Little-known fact: Winnie-the-Pooh did not nail the gig at the first audition. The part originally went to his brother, Alan-the-Pooh. Alan--a notorious drunk and womanizer--showed up for the first readthrough hungover, refused to stick his head in the hunny jar, and threw a shoe at Piglet. You can look it up.
(Thanks to WOS for research assistance.)
Saturday, October 30, 2010
Friday, October 29, 2010
Well Begun and All Done: The Terror
The book: The Terror by Dan Simmons
Opening line: "Captain Crozier comes up on deck to find his ship under attack by celestial ghosts."
Closing line: "His arm around Silna, trying to ignore the raucous snores from the shaman and the fact that baby Kanneyuk had just pissed on her father's best summer parka, while also ignoring the petulant swats and mewling noises from his squirming son, Taliriktug and Crozier continued walking east across the ice toward solid ground."
Awhile back, we watched a documentary about probably our favorite writer, Harlan Ellison, called "Dreams with Sharp Teeth." In the movie, Harlan raves about a writer named Dan Simmons, imploring everyone within the sound of his voice to read this man's work. Furthermore, on the jacket of the novel currently under discussion, Stephen King proclaims he is "in awe of Dan Simmons."
Well, if he's good enough for Harlan Ellison and Stephen King, he must be worth a look-see, no?
The plot: In May 1845, an expedition led by Sir John Franklin left England in an attempt to force the Northwest Passage--a theoretical route through the ice around the North Pole that would, if found, significantly simplify worldwide shipping. The two ships, Erebus and Terror, were last seen in July 1845. None of the crew was ever heard from again.
All of the above is true: Sir John Franklin was a real Captain of the Royal Navy (indeed, a non-fiction book about Franklin, The Man Who Ate His Boots: The Tragic History of the Search for the Northwest Passage, was published earlier this year). He and his expedition disappeared in 1845. Dan Simmons picks up the story from that point. In his telling, the crews of both ships die rather horribly due to disease, treachery, and, most innovatively, giant demon quasi-polar-bear-attack.
Yeah.
The supernatural storyline is actually pretty compelling, particularly the early appearances of the monster (which we later learn is called a Tuunbaq). And the novel does have quite a bit to recommend it, including a nifty little set piece that recreates "The Masque of the Red Death" in the frozen wastes.
The major problem with The Terror, it seems to us, is a lack of editorial oversight. The novel weighs in at a hefty 766 pages--at least 200 more than was strictly necessary. We have nothing against a good tome, but when, for example, Simmons feels it necessary, in the space of two pages, to list the full names of all seven members of a scouting party, we start counting the minutes of our life that we will never get back. At other times, the author feels the need to halt all action to recap the fates of those who have already died. It's as if we're watching a TV show and sitting through the "Previously, in The Terror" segment. Also, Simmons has a tendency, as you can see from the lines quoted above, to shift his verb tenses; at first, we assumed there was something symbolic or significant about this, but, midway through, he permanently abandons the present tense, so we're not sure what--if anything--he was going for.
We're not sure how The Terror stacks up to Simmons' other books (of which there are about 20), so we have no idea whether this novel is representative of his oeuvre. We will say that the book has certain merits--brevity not being one of them--and makes us willing to give him another chance, but we are not yet ready to gush about him to the extent of Ellison and King.
Opening line: "Captain Crozier comes up on deck to find his ship under attack by celestial ghosts."
Closing line: "His arm around Silna, trying to ignore the raucous snores from the shaman and the fact that baby Kanneyuk had just pissed on her father's best summer parka, while also ignoring the petulant swats and mewling noises from his squirming son, Taliriktug and Crozier continued walking east across the ice toward solid ground."
Awhile back, we watched a documentary about probably our favorite writer, Harlan Ellison, called "Dreams with Sharp Teeth." In the movie, Harlan raves about a writer named Dan Simmons, imploring everyone within the sound of his voice to read this man's work. Furthermore, on the jacket of the novel currently under discussion, Stephen King proclaims he is "in awe of Dan Simmons."
Well, if he's good enough for Harlan Ellison and Stephen King, he must be worth a look-see, no?
