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To save the world, or to save the world?

2007-06-10T00:04:00.001-07:00

My friend Joe sent me a link the other day, asking me what I thought about the whole idea of the ‘social gospel.’ The link is a WSJ article by Joseph Loconte of the Ethics and Public Policy Center, discussing the legacy of the ‘founder’ of the social gospel, Walter Rauschenbusch. I encourage you to read it, and thus I will not attempt to recap, other than to say that it is a remarkably precise analysis of the weaknesses of Rauschenbusch’s work. I have great affection for the brothers (Campolo, Wallis, Hauerwas) cited as lauding Rauschenbusch, but I suspect they are more familiar with his legacy than his actual theology.

As Loconte points out, Christianity does not have to be distorted in order to produce works of social justice; indeed, it cannot produce anything if it is eviscerated: “The Christian confession of faith, by itself, offers no guarantee that either individuals or societies will be transformed. But, for believers, not even the smallest steps forward can be taken without it.” This echoes my favorite Dallas Willard quote; in responding to Rodney King’s mid-L.A.-riot plea of “Can’t we just all get along?”, Willard replied, firmly but perhaps wistfully, “No, we can’t… not until we become the kind of people who can get along.” Social change will not occur without personal, spiritual change.

The typical response of the evangelical church today to that last statement, however, makes the lionizing of Rauschenbusch understandable. For while it might be uncomfortable to admit, for most evangelicals, social change is not only secondary, it is unimportant or even the wrong direction. Any time or resources spent on justice, reform, or economic efforts would be better spent on evangelism.

But of course it is not evangelism or social action, it is evangelism and social action; better still, it is evangelism as social action, and social action as evangelism. I am encouraged that this generation of college students seems less tied up with either/or statements, and are willing to embrace the both/and, because the Christian work in this world is clearly to be a both/and.

And of course these are not new concerns; they surfaced even in the time of John Wesley, and he had a stinging reply to questions raised by what Jesus says in Matthew 25:31ff. Wesley was asked by skeptical brethren, "what does it avail to feed or clothe men’s bodies, if they are just dropping into everlasting fire?" Wesley would then respond, "whether they will finally be lost or saved, you are expressly commanded to feed the hungry and clothe the naked. If you can, and do not... then whatever becomes of them, you shall go away into everlasting fire."

Mulligans, Mother's Day, and the Man in the Mirror...

2007-05-26T16:59:00.002-07:00

You Must Think the Sun Shines Out of Your MSG
One of the NYT columnists, William Rhoden, suggested the other day (it’s a PPV story, so I won’t link it) that it would be in the best interests of the NBA for the Knicks to be allowed to ‘write off’ all the ludicrous contracts they’ve provided, so that they can ditch all their stiffs, get under the salary cap (which otherwise won’t happen until 2010), and essentially start over. The argument being, of course, that NY is essential to the NBA’s success, and thus special dispensation is warranted.

One thing about New Yorkers: they’re often so self-absorbed that it’s hard to know when they’re being sarcastic. But I have a solution that doesn’t just reward (and perpetuate) ineptitude; if the Knicks (and the Celtics, and the 76ers, etc.) are so critical to the success of the NBA, why doesn’t the NBA ‘reclaim’ their franchises (buying them back at market value) and put them in the hands of some at-least-semi-competent management? They are franchises, right? If I owned a McDonald’s franchise, and started selling horsemeat quarter pounders, I imagine that McDonald’s would find a way to pull my franchise, for the good of the brand. What these teams have been serving up over the past several years wouldn’t even qualify as horsemeat, although another term comes to mind…

There are drawbacks, of course; the entertainment value of the NBA would certainly drop without the astonishing antics of Isiah Thomas, James Dolan, Danny Ainge, Billy King, the Maloof brothers, Billy Knight, Kevin McHale, whoever is running the Seattle franchise (if anyone), and of course the inimitable Donald Sterling. But that’s too much ineptitude spread across too many teams; I would suggest to David Stern that he designate two franchises as the official league buffoons (my votes are the Knicks and the Celtics, but I’m biased), relocate all of the above-named suspects therein, and tell the rest of the league to start taking this seriously.

When I Look in the Mirror
Have you noticed that, as the chastened GWB moves closer to his father’s more moderate policies and stances, he’s also taken on some of his gestures?

I can’t wait to hear him say ‘prudent.’ But come to think of it, I don’t think that’s a concept he’s familiar with.

And a Belated Closing
Not that there’s no value at all to the NYT; check this out (registration required), in case you missed it on Mother’s Day. God’s pretty smart, you know. Genesis 5:2 says that “He created them male and female. He blessed them and called them humans when he created them.” I just think a male, left to his own devices, would’ve made a different choice… and would have been much the poorer for that choice. Happy (belated) Mother's Day, and be thankful for the choices your mother made.

I Wanna be Frank Miller...

2007-05-19T23:25:00.001-07:00

I've been a comic book fan since I can remember... literally. And even though I've always been able to write a little, I couldn't draw to save my life, and I could never figure out how to write a good comic book story without being able to see it on the page. Add to that, it always seemed like the guys who could write and draw their own comics did the most amazing work; Miller, Howard Chaykin, Dave Sim, Todd McFarlane... So yes, I have serious art envy.

But my new Mac came with this really cool little program called "Comic Life," that can help you make your own comics. So, with no further ado (clicking on the thumbnails will take you to the full pic)...

Maybe just a little dark? hee hee hee...

The Temptation of John

2007-05-04T00:38:00.000-07:00

I do my best thinking in the shower. Write my best sermons, prepare my best lessons, develop my most creative ideas… I’m sure there’s some reason behind this; lots of routine stimulation occupying the conscious mind, allowing the subconscious to seep through, or something like that. Where’s Dr. Phil when you need him?

Thankfully not in my shower. After mentally writing two or three major opuses (opi?) and solving most of the world’s conflicts, all before rinsing and repeating, I stepped out to dry off. I had forgotten to turn on the bathroom vent, and the room was as foggy as the I-5 Grapevine in January.

My eyelid had a twitch in it. I’d had twitches before, and this eyelid had been twitching on and off for a week, but now it was going every two hours, flapping like I had a sparrow trapped under it. Being raised as a radical hypocondriac, this increase in symptoms set me to worrying.

Nerves? Allergies? Not enough sleep? Cancer. Probably cancer.

Maybe I just wasn’t getting enough blood flow to it… I began to wink and blink madly, trying to exercise my eyelid. If the college drama department ever does a stage adaptation of “The Pink Panther,” I’m in as Inspector Dreyfus.

