration as the most popular actor of all time. Seriously? I'm as surprised to be writing this, as you are to be reading it. But answer me this: What actor has more movies that fall into the category of "I just cannot bring myself to stop watching it whenever my remote control finds it?" I can think of four or five off the top of my head. Whether or not you cannot turn them off may be highly dependent on your gender, but their ever-presence on cable TV evenings tells the story here. Let's examine the body of work:

Road House: “His name … is Dalton.” In what might his most readily findable (when is it not on TBS or TNT or Spike?) silver screen offering Swayze plays a cooler named Dalton. A cooler is bouncer who magically transforms your dive bar into a delightfully neon-glowing music destination. Patty boy does this by a) being nice; b) breaking tables in half with surly bar patrons heads; and c) befriending kooky all men that make references to elevators in outhouses. It is just how I’d do it. Naturally he also beds the local blonde doctor and disposes of the original source of evil & surliness so that all can live happily ever after. I’m sure you’ve seen it 50 times yourself. Here’s what I want to know: does he retire and live off the blonde doctor’s income the rest of his life? Because if all the town’s evil has been disposed, how’s Dalton going to make a living?

Dirty Dancing: Why, why, why on earth did Jennifer Grey get a nose job? Have you seen her lately? Jennifer I am sure you are tired of hearing this, but we weren’t kidding when we thought & told you that you were hot, hot, hot in Ferris & Red Dawn & this girly movie. Anyhow, in the DD (tragically not related to Dungeons or Dragons) movie that your girlfriend/wife insists on leaving on the tube, Johnny Castle weepingly insists that “we are going to do our kind of dancing!” Baby’s father becomes so distraught and disturbed at Johnny rubbing all over his little girl that he leaves the family and becomes a homicide detective in New York City.

Red Dawn: 1980's action epic where the Soviets invade America only to be thwarted by the Swayze lead band of Wolverine's. Wolverines! Girls, if you are reading this at the same time your fella is reading on a different PC, you can tell when he got to the "Wolverines!" since his right arm involuntarily extended high overhead with a half closed hand. Why half closed? Cause he's holding his imaginary assault rifle. In his mind, he’s ready for the pinko invaders. This knowledge should help you sleep better at night. Your home and family will be safe if the Cubans attack. But you might want to watch the movie again just to be safe.

Ghost: Why did the writers of Ghost and Swayze’s character Sam dislike Dave Brubeck? That one little line where Sam declares that they (Sam & Molly) hated the Dave Brubeck concert has always bugged me. And a lot. Was The Dave Brubeck Quartet a studio sensation and stunk the hiney on a live tour? It is possible, but it seems highly unlikely. I’m betting that these two characters just don’t get it. Don’t enjoy a good concert. But they feel like they should go or that it is the thing to do. Which just plain stinks, because these people make me wind up paying more $$ for concert tickets. I hope they never figure out that Robert Randolph and Luther Dickinson are gods. I know I should allow myself to get past this, but really I don’t think I want to watch the rest of movie anyhow.

The Outsiders: Rest in peace Ponyboy Curtis! It pains me to say this, but looking objectively at my life, I imagine that I’d have to fall into the Soc's category. Why then do I root and cheer for them to get their butts kicked? Where’s the cheering for the home team. Of course I realize that the Soc's would always loose, but I’m a Phillies fan & 2008 notwithstanding, I should be prepared and fully accepting a futile rooting interest.

Those are five movies that come to me immediately. Examining his IMDB page reveals some other gems and some that we just won’t mention**. But I’m saying that Swayze’s record, at least on a popularity of film basis, is incredibly strong.

