Mets Fans Don’t Do Positive Reinforcement

Faithful readers know that, against all common sense, I am a Mets fan. I know the highs and lows—mostly lows—of following this team, and I accept my long-suffering lot. I expect no sympathy.

This season, though, showed a great deal of promise. Despite an almost farcical string of injuries to key players, and despite the fact that almost none of the key position players were performing at anything even close to their lifetime averages, the Mets spent over three months of the season in first place in their division. One could hope that their injured players would return and their underachieving players would heat up—a regression to the mean seeming reasonable if not likely.

Alas, things have not worked out that way. August has been the cruelest month, seeing the team plummet from four games in front to seven games behind in the standings. Some of this can be chalked up to unfortunate timing: The Mets hit a collective slump just as they began a 13-game stretch against the Dodgers and Giants, the two best teams in baseball, and this corresponded to an amazing hot streak from Atlanta, which saw them surge into the division lead. Post-season dreams are all but dashed at this point.

I’m a Mets fan. I’m used to it. But now let’s talk about Javy Baez. 

Baez is a power-hitting shortstop/second baseman. Up until about a month ago, he played for the Chicago Cubs. The Cubs are going nowhere this season, so they engaged in that time-honored baseball tradition, trading away veteran players with expiring contracts, in order to stock up on young prospects. Kris Bryant went to the Giants. Anthony Russo went to the Yankees. Baez went to the Mets. And promptly got hurt and missed several games. Way to fit in with your new teammates, Javy!

The injury is not his fault, of course, and he’s played reasonably well for the Mets when he’s been on the field. And, indeed, despite their fall in the standings, the Mets haven’t really played terribly over the last month: Most of their losses have been close. Indeed, that’s probably the most frustrating aspect of this whole thing to fans. I can accept getting clobbered 10-1. But when you’re repeatedly losing 2-0, 3-2. 1-0–this just gets maddening, especially when it seems like every time the Mets get a runner to second base, the next three batters strike out. Booing will ensue.

Today, the Mets got healthy against a pathetic Washington team. They won 9-4, not least due to Javy Baez, who crushed one of those home runs where the ball might still be traveling around the earth if it hadn’t crashed into the seats. The fans, understandably, enjoyed this. Baez’s reaction?

That’s right. He’s giving a thumbs down.

When asked about this gesture, he explained that it was a reaction to the fans—who were cheering—for not being more supportive during the team’s free fall.

Now, remember: The Mets have dropped 11 games in the standings, not least because their main players haven’t performed anywhere close to their normal levels. This, by the way, includes Baez’s good friend Francisco Lindor, who has had a dreadful, injury-plagued first season with the Mets—who signed him to a $340 million contract before the season began! 

Now, paying athletes huge sums of money doesn’t guarantee that they will perform well. But it damn well guarantees the fan base the right to boo—loudly and lustily—when you underperform.

Javy, let me explain something to you: New York is the best place to be a professional athlete when you win. And even if you don’t win, if you hustle and play your heart out, the fans will love you. If, however, you don’t give it your all, or come across as an entitled little whiner, you will find the city a very inhospitable place. Since you’re a free agent after this season, though, I suspect you will not have to worry about this much longer.

Chutzpah, Thy Name Is Abbott

Covid-19 is devastating Texas. The state is reporting an average of more than 12,000 new cases a day, and intensive care units are basically full.  Covid tents are once again being erected in hospital parking lots to deal with the surge.

. . . If only there were some kind of vaccine,

In fairness, Texas is certainly not the worst state in terms of vaccination rates, with something like 56% of its eligible residents vaccinated--not great, certainly, but not as bad as some other Deep Red states.  I imagine having liberal bastions like Austin helps.  But the sheer size of Texas's population means that huge numbers of Texans remain unvaccinated, despite the near ubiquitous availability of vaccines.

In the meantime, though, Texas governor Greg Abbott remains steadfast in his refusal to do anything constructive in combatting the virus.  Not only has he refused to implement a statewide mask mandate, he has gone a step further, and forbidden local governments from imposing mask mandates of their own.  At the same time, though, Abbott is begging health care workers from other states to come to Texas to help with the Covid surge.

All I can say is, I hope that--Hippocratic Oath, notwithstanding--these out-of-state health care workers tell Abbott to go fuck himself sideways.  If he's not willing to do anything to mitigate the spread of the virus, why should anyone risk their own health and well-being to bail him out?  If I were a health-care worker, I'd offer to come to Texas if and only if statewide mask mandates are put in place, along with any number of other mitigation measures.  I might also ask for a million dollars a week. Why not?