While I was maniacally twitching and winking and blinking, I heard the little voice in the back of my head.

“I know what’ll work.”

I knew that voice… well, not the timbre so much as the intonation. I didn’t answer.

“Go look at some porn. That’ll get the blood flowing to that eye.”

Now, I’m (unfortunately) not completely unfamiliar with the effects of porn on the human body…at least the male human body. However, increased blood flow to the eye seemed, at best, unlikely.

“What?” I said.

“Your eye,” the voice said again, a little hesitant this time. “It’ll be good for your eye.”

“It’ll… what!?! That doesn’t even make sense!” I paused for a moment, watching the steam recede from the bathroom mirror. My eyes narrowed, squinting into the steam. “You’re not the regular one, are you?”

Silence.

I was more insistent this time. “You’re not the regular one, are you? Who are you?”

Long pause. Small voice. “Stu.”

Now it was my turn to pause. “Stu?”

“Stu.”

“Not Beealzebub? Not Zaphor? Not Slugmort, Voracium, Incinerus, Abraxus, Moloch, Damien, Volac?” I rattled off a dozen more names, but each elicited only a barely-audible “nope” from the little voice.

“You’re… Stu.”

“Stu.”

“And the regular one, the other guy, he’s…?”

“Promoted, I believe. On to bigger and better… oh, umm, no offense, I mean, I’m sure you were a fine, umm… sorry…” His voice trailed off.

I sighed deeply into the warm wet air. The eyelid twitch had stopped, at least.

“You’re new, aren’t you, Stu?”

Long pause. “I’m a temp.”

The steam was nearly gone from the mirror now, and I could see my own face. An expression of sheer, abject, bone-chilling… disappointment.

“So.” I said, almost audibly. The implication was not lost on me. “So my Christian walk is now so ineffectual, so unproductive, so feeble… that I get a temp as a tempter.” The mirror was clear now, and I noticed more ear hair than before. This was not turning out to be a very good evening.

A blurry image of what appeared to be Paris Hilton flashed through my mind. “Stu… Paris Hilton? That’s just sad.”

The voice sounded oddly remorseful. “I know, I… I’m not very good at lust. For some of the guys it’s like falling out of bed, but I never seemed to get the hang of it. I’m much better at PR. I’m hoping something opens up in PR.”

I was taken aback. “His Infernalness has a public relations office?”

“Oh, no, no,” Stu said, his mood brightening. “We tempt PR people. It’s easy work.” His tone was almost cocky now. “White lies, baldfaced lies, half-truths, deception, denials. Like falling out of bed.”

It was quiet for a moment. “Stu, I’m leaving now. I’m going to bed.”

“Bed?” He sounded momentarily confused. “Umm… Britney Spears?”

“Stu?”

“Hmm?”

“No, Stu. No.”

“Oh. Well, tomorrow, then?”

Another sigh escaped me. “No doubt, Stu… no doubt.”

Dissent is not disloyalty

2007-04-24T19:29:00.000-07:00

WARNING: ROUGH ROAD AND SHARP CURVES AHEAD. USE LOW GEAR. TURN ON HEADLIGHTS.

Somewhere during George Bush's education, I'm sure he came across the phrase ad hominem. An ad-hominem response criticizes the person, not their argument. Despite his admittedly spotty educational record, I know he knows this, because his response to the Democrats' attempt to set a draw-down date is not to criticize their argument, but to question their motives.

Is the Democratic response a political ploy? What isn't in Washington these days? And it clearly does no good for Harry Reid to say that the war has been lost. But to grant that the Dems are seeking political advantage doesn't speak to the validity of their position.

Bush had a relatively long time to get it right. By almost every measure, he had over four years of nearly unanimous support; public opinion, news coverage, congressional collegiality, a seemingly-bottomless war-chest. How long did he genuinely expect that to continue, especially in the face of mounting casualties, the no-WMDs disclosures, the torture scandals, the lack of international support, the tone-deaf hawkishness of Cheney and Rumsfeld, and (most critically) no discernible progress? And this doesn't even consider the now-nearly-discredited notions that (a) nation-building still works, and (b) democracy can be successfully transplanted anywhere at any time to any people, like a McDonald's (see note below).

To say, "this far, and no farther," is neither unpatriotic nor unChristian; when Christ called people to Himself, he first warned them to count the cost: "For which one of you, when he wants to build a tower, does not first sit down and calculate the cost to see if he has enough to complete it? Otherwise, when he has laid a foundation and is not able to finish, all who observe it begin to ridicule him, saying, `This man began to build and was not able to finish.' ” (Luke 14:27-30)

The Dems have said, "we think we've spent all the lives and money that we're going to on this." The Bush administration has given no indication of its spending limit, or if it has (or ever had) a 'cost' in mind. It's hard to argue that the lives of 3,303 American soldiers (as of 4/19) is not enough.

NOTE ON DEMOCRACY: I'm sure this is idealistic, but it's always seemed to me that a cornerstone of democracy was the idea of 'self-rule.' I'm not talking about self-rule as opposed to rule by tyranny; I mean that most citizens (for there have always been psychopaths and sociopaths) must have the ability to govern their individual selves, their behaviors, and their passions, such that some sense of common fairness can survive. I would not suggest that there are people-groups inherently incapable of this, but I don't believe it is chauvinistic to suggest that not all cultures have emphasized or encouraged the development of this virtue, and therefore not all cultures are at any given point in time equally capable of living in democracy.

That point no doubt needs more space than I have here, but my concern is really consequent to it; I am concerned that America, too, is losing its 'capacity' for democracy. We may call it conscience, or shared values, or the rule of law, or 'overarching metanarrative,' or even categorical imperative...some Christians would call it 'common grace' or the vestiges of the 'imago deo.' But when we lose the common sense of the good, and the sense of our own obligation to govern our individual selves (rather than pursuing our own ends at any cost), then we can no longer be governed by a democracy. We call down tyranny on ourselves (witness Russia under Putin), and we thank Them for saving us from us. I am no great fan of George Bernard Shaw, but he nailed it over a hundred years ago: "Liberty means responsibility. That is why most men dread it."

AND IN CLOSING: Since we are speaking of ~~Vietnam~~ ~~Iraq~~ the war, goodbye to a dear friend I never met, David Halberstam. If I may suck all the irony out of one of his titles, he was truly the best and the brightest, and will be greatly missed.

