Question for the Day

I was listening to an appropriately geeky podcast on the way to work this morning, and the hosts were talking about a certain Russian website that sells very cheap MP3's. I'm not going to link to it or anything, but there are rumors that this particular website's existence is throwing up a significant roadblock to Russia's inclusion in the World Trade Organization. But that's really beside the point. What is the point is that one of the hosts was taking a look at the site in question and said, "They're featuring a fairly prominent picture of Meatloaf right now."

And I couldn't help but wonder: is it really possible to feature any type of picture of Meatloaf other than a prominent one?

Brain Power

No joking here, the brain is an incredible piece of equipment. Or organ. Whatever, it's a damned impressive thing, what with the way it recruits cells to do things that were broken via a stroke or traumatic brain injury or disease, or just the way it manages to keep us breathing and circulating blood all the time. Dilbert creator Scott Adams has his own example of just how impressive the brain can be. Check it out.

At the end, he asks people to comment with the happiest moments of their lives, which is very nice in a warm fuzzy sort of way. Interestingly, I have no idea what the happiest moment of my life is. That's not because my life is lacking in happiness. Far from it. It's just that I find I'm not good at picking out superlatives. It's hard to pick one "best" out of thousands of happy moments. Heck, I have a hard time calling to mind the moments that would even make the final cut. It's like my brain is giving me a busy signal when I try. But I'm thinking there are worse things one can spend his brain power on. So I'm going to think about that some this weekend. You have a good weekend, too.

An Unexpected Gem

For those of you who don't know it, Matt Leinart's wife gave birth to a baby this week. I'm sure they're thrilled to receive my congratulations, along with the many gifts I thought of sending them since it's really the thought that counts. That's all just great.

But what's really good is the marvelous line at the bottom of this post:

Interestingly enough, within three seconds of Cole Leinart's birth, he was
sacked.

Simply marvelous!

Reading Theories

For those of you who don't already know it, I have long been a fan of theories that are mostly outrageous but still just plausible enough to make you, in the words of C & C Music Factory, "go hmm." Some of my favorites to posit involve celebrities and their dealings with a certain indefatigable Prince of Darkness. For instance, during an otherwise happy weekend in the summer of '99, in the sleepy (OK, "sleepy" might not be right ... how about "drunk?") Delaware town of Dewey Beach, a sad event coupled with many beers prompted me to decide that such a deal had been made. However, the deal was not between John-John and Lucifer, but between Satan and the victim's uncle. Really, that's the only thing I can think of that allowed him to survive the Kennedy Curse that so many relatives fell victim to. Plus, he managed to escape a plane crash himself, not to mention that curious bridge thingy. A deal with the devil would sort of fit the bill, no?

But that's not the point right now. The point I want to make is that if you haven't been checking out We Are The Postmen, you ought to. At least, you should if you like sports and often humorous writing. Not only do they often make me laugh, but they also have the good sense to know that college hoops is the ultimate in Sports Goodness. Plus, they're not afraid of a good deal-with-the-devil theory, either. (Incidentally, I LOVE that theory.) It's nice to know that there are clever people out there who can piece together random bits of information to come up with smart conclusions. On top of all that, at least two of them know who one ought to be rooting for come college hoops time.

So give them some love and enjoy.

No More Fun of Any Kind!

I've thought for a while that our young country is too litigious. People are all the time suing companies to compensate for the fact that they (the people) are clumsy (woman spills scalding coffee on lap, sues McDonalds) or short-sighted (people smoke lots of cigarettes because they like them, get cancer, sue Big Tobacco). But that's not the end of it. All those lawsuits make people overly afraid of being sued and they end up making ridiculous policy decisions as a result. Most of them make me shake my head in sadness. Some of them make me laugh out loud.

For example, apparently some descendant of Dean Wormer ("No more fun of any kind!") is in charge of a school in Massachusetts, which has decided to ban the game of Tag, in fear that kids might get hurt while playing and hold the school liable. (I'm assuming the kids' parents and their lawyers would be the ones trying to hold the school liable, not the kids, but you never know these days.) It's not just tag, though. Apparently the school has banned "any other unsupervised game."

I can see it now... You kids over there! Step away from the Connect Four! You're not being supervised!

Seriously, tag! Now I haven't played tag in a long time, but from what I can recall, the most dangerous thing it involves is ... running. Sure, in the case of certain world-class types, running can lead to steroid use, but I think that's a risk I'd be willing to take.

I don't really even know what else to say, but I hope someone sues that school when their kids all get fat because they weren't allowed to do anything resembling exercise during recess. That would be some serious karma.

Templatey Stuff

Things are changing here at The Chronicles. Blogger has this new beta action going on, and I decided to try it out. As a result, we have a shiny new template and some other new features that we haven't messed with much yet. But I thought I'd tell you why things seemed a little different here.

Rock Bands and Cauliflower

Buddy and non-somnolent reader FJ sent me this link last week, and I've only now managed to finish reading it. It's an almost absurdly detailed concert rider, or list of requirements and demands, for Iggy Pop and the Stooges when they come to play at the reader's venue. It was written by one of the band's roadies in a manner that seems to be best described as interrupted asides. (Naturally, I identified with the writing style.) That it took so long for me to read the whole thing is probably indicative that it's too long, but it did make me laugh out loud several times. In fact, I love it if for nothing more than what he writes at the bottom of this page:

Cauliflower /broccoli, cut into individual florets and thrown immediately into the garbage. I fucking hate that.

That line was worth reading the whole thing to me. I don't particularly care for that broccoli crap or its albino cousin, either.