**"I am an EFF - BEE - EYE Agent!"

After we are done re-educating and neutering the designers of co-ed bathrooms with urinals, we are going to need rules for how to handle the one stall & one urinal situation until these bathrooms have been eradicated. Here are my suggestions:

1. Guys: when entering an empty bathroom, you should opt for the stall regardless of business intent.
2. Guys: when entering a bathroom and you see the stall door closed you should immediately utter “excuse me”. A male response allows you proceed with to the urinal. If the other guy is done before you, he should give a ten count after exiting the bathroom to hopefully block the door and give you enough time to get to the hand washing phase.
3. Guys: seriously – wash your hands; with soap
4. Girls: if you enter a bathroom and find someone at the urinal, please do not engage in conversation. If you want to shoot straight into the stall that’s up to you, but keep the excuse me’s and hello’s to yourself.

I hope all this helps. I'm not sure how it will, but I'll hope it anyhow.

Boycott Organization through Google Status

We are boycotting Chick-Fil-A. Why? Coupon Distribution Disagreements & Disturbances. More specifically, the Bel Air, MD Chick-Fil-A coupon distributors disturbed the Official Dad of the Song of the Summer. Dad was in the hardware store getting himself a new garbage disposal. It appears the coupon distributors caused a traffic backup outside of the hardware store parking lot. And you know you have no time for coupons or grabassing when you are in the midst of a plumbing project. Plumbing is not a time for foolishness*. It's a time for cursing.

*I'm in Texas and the sports fans down here love the foolishness - also known as college football. Currently everyone is debating who should be the national champion. This quote from a Salon article sums up the arguments nicely & shows why Tulane should be the National Champion:

"The Green Wave went 2-10 this year, but they made those wins count. One of them was over Louisiana-Monroe, so I think you see my point. No? OK: Tulane beat Louisiana-Monroe, who beat Troy, who beat Middle Tennessee, who beat Maryland, who beat Wake Forest, who beat Mississippi. Aha! Mississippi! What do you mean, so what? Ole Miss beat Florida. But that's not all. The Rebels also beat Texas Tech, who beat Texas, who beat Oklahoma. There's a direct line of losing from both teams in the BCS Championship Game to Tulane. That's what makes Tulane, last seen losing 45-6 to Memphis, your 2008 national champion."

Fortunately we also have lots of time for foolishness. That's why we are here. And really, it is the primary reason you'll join the boycott. I found out about the boycott via Dad's Google Status (gStatus*). I asked for clarification and that's when I received the above story. Then I changed my gStatus to "joining the boycott". Next time you don't feel loved or need a chat buddy - use that gStatus. Lots of people will come a knocking.

*Do you have a Gmail account? IF Answer=YES THEN Goto NextParagraph ELSE Response="What's wrong with you? Are you still pining for Pine? Are you a masochist? Were you not breastfed? Go get a Gmail account now. Yes. Right now. You may proceed reading this post later.";

Pretty soon I found myself explaining the situation to all my gBuddies. And then all their gStatus started changing to "Chick-Fil-A ruins lives" & "Done. No Chick-Fil-A for me" & "Down with Traffic and Down with Chick-Fil-A". It was turning into a movement. And now we are here - you are currently* boycotting Chick-Fil-A.

*Unless you are reading this on your iPhone or Crackberry inside of a Chick-Fil-A. In that case walk straight up to the counter, gather everyone attention, and sing** "Please don't block my car with coupons. I don't want your chicken today." And then march straight on out. (Steal/borrow the melody from Harry Chapin's "30,000 Pounds of Bananas" - "Yes, we have no bananas. We have no bananas today."

**Boycott movements pretty much mandate singing. It's pretty much been that way ever since Alice's Restaurant.

Now you might be thinking, "but I like Chick-Fil-A". Too bad. I mean I'm not mandating you join the movement, but you really have little choice. It is too silly to argue with. Are you really prepared to miss out on this foolish of an opportunity this close to the New Year*? I would hope not.

*Tennis BADLY needs a new PR firm. Or maybe any PR firm. Let me explain: people have been recapping the year in sports and are pretty much in agreement that the 8 gold medal Phelps performance takes the cake. I say hogwash. The best moment of the year; the best whole day of the year, was the entire day** Nadal & Federer crushed tennis balls on the lawn at Wimbledon. The greatest tennis match of all time.