Imus be movin' on...

2007-04-12T22:30:00.000-07:00

As my friend Dale will tell you, the day after the Imus scandal broke, I pretty much knew he was done… that’s nothing portentous; it was a 50/50 shot, in or out. But this time his stink had gotten fanned into the national a/c system, there was no other big story out there to cover the scent, and between bloggers and YouTube, there are too many noses in the air now to miss the smell. My friend Joe thinks it’s because it was simulcasted on MSNBC; if it had just been radio, it might have gone right by… maybe.

This could turn into a rant, and there are others who’ll do that better than I. Let me just respond to a few comments I’ve heard from Imus defenders:

• That this is an overreaction to a single incident. Even Imus’ apologists are using the words “disgusting” and “reprehensible,” but what they leave out is “and totally in character.” This is not an out-of-the-blue remark for Imus; it’s not unexpected at all. That he got called on it probably shocked the hell out of Mr. Shock-Jock himself.
• That Imus is only giving people what they want. Fine, I’ll accept that most humans need their taste and preference meters adjusted; I’m a Christian who believes in total depravity. But I also believe that the goal is upward, not downward, and that playing to our baser instincts is a bad thing to do. See also “Francis, Joe.”
• That Imus is not a bad guy. That’s fine; I’ll buy that too. I’m not suggesting he be jailed or exiled or beaten. I’m just saying it’s appropriate that he lost his job. He’ll get another. In fact, he’s probably got a standing offer from Sirius in his desk drawer at home.
• That this is a free speech issue. I call BS on that one. Imus has the right to say whatever he wants. He doesn’t have the constitutional right to be paid $10 million a year to say it over 60+ radio stations. Give him a soapbox and a streetcorner and let’s see how many folks think he’s clever.

Maybe I’m overly sensitive because I work around college students all day long. If you’re a politician or an actor, this is part of the deal; taking public abuse and criticism is the flip side of the power and wealth and fame if you’re Hilary or Barak or Tom or Oprah, or even wannabees like Kato Kaelin or Larry Birkhead. But a bunch of teen-age girls playing basketball? This is a viable target? As I recall, the only email I ever sent to Jim Rome was when he was running smack on a 12-year-old girl who had won a spelling bee. I don’t remember exactly what I wrote, but it was something about if this was the best he could do anymore, maybe he could get his old job back introducing the strippers at the Doo-Drop-Inn Gentlemen’s Club (come to think of it, I don’t think he ever wrote back…).

Tim Rutten has a good take in the LA Times today, wondering if maybe we have finally satiated our appetites for vile and meanspirited public ‘conversations.’ I wish it were so… but as long as we are a people driven by fear and selfishness, we will also be attracted to hatred and prejudice. During the LA riots, when Rodney King asked, “can’t we just all get along?,” Christian philosopher Dallas Willard wistfully responded, “No, we can’t… not until we become the kind of people who can get along.”

Not there yet. But maybe there'll be a little less odor in the morning air tomorrow... maybe.

Roy Rogers is riding tonight...

2007-04-11T01:30:00.000-07:00

I try not to bore you with too many of my quirky hobbies… but my friend Dale sent me a link to a list by radio historian Elizabeth McLeod of the 100 most significant “moments” in radio. Now, I really really like old time radio (OTR); I’ve probably got 4500 episodes of various broadcasts, most thanks to the great OTR community at The Cobalt Club. Almost all of it is in public domain now (with notable exceptions like The Lone Ranger, The Shadow, any BBC stuff, and anything post-1962), so it's there for the downloading, without having to sweat that certified letter from the RIAA.

Many of the broadcasts she mentions are unfortunately lost, or otherwise not available to the OTR web community. But I wanted to talk about some of her entries that I am conversant with:

#98 SHERLOCK HOLMES is indeed made for radio... it’s all exposition and verbal banter and deduction. I’ve never heard anything prior to Rathbone and Bruce's, which are pretty corny but still entertaining; their American successors don’t fare as well. The really good productions are British; John Gielgud and Ralph Richardson as Holmes & Watson, for goodness’ sake! But the late-90s productions for BBC-4 with Clive Merrison and Michael Williams (later Andrew Sachs) are the defining work; they are beautifully written, elaborately produced, wonderfully performed, and bring these characters so richly to life that it’s sometimes hard to go back and listen to the older stuff.

#75 GUNSMOKE is my favorite radio drama... If all you saw was his “Cannon” days, you wouldn’t appreciate what a really really good actor William Conrad was. His Matt Dillon is a marvel of understated complexity, and he did it all with just his voice. Like McLeod’s listing says, this is not a western where the good guys always win and there’s trumpet fanfare at the end. If I was one o’ them cinema historian guys, I’d say that the ‘anti-hero’ and ambiguity of so many late-60’s-early-70’s films goes directly back to the radio version of Gunsmoke. Lots of times Dillon has to choose between bad and worse. Not Ronald Reagan’s America; not Ronald Reagan's kind of western.

#69 DRAGNET is of course a blast... It’s really no different than the TV show, except there’s no crazed drug smokin’ hippies turning on by tuning out, man (“is that right, fella?... well, listen up, you forgot one thing...”). Of course, Joe Friday is single and lives with his mom, who calls him “Joseph.” And he stays out on stakeouts with his partner Frank Smith until all hours. And he scoffs every time good old married guy Frank tries to fix him up with a date. But he’s NOT GAY... Clear?!? NOT GAY!!! He’s just beyond all that... he’s... metasexual!

#66 SUPERMAN is about what you’d expect... except (as noted in McLeod) there is this less-than-subtle message (in the scripts and in the PSAs) about bigotry, intolerance, and hate. It’s truly astonishing. For all the complaints that the right sends up today about the ‘messages’ kids get from Sesame Street, etc., there is no way that this kind of blunt proselytizing would EVER be allowed on a kids program today. I don’t know enough about the history of the show to know what the genesis of this was, but it sounds radically out of place in 1946, and (at the risk of overstatement) it makes the movements of the 60’s more understandable with this as a preface...

#53 THE LONE RANGER is, also, about what you’d expect... but with no surprises. Not my favorite, if that’s not heretical to say. It didn’t have the weirdness and camp that makes Superman palatable for an adult. It is however surprising how often the bad guy outsmarts LR and he has to go to plan B…

#51 THE SHADOW with Orson Welles. Welles is always fun to listen to... In several of the episodes I have, young Mr. Welles seems to believe that great acting requires stepping on the last word of your co-star’s lines, usually Margo Lane’s. By the end of the episode, she’s started stepping on his lines (you can hear her frustration) and he’s still on hers and neither of them ever gets to finish a sentence. But great hammy stuff for Welles.