The plot: In May 1845, an expedition led by Sir John Franklin left England in an attempt to force the Northwest Passage--a theoretical route through the ice around the North Pole that would, if found, significantly simplify worldwide shipping. The two ships, Erebus and Terror, were last seen in July 1845. None of the crew was ever heard from again.
All of the above is true: Sir John Franklin was a real Captain of the Royal Navy (indeed, a non-fiction book about Franklin, The Man Who Ate His Boots: The Tragic History of the Search for the Northwest Passage, was published earlier this year). He and his expedition disappeared in 1845. Dan Simmons picks up the story from that point. In his telling, the crews of both ships die rather horribly due to disease, treachery, and, most innovatively, giant demon quasi-polar-bear-attack.
Yeah.
The supernatural storyline is actually pretty compelling, particularly the early appearances of the monster (which we later learn is called a Tuunbaq). And the novel does have quite a bit to recommend it, including a nifty little set piece that recreates "The Masque of the Red Death" in the frozen wastes.
The major problem with The Terror, it seems to us, is a lack of editorial oversight. The novel weighs in at a hefty 766 pages--at least 200 more than was strictly necessary. We have nothing against a good tome, but when, for example, Simmons feels it necessary, in the space of two pages, to list the full names of all seven members of a scouting party, we start counting the minutes of our life that we will never get back. At other times, the author feels the need to halt all action to recap the fates of those who have already died. It's as if we're watching a TV show and sitting through the "Previously, in The Terror" segment. Also, Simmons has a tendency, as you can see from the lines quoted above, to shift his verb tenses; at first, we assumed there was something symbolic or significant about this, but, midway through, he permanently abandons the present tense, so we're not sure what--if anything--he was going for.
We're not sure how The Terror stacks up to Simmons' other books (of which there are about 20), so we have no idea whether this novel is representative of his oeuvre. We will say that the book has certain merits--brevity not being one of them--and makes us willing to give him another chance, but we are not yet ready to gush about him to the extent of Ellison and King.
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Baseball Mathematics
World Series update: The Giants are doing something of which we had thought them incapable: making the World Series boring. Granted the Texas Rangers have helped immeasurably with a display of ineptitude bordering on the Stooge-like, but still. . . 9-0?!? Where art thou, Sweet Torture?
(Digression: Thus the Rangers prove themselves a true reflection of their former owner: As governor of Texas, George W. earned a reputation as a relatively moderate, competent manager. Only after hitting the biggest of stages did he transmogrify into a world-class incompetent. EOD)
At any rate, the comparative lack of onfield drama gave us time to ponder other baseball minutiae. For example, when a relief pitcher comes into a game, the broadcaster provides the thrower's stats. These include won-lost record, strikeouts, walks, and innings pitched (and possibly additional information like opponent's batting average and favorite jelly-bean flavor). Thus, the graphic might show:
As any baseball fan knows, he has pitched 62 and two-thirds innings; that is, he has gotten three outs 62 times and also retired another two batters. Thing is, though, numerically speaking, 62.2 isn't 62 and two-thirds; it's 62 and two-tenths. Presumably, mathematicians would explain the discrepancy as a natural consequence of baseball's "base-3" organization: The game pretty much revolves around 3's and 9's, and thus .2 would instantly be understood as 2/3. Or they would explain that baseball fans are a bunch of innumerate lackwits--it's all good. Bottom line, though: If you're trying to teach a fourth-grade baseball fan the decimal system, good luck!
(Digression: Thus the Rangers prove themselves a true reflection of their former owner: As governor of Texas, George W. earned a reputation as a relatively moderate, competent manager. Only after hitting the biggest of stages did he transmogrify into a world-class incompetent. EOD)
At any rate, the comparative lack of onfield drama gave us time to ponder other baseball minutiae. For example, when a relief pitcher comes into a game, the broadcaster provides the thrower's stats. These include won-lost record, strikeouts, walks, and innings pitched (and possibly additional information like opponent's batting average and favorite jelly-bean flavor). Thus, the graphic might show:
5-2, 48/20, 62.2Translation: The pitcher has won five games while losing two; he has struck out 48 batters and walked 20; and he has pitched. . . how many innings?