****

In other news, the CEO's of Southwest, American, and Delta Airlines have announced that they will not require their employees to get vaccinated, in contrast to United Airlines, which did impose such a mandate.

Really, Delta? Isn't it bad enough for your corporate image that the plague raging across the country is universally and unrelentingly referred to as the "Delta variant"? You really want to compound that by going on record as being less than fanatical in taking steps to protect your staff and customers?

Waiting

This afternoon, our college's marketing director, who also serves as our public information officer (PIO) sent the management group a message over Microsoft Teams: "So we have fires on both sides of campus right now." Off our eastern perimeter, a smallish fire was burning at a storage space (I swear, California has more storage space per capita than anywhere else on earth) and a larger one had ignited off to our west at the local Chevron refinery.  Not to worry, though: The refinery blaze was apparently a truck fire, not likely to ignite the storage tanks.  As of this writing, the smoke seems to have dissipated, and it looks like the fires might be out.

As of this writing. . . 

That's the thing, though: We're basically in the heart of wildfire season right now.  The Dixie Fire northeast of Sacramento has been burning for about a month and is still only about 20% contained.  It's already become the second largest wildfire in California history, and its effects have been seen and felt as far east as Denver, Salt Lake City. . . and Iowa.. . and even New York.  Interestingly, though, folks in my neck of the woods--not especially close to the fire, but certainly closer than Denver, Salt Lake City, et al.--haven't been particularly affected.  Oh, there've certainly been some hazy days, but for thanks to whatever quirks of the jetstream have been holding sway nearby, we really haven't had much in the way of smoky, oppressive air.  So far, despite constant reminders of a "bad" fire season, we've been relatively unscathed--far less. . . scathed?. . .than we've been in recent years.

I'm thankful for that, of course, but every time I take the slightest bit of comfort, I remember that the other shoe--and there's always another shoe--could drop at any moment.  Past performance is not a predictor of future results.  Lack of fire right now ensures nothing about the absence of fire in a week. . . or a day. . . or an hour.  When all it takes to start an inferno is some careless smoker tossing an insufficiently extinguished cigarette into the wrong patch of overly dry grasses. . . . I sometimes find myself seriously wondering how it's possible that the entire state isn't on fire in perpetuity.

Sure, life is unpredictable.  We all walk around under constant threat from random catastrophes over which we exercise no control--even if most such random catastrophes are relatively unlikely: Terrorist attacks, lightning strikes, getting bonked on the head by a meteorite.  But the world still feels so much more precarious now, as the uncontrollable catastrophes just seem to increase in number, and sometimes it seems like we're all just waiting for the big one to hit.

TRENDS!!!

Back despite lack of popular demand, it's the Thursday Trendwatch!  Let's see what people are looking at on Yahoo! today! 

(Yeah, I know, I tried doing this a few weeks back with Twitter's trending topics, but that was boring: Just a bunch of TV shows that people were talking about.  I'm hoping Yahoo! will provide a more eclectic mix of things to riff on.)

10: Luka Doncic

Why he's trending: NBA fans now Doncic as the 22-year-old wunderkind (or whatver's Slovenian for "wunderkind") of the Dallas Mavericks.  After only a few years in the league, he's blossomed into a perennial MVP candidate, and he's in the news today thanks to his participation in the Olympics as a member of the Slovenian national team. . . that just lost to France. FRANCE!  That's almost as embarrassing as losing to the Knicks!

9: Doris Duke

Why she's trending: After Luka Doncic made his unceremonious exit from the Olympics, the disturbingly tall and long-dead heiress took the silver medal in the women's shot put. . . OK, seriously, though: Doris Duke's killing of a gay man in Newport, Rhode Island. in 1966 was long ruled an accidental homicide.  Recently, though, it's been conclusively established that Duke intentionally murdered her erstwhile friend.  Yet more proof of the deadly effects of tobacco.

8. NFL Tickets

Why they're trending: . . . ? Because, football?

7. Prostate Cancer Treatment

Why it's trending: I can only assume that it has something to do with the demographic profile of users of Yahoo! being middle-aged men with questionable health practices. . . .Considering who's reporting on their current trend list, I can't really take issue with this.

6. Jennifer Aniston

Why she's trending: There seem to be a few things going on with "Morning Show" star and famous haircut, Jennifer Aniston. She apparently has a "TikTok doppelganger" that has gone viral. She announced recently that she has cut people out of her life over their continued propagation of Covid-19 disinformation. But perhaps most importantly, her favorite underwear, the Hanky Panky thong, may soon disappear from the shelves of Nordstrom's.  America mourns with her.