#47 LIGHTS OUT, Columbia Workshop, etc.... Some really odd stuff starting to happen here, much more troubling and personal than 99% of TV today. This is the seedbed for Playhouse 90 and Rod Serling and his amazing blend of fantasy and social commentary.

#26 JACK BENNY, FRED ALLEN- Jack is one of my all-time favorites; my parents told me that when I was little I would never miss an episode of his TV show. He generally plays the straight man, letting the chaos flail around him; his only power is that he controls the money, a fact he never lets his cast forget (and vice versa). It’s really situation comedy. Allen, on the other hand, ran much more of a sketch comedy show, very acerbic and very funny, and very topical, which is why it doesn’t hold up as well, and probably why Allen faded as TV ascended and took Benny along with it.

#21 LONDON AFTER DARK. I’ve only heard a couple of these, but if you can get your 21st century ears around the idea that this is real, not a drama, they’re amazing. Play by play descriptions of bombing raids, shelters, life in the blackouts. If the closest thing you’ve come to WW2 is watching war movies, this is the real thing. And if you wondered how England held out so long while waiting for the Americans to come to their senses, you’ll come to understand how damn tough those Brits were.

#8 HINDENBURG DISASTER and #10 WAR OF THE WORLDS: Only 18 months apart, the shocking anguish of the one leading to the incredible-yet-realistic drama of the second. I hope my generation isn’t the last to hear and appreciate these icons to the power and intimate immediacy of radio.

#4 PEARL HARBOR: The halting delivery of a stunned newscaster, breaking in to regular programming; the updates throughout the day describing the extent of the carnage; Roosevelt’s “forever in infamy” speech... This was their 9/11, when nice normal predictable American lives were suddenly dragged into the pain other humans had known for years. And to listen to the newscasts in the weeks and months preceding December 7th, it is stunning to realize that it was no sure thing that we were going to battle Hitler and Tojo; there was a real good chance we were going to try and sit it out. Amazing.

McLeod's top 100 list rightfully concludes with #1, D-DAY: I’ve only heard the CBS broadcasts, with Collingwood onboard a landing craft at Normandy. To say there’s a difference between the journalists of that day, and the Anderson Cooper’s of today, goes without saying; the difference centers around the inability to get out of the way of the story.

What a long strange trip it's been...

2007-03-28T01:41:00.000-07:00

On my small screen this week: The Life Aquatic (2004). They’ve got cameras. They’ve got glocks. They’ve got a ship you wouldn’t cross the LA River in, ‘though it does have a sauna and a very nice kitchen. They’ve got funding issues, interpersonal issues, mutiny issues, midlife crisis issues, love triangle issues, pirate issues… they’re Team Zissou, and they’re in search of Bill Murray’s personal Moby Dick.

Talk about a movie that defies analogy and categorization; in plot and look and feel, it’s not really like anything else out there. It’s a feast, visually and musically; wonderful undersea footage (and stop-action animation), richly saturated colors, and a Bowie-based score with throw-ins from the Zombies, Bach, and Iggy Pop (of course, the Bowie cuts are all sung in Portuguese, so there!). The oversaturated colors and writer/director Wes Anderson’s unconventional cuts (and a couple of truly amazing theater-style scenes on a cut-away version of the ship) give it a delightful but somewhat artificial feel, the feel I get from a well-done comic book; enjoyable but very clearly not ‘real’ (which could of course spark the Film School 101 argument about what cinema is supposed to be, anyway…).

Yet it’s also neither zany, nor naïve, nor even melancholy; gently surreal, maybe, like a mild buzz from the joints Murray’s character smokes throughout. Murray has nearly perfected droll-and-despairing; one reason the movie works so well is that its pacing matches Murray’s perfectly. Anjelica Huston is, well, Anjelica Huston; Owen Wilson plays southern-sincere so syrupy that he’s almost Leslie Howard; Cate Blanchett does okay with an interesting but oddly unfinished character; Willem Dafoe gets to turn his trademark intensity on its ear; and for heaven’s sake it’s got Jeff Goldblum and Bud Cort in the same movie! What more could you ask for? It’s truly odd, but not odd in a dark way at all… if you’ll grant Anderson his conceits and just enjoy the ride, it’s a heckuva ride indeed. A-

On basketball, botched opportunities, ballads, and boxers...

2007-03-18T21:31:00.000-07:00

Random thoughts while watching college basketball: specifically, watching Texas and Kevin Durant get massacred by USC. First, I know they’re young, but could there be a bigger disconnect between the Longhorns’ talent and their ability to play as a team? Second, despite my Bruin bloodlines, it’s fun to see the Trojans have some success in roundball; it’s no fun beating up on a bad team. Now if we could just wake up Karl Dorrell…

Still catching up/movie review: Anchorman (2004). Mildly amusing and generally inoffensive; Will Ferrell pulls off being a likable boor, and his co-stars are adequate. But the setups are much funnier than the bits themselves; there were a lot of those “boy, this is gonna be funny…. ummm, well, kind of…” A lot like an SNL sketch; funny premise, disappointing execution. Some potentially great cameos suffer the same fate; there are several well-known faces given almost nothing amusing to say or do. One telling sign of its mediocrity: you walk away remembering no killer lines that bring to mind killer scenes. Okay, I'll give them one: during anchor Ron Burgundy's struggle for newsroom supremacy, his signature sign-off is sabotaged on his teleprompter, and what results is pretty funny. That's one. Maybe I'm just not Ferrell's demographic; to paraphrase the late great Dr. Frank-n-furter, "I didn't make it for you!" Grade: C+.

Still catching up/music review: Two Lights, Five for Fighting (2006). I really liked “Superman,” but I didn’t buy FFF’s first CD. I really liked “100 Years,” but I didn’t buy the 2nd CD either. So when I heard “The Riddle,” I thought it was time to buy the CD. Good call. Really good call. John Ondrasik (yes, it’s a guy, not a band) clearly has his influences; Elton John, Billy Joel, James Taylor, a certain ineffable Southern California point of view). This album is mostly piano ballads; several are topical, about a nation at war (“Freedom Never Cries,” “Two Lights”), some are dreams of a better place (“World,” “Road to Heaven”), and some are simply love songs (e.g., “I Just Love You,” which at the end gives a wonderful twist on the relationship being considered). But it’s certainly not all ballads; “Policeman’s Xmas Party” is truly odd but great fun, “California Justice” is sarcastic without being strident (and is full of SoCal references), “65 Mustang” is an upbeat throwaway, and “Johnny America” is out and out exuberant. If you like Harry Chapin and Steve Forbert and my patron saint, Jackson Browne, I think you’ll like this. If you prefer songwriters to poseurs and melody to noise, and if the presence of a piano doesn’t cause you hives, I think you’ll like this. Grade: A.

