This just in:  Zab Judah and Busta Rhymes got a in a fist fight (bottom of article).   I don't think either of them owns vinyards, so its hard to figure who won.  My thinking is that vinyards people, at least the old-school type, can handle their business. As evidence I offer the Godfather, and this smack down by  Victor David Hanson.  (The link is about the war. Skip it if bores you, but do read the last paragraph of this post)

In another war  article Lowery offers a succinct rebuttle of the "Chicken Hawk" argument. (The 'Chicken Hawk'  attack is the one that goes "how dare you support the war without fighting in it yourself).

Its logic, if taken seriously, actually would boost the hawks. If only members of the military — who are overwhelmingly conservative — were considered competent to decide the nation’s posture on matters of war and peace, we would have an even more forward-leaning foreign policy. I’m comfortable letting the 82nd Airborne decide what we do about anti-American rogue states. Are opponents of the war? I’m guessing that even if you let only mothers of fallen soldiers in Iraq direct our Iraq policy, the result would be stay-the-course rather than the immediate pullout favored by Sheehan.

Well thats a lot of politics this week.     Maybe I should end with something we can all agree on: Breasts Rule!

Wait, that came out wrong. What I meant to say was Breast Cancer Sucks.     So everyone go do something about it!   If you can't think of anything, follow this link to help my cousin raise money for the cause.   I know a lot of Ginas, but of all of the Ginas I know, she is the most closely related.

 

 

 

The latest of  Nordlinger's Impromptus proves that Couth is a word.   And here Alex and I thought we made it up standing in the line for Ghost Bar: "Just got Couth, Don't got Thumbs!".     I don't remember the context though. Probably Alex was making fun of someone's outfit. 

Okay, sports fans, we're going to close with some milkshakes. I know we did milkshakes last summer, pretty thoroughly. But we're doing just a smidge more — and no more.

A reader says,

Jay,

I was intrigued by your milkshake story, and wondered if you knew how to properly order "the spillover in the silver canister," as you put it. [The reader is referring to Monday's Impromptus, here.] Next time you order a homemade milkshake, ask for the "dividend," in addition to your order. That is the proper term for the spillover. Now they know you have couth, and they don't toss the "spillage," as they normally would.

Glad to have the tip. Couth! Me!

 

Hey! I just followed the link in that Nordlinger graft and found this

More nuttiness from Britain? I'll simply quote from the Daily Telegraph:

The word "fail" as a verdict on children's exams and other school work should be abolished and replaced with the term "deferred success," a teaching union official is proposing. Liz Beattie . . . believes that some children find "failure very hard to cope with" and that it can lead them to becoming depressed.

Call it "deferred success" if you want, but . . .

And what is the most famous American use of the word "deferred"? In the Langston Hughes poem, quite right.

 

I know that poem: "What happens to a dream deferred",  but the real reason I post this is because he used the word "Nuttiness".     Its catching on!

Steyn commented on this  "Deferred Success" in this article.

After the Ohio vote, Dem pollster Stan Greenberg declared that "one of the biggest doubts about Democrats is that they don't stand for anything." That might have passed muster two years ago. Alas, the party's real problem is that increasingly there's no doubt whatsoever about it.

.....

Fortunately, the Dems have found a new line of attack to counter the evil election-stealing moron. A few days ago, the Democratic National Committee put out a press release attacking Bush for being physically fit. It seems his physical fitness comes at the expense of the nation's lardbutt youth. Or as the DNC put it:

"While President Bush has made physical fitness a personal priority, his cuts to education funding have forced schools to roll back physical education classes and his administration's efforts to undermine Title IX sports programs have threatened thousands of women's college sports programs."

Wow. I noticed my gal had put on a few pounds but I had no idea it was Bush's fault. That sonofabitch chicken hawk. Just for the record, "his cuts to education funding" are cuts only in the sense that Hackett's performance in the Ohio election was a tremendous victory: that's to say, Bush's "cuts to education funding" are in fact an increase of roughly 50 percent in federal education funding.

Some of us wish he had cut education funding. By any rational measure, a good third of public school expenditures are completely wasted. But instead it's skyrocketed. And the idea that Bush is heartlessly pursuing an elite leisure activity denied to millions of American schoolchildren takes a bit of swallowing given that his preferred fitness activity is running. "Running" requires two things: you and ground. Short of buying every schoolkid some John Kerry thousand-dollar electric-yellow buttock-hugging lycra singlet, it's hard to see what there is about "running" that requires increasing federal funding.

 

Interesting weekend.   