5: The Hoshizaki Ice Machine

Why it's trending: Because when you need ice, you need Hoshizaki!

4. Nina Dobrev

Why she's trending: Because she "shows off toned abs in red bikini."  I mean, I'm all for this kind thing, but I note a clear double-standard.  Nobody ever seems interested when I show off my abs in a red bikini.  And lord knows I show them off often enough!

3. Elizabeth Holmes

Why she's trending: Holmes was an executive with Theranos, a biotech company that claimed revolutionary diagnostic capabilities, like the capacity to diagnose all manner of illnesses from just a single drop of blood.  It was astounding!  It was world-changing! It was bullshit! And now Holmes faces criminal charges for fraud.  When she does go on trial, it has been decided that patients who received "erroneous" test results will be allowed to testify against her.  Too bad for Holmes that Doris Duke isn't around to bump off some of the peskier witnesses.

2. Carli Lloyd

Why she's trending: She, along with teammate Megan Rapinoe, scored two goals in today's Olympic match against Australia to clinch the bronze medal for Team USA.  At least they didn't lose to France!

And the number one trending topic today is.. . . 

1. Tana Mongeau

Why she's trending: She's a YouTuber who apparently needs a belt.

. . .I tell ya, folks.  Trends ain't quite what they used to be.

Coxswain Teasing

Speaking of weird sports: rowing.

I think I’d make a good coxswain. After all, everybody knows that, if there’s one thing I enjoy, it’s screaming at rowers. I’ll often go down to the park in the hopes of finding a kayaker to yell at. And since the extent of the coxswain’s non-yelling-centered physical activity seems to involve sitting down, I think I am in peak physical condition to assume the awesome responsibility of shrieking Team USA to victory!

Let's Talk about Liberos

I know, I know. I promised you a discussion the designated hitter.  But this is important, dammit!

Oddball sports are the lifeblood of the Olympics.  Every four(ish) years, otherwise reasonable people find themselves suddenly espousing passionate opinions about arcane athletic pursuits that nobody watches: Water polo! Taekwondo! Gymnastics!  (Oh, bite me! You know I speak the truth!)

So it is with volleyball.

To be clear: Not women's beach volleyball, which, far from being meaningless, is the epitome of sports and should have its own cable channel devoted to showing it 24-7-365-World Without End, amen!

No, I speak of the more prosaic indoor volleyball, about which I have developed strong opinions over the last 23 minutes! Specifically, about the "libero."

If you've been watching Olympic volleyball (and who hasn't?), you've surely noticed that one player on each team wears a different color shirt than their teammates.

This is not, as one would reasonably assume, a result of a laundry snafu.  Rather, the mismatched player is the "libero," a position invented in 1998 because volleyball wasn't convoluted enough.

Generally, the libero is the team's best defensive player.  Not to be confused with the team's most defensive player.  That would be Sheryl.  You just can't say anything to that girl!

Where was I?  Ah, yes:

The libero plays a very specific role.  They are not allowed to serve.  They are not allowed to spike.  They are mainly assigned to play defense--but the defensive permission does not extend to blocking their opponent's spikes, which they are not allowed to do, but which would seem to be a key defensive function, but what do I know? I'm just the guy who's been watching volleyball for, now, 32 minutes.  Anyway.  

Liberos are allowed to make spectacular dives (which I believe are called "digs") to prevent a spiked ball from hitting the ground (which would be bad).  They are also allowed to be the "second setter"--i.e., the person who volleys the ball after the first setter so that a third person can smack the ball over the net.  The libero, then, plays the role of the middle person in the Human Centipede that is a volleyball team.

Sorry.

Now, I grant you that saving a spiked ball ("digging") is an important skill. From what I've observed, though (46 minutes!), liberos are not very successful at doing this.  This phenomenon becomes more befuddling when you notice that the "spiker" very often smacks the ball right in the libero's direction.  Like, "Here, libero! Dig this!"  Which on the face of it seems like poor strategy if we assume the liberos can do their job.  I mean, if they're ostensibly the best defensive player, wouldn't you want to keep the ball away from them?  You don't see baseball players intentionally hitting the ball in the direction of the gold-glove shortstop, right?

I should really coach volleyball.

I mentioned earlier that the libero wears a different colored jersey.  This is supposedly to make the player easier for the officials to identify, in case they do something useful--uh, I mean, un-libero-like, such as blocking an opponent's shot.