And happy birthday to George Foreman… he’s 30 today. That probably needs some explaining. Spiritually, it’s his birthday; 30 years ago today, after losing what appeared to be his last heavyweight fight, Foreman had a religious experience that turned him to Christ. "He was a bad guy," says boxing promoter Bob Arum. "Surly. Mean-spirited. He had abused women, got in a lot of street fights. He was selfish, self-centered, had episodes of mistreating people if he didn't get his way.” A changed man, Foreman retired, started a ministry, and spent ten years quietly serving God before launching a comeback that would improbably result in regaining the heavyweight title. He’s left boxing for good now, but he’s still God’s man: "It's a pleasure to be a part of his life," says Arum. "He's a kind, caring, terrific person…. It's sincere, man, it ain't an act." Foreman is throwing himself a huge birthday party in Houston. Happy birthday, brother…

And to close, from Five for Fighting's "Road to Heaven,"

I've never been the kind a man who hits his knees
Got no answers for big questions
I don't know...
Maybe tomorrow lightning will hit me on the head
And we can find out if we're just a joke

Jesus I'm told can build a bridge
Finer than any other man
There's a certain peace to an country road
With a wheel in your hand

But if there was a road to heaven
It'd be one long and crazy ride...
If there was a road to heaven babe
That's a road that I'd like to find.

George found that road; would that you all as well.

They say that life is strange, but compared to what?

2007-03-15T02:03:00.000-07:00

Anybody still out there?

I’m not sure to whom I’m apologizing (well, other than maybe Dale and Joe and maybe even Dave), but I apologize for my absence. It’s been a really busy few months.

Am I allowed to catch up?

The GOP loses both houses of Congress: I know there are a dozen things to point to, including failure to acknowledge the wisdom of Wallace Shawn (“never get involved in a land war in Asia”). But I would still argue that it goes back to Gitmo and Abu Ghraib. Americans don’t torture. Americans don’t incarcerate without trial. The documents guaranteeing these ‘rights’ may technically not apply to non-citizens, but they are based upon a Weltanschauung that says these are inalienable and thus universal. More practically, whether we are or not, we like to imagine that we are above that sort of thing; that in world affairs, we have the moral high ground. It will take some time and some hard, smart work to re-establish that in the eyes of the world. And of course, that it was the responsibility of perhaps the most explicitly evangelical-Christian President we have ever had is the hugest disappointment; more than any other, it should have been this President who said, “we will do what is right, we will take the high road, even if it is not expedient, and even if it is dangerous.” But that kind of faith requires humility, not hubris, and hubris has its price. This is hardly exclusively a GOP problem; recommended reading, “The Best and the Brightest” by David Halberstam, about the American (specifically, Democratic) arrogance that landed us in Vietnam.

Better late than never department, Part 1: I finally saw “American Beauty” (1999) on DVD. After 20 minutes, I was ready to turn it off; I hated pretty much everybody in the movie, and I’m less tolerant than I used to be of cynicism passing itself off as black comedy. But I stuck with it… and I realized that I was being played. The marketing theme was ‘look closer,’ probably playing off the rather tired idea that beneath the orderly streets of suburbia lurks chaos… but it was more than that. It took ‘looking closer’ at the characters, and realizing they were more than tired caricatures… there were pretty good reasons why they are what they are. And all of them step right up to edge of the abyss, but only one steps over… in a satisfyingly twisty sort of ending. The acting is amazing; Annette Bening, never a favorite of mine, is absolutely astonishing. I don’t know if you can take away a single neat moral from it; I counted half a dozen almost immediately. But maybe the one that stuck with me the most was, sometimes you get a second chance at your life… and sometimes you don’t.

Better late than never department, Part 2: Simple Plan’s Still Not Getting’Any (2004). Well-produced post-punk-pop (along the lines of newer Green Day); ‘Shut Up’ and ‘Welcome to My Life’ got substantial airplay. But the revelation here is “Untitled,” the final cut and whose lyrics are curiously left off of the booklet. It’s teen angst and dissatisfaction wrapped in a classic power ballad (which of course meant I immediately liked it), but more significantly, it’s about the tragic aftermath of teenage drunk driving. The song is powerful; the video is devastating. Show it to your kids next time they head out to a party. I'm not kidding. Make them sit down first. To say it again: sometimes you don't get a second chance...

And the obligatory sports comment: how ‘bout those Knicks? This is a team that I loved as a kid, second only to my hometown Lakers. Walt Frazier was the coolest of cool, Jerry Lucas was a rock, Willis Reed was a lion, and my favorite non-L.A. player of all time was Dave DeBusschere… and I’ve left out Bill Bradley and Earl Monroe and Phil Jackson. But now the expectations are so low that getting to within six games of .500 earns coach Isiah ‘Midas Touch’ Thomas a contract extension. Amazing. If he wins a playoff game, he might get a lifetime appointment. And if this is good coaching, what adjectives do we have for Phil Jackson riding his one-trick pony to sixth place in the much tougher West?

Ah, but, perspective... to close, Kevin Spacey’s final, post-mortem monologue from “American Beauty,”

“…it's hard to stay mad, when there's so much beauty in the world. Sometimes I feel like I'm seeing it all at once, and it's too much… my heart fills up like a balloon that's about to burst...and then I remember to relax, and stop trying to hold on to it, and then it flows through me like rain…

“…and I can't feel anything but gratitude for every single moment of my stupid little life... (chuckles) You have no idea what I'm talking about, I'm sure. But don't worry...

FADE TO BLACK

“You will someday.”

Just Hard to Get

2006-10-28T01:11:00.000-07:00

I’ve had something I’ve wanted to write about for awhile now, since June, in fact… but I just couldn’t do it. It always came out maudlin, or self-serving, or critical or polemic or just foolish. And that wouldn’t do, not for this…

I lost a friend back in June. As far as I’m aware, he’s the only guy I knew who was in Iraq, and he got blown up by a mine. He was a 44-year-old Navy reservist, a Seabee. He had been in the Army as a young man, went back to school, spent some time in higher ed (which was where I met him), and then decided to re-up as a reservist. Our wives are closer than sisters, and he has two daughters near my daughter’s age.