As any baseball fan knows, he has pitched 62 and two-thirds innings; that is, he has gotten three outs 62 times and also retired another two batters. Thing is, though, numerically speaking, 62.2 isn't 62 and two-thirds; it's 62 and two-tenths. Presumably, mathematicians would explain the discrepancy as a natural consequence of baseball's "base-3" organization: The game pretty much revolves around 3's and 9's, and thus .2 would instantly be understood as 2/3. Or they would explain that baseball fans are a bunch of innumerate lackwits--it's all good. Bottom line, though: If you're trying to teach a fourth-grade baseball fan the decimal system, good luck!
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
The Fall Classic
We admit it: We've jumped on the San Francisco Giants bandwagon. Really, though, what choice do we have? We still love the Mets, but staring at an empty Citi Field wouldn't satisfy our baseball cravings during the fall-classic period. And we certainly can't root for the Texas Rangers. For one thing, they're from Texas. More importantly, they are the team formerly owned and presumably beloved by former President W. You know how we feel about him.
Interesting baseball tidbit: San Francisco Mayor Gavin Newsom played baseball in high school. Apparently, he was a good enough pitcher to get scouted by none other than--you guessed it--the Texas Rangers. Sadly, for those of us who enjoy our history served with a dollop of irony, the team that scouted this ultra-liberal, gay-marriage defending, sanctuary-city promoting future mayor of Moscow-on-the-Pacific was not yet owned by "compassionate (hyrrk!) conservative" future-President Beavis at the time of his scouting.
What is it with failed baseball players pursuing dreams of socialist utopias, anyway? Fidel Castro, Gavin Newsom. . . . Y'know, Kim Jong-il isn't getting any younger, and the Dodgers have this kid washing out in double-A. We're just saying. . . .
At any rate, there are other reasons to root for the Giants. Along with the A's, they are the "home team" for us now, and we read somewhere that it's incumbent upon one to root root root for those folks. Moreover, there's the slogan. The '73 Mets had "You Gotta Believe!" The 2004 Red Sox had "Cowboy Up!" And the 2010 Giants?
"Torture!"
That's not some kind of war-cry. It's meant to represent what the Giants have put their fans through over the course of this season. For San Francisco, you see, has made it this far on excellent pitching and, as far as we can tell, spackle. Their offensive star is a rookie catcher who wasn't even with the team on opening day (and whose name is "Buster Posey"--you can't make this stuff up). They tend to win (or lose) games by one run, and this is only because it is physically impossible to win or lose by less, which they would no doubt prefer. Sadistic bastards.
Tonight's World Series opener provides as good an illustration as any. Facing the heretofore unbeatable Cliff Lee, the Giants managed to open up a six-run lead midway through the game. They scored a total of 11 runs, and held a seven-run lead going into the ninth. Not wanting the assembled fans to leave disappointed, the team promptly gave up three runs and allowed another baserunner before finally ending the game. We fear to think what the rest of the series will hold, but we plan to enjoy the ride.
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Degrees of Disagreement
The three-hour meeting about SB1440 began at 8:30 this morning and ended early, at 12:15. At issue: How to adjust curricular requirements to conform to the newly-enacted legislation, which mandates that community colleges design degrees that will allow students to transfer easily to 4-year state colleges and that state colleges automatically accept these students as juniors. The legislation itself poses no insurmountable challenges for either the community or state college system; indeed, in the end, it will likely simplify things for community-college students.
Problems arise, however, when individual colleges must choose between keeping their traditional degree requirements and conforming to the new legislation. The question is not whether they WILL comply. That's, y'know, the LAW. The main question under discussion today revolved around whether colleges could continue offering, in addition to the transfer degrees, degrees with DIFFERENT requirements than those mandated by the law.
What gets us crazy is when meetings turn into marathon discussions around what are fundamentally simple questions. Take the above question, for example (please!): CAN colleges continue offering alternative paths to an associates degree? Of course they can! WILL those alternative degrees prove acceptable to four-year colleges? Of course they won't! Why, then, would a student choose to TAKE pursue one of those degrees? Aha!
In fairness, there ARE legitimate reasons for students to pursue those non-transferable degrees (for example, vocationally oriented majors that train students for the workplace as opposed to more "academic" majors). The sad fact is, though, that this reform, like so many others, may flounder on the shoals of departmental self-interest.