 

The manager at Fitness Resource in the Bel Aire shopping center lit up when I asked for a  Kettlebell.  He sent me to Coffee's Gym.  The name, "Coffee's Gym", is perfect.  It costs 5 Dollars a day and the 25 pound weights look just like the 45 pounders.    This is a nice feature when gym-rat Naomi is Cleaning more than you're squatting.    

 

Thursday night Dad cooked Tilapia ("tilapia, Nature’s do-anything fish"-- Lileks). Afterwards I went out for a quick drink with Dave and Kelly and ended up at a Kings of Leon Concert.  I was expecting them to be brash, and more cocksure.   Still, its hard to judge seeing the show from the way-back, stone sober, with another dude. I like them though, and then we headed over to Charlie and Barney’s. Yes, the boycott is over. They finally capitulated and brought back the Pizza!  Still good stuff, but something wasn't right.   Maybe the recipe doesn't translate to the 10'' pie format, maybe it don't sit so good in the new gussied up decor. (The place isn't even Called Charlie And Barney’s anymore)

Fachini, if you're reading this,   Lou says hi.  She wants to know if you go that sweet job at the Patent Office.

 

Friday  I took a tour of the Met and the WGN tower.   Don't ask. 

 

Made it back to town in time for dinner at One.Midtown.Kitchen, which  has elevated its game. Try the Squash Blossoms.  Best restaurant in the city I think, P4p.  Went dancing at MJQ, best dancing in the country, even on the Hip-Hop nights that everyone frets about (No shootings!).  Hit the Vortex to sober up for the long drive back to the burbs.

 

Saturday I did my first Crossfit program.  5 rounds of 30 Pull-ups and 21 Medical Ball shots for time. My time was under an hour. Woo-hoo!

 

Saturday night Brad and I had dinner at Two.Urban.Licks.   I have allways liked their food, though they could use a few lighter dishes.  Their wine delivery system is second to none: Its all stored in the wall-o-kegs and delivered in the very glasses I tried to describe in one of my Spice WhiskeyTown Rants (Probably the one where Brad cleverly invited a girl he was trying to get rid of. Nothing scares them off like two guys arguing over proper Ice-Cube size for mythical bar).

 

Brad and I then drove over the Lauren's to hear her new stereo system.  It was a good time all the way around until we blew out LeftFront listening to God's Shoeshine (now LeftRear, Sorry Nick, I owe you an Orange Julious) and Brad spilt some wine (and then mismanaged the clean-up operation).    We had to bid a hasty retreat.  Brad made a run for it while I brought the car around. Then he dove headfirst through the passenger window as I passed him running down Peachtree street.  It would have looked better in the Camero but I couldn't get her started all weekend.  Wicked Bummer. 

 

I tried everything:  Rolling it into the sun, washing it.....

 Pushing it back into the garage was a good deal harder than pushing it out, btw.  Had to go rinse off in Rich's pool afterwards, for an hour or two while I waited for the tow-truck.

 

I was going to call it a night after the wine incident, but we made a pit stop at Northside Tavern. I might have to dust off the the "best dive-bar" trophy (the title has been vacant since Stein Club Shut down 6 years ago), and give it to the Tavern. At least temporarily untill I can investigate further.      Exposed crumbling concrete walls, parkbench seating, an obstinate jukebox, turbo-dog,  blues bands, and really terriffic dancing!      (Classic definition or Terriffic.   Liberal Definition of Dancing).

 

Had a late breakfast of BBQ Pork and BBQ Beef at One.Star.Ranch before catching a flight back to S.F.      I sat next to an Aerobics instructor who was studing for his Certification Renewal. He asked what kind of program I am on.    I don't know really.   Here are my last two weeks.

 

 

 

Th  Lifting 10 90 Pound Weighted Dips, 10 45 Pound Weighted Pullups

Fr  Ran  A Mile. 6:30

 

M Boot Camp             First day back, Sucked it up around the 30th  Burpee. Note T self:  hamstring Mark.

 

Tu Running Camp          Russian Hill Steps,  bay-to-pacific up Hyde. Cranked out 22 pullups when I got back.

 

W BootCamp              Obstacle Course, Paired with Margo.

 

Th Rest

Fri  Rest

 

Sat:                              45 minutes of Double Unders

 

Sun                              Hour of Ultimate, Hour of Soccer, Hour of Basketball

Mon BootCamp           Still behind on Burpees, Shoulders killing me after the 60th Shoulder Pushup (Basketball?).

Tu   Running Camp       Lyon Street Steps. Mile there, 6 times up, Mile Back.  NTS: Sprinting is easier than jogging.  And it looks cooler.

