Polls out today shows most Americans don't like President, don't like the Tea Party, don't like Republicans or Democrats, and don't like the United States intervening in Libya.
So what do Americans like? Polls unavailable, but I would hazard the following guesses:
* Butler and VCU
* Dancing with the Stars
* Cavaliers beating the Heat
* "Angry Birds"
* Bald eagles
* Coupons and Groupons
* "The Deadliest Catch"
* Baseball (at least the idea of baseball)
* Breakfast buffets
* BBQ wings
* Fishin'
* Cracker Barrel
* Neck pillows
* Naps
* Libraries (at least the idea of libraries)
* Big raindrops
* Firefighters
* Songbirds
* Ground fog
* Waterfalls
* Scenic highways
* Pine needles
* Pie
* ...
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Friday, March 25, 2011
A few things I didn't know, until this week
A hawk will attack a crow, but regret it if the crow's friends arrive.
Draft bills needing five votes can pass out of an Arkansas legislative committee with only four members present.
I qualify for a seniors discount at the grocery store on Tuesdays.
The newly hired head basketball coach at Arkansas won one conference game on the road this year, which was one less than the man he is replacing.
Montgomery Clift was gay -- according to "30 Rock," which these days is as reliable source as any.
How to make brownies (with pecans).
Chevron (pending court appeals) owes the people of Ecuador $18 million for polluting caused by oil spills.
Groupons make it senseless to pay full price at a restaurant.
A U.S. president apparently shouldn't agree to any type of military intervention until he has espoused a "doctrine" of some sort.
How to make corned beef and cabbage.
You can fly from Little Rock to Destin for $19.
"Wagon Train" had a theme song.
iPods are passe´.
You need a carpenter to replace a burnt-out rooftop ventilator.
Draft bills needing five votes can pass out of an Arkansas legislative committee with only four members present.
I qualify for a seniors discount at the grocery store on Tuesdays.
The newly hired head basketball coach at Arkansas won one conference game on the road this year, which was one less than the man he is replacing.
Montgomery Clift was gay -- according to "30 Rock," which these days is as reliable source as any.
How to make brownies (with pecans).
Chevron (pending court appeals) owes the people of Ecuador $18 million for polluting caused by oil spills.
Groupons make it senseless to pay full price at a restaurant.
A U.S. president apparently shouldn't agree to any type of military intervention until he has espoused a "doctrine" of some sort.
How to make corned beef and cabbage.
You can fly from Little Rock to Destin for $19.
"Wagon Train" had a theme song.
iPods are passe´.
You need a carpenter to replace a burnt-out rooftop ventilator.
Monday, March 21, 2011
Rites of Spring
Bracket picks and Fantasy baseball.
Although prone to rail about the lunacy of college sports, as promulgated by the NCAA and trumpeted by ESPN, I still watch. Worse, I still bet. Though not much on either score. After the first two days of the NCAA tournament, I'll check in on a game but rarely stick with it for more than a few minutes. (Unless I'm a captive audience, as was the case Saturday during my Fantasy baseball draft -- seated as I was with the muted HDTV screen at my elbow.) As for the wager: A mere $10. A tenspot royally flushed Sunday with losses by selectees Syracuse and Notre Dame. The latter, my alma mater, I fortunately failed to watch as its senior-laden team made a sadly predictable second-round edit.
Give CBS and its Turner cable partners credit for broadcasting every game in its entirety. The paired play-by-play announcers have done admirable work, despite the occasional toss to their third appendage (some with hideous hairstyles) for superfluous player insights and coach interviews. More difficult to endure were pre-game and halftime commentaries by a five-man, arced-stage crew anchored by an unctuous Greg Gumbel and an abrasive Charles Barkley. After his team's first-round ouster, Rick Pitino joined center arc, however, any pithiness he contributed gave way to the astonishing crow's feet crowning his cheekbones.