**It really did go on all day. And I was sad when it ended. I remember talking to my sister, who also watched the match, and she asked, "Now what I am supposed to do?" We had watched the same match for a whole day.

The reason this match stands out as the best moment of the year (and one of the best I have ever seen) is the incredibly high level of play both players exhibited in the match. Someone is always going to win the trophy, the medal, the championship, 'that ring' at the end of your event. But it is a rare treat to see two people play better than maybe anyone ever has - in the same match. That was this year's Wimbledon final. I still get happy every time I think about it.

Maybe I'm wrong about the 8 gold thing - that was pretty impressive & I was glued to the TV. I'll give you that. (Nope: I'm sticking with the Wimbledon Final.) But can you drop the rest of the so-called candidates**? We are talking about quite possibly (it is) the greatest tennis match ever played. Not this year. Ever.

**If you are not going to talk about tennis (and you should), can I at least stop hearing about: The Helmet Catch. In last year's Super Bowl a wide receiver (David Tyree) saves his team's hopes by catching a last-minute pass with one hand and his helmet. It was cool. It was impressive. The very next play the same receiver drops a very catchable pass. He tried his best - but the truth is that he's not that good. That was fortunate for the Giants, because if he had caught that next pass, time would have expired and the Patriots would have won. The helmet catch was fun. It was also very lucky. Luckier still that he can't actually catch with two hands.

The opinion that it is the greatest match ever played is not just mine - the tennis media (if there actually is such a thing) is in pretty much agreement over it. But there is nary a peep in the 2008 year-end articles. The greatest match ever and sports writers have largely forgotten about it? You have forgotten/never knew about it? Try getting the word out a little Tennis. Just a little.

Enjoy the foolishness. Enjoy the boycott. I bet Rafael & Roger don't eat Chick-Fil-A. And I bet Giants* wide receivers do.

*May the Eagles give you a right stomping this coming Sunday.

Worst Day of My Life

Have I reminded you lately that the Phillies won the 2008 World Series? They really did. And even better than just winning a World Series - they won one that is going to be talked about a lot. It included a game with a 50 hour rain delay. ESPN will be showing video of the rain soaked Cole & Company for the rest of my life. I'm still giddy.

The Phils winning the Series was fantastic. Not the greatest day ever, but fantastic nonetheless. I actually do not have an answer for the favorite day of my life. I encourage the Song of the Summer's most faithful players to enter suggestions. However, I do have an answer to what was the worst day of my life. Or more correctly, the worst day of my life that makes for a good & funny story.

I was in my junior year at the University of Delaware. For months, one of my roommates had been pestering me about going skydiving with him. I was in. I was young; given my youth, you may correctly infer that I was an idiot. I knew other idiots. We went off for a great time. Reddog, K-Pan, Coffee (the experienced one), and I headed towards Lancaster, PA to jump out of an airplane.

We were not interested in a tandem jump. NO. We wanted to take our first step towards obtaining our skydiving license*. We took a class. We signed waivers. We were put into a Cessna with all its seats (except the pilot's) ripped out. We were brave. The testosterone flowed. The jumpmaster opened the door. I was coaxed out the door and soon found myself using the strut of the aircraft as a pull up bar at 3000 feet. The bravery was long gone.

*I'm still on step one.

I know what you are thinking, but I was supposed to be hanging from that strut. It was part of the plan. We were all doing a static line jump where my only responsibility was to depart the aircraft. The static line attached to me would handle pulling out the parachute. The jumpmaster gave me the thumbs up which meant I was to let go of the strut. I too showed him a finger, but in my zeal this caused me to start my free fall.

The chute opened just fine. This is not that kind of story. What didn't work so well, was the steering. We had all been instructed that we were not conditioned to steer in 3-Dimensions*. I understood and respected this advice and was fully prepared to follow all the instructions that were to come out of the one-way radio strapped to my chest.

*That car you drive doesn't reallly change it's vertical state - I hope.

At first this informational system worked great. Using the groud based instructions, I found a nice line to the airfield and settled in for a relaxing float towards Earth. Around 500 feet I thought I had a problem:

I think I'm headed directly for a parked plane!