W rest (Flight)

 

Th:                               Hang Clean, Push Press, Back Squat, Overhead squat.  At Coffee's.  Schooled by Naomi. Spiking her protien drink  next time.

F                                  Camero Push , Diveboard Muscle Ups

Sa CROSSFIT            30 Pullups, 21 Medicine Ball Shots.  Five Times. 

Su                                Hang Clean, Push Press, Front Squat at home.

 

M.   Rest

Tu    Run Mile,  Time Trial 1.5  miles (5:55 first mile) , 2 Minutes of pushups (86), run Mile

 

 

 

Don't know what you call that. He said that he does some shoulder work in his pilates classes.  I put the headphones back on and listened to Bright Eyes's "I'm Wide Awake....."

What a great Album.  I feel foolish for harboring a prejudice against the guy. 

 

Sunday night dinner at Oola.  Had Mac'n'cheese, figs, and chicken.  Mac'n'Cheese is the Brown Eyed Girl of the food world.

 

There, I said it.    To understand the depth (shallowness) of that observation is to understand the Slowdown.

 

Last Sunday the soccer crowd was astonished that I missed the Champions League Final.   As I understand it,  it was the greatest match since Castillo-Corrales, which is precisely the problem: I realized that the rise of Boxing as one of my favorite sports has messed up my equilibrium.  I hardly paid any attention to soccer, or Hockey.  But TMQ, which is back btw,  reminds me  that

 In April, the Associated Press headlined a story about a meeting of National Hockey League officials, GENERAL MANAGERS DISCUSS WAYS TO INCREASE NHL SCORING. Here's a suggestion to increase scoring -- hold games! The NHL had just completed an entire season without a single goal scored, which is really more defense than fans care to see.

But the strange news is that I nearly made it through the Offseason without peaking at the preseason activity.   Yes, the capital 'O' in offseason was intentional, I am referring to Football Season.

Look, I don't want to resort to hyperbole- and in truth it should be easily avoidable since at the moment I  feel only an underlying anxiety-filled sort or anticipation-   but Football Season, whether you fancy Pro or College, is big news.    You know the joke: I don't throw the word "Bibilical' around lightly but...

My Broncos are likely to stay mired in the swamp of slightly-above-average.  Which happens to be directly under the boot of Peyton Manning. 

But the Bulldogs may surprise everybody.  I can't help but think Shockley is set to pop.     ('Set to Pop' is an insidious little phrase I picked up from John Cusack in Say Anything. I think.)  

 Either way, I can't wait. Athens in the fall.  The Bulldog receivers catching lightning (And dropping most everything else).  Champ Bailey Swarming around trying to redeem himself.  TMQ. The Bronco Linebacker Corp cracking skulls. Lenny Walls rising to the top eschelon of Corners.  Tailgating with the Camero.  The Roadhouse, for Pete's Sake, THE ROADHOUSE!

Maybe I'm not the best guy to get ya'll excited.  Dave, you got anything to say?

 

 

 

 

Lileks is Fencing about Coffee Makers.    Blue Bottle convinced me to do it their way, which is really quite simple. Here, let me post it.

* For each 8 oz of water use three to five level tablespoons of coffee.
* Put double the amount of good quality water than you intend to drink in a kettle or other vessel that is used only for heating water.
* While water is heating, grind the coffee. The grind should be soft but still a little gritty, fine enough that it forms into a clump when pressed between thumb and forefinger. Almost an espresso grind. One of the most common preparation errors in making filter drip is that the grind is too coarse.
* Bring water to the boil.
* Place the kettle on the counter for 45 seconds or so (or, better yet, until an instant-read thermometer reads 198 degrees). Alternatively, pouring boiling water into a glass measuring cup cools the water to nearly the ideal temperature, and allows you to use exactly the amount of water necessary.
* If you use Chemex filters omit this step. If you do not use Chemex filters, pour water through the empty filter into the cup to get rid of as much papery taste as possible and to warm up the filter and cup.
* When water has drained from the empty filter, empty the hot water from your cup, add ground coffee, and pour several tablespoons of water over the grounds. Let the grounds expand for a few seconds, then pour the rest of the coffee in a thin stream over the grounds. While you are pouring, gently but steadily stir the grounds as the water runs through the filter. Stir Stir Stir. This is why a four dollar plastic filter cone will beat a $150 auto drip machine every time. By stirring, you are extracting every speck of goodness from your coffee.  
* When the coffee has drained from the filter, stir. Serve entire contents immediately. Do not let it sit. Do not reheat. Drink your coffee. Now.