And no, this is not the place to debate the wisdom of his decision, though God knows I have done it over and over again. He was doing what he enjoyed, what made him who he was, and more important, he was doing what he thought was right.

But I haven’t been able to frame it yet, haven’t been able to really understand it, haven’t gotten any peace about it. Until tonight. I was listening to some Rich Mullins… perhaps ironically, the last album he wrote before he himself died. This is the song, “Hard to Get”:

“You who live in heaven
Hear the prayers of those of us who live on earth…
Who are afraid of being left by those we love,
And who get hardened by the hurt.
Do you remember when You lived down here, where we all scrape
To find the faith to ask for daily bread?
Did You forget about us, after You had flown away?
Well, I memorized every word You said…
Still, I'm so scared, I'm holding my breath,
While You're up there just playing hard to get.

“You who live in radiance
Hear the prayers of those of us who live in skin.
We have a love that's not as patient as Yours was…
Still, we do love now and then.
Did You ever know loneliness? Did You ever know need?
Do You remember just how long a night can get,
When You were barely holding on,
And Your friends fall asleep,
And don't see the blood that's running in Your sweat?
Will those who mourn be left uncomforted,
While You're up there just playing hard to get?

“And I know You bore our sorrows,
And I know You feel our pain,
And I know it would not hurt any less,
Even if it could be explained.

“And I know that I am only lashing out
At the One who loves me most…
And after I figured this, somehow,
All I really need to know:

“Is if You who live in eternity
Hear the prayers of those of us who live in time?
We can't see what's ahead,
And we cannot get free of what we've left behind.
I'm reeling from these voices that keep screaming in my ears,
All the words of shame and doubt, blame and regret…
I can't see how you're leading me,
Unless you've led me here,
Where I'm lost enough to let myself be led.

“And so You've been here all along, I guess.
It's just Your way,
and You are just plain hard to get…”

Happy Birthday, Gary… I’m comforted knowing that you’re having a better time now than I’ve ever had in my whole life. So until that day…

Exits, graceful and otherwise

2006-10-08T22:34:00.000-07:00

Well, the Dodger season is over, and it was a heckuva ride. Going further in the playoffs would have been a blast, of course, but I can't believe that anyone who carefully examined the Dodger roster can really be disappointed. A rookie catcher, a rookie left fielder, new faces at short, center, and first, no real third baseman until August, and a bullpen rebuilt enroute... this is not a playoff recipe. It reminded me a lot of the early 70's, when Campanis pieced together veterans (Dick Allen, Frank Robinson, an assortment of bad catchers) to keep things together until the golden prospects (Garvey-Lopes-Russell-Cey) arrived. Then things got better.

I have the same hope for this bunch; the kids that are up now appear to be for real, and there are a couple more hitters and several pitchers ready for their auditions. The next five years ought to be great fun.

And it helps a little to be able to say that LA went just as deep in the playoffs as the Yankees. The Boss' response was classic: he first issued a statement saying that the season was "not acceptable," then released a revised statement 90 minutes later, saying it was "absolutely not acceptable." Good thing that the housing market has cooled a bit now that Joe Torre will be shopping for west coast property again...

********************************

So i guess there are fanboys, and there are boyfans. The latest spin on beloved Rep. Foley, the smooth-IM’ing Florida boyfan, is that he was abused by a priest when he was a kid. But, according to his lawyer, that (of course) doesn’t excuse his behavior… but (of course) it’s worth mentioning at a press conference, because (of course) it would explain why he’s such a damaged soul and such a victim himself (of course). Can you imagine the lawyers' conference: “Hmm, we’ve played the clergy abuse card, we’ve played the rehab card… can we put out a statement saying that he's 1/132 Iroquoi? Hey, if we could just leak that the LAPD planted DNA to frame him, we might not get Oprah, but maybe we could get Ellen!”

And while I’m reading this story, I’m listening to some old Oingo Boingo…

Only a lad, You really can't blame him
Only a lad, Society made him
Only a lad, He's our responsibility
Only a lad, He really couldn't help it
Only a lad, He didn't want to do it
Only a lad, He's underprivileged and abused
Perhaps a little bit confused

It's not his fault that he can't believe
It's not his fault that he can't behave
Society made him go astray
Perhaps if we're nice he'll go away
Perhaps he'll go away

Yes, Mr. Foley, please go away; perhaps in November we’ll send some more Grand Old Poseurs off with you… What? Oh, I’m sorry, did I forget to include the final line of the song? Well, I’ll let you find that yourselves…

Around the Dial...

2006-10-03T22:30:00.000-07:00

So I'm driving around L.A. tonight, as I'm wont to do, listening to tunes. I used to listen to sports talk radio on these drives, but after some personnel changes on "the sports leader," well... I went out and bought myself a new mp3-capable CD player for the car. That's been a year ago now...

And tonight about 9:00 or so, the CD player starts buzzing, and humming. Not good...sounds like Ashlee Simpson's electrolysis lab. Then it starts to clunk and grind, like a garbage disposal. Then it does nothing. Somehow the nothing is more ominous than the buzz and hum and clunk and grind.

Damn. I start pushing buttons... can't get the CD out, but at least the radio still works. I start scanning for some music... but my now-acrid-smelling unit won't switch out of AM. Double damn.

So I start scanning AM, and I hear it. Familiar voice. Can't be... probably just sounds like him. Then he laughs. Son of a gun, it's him. Way down there on the other end of the dial. Son of a gun. Todd Wright is back on the air.

His departure from ESPN radio (almost exactly a year ago) is not something I have any inside info on, but apparently his contract was up, he was tired of working the ‘third’ shift (after nine years), tired of the network interference into his show’s elements, and they were tired of hearing him complain. So one night he was just flat out gone, like the DJ in the Kinks ‘Around the Dial,’ and there was a new guy in his chair. I was shocked, shocked, to find things like that happening in the radio business…

So it's great to have him back, even if it’s on the fiscally-precarious Sporting News Radio Network. Hopefully he'll have some resources and some freedom to shape the show to his liking, although his carefully worded barbs at his overseers in Bristol (he did his show from Florida) used to be pretty funny. You know, there is a theory out there that the best art arises out of adapting to the constraints put on it...