I suspect, though, the opportunity to clothe someone in an alternate color jersey was in fact the main impetus for the position: It was a marketing ploy.  I mean, you have any idea how many volleyball groupies there are?!?

No, seriously, do you?  I'm thinking six?  

However many there are, you don't want them to stop buying Team USA merch! So you have to give them more inventory to choose from!  You only have the standard t-shirt?  Real fans will spend the extra $49.99 for the libero hoodie!

The More Things Change, Part II

 Seven-Inning Double-Headers

As a result of the pandemic, the 2020 baseball season didn't get underway until late July.  Rather than a 162-game slog, the season was a 60-game sprint.  Realizing, though, that some games would still be rained—or, as in fact often happened, quarantined out, Major League Baseball decreed that missed games would, as usual, be made up through double-headers, but that, not as usual, each game of the double-header would be only seven innings.

Now, this obviously shaves some time off games and so could be seen as in keeping with MLB’s attempts to speed up the pace-of-play.  And the rule either benefits or hurts teams in pretty much equal measure: A team that loses a seven-inning game by one run could reasonably complain that they were "cheated" out of a couple of opportunities to mount a comeback, but they are just as likely to find themselves winning a one-run game that could be frittered away by a shaky bullpen.  In the grand scheme of baseball, those things tend to even out over time.

Some things, however, don't even out.  This season, for example, the New York Mets have already had a ridiculous number of games postponed.  Their very first series of the year was postponed when several Washington players tested positive for Covid.  Subsequently, foul weather in the New York region forced several more postponements.  By the end of May, the Mets had already experienced ten postponements, and as I write this, they are playing in their 62nd double-header of the year. Yes, I’m exaggerating, but only slightly.

Think about what this means: Even if the Mets "only" had those ten postponements, then that would mean they would play twenty seven-inning games (the ten games being made up, plus the ten additional games forming the second half of the double-header).  At the end of the season, then, the Mets would have played 40 fewer innings than they were scheduled to play (assuming no need for extra innings in these games)—or the equivalent of more than four fewer games than in a standard season.  At the same time, teams that play in domed stadiums or in generally delightful climates like San Diego might see no postponements.  So if, say, San Diego faces the Mets in the post-season, the Padres' players will have four-plus games more worth of wear and tear, bumps and bruises, arm strain and exhaustion.  That hardly seems fair.

Seven-inning games raise other questions of fairness: If a pitcher throws seven innings and gives up no hits, should he be credited with a no-hitter? Does a starting pitcher still have to complete five innings to qualify for a win (as he would in a standard game)?

And here’s some REAL chutzpah. Most double-headers are scheduled in the classic “single-admission” format: One ticket gets you into both games. So, even though the game you would normally be seeing is shorter than usual, you’re still getting two games and at least 14 innings of baseball for the price of nine. SOME of these games, though, are scheduled as “split” double-headers with, say, one game starting at 1:00 and the second starting at 7:00. In these cases, fans must buy tickets to each game separately—but each game is only guaranteed to be seven innings. You will not be too shocked to hear that the teams don’t cut the price of each ticket by 22%.

MLB commissioner Rob Manfred has decreed that double-headers will revert to nine innings next season. Unless the inequities outlined above are addressed, then the seven-inning version does, indeed, need to go.

Up next: Designated hitters.

The More Things Change. . . . (Part One)

With the second half of the season underway, as we barrel into the dog days of August, now seems as good a time as any to share our thoughts on the changes adopted by Major League Baseball over the last couple of years,

Baseball is often romanticized as some never-changing artifact of Americana.  This image, though, has never been accurate.  Baseball gloves have grown from, essentially, the size of standard gloves one might wear on a chilly day to large, webbed contraptions in which even the screamingest of line drives can be easily handled.  Batting helmets have presumably saved many a life--or at least prevented many a concussion--since their introduction in the 1940s.  Jackie Robinson broke the color barrier long after Ty Cobb broke the racist barrier--I kid, I kid: There were ALWAYS racists in baseball.  Still, certain fundamental aspects of the game have never changed: The pitcher's mound (or, more specifically, the rubber thereon) has always sat 60 feet, six inches from home plate.  The distance between bases has never shrunk from 90 feet.  The Yankees have always been despicable.  This bedrock of unshakable tradition has allowed the game to evolve around the edges and so to remain just as exciting--or, to haters, boring--as ever.