If you are making coffee for two, triple the amount of water, so you can heat the cups plus whatever serving vessel is being used. This can be as simple as a mason jar, or a glass carafe, but it should only be used for coffee or hot water. We recommend a porcelain filter holder instead of a plastic one owing to its properties of greater heat retention. Chemex filters are thicker yet somehow less papery-tasting and are our recommendation for the best possible cup, owing to their longer extraction time.

And I can't not do it that way! Even if I can't taste the difference, I would know its there.  Plus, I love the stirring part. My old Coffee maker sits abandonned. She was a good one though: The steal-a-cup feature never leaked, the Caraffe never dribbled.

 

The folks over at 3QuarksDaily went back to an april Article on Bush's iPod contents so they could juxtapose it with the playlist of a Clinton CD coming out.    Their implications are obvious:

Songs found on Bush's iPod (according to the BBC):

John Fogerty: Centerfield

Van Morrison: Brown-Eyed Girl

Stevie Ray Vaughan: The House is Rockin'

The Knack: My Sharona

Blackie and the Rodeo Kings: Swinging from the Chains of Love

Songs from the new "Bill Clinton Collection: Songs from the Clinton Music Room," the first in a series of CDs (again from the BBC):

My One and Only Love - John Coltrane

Harlem Nocturne - David Sandborn

My Funny Valentine - Miles Davis

The Town I Loved So Well - Phil Coulter

Summertime - Zoot Sims

Chelsea Morning - Judy Collins

I know this is like comparing apples in oranges but still, the inference is unavoidable: Clinton is a poser.    

Bush uses his iPod while Mountain Biking,  a sport he picked up as an alternative to the knee-busting running he loves. One of the big contrasts between  him and Kerry was then Bush would ride his mountain bike balls-out and invariably end up doing  a faceplanting in the  texas scrub brush.  He's pop back up grinning and let the photographers take pictures of his bloody face.    Kerry, on the other hand, would dandy around in his lyrca speed suit and then blame his falls on the photographers. Dork.

Bush's Brown Eyed Girl does raise an interesting hypothtical:  If you're at a Party AT THE WHITE HOUSE, and that Song comes on, do you have to leave?     I think you do.   Politely though:  You can't pitch your guiness into the trashcan across the room and do the Walter-hands-to-bridge-of-nose-headshake-of-disdain as you walk out, like normal. 

Oh well,  it will probably never happen.

 

 

 

 

 Saturday day, I jumped rope for 45 minutes trying to master Double Unders.   Over the years I had picked up the habit of alternating: Single, Double, Single Double.  After 20 minutes I had worked it out. That’s enough rope talk.

 

Saturday evening I shot out of my hovel like a Aardvark, butt first and head low, but this time I turned east instead of west,   dropping into North Beach.    

 

No one told me that Impala took the old Black Cat and Blue Bar space.   No one told me that the waitresses at Impala dressed like Doc Holliday’s wife, either.    Well, the Sacred Heart meets old-Mexico-brothel design works when you’re sitting at the bar, and the enchiladas verde were tasty too.  There was even football on above the bottle-capped tequila-Alter .     Impressed, I  walked downstairs and was not disappointed. I miss the Blue Bar, and Impala seems a bit forced, but it could all be worse. Take Jitney’s for instance.

 

 On the way back I stopped into Sip for one.  They had Sex in the City on: the one where she falls on the cat walk.    It’s a classic.   I was asleep by 12. (The jump rope talk was more exciting, I know)

 

Sunday I played an hour of Frisbee, an hour of Soccer, and an hour of Basket Ball. The basketball victory was most sweet (3 way 21 by ones, over a short asian, and a black tennis player).   My shoulders are in a perpetual clinch right now, dunno why.   Got beamed  in the eyebrow by the Frisbee.  Let this be the historical record, cause if it goes black I’m telling people it’s a boxing accident.   

 

Just now, I googled “The Kid”, as I am wont to do after I play Ultimate.  I found the micky mouse picture of him. 

 

And these Hippo Pictures!

I don't know who this Isaac is, except to say that he is a very lucky man.   The beautiful  Mrs. Phoenix  is engaged to him.  ‘Beautiful and incredibly smart’, I would have said, but apparently she fell for the 'look how good of a roommate I am, we should get married' bit.    Who is he? Can I google him? I know some girls who can tie him up and interrogate him for us.  

 

Well he must be incredibly sexy and have great taste. Caring, original, funny, sophisticated, and great speller too I bet.  Unless this is one of those opposites attract things, cause she is all of those things and more.

 

To use the parlance of our times: I love her show.  

 

Congratulations Phoenix, we wish you both the best.

 

love

Sean