Anyway, I hope he’s having fun. And I'll probably get my CD player fixed, but now there's really no rush... so if you're in LA, he's on AM 1540 from 7-11 pm Sundays-Thursdays.

PS: and speaking of those who make their living from sports without being able to play a lick, Bill Simmons is diarying (??) his way through the baseball playoffs. I might give up a body part to write like Simmons, as long at it was something like an earlobe or my Isles of Langerhans.

The End of the Story...

2006-09-28T02:20:00.000-07:00

Yes, it’s been a very long time. I almost forgot how to log-in to my own blog.

But I thought it was worth noting that we lost a great gift today. Former Los Angeles television newsman Ralph Story passed away at age 86. If you never saw Ralph, well, he managed to be both Mike Wallace and Huell Howser for LA in the 60s & 70s. Warren Olney, another LA treasure, not unexpectedly did a wonderful job of summarizing what made Ralph great: “He was able to use humor and irony to make a serious point, something you virtually never see on television anymore…. [His] attitude of amused detachment could transmit devastating critiques and probing analyses without being harsh or mean-spirited, much less boring. He made serious journalism a pleasure to watch."

Of course, that was when there was serious journalism on local newscasts. That, and now Ralph himself, have joined his own list, of “things that aren’t here anymore.”

****************
Totally unconnected sidenote on beer: I’m English by lineage… one summer when I obviously had nothing else to do, I traced the family line back to Northamptonshire, England, mid-1500’s. So, yes, I’ve got some pride in my heritage. But the English drink their beer warm. Good God, what an awful idea. Drinking unrefrigerated beer is like watching a VH-1 reality show; every minute, you’re reminded “this is just wrong.” Of course, you can help the beer situation by just burying that baby in some ice for a few minutes. I’m not sure what can be done for Christopher Knight.

****************
From today’s news pages:
Gibson's Promotion of New Movie Leaves Jews Baffled
“Director’s cut” of “Passion” has Jesus come down off cross and beat Pharisees senseless with a bottle of Tequila, then drive away in Lexus LS 430.

Dallas Cowboys’ Terrell Owens In Suicide Attempt
What, he just realized Drew Bledsoe is quarterbacking his team?

Air Force Jet Wins Battle in Congress
Multiple strafing runs wear down beleaguered and outgunned legislators.

For the Third Time, a Jury Fails to Convict Gotti
This just in: Most humans still averse to having kneecaps broken.

Source of Spinach Taint Located
“I didn’t do nuthin’ wrong,” claims farm owner A. W. Blutto.

Secretary Vows to Improve Results of Higher Education
“Anticipating at least six more years of a GOP-led government, we need to prepare graduates for the real American economy,” said Spellings. “We’re therefore cutting English, literature, and philosophy and requiring 12 units of Computer Game Beta Testing and Bedpan Changing. The foreign language requirements will also be reconfigured so that each graduate will be tested on their ability to say ‘Welcome to Wal-Mart’ in 12 different languages.”

And finally, on the sad state of American manufacturing,
Wagoner Says GM Can Save Itself but Open to Alliances
Of course, why didn’t we think of this before!

This just in from Mexico City...

2006-07-06T21:51:00.000-07:00

In an unprecedented political comeback, it was announced today that Richard Nixon has been elected president of Mexico.

The opposition candidate, Jorge McGovern, could not be reached for comment but was expected to challenge the results.

Christianity 101

2006-07-05T01:11:00.000-07:00

I’ve been reading through the book of 1st John recently. I don’t need too many more complications in my life, and this is a very uncomplicated book, with a very uncomplicated message: God is love.

Henri Nouwen says that “knowing God means to consistently, radically, and very concretely announce and reveal that God is love and only love... and that every time fear, isolation, or despair begin to invade the human soul, this is not something that comes from God. This sounds very simple and maybe even trite, but very few people know that they are loved without any conditions or limits. This unconditional, unlimited love is what John calls God’s first love: Let us love, because God loved us first.”

God’s love is first; human love came second. And Nouwen notes that human love often leaves us “doubtful, frustrated, angry, and resentful... there is always the chance of rejection, withdrawal, punishment, blackmail, violence, and even hatred... these are all the shadow side of this second [human] love... [flawed by] the darkness that never completely leaves the human heart... The radical good news is that this second love is only a broken reflection of the first love, and that the first love is offered to us by a God in whom there are no shadows...”

Dallas Willard is one of the truly wise souls in our world today... and this is his take on who this God is, this God that asks for nothing less than all we are:

“The acid test for any teaching about God is this: Is the God presented one that can be loved—heart, soul, mind and strength? If the thoughtful, honest answer is “not really,” then we need to look elsewhere or deeper. It does not really matter how intellectually or doctrinally sophisticated our approach is. If it fails to set a lovable God—a radiant, happy, friendly, accessible, and totally competent being—before ordinary people, we have gone wrong. We should not keep going in the same direction, but turn around and take another road.” Our journey, then, is on the road to learning more about that God.

If God is love, how should God’s family live? How is that shown among us? There is a story told about John the Apostle, the writer of this letter, very very old now, so old that he had to be carried into the meeting place... and once there, all he would say, every week, was “Children, love one another.” Finally, one of his students asked, “Master, why do you say this same thing, week after week?” John smiled. “Because,” he whispered, “it is the Lord’s command... and if you do this and only this, it is enough.”

1 John is one of my three favorite books in the Bible... there's Galatians, because it talks so powerfully about grace; Ephesians, because of the incredible and beautiful picture of the church, the body of Christ... and this book, because it takes me right to the main thing. The main thing is love. Jesus had 2 commandments; love God, love each other.

Because (and I’ll let you in on a little secret), for all the talking we seminary grads do, the Christian life is very very simple; not easy, but simple. It’s love. It’s that little U2 riff... “and you give yourself away... and you give yourself away... and you give yourself away...” If we’re not doing that, not much else that we do matters.

Lost in Translation...

2006-07-02T23:29:00.000-07:00

I went to the Anime Expo with my 11-year-old daughter today. For all of you out there who make fun of Trekkies (Trekkers?) and their conventions… oh my, you have no idea. I had forgotten how much work a 17-year-old will put into becoming someone as far removed from themselves as possible. All that eyeliner and hair-gel and Styrofoam and hot glue and hair dye and spandex. There’s even a word for it, “cosplay,” or costumed role-play. Yet somehow they all still looked like the president of the chess club or the assistant editor of the index for the yearbook. I couldn’t believe nobody thought to book a Clearasil booth.