The last two years, though, have seen some major changes, mainly adopted in response to the pandemic-forced shortening of the 2020 season.  Apparently, some of these changes are to be discarded after this year, but let's take a moment to review them and consider which worked well and which should rightly be eliminated.

We begin our discussion today with:

The Three-Batter Rule

Many changes recently adopted by the lords of baseball concern efforts to accelerate the "pace of play."  MLB feared that fans were turned off by lengthy games, and so sought ways to speed things up.  There are now rules about how long a pitcher can take between pitches--rules which I've never seen actually enforced--and limitations on the number of times the catcher or manager can visit the pitcher's mound during a game.  Perhaps the most significant rule-change of this type, though, is one requiring any pitcher brought into a game to face at least three batters.

This is a good rule.  It prevents a manager from, say, bringing in a right-handed pitcher to face a right-handed batter, and then replacing that pitcher with a leftie to face a leftie. . . and then replacing that leftie with another rightie. . . .and on and on ad infinitum as the viewing audience slowly dies.  And yes, this sort of thing would frequently happen, while announcers inevitably--and futilely--tried to sell us on the beauty of this time-honored baseball strategy.  So while the three-batter rule has somewhat diminished the market for that most fabled of baseball professionals, the left-handed specialist, it has sped up this one aspect of the game.

I should state at this point that I, myself, am unconvinced that "pace of play" really is a problem.  Certainly, baseball games can often last far longer than any disinterested observer would consider necessary, but why must baseball pander to the disinterested observer?  To those who enjoy baseball, the comparatively languid pace--when measured against, say, basketball or hockey or high-speed mouse-tossing--is a feature, not a bug.  Baseball will never be a high-velocity sport; no need to try to make it into one.

Still and all, though, constant pitching changes, with pitchers accompanied by the  "Final Jeopardy" theme music as they stroll in from the bullpen, with strategy conversations with the manager and infielders, with the (at least) eight warmup pitches--these can get kind of tedious even for the most dedicated baseball enthusiast.  Plus, it is interesting to watch left-handed pitchers who haven't faced a right handed batter since the Clinton administration suddenly, unavoidably, staring down the likes of Mike Trout or Pete Alonso in a high-pressure situation.  

Good rule!  Keep it!

On deck: Seven-inning double-headers

Shakespeare in the Park? Get Off My Lawn!

I’m not old, OK! Middle-aged, at best—or worst—or something! Leave me alone! My mind isn’t as sharp as it used to be. But I’m. Not. Old.

Only, sometimes I certainly FEEL old.

I work with this theatre company. Every summer, we do Shakespeare in the park. This year, after a Covid-forced shutdown in 2020, we’re doing The Tempest. I play Sebastian, and despite my desperate entreaties, they’re refusing to allow me to burst into a rousing rendition of “Under the Sea,” but that’s another story. I enjoy working with this group, but inevitably I find myself surrounded by considerably younger people. A lot of college students or recent college grads seem to end up in the annual troupe. In the past, it hasn’t bothered me that much, but this year, perhaps because I’ve lost a year to virtual house arrest, the younguns just seem that much younger.

I’ve found myself utterly bemused by their cultural references. I think the main source of dissonance has to do with the fact that these people draw much of their cultural capital from the internet—from YouTube and Tik Tok and the like. Like, they actually watch YouTube, as if YouTube is something you watch.

I don’t get this. YouTube isn’t shows. . .YouTube is just. . .I don’t know… random clips of more or less entertaining value… Like, I’ll go to YouTube if I’m looking for something in particular, like a music video or Colbert’s last monologue or reassurance that Trump actually won the last election! Make America great again!!! Who actually goes to YouTube for, like, destination programming? And then my castmates will make references to YouTube “celebrities” (or “YouTubers” as I’m told they’re called) as if I’m supposed to know what they’re talking about!

Don’t even get me started on Tik Tok.

Maybe I am old.

Reconcilable Differences

Shortly after Congress passed President Biden’s $1.9 trillion pandemic rescue bill earlier this year, Mississippi senator Roger Wicker issued a celebratory tweet about the bill’s provision of nearly $30 billion to support the restaurant industry.

Here’s the thing, though: Wicker and every other Republican had voted against the legislation. His tweet and similar statements from his GOP colleagues can and should of course be written off as typical political hypocrisy, but they suggest a likely preview of how the current political debates over the President’s latest spending proposals will play out—and also why Republicans should, frankly, not worry too much about them.