No instructions came from the radio man & we had been warned that our brains would trick us. "Do what the guy on the other end of that radio says." So I did nothing. At about 100 feet off the ground I fully re-entered my vector computational comfort zone & I was headed directly for that parked plane. My momentary glee over knowing I am capable of personal 3-D spacial relations was highly tempered by my fear of that large, immovable bundle of aluminum & steel.

Still no communications from that one-way radio. I couldn't wait any longer. I decided not to hit that plane, so I turned right. You pick up speed when you turn while under canopy. So now I'm going faster & I was about to reacquaint myself with the Earth's crust. And so I did.

My feet come immediately out from under me and my bum slammed down hard onto a taxi-way. I slide across that taxi-way and another 40 feet on the infield grass. I wanted to get up. I was happy that my legs worked just fine, which was important because I was hopping mad. Coffee does a great job of keeping me away from the delinquent radio man. And after about an hour the adrenaline started to wear off. I know how long it took, because that's when the pain set in.

I had broken my ass. My coccyx bone. And now I couldn't step forward three inches without shooting pain. Fortunately we had a nice bumpy, back road, 1.5 hour drive to campus. It hurt. I hurt. I bought an 8lb bag of ice and settled down on chair. In about 3 hours and 27 minutes, I would feel even worse.

That is when Joe Carter hit a three-run tater off Mitch Williams to defeat the Phillies in the 1993 World Series. Me. A broken ass. And a World Series defeat. Saturday, October 23, 1993 is a day I'll never forget. And probably the one day I have been asked to retell more than any other.

I didn't break my ass in October of 2008. Phils: when you make it back again, I promise not to jump out of any planes. That formula is working better for us.

Boondoggles in the Age of Mercantilism

I'm in New Orleans (actually Belle Chase, LA). On Friday I'll be flying to Delaware*. Given the quantity of good food, live music, and the magic that is Delaware in December; you might think that I'm on a boondoggle. Why would you say that?

*Of course I'm not flying directly to DE. I'll be touching down in Baltimore and making my way north via I-95. Could someone please make the New Castle County Airport a commercially viable airport? That's all** I want for Christmas.

**I actually want quite a bit more. Like everyone else I lied a little when I made the grandiose statement.

You said it, because people love to say Boondoggle. Please take a minute to say it out loud. Did you say it more than once? Of course you did. It must be one of ten most satisfying words/phrases* to say out loud. Do you know what a boondoggle is? I've never bothered to look up a definition of the word in a proper reference compendium. My connotation is that a boondoggle is when someone takes a business trip for primarily personal reasons.

*I don't have a top ten list put together, but when I do I guarantee that Mercantilistic Idealisms will be on that list. Why? I'm so happy that you asked.

Mercantilistic Idealisms: One of my favorite high school compatriots, Stan Brunson, used this as his stock answer to any geopolitical question that might come up in Economics, Political Science, World Studies, and sometime even Physics. I think Stan enjoyed the confused look on our Physics teacher's face when he'd answer a question about free body diagrams with "Mercantilistic Idealisms".

Mind you, I don't think this answer was ever correct - even when were studying mercantilism during Political Science class. The key to the entire answer wasn't to get it right - it was generally to lighten the mood and get a laugh. If Stan was answering Mercantilistic Idealisms, then the chances were good that no one knew the answer. It was straight deflection & a bit more polite and engaging than "We don't know already; can we move the class along?"

If you want to try this at home, the delivery is also highly important. The first thing you need to be is 6'7". The second step is to lean back in your combo desk/seat with your hands behind your head and your feet halfway across the aisle. The third step is confidently answer "Mercantilistic Idealisms" and grin like you might have just said the most important thing of the decade.

By the way, I think I made up the part about Physics class. But I want to believe (it really isn't inconceivable) that he may have used this answer in Physics class. Stan may have also only used this answer about five times in four years of high school and I may have been the only other one that found it funny. But I still do.