Actual conversation with my daughter as we sat against the exhibit hall wall sucking down overpriced drinks:

Me: “Look at this program! There’s six different rooms running 24 hour videos! There’s everything! They’re running Miyazaki! Oh my lord, they’re running Astro Boy!” (begins waving arms frantically).

Daughter: “Dad, stop acting weird! You’re embarrassing me!”

[Three six-foot goth girls in black leather miniskirts walk by, with black, white, and pink hair, in 14 inch platform shoes. Each has a three-pronged 5-foot plastic sword. One may actually have been male.]

[Long pause]

Daughter: “Never mind.”

The number of women in this industry is pretty amazing, as was the number of girls at the Expo. I’ve been to a few comics conventions, and there’s like three women in the whole building, and two are paid to be there. But more than half the panelists here are women, and the ‘artist’s room’ where original art is sold and created was almost all female. Is it the big-eyes thing? Did Oprah do an anime special I didn't hear about?

Not that there weren’t lots of males around. Lots of anxious Asian teen boys taking millions of cellphone pictures of giggly skimpily-costumed Asian teen girls. And maybe it’s just me, but a 40-year-old guy dressed as Mario, including plunger, kinda creeps me out. That, and the handful of guys dressed in all black, with gray hair to the middle of their back and looking vaguely like Christopher Walken. Does Alberto Gonzales know about this place? Does Agent Mulder?

Now, when I was young, like I said, anime was Astro Boy and Kimba the White Lion. I even pre-date Speed Racer. And I finally saw Miyazaki’s Howl’s Moving Castle the other day and almost fell off my chair; this guy has an imagination that just puts Lucas and Spielberg and maybe even the Pixar guys to shame.

But I’m not sure where the rest of this stuff is going. Some of the video screenings that were on: Desert Punk, Place Promised in Our Early Days, Paranoia Agent, Irresponsible Captain Tylor, His and Her Circumstance, Fruits Basket, Slayers Great (and, as an upgrade, Slayers Premium), Read or Die, Boys Over Flowers, Magical Shopping Arcade, Strawberry Eggs, Burst Angel, Secret of the Lovely Eyepatch, Strawberry Marshmallow (what’s the thing with strawberries?), Scrapped Princess, Cutie Honey, This Ugly Yet Beautiful World, and of course, Doggie Poo. I’m assuming the Farrelly brothers have already locked up the English-language rights for that last one. We missed the "American Idol" contest; if the judges were overdubbed Japanese (like “Iron Chef”), I’m buying the DVD.

When we got home, my daughter looked a little shell-shocked. My wife tried to explain to her that it was like a cross-cultural experience, and those can be inordinately tiring. My daughter seemed to think the problem was more likely blisters. I’m going to try and drag her back tomorrow, but I’m not going to push my luck; we’re supposed to go to the San Diego ComiCon in three weeks and I don’t want to burn her out. I told her that Ray Bradbury was going to be at the ComiCon, and she said, “Who?”

At least she knows who Miyazaki is.

The night they drove old Cuban down...

2006-06-21T00:34:00.000-07:00

I'm not a big NBA fan like I used to be; I used to live and die with the Lakers, from West/Goodrich/Wilt/Happy/McMillian/Riley/Erickson down to Kobe & Shaq, it was purple (sorry, "Forum blue") and gold all the way. I remember Mel Counts, and Mark Landesberger, and Elmore Smith (good Lord, they think this post-dynasty Lakers team is bad? Does anybody remember that team, with Goodrich wondering where everybody else went?)... I remember listening to Chick Hearn on my buzzy little portable radio, describing yet another Finals loss to Boston, followed by the sponsor's theme song, "Richfield Imperial Boron, the mileage maker gasoline"... I'm not sure I've ever stopped in an ARCO station in my life, and I'm thinking that's why...

But it went south for me that last year, the Malone-Payton debacle; it was like bringing in David Spade or Jon Lovitz to save your sinking sitcom. And when that went south, my NBA passion went too. It was fun following the Clips this year, 'cause they've always been such great fantasy fodder; you (and your Mom, probably) could put together a better roster than they actually had (which makes Elgin's GM of the Year such an eye-roller; like the Kennedy Center honoring Charlton Heston). But the games themselves? Meh. I just didn't care. I'd rather watch hockey.

But the playoffs sucked me back in, especially when the teams I thought were locks (Detroit, San Antonio) fell out. If Stoudemire comes back (or never goes down), Phoenix runs away with it; if, if, if, if. San Antonio suffers from premature dynastitis; sluggish regular season and finally unable to get it up for the big run. Detroit; I have no idea what happened to Detroit. They looked unstoppable at the end of the season and early in the playoffs; I would have bet the house. A whole lot more fragile as a team than any of us thought. And Dallas... somehow, you just never thought Dallas had the stones for it. Like Sacramento during those prime Laker years, you just figured they'd Mickelson it, no matter how it looked early on.

Which left Miami. I'm a Riles fan, from the old LA days as a player; he was tough, he worked hard, he hit the boards at only 6-4, and he could get in people's heads on defense. Unless you've got MJ, you don't bet against Riles in a big game. They shouldn't have beaten Detroit, except for the time-machine effect; it was 2001 again for Shaq (28 & 16) and Billups (3 for 14). But could they stop the "new-NBA" Mavericks? Could they match up with the athleticism, the precision, the speed, the depth? Could they defend suddenly-all-world-Dirk?

Yup.

And a big hand for our newest member of the Bottom-of-the-Barrel club, Keith Van Horn. From 2nd overall pick, to another Iverson-sidekick-wannabe, to Can't-Get-Off-the-Bench in the last game of the season, for a team that desperately needed somebody who could shoot (37% overall, 5 of 22 from three). Relax, you say, the guy's like 42 years old, right? No, he's 30. He's only 30, and he's done. Oh the humanity...

I know, it's rightfully all about Wade today, but how interesting was Shaq's series? In six games, he managed to show Jerry Buss both why he should and why he shouldn't have offered the Big Aristotle the Big Extension. Shaq can't shoot free throws. Shaq can't jump even more than he couldn't jump before. Shaq can't play defense anymore, if he ever could. Shaq can't be on the floor for the last five minutes. Oh, and Shaq's team won. All he needed was (memo to KB) a partner who could drive, dish, and defer.

And I ended up watching the games, and TiVO'ing the Stanley Cup. Stern got me again.

Oh, and when Cuban hires Dan Rather for his HD channel, wanna bet Stern's the first interview?