Since these bills, through the magic of a parliamentary maneuver called “reconciliation” (which we’ve all had to learn way too much about), can pass with simple majority support, they are likely to squeak through Congress with only Democratic votes. Once this happens, feckless Republicans can brag to their constituents about all the goodies they’re receiving while still proudly proclaiming their anti-Biden credentials. Win-win.

And while I hate to be giving Republicans any advice, I take comfort in the fact that the “win-win” alluded to above includes the country as a whole.

Solipsistography: “Democrats Push a Budget to Fulfill Biden’s Aggressive Economic Ambitions”

The Lord Giveth in Mysterious Ways

This week, the biggest American poverty-relief program to be created in generations will begin delivering financial aid to families with children. An expansion in the child tax credit will send cash payments of $250-300 per month per child to the vast majority of American families. Almost everyone thinks this is a good idea. Even reliable conservatives like Mitt Romney have offered little in the way of criticism. 

Still, there are those who continue to stamp their feet and advocate against their own interests. A Louisiana parent who has been out of work for over a year and who, with four children, would stand to receive over $1000 a month from the government to, you know, help feed them, is considering not accepting the money because, as he says, “I’m a Christian believer—I rely on God more than I rely on the government.”

Here’s my question for people who invoke God to resist governmental programs: Did it ever occur to you that the governmental program might just be God’s mysterious way of helping you? Or were you just expecting money to literally fall from the sky? And if so, why is accepting mysterious welfare from some unseen deity inherently better than just taking a check from Uncle Joe?

On Vacation

 See you in a couple of weeks!

Global Warming, Schmobal Warming

Sure, climate change is scary, and this week's record-setting--not to say, insane--temperatures in the Pacific Northwest bode ill for continued human existence on the planet.  But look at it this way: We start to worry when we hear about temperatures "10 to 15 degrees" above normal.  If global warming continues, though, this normal will gradually increase as well.  In other words, before long, what we now consider record heat will just be average, and then we can look at the panting, sweating, gasping population of Juneau, Alaska, as a sign that all is right with the world.

Of Communion, Conservatorships, Conservatives, and Covid

Last weekend, a conference of Catholic bishops in the United States overwhelmingly approved a draft statement that could potentially prevent prominent Catholics—including, conspicuously, one prominent Catholic in particular, President Joe Biden—from receiving Communion due to their support for abortion rights. This despite admonitions from the Pope against the statement.

(Is the Pope Catholic? Some American bishops might have their doubts. And so much for rendering unto Caesar….)

The coverage of this vote, in an effort to explain to laypeople (and Jews) the significance of the Eucharist, frequently mentions the belief of devout Catholics that, when they eat the cracker and drink the wine, the Communion comestibles are literally transformed into the body and blood of Christ.

So, if I understand this correctly, Catholics believe that supporting a woman’s right to choose an abortion is a mortal sin, but they’re perfectly OK with cannibalism. And not for nothing, but these folks have also been eating Jesus for some 2000 years now. How much flesh and blood did the man have?

*****

On Wednesday, June 23, and Thursday, June 24, the front page of the New York Times featured stories about the New York City mayor's race, Supreme Court decisions, the ongoing deterioration of American democracy at the hands of revanchist Republicans. . . and Britney Spears' attempts to free herself from a conservatorship.

Now, I have nothing against Britney Spears.  I've never particularly cared for her music, but as far as I know, Britney's never hurt anybody or kicked puppies, and she's brought joy to millions through her catalogue of danceable bubblegum pop.  She’s a grown woman who, like all of us, has made some mistakes in judgment and haircare, but she certainly has a reasonable case that she should be free to manage her own affairs.

All that being said: IS THIS FRONT PAGE NEWS FOR THE PAPER OF RECORD? FOR TWO CONSECUTIVE DAYS?!?

This is why they hate us.

*****

The Supreme Court ruled in favor of a high-school cheerleader who was disciplined by her school after she posted a vulgar Snapchat rant about not being selected for the varsity squad. Now that’s what I call team spirit!

Anyway, a good decision by the Supremes, but, frankly, this whole case falls under the heading of, "How is this even a question?"  To recap: The cheerleader, Brandi Levy, posted a mini-rant in which she cursed out the school, softball, cheer, and "everything." She didn't threaten anyone.  She didn't use any racial or ethnic slurs.  She wasn't on school property when she posted the screed--from her cellphone--on a Saturday.  And she posted it to her followers (about 250 of them) on Snapchat, a social media tool designed to be ephemeral: Snapchat messages automatically disappear after a few hours.