It is my contention that the number of boondoggles actually taken are at least a factor of ten less than the number of times you hear the accusation of a boondoggle. (Remember this post is about boondoggles.*) I don't have sound math behind that number, but I know people love to accuse others of being on boondoggles. I think it is primarily because people really like to say the word.

*That sentence made me think about Arlo Guthrie's 'Alice's Restaurant' and now I'd just like to take a second to wish you a belated Happy Thanksgiving. I hope you had a meal & then a second meal that just couldn't be beat.

However, I don't want you to stop. I like saying boondoggle as much as next guy. Go ahead - accuse me of being on a boondoggle all you want. Just don't be surprised when I answer your question about the purpose of my trip with: Mercantilistic Idealisms.

Five Rules Worth Adopting Immediately

By now you may have read that the Congressman from Georgia's 10th District, Paul Broun, has compared Barack Obama to Adolf Hitler:

"We can't be lulled into complacency. You have to remember that Adolf Hitler was elected in a democratic Germany. I'm not comparing him (Obama) to Adolf Hitler. What I'm saying is there is the potential of going down that road."

If you have missed this item, you may find editorials about it here and here. The Congressman has evidently apologized. Good for him; but I am here to suggest we all immediately adopt the five following rules (stolen from this Joe Posnanski's blog):

Rule 1: It is never a good idea to invoke the name of Hitler to make any unrelated point.
Rule 2: However, if you plan to bring up Hitler in historical context, see Rule 1.
Rule 3: In certain rare cases, when you are interested in using Hitler to prove a larger truth, see Rule 1.
Rule 4: The one exception to this is … See Rule 1.
Rule 5: Yeah. Rule 1. Always.

Joe Posnanski was writing about a quote from college football analyst Lou Holtz. It was a pretty stupid quote.

But here is the thing: you always look pretty stupid when you are use Hitler in any kind of comparison - unless you are comparing genocidal despots. If you cannot get your point across that idea/person "X" is bad/evil/sucks, then punt. Or set your head on fire. Or something else less dramatic than saying "he's/its like Hitler".

And Congress Broun, when you apologized for your comments why did you have to say, "I apologize to anyone who has taken offense at that." Anyone? That would be basically everyone on the planet; some will certainly have cause to be offended more than others - but really, you caught everyone with that zinger. Please see Rules 1 through 5 and apply immediately.

Stephen: You're Still Waiting

On Sunday morning Ed* & I take a quick trip down to Einstein Brother's to grab breakfast sandwiches. It wasn't Einstein's greatest moment in efficiency. It was an absolute chaotic mess.

*Mike's neighbor in Houston, Texas

We wind up waiting for 20 minutes to get our sandwiches. Making matters more interesting, there was also the challenge of entertaining Ed's 2yr old* son for this duration.

*Like every other 2yr old on the planet Ed's son knows three emotions: complete happines; complete meltdown tantrum; and the transitional space between these two dichotomies. And like all 2yr olds he only occupies that transitional space for 1.7 minutes at a time.

These certainties lead to fantastic entertainment possibilities, provided you are not the parent responsible. When the 2yr old is completely happy chances are he is doing something hilarious. That something hilarious is almost guaranteed to include behavior you have to curb as a parent. That curbing induces the 1.7-minute walk to complete meltdown tantrum. Again that's hilarious, provided you are not the parent.

We are not the only ones waiting for their food, naturally. The Einstein's staff was in utter disarray. They are shouting out orders and asking if anyone is waiting for a bagel. Why yes we all are. And they busily get back to work.

Establishments like this tend to always have an employee that is exerting an incredible about amount of energy, but seemingly isn't really helping the greater cause. Fortunately there was one such employee working today and I was having a blast watching her work. She'd run the length of the counter 3 times while making a sandwich and when it was made - it would sit there for at least 5 minutes*. She ran off elsewhere.

*I'm certain there is an uneaten bagel with lox and cream cheese waiting on that counter right now.