The politics work like this: When a course is no longer required for a degree, the department offering that course worries (not unjustifiably) that students will no longer enroll in that course. If the department loses enrollment, it may lose institutional support. Thus, departments will fight to keep as many courses as possible "in the loop" for transferability. If and when it becomes apparent that the state legislation leaves no room for a particular course in its list of requirements, these departments will then advocate for maintaining the course as a LOCAL requirement for an ALTERNATIVE associates degree (one that will not actually serve a transferring student). No problem, really, if a student has no interest in transferring. Until they DO have an interest in transferring and find out that their locally designed associates is only slightly more valuable than Enron stock.
We realize this discussion may prove opaque to those not affiliated with the California Community College system, and we apologize. You'll just have to take our word for it when we assure you that we have provided a perfect example of how bureaucracy and inertia continue to trump common sense.
Problems arise, however, when individual colleges must choose between keeping their traditional degree requirements and conforming to the new legislation. The question is not whether they WILL comply. That's, y'know, the LAW. The main question under discussion today revolved around whether colleges could continue offering, in addition to the transfer degrees, degrees with DIFFERENT requirements than those mandated by the law.
What gets us crazy is when meetings turn into marathon discussions around what are fundamentally simple questions. Take the above question, for example (please!): CAN colleges continue offering alternative paths to an associates degree? Of course they can! WILL those alternative degrees prove acceptable to four-year colleges? Of course they won't! Why, then, would a student choose to TAKE pursue one of those degrees? Aha!
In fairness, there ARE legitimate reasons for students to pursue those non-transferable degrees (for example, vocationally oriented majors that train students for the workplace as opposed to more "academic" majors). The sad fact is, though, that this reform, like so many others, may flounder on the shoals of departmental self-interest.
The politics work like this: When a course is no longer required for a degree, the department offering that course worries (not unjustifiably) that students will no longer enroll in that course. If the department loses enrollment, it may lose institutional support. Thus, departments will fight to keep as many courses as possible "in the loop" for transferability. If and when it becomes apparent that the state legislation leaves no room for a particular course in its list of requirements, these departments will then advocate for maintaining the course as a LOCAL requirement for an ALTERNATIVE associates degree (one that will not actually serve a transferring student). No problem, really, if a student has no interest in transferring. Until they DO have an interest in transferring and find out that their locally designed associates is only slightly more valuable than Enron stock.
We realize this discussion may prove opaque to those not affiliated with the California Community College system, and we apologize. You'll just have to take our word for it when we assure you that we have provided a perfect example of how bureaucracy and inertia continue to trump common sense.
Monday, October 25, 2010
Playin' the Feud
We play "Family Feud" on Facebook. Mainly, we play with ACOS, who seems to have way too much time for that sort of thing. Every now and then, we're taken aback by one of the questions or responses. Last night, for example, during a "Fast Money" round, we got the question, "Name a good gift for a stamp collector."
Uhh. . . "Stamps"?
(The number one answer? Surprisingly, "A tasteful sweater." Go figure!)
During the regular game phase, though, we got the question, "If you don't have a mirror, how could you find out whether you had food stuck in your teeth." We correctly came up with "Ask someone," "Feel with your tongue," and "Look in window reflection." We couldn't, however, think of anything else, and two answers remained. After "striking out," the game revealed the answers. The first was "Look in a spoon." Well, OK: We get that. You're sitting at a table, and you pick up a spoon and look at your reflection. The final answer, though, was "Use cell phone."
Use cell phone? To see if you have food stuck in your teeth? Would this be one of those highly poliched cell phones? Or are you meant to take a picture of yourself? Or call a friend to come down to the restaurant to check your molars?
Is there an app for that?
Sunday, October 24, 2010
The Salvation Army Bookstore
For reading enthusiasts, bookstores possess obvious allure--used bookstores, especially.
(DIGRESSION: Should that be "used book stores" or "used-book stores"? Otherwise, would we not give the impression that the bookstores themselves are of the second-hand variety? Just wondering. EOD)
We admit to a certain weakness for the used-book sections of thrift stores. Indeed, we find these somewhat preferable to the full-size used-book emporium. Those stores, particularly the classic ones (e.g., The Strand in New York, Powell's in Portland, Oregon), can confound as much as enthrall: One scarcely knows where to start. On the other hand, those raggedy racks stashed behind racks of ugly clothes and semi-functional toys at your local Goodwill or its like provide a manageable browsing experience while occasionally providing worthwhile (and cheap) reading material.