I'm glad the Justices found in her favor, but, much like the Britney Spears' conservatorship question, I can't help but think there are more important things for us to be spending time on.

One interesting note: The decision was not unanimous.  It was 8-1.  The "1" was Clarence Thomas, which I found a little surprising considering that he's "Mr. Originalist."  One would think this open-and-shut challenge to the First Amendment would have garnered his support.  Yet, no.  I can only assume that this speaks to Thomas's commitment to always be on the wrong side of every question.

*****

I’m tired of Facebook posts sharing news articles with headlines like, “Young Mother, 24, Dies of Covid Despite Being Fully Vaccinated.” I don’t doubt the veracity of the headlines—I’m not engaging in Trumpian shrieks of “Fake News.” Nor do I mean to belittle the anguish faced by the families and loved ones of those who die after vaccination. But I do question the motives of those who publish such “news” stories and those who share them online. These stories are the epitome of fearmongering and serve no purpose other than to generate clicks and undermine efforts to vaccinate as many people as possible—which, to be clear, is the only way we will ultimately end the pandemic.

Let’s consider a scary number: According to the CDC, as of April 2021, nearly SIX-THOUSAND fully vaccinated Americans had contracted Covid! Terrifying, no?

Well, actually no. Because as of today, over 150 million Americans have been fully vaccinated. So, even if we assume that the number of “breakthrough cases” (positive Covid diagnoses after vaccination) is now at 10,000–or, hell, let’s say it’s skyrocketed to 100,000–that would still mean that the positivity rate among the vaccinated is less than one in a thousand people. And the death rate is less than one-tenth of THAT. So another way of looking at all these “scary” headlines is that Covid vaccines are more than 99.99% effective in preventing death from Covid.

That’s a death-prevention-efficacy rate that rivals seatbelts!

The frustrating part of all this is that the people I see sharing these posts are usually intelligent, liberal types. They’re sharing the posts mainly in an effort to encourage people to remain vigilant even after vaccination. But another unavoidable consequence of such stories is that the vaccine resistant—the ignorant MAGAts who have decided that science is a liberal plot—get more ammunition to double-down on their hostility to vaccines: “See, vaccines don’t prevent Covid! It’s all a scam.”

Maybe we should tell the MAGAts that once the vaccine is injected, it transforms into the body and blood of Trump. 

Eternal Waking

In the first issue of Neil Gaiman’s graphic novel masterpiece, “Sandman: Master of Dreams,” the eponymous hero curses someone with “eternal waking.” The bad guy is next shown in the throes of a nightmare, from which he, blessedly, awakens—only to realize that he’s in another nightmare, from which he, blessedly, awakens—only to realize…. You get the idea.

While, thankfully, not nightmarish, I very occasionally suffer from a very similar malady. Just the other day, I woke up, got out of bed, fed my cat, poured myself a cup of coffee… when suddenly I realized, “Wait, I’m still in bed.” Sure enough, I found myself back in my bed, waking up. I went to the bathroom, brushed my teeth, turned on the shower… and realized once again that I was still in bed. By the third or fourth time this happens, I start to pay very close attention to my surroundings to assure myself that THIS TIME I’m really awake. I feel the pressure of my feet on the floor as I stand up…and yet, I’m still not really up.

OK, the fact that one of these times I walked into my living room, where I found a retired army general singing Magnetic Fields songs, should probably have clued me in to the fact that I was not quite awake yet, but still! After about five iterations of this false waking, one does start to worry. Maybe this is your life, now. Or maybe you died and this is what the afterlife is.  Finally, my cat decided I had been in bed long enough and it was time to feed her, so she stomped on my rib cage until I woke for real. One of the few times I’ve been happy to be so awakened.

I wonder if this is a common occurrence. Do other people suffer from eternal waking? And am I still asleep now as I type these words? That would explain a lot. Like the penguin in a tutu that’s sitting next to me on the couch.

Opening Day

As I write this, I’m sitting in the house. Not MY house. THE house. As in the part of a theater where the audience sits. For the first time in nearly two years, I’m attending a members’ meeting of my local community theatre. The meeting is about as boring as I remembered these meetings to be, but I don’t even care. It’s one more step on the road back to something resembling a post-Covid normalcy.

I know we’re not at normal yet. Every day brings worrisome news of some new variant that’s more contagious, more lethal, or both. And at the same time, I’m sitting maskless amongst a group of community theatre actors. And if you know anything about “community theatre actors,” you know that that’s a synonym for “older than dirt.” Let me put it this way: I’m a veritable whippersnapper in this crowd. These are presumably the most at-risk folks, but we couldn’t stay away.