Occasionally she manages to actually fill the requirements of an order and then your name is shouted an impressive decibel level. "MIKE!" But currently she is continuing her intensely caloric activities when she yells:

"STEPHEN!!!"

Stephen is on his cell phone. He was on the phone when he ordered. He's still on the phone while he waits. He informs the other end of the conversation he needs a second: "Yes."

"You're Still Waiting!"

Huh? For some reason at the beginning or somewhere in the middle of preparing his food she decided he needed to know that he was still waiting.

"STEPHEN!!! ... ... You're still waiting!"

I lost it. I burst out in full giggle mode. Stephen didn't appreciate it very much: the statement of the obvious or my laughing. The customer to the left of me thought it was equally hilarious, but she had much more restraint & decorum than I. Turns out that Ed's son wasn't the only one with etiquette issues. But I was happy like a 2 year old. And I think I still am.

Rain Delay Vindication - Finally

The Phillies had to Win. Karma Demands it. I'm not talking about horrible handling of Game 5 by MLB. The Phillies should have won the World Series last year. At the very least, they deserved to destroy the Colorado Rockies in the playoffs. They didn't. Karma must have been taking a vacation.

Last season, the 2007 MLB season, the Phillies were playing the Rockies in Colorado. A storm sweeps into Denver that forces a rain delay. It happens. But the storm carried some impressive winds. Winds that were strong enough to whip some things around. So if you were carrying a sail - like say a tarp to cover the infield - you might find yourself no longer attached to the Earth.

Watch this video. Watch it again. It'll make you feel happy about sports. Happy about the Phillies having just won the World Series. Happy that these multi-millionaire athletes jumped right out of the dugout to help out the Colorado ground crew. The Colorado ground crew. Where were the Rockies? I don't know. The Karma Gods of Baseball (KGB) should have granted the Phils the World Series last year.

The KGB got it right this year. And they were good enough to remind you why you should love this team. Why you maybe should love baseball. Why the Flyin' Hawaiian shouldn't never be booed. The Fightin's are not even afraid of Mother Nature.

80 - 08. Way to go Phillies. . . Way to go Phillies!!!!!!!!!!!!

Think Blue; You're Not Fooling Anyone

Have you been reading about how you should unplug everything you own - presumably when you are not using it - so you will not waste electricity? Some of it makes a lot of sense: turn off your computer; turn off lights in rooms you are not in; unplug the TV when not in use. I can get behind all of that. But why do I need to unplug my cell phone charger? I hear this one mentioned all the time. But where is the electrical potential that is going to waste electricity? I don't get it. But I do it anyhow.

I don't want to talk about any of that though. I come to you with a new plan to promote being green* and stop wasteful electricity usage: Stop trying to fool me that you are still at work. You probably work with a guy that leaves everyday about 10-30 minutes early all the time. The offender will invariably leave the lights on & computer screen on with an open Excel spreadsheet. It's always a spreadsheet. It all is meant to make it look like he might just have stepped out to use the bathroom. Well, you're not fooling anyone, so could you please turn off the lights and PC and save a kWh or two?

*Why do we call it green? I've never questioned this before, but really there is a heck of lot more blue that we are worried about: the oceans, the sky, those guys that make odd music out of PVC instruments. Plus, the Berkeley hippies already have green. We could start a new movement to be blue and then anyone those that doesn't want to be associated with Berkeley (think Code Pink) can just call themselves blue. Plus if you care to be snotty you could now say, "Well I'm blue, because I care about more of the planet than you do."

Last week I went to go visit a client. Evidently, he likes to get into work late. Who doesn't? I didn't mind at all waiting in his office for five minutes before the start of our meeting. But I didn't know he wasn't there yet. There were three, yup three, monitors actively displaying work like substances, the lights in the office were on, and a radio was playing -- country. So I ask the first guy who walks past if my client is in some other part of the plant. "Nah. He's just not here yet. He gets in late, but he stays late too." Good for him. However, if three monitors, lights, and top 40-esque nasty country music cannot fool a coworker, then give up. Turn the lights off. You'll sleep better at night.

Now go tell all your friends.