What I've seen of the games themselves easily takes "best of show." Stunning highs and jarring lows, as best illustrated by a Pitt-Butler ending that saw the game swing three ways in the final 2.2 seconds. For sheer emotion, I'll go with Kansas State's Jacob Pullen who coolly kept his Wildcats apace with Wisconsin only to miss on one of two free throws that would have sent the game into overtime. Stoic till the end, Pullen collapsed in tears at the buzzer. And, yes, Butler is back -- coached by an apparent teenager.
Fantasy baseball is just that. Living the dream. Ten bucks a pop on each a National League and American League team. As in reality, Fantasy managers look for that mix of speed, power, and pitching. Unlike reality, we enjoy the flexibility of cherry-picking players from different teams to perfect our blend. (Oops, forgot about the Yankees.)
Fantasy leagues are legion, but I'd wager another Hamilton that ours was the only group that started its NL auction draft with a bid for one Jonathan Lucroy, catcher, Milwaukee. The Brewers fan among us stole him for a dime. Lucroy, incidentally, has a broken pinkie. Pain don't hurt you, as the late Sparky Anderson said. Are you listening, Brian Wilson (San Francisco closer, not Beach Boys songwriter)? Mr. Wilson anchors my relief staff. Alas, Sunday's paper brought news of an oblique strain, sidelining the bearded one for as long as a month. Anticipating ill fortune, I had chosen one Sergio Romo, another Giants reliever, near the end of the NL draft. I stole him for a penny.
"It happens every Spring." (Not a bad baseball movie, by the way.)
Although prone to rail about the lunacy of college sports, as promulgated by the NCAA and trumpeted by ESPN, I still watch. Worse, I still bet. Though not much on either score. After the first two days of the NCAA tournament, I'll check in on a game but rarely stick with it for more than a few minutes. (Unless I'm a captive audience, as was the case Saturday during my Fantasy baseball draft -- seated as I was with the muted HDTV screen at my elbow.) As for the wager: A mere $10. A tenspot royally flushed Sunday with losses by selectees Syracuse and Notre Dame. The latter, my alma mater, I fortunately failed to watch as its senior-laden team made a sadly predictable second-round edit.
Give CBS and its Turner cable partners credit for broadcasting every game in its entirety. The paired play-by-play announcers have done admirable work, despite the occasional toss to their third appendage (some with hideous hairstyles) for superfluous player insights and coach interviews. More difficult to endure were pre-game and halftime commentaries by a five-man, arced-stage crew anchored by an unctuous Greg Gumbel and an abrasive Charles Barkley. After his team's first-round ouster, Rick Pitino joined center arc, however, any pithiness he contributed gave way to the astonishing crow's feet crowning his cheekbones.
What I've seen of the games themselves easily takes "best of show." Stunning highs and jarring lows, as best illustrated by a Pitt-Butler ending that saw the game swing three ways in the final 2.2 seconds. For sheer emotion, I'll go with Kansas State's Jacob Pullen who coolly kept his Wildcats apace with Wisconsin only to miss on one of two free throws that would have sent the game into overtime. Stoic till the end, Pullen collapsed in tears at the buzzer. And, yes, Butler is back -- coached by an apparent teenager.
Fantasy baseball is just that. Living the dream. Ten bucks a pop on each a National League and American League team. As in reality, Fantasy managers look for that mix of speed, power, and pitching. Unlike reality, we enjoy the flexibility of cherry-picking players from different teams to perfect our blend. (Oops, forgot about the Yankees.)
Fantasy leagues are legion, but I'd wager another Hamilton that ours was the only group that started its NL auction draft with a bid for one Jonathan Lucroy, catcher, Milwaukee. The Brewers fan among us stole him for a dime. Lucroy, incidentally, has a broken pinkie. Pain don't hurt you, as the late Sparky Anderson said. Are you listening, Brian Wilson (San Francisco closer, not Beach Boys songwriter)? Mr. Wilson anchors my relief staff. Alas, Sunday's paper brought news of an oblique strain, sidelining the bearded one for as long as a month. Anticipating ill fortune, I had chosen one Sergio Romo, another Giants reliever, near the end of the NL draft. I stole him for a penny.
"It happens every Spring." (Not a bad baseball movie, by the way.)
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