We were about to write that you never know what you'll find in these booknooks, but then we realized that would be inaccurate. For in addition to the aforementioned pleasant finds (a first-printing Gutenrberg Bible with only a few crayon markings for $0.99!), you can count on seeing some or all of the following in ANY thrift-shop bookcase, regardless of size:
--The Da Vinci Code
--SEVERAL Michael Connolly titles (We've never read anything by the man, but he seems to be the thrift-shop equvalent of James Patterson.)
--Oh, yeah, several James Patterson books, too. Of course, noting that you'll find James Patterson titles in a book store is akin to saying you'll find atoms in the universe.
--As in any bookstore, you will of course find titles by Stephen King, but not as many as his prominence in the bookselling world might lead you to expect. Specifically, you will find one or all of the following titles: Dreamcatcher, Everything's Eventual (short stories), Bag of Bones, The Green Mile. You will NOT find The Shining, The Stand, or certain others (i.e., the good ones).
--The Historian by Elizabeth Kostova (Awful book, by the way. We'll tell you about it sometime.)
--The Corrections by Jonathan Franzen (We suspect that Oprah saw to it that a copy will turn up in every bargain bin across the country--show HIM who's boss.)
--One or more of the following: The Poisonwood Bible, The Secret Life of Bees, Wide Sargasso Sea, The Handmaid's Tale (You probably won't find ALL of them, though. . . . We suspect that one or more of these books may be the SAME book. Has anyone ever seen all four of them in the same room at the same time drinking coffee? Not us.)
--As mentioned in an earlier post, a plethora of books with "Wife" in the title.
Happy browsing!
(DIGRESSION: Should that be "used book stores" or "used-book stores"? Otherwise, would we not give the impression that the bookstores themselves are of the second-hand variety? Just wondering. EOD)
We admit to a certain weakness for the used-book sections of thrift stores. Indeed, we find these somewhat preferable to the full-size used-book emporium. Those stores, particularly the classic ones (e.g., The Strand in New York, Powell's in Portland, Oregon), can confound as much as enthrall: One scarcely knows where to start. On the other hand, those raggedy racks stashed behind racks of ugly clothes and semi-functional toys at your local Goodwill or its like provide a manageable browsing experience while occasionally providing worthwhile (and cheap) reading material.
We were about to write that you never know what you'll find in these booknooks, but then we realized that would be inaccurate. For in addition to the aforementioned pleasant finds (a first-printing Gutenrberg Bible with only a few crayon markings for $0.99!), you can count on seeing some or all of the following in ANY thrift-shop bookcase, regardless of size:
--The Da Vinci Code
--SEVERAL Michael Connolly titles (We've never read anything by the man, but he seems to be the thrift-shop equvalent of James Patterson.)
--Oh, yeah, several James Patterson books, too. Of course, noting that you'll find James Patterson titles in a book store is akin to saying you'll find atoms in the universe.
--As in any bookstore, you will of course find titles by Stephen King, but not as many as his prominence in the bookselling world might lead you to expect. Specifically, you will find one or all of the following titles: Dreamcatcher, Everything's Eventual (short stories), Bag of Bones, The Green Mile. You will NOT find The Shining, The Stand, or certain others (i.e., the good ones).
--The Historian by Elizabeth Kostova (Awful book, by the way. We'll tell you about it sometime.)
--The Corrections by Jonathan Franzen (We suspect that Oprah saw to it that a copy will turn up in every bargain bin across the country--show HIM who's boss.)
--One or more of the following: The Poisonwood Bible, The Secret Life of Bees, Wide Sargasso Sea, The Handmaid's Tale (You probably won't find ALL of them, though. . . . We suspect that one or more of these books may be the SAME book. Has anyone ever seen all four of them in the same room at the same time drinking coffee? Not us.)
--As mentioned in an earlier post, a plethora of books with "Wife" in the title.
Happy browsing!
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