At the same time, as California has officially reopened, the paranoia and neurosis run deep. At my workplace—a college—we’ve been informed that, come August, we will be back to business as usual. In keeping with the state and county guidance, we will allow the public back on campus, we will forego mask requirements, and even social distancing will be a thing of the past. Which would all be a lot more impressive if we hadn’t had to create the fall schedule back on March. As it is, the college will be open, but most of the classes remain online. Fall, then, will be a nice, liminal sort of semester—a transitional zone between sheltering in place and resuming normal, public human interactions.

A lot of people don’t see it that way, though. They’re kind of panicking at the thought of interacting with the unmasked public. Have they been vaccinated? For the most part, yes. But when you point out that the CDC has declared that vaccinated people are essentially safe—no need for masking, no need for distancing—you’re met with greater of lesser degrees of hysteria. “It’s not 100% safe!” Well, no, it isn’t, but, then again, you realize nothing is, right? You weren’t “100% safe” at work before Covid-19, either. At some point, you just have to start living your life again, right?

Here’s the thing that gets me: All through the awful year of 2020, as the Moron-in-Chief railed against medical science and insisted that the coronavirus would just disappear like a “miracle” and peddled snake-oil cures and advised people to drink bleach—all through that time, the non-brainwashed among us pleaded with people to listen to the doctors, listen to the science. Well, now the science is telling us that we can venture forth without masks, we can stop social distancing, we can get back to our lives—and people don’t want to hear it!

I know that people are nervous. I’m sympathetic—I really am. But in the end, you have to take a plunge sometime. The time has come.

Toucan, But You Can’t

The more I think about it, I’ve come to realize that watching Saturday morning cartoons in the 1970s gave me a highly unrealistic expectation of the likelihood of encountering a toucan.

And, before you ask, No. I had no such thwarted expectations of meeting a leprechaun. Or, for that matter, a giant sentient pitcher of Kool-Aid. I mean, I wasn’t stupid! I knew that those things weren’t real. And as for tigers and rabbits, well, those were comparatively commonplace. One could see tigers at any zoo, and rabbits might even show up around the neighborhood. So I harbored—subconsciously, yes, but also definitely—a belief that one could very likely run into a toucan down any random street in Queens. I mean, the kids in the commercials certainly took the bird’s presence in stride.

I’m retrospect, I think much of my general dissatisfaction with life can be traced to such early disappointments.

Emergency Procedures

Emergent Biosolutions has emerged as more of a problem in the realm of coronavirus vaccine production. The company has won contracts worth hundreds of millions of dollars from the federal government to produce vaccines developed by Astra Zeneca and Johnson & Johnson. Very few doses of any vaccine, though, have been distributed because the company’s quality-control levels fall short of your average meth lab.

Actually, I take that back. Walter White would never accept such shoddy manufacturing practices.

There’ve been all manner of production snafus, most notably cross-contamination of the two different vaccines. Apparently, the Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup theory of vaccine production didn’t fly with government regulators.

And while the rest of the world has become adept at basic hygiene over the last 18 months, Emergent employees still display some lapses.

I wouldn’t be surprised to hear that squirrels have taken up residence in the company’s cafeteria.

I would like to formally offer my own home as a production facility for vaccine production. Sure, I’m not the cleanest fellow in the world. Maybe I haven’t changed my bedsheets since the Million Nazi March in Charlottesville—I’m protesting! But, hey, my kitchen can’t be that much filthier than Emergent’s. And I’ll let the government rent it out for pennies on the BioSolutions dollar!

#Trendwatch

 Back in the day, before our reboot, we used to do an occasional feature called “Trendwatch.” We would go to Yahoo! and see what the trending stories were, mainly as a way to test our knowledge of pop-culture and current events: Do we know why the thing trending is trending without actually clicking on the link.

We wanted to revive the practice, but Yahoo! is SO 2012. All the kids these days are on Twitter, so “Trendwatch” will now become #Trendwatch, a review of the top trending topics on Twitter. The advantage being that maybe that hashtag makes things searchable and will expose us to all new followers! 

That is how these things work, right?

Anyway: Number 1: #JacobdeGrom Well, we know what this is about. You will recall our earlier discussion of Mets’ pitcher and resident super-alien Jacob deGrom. He started the game tonight against the San Diego Padres. He was his usual brilliant self: Six innings, one hit, no runs, ten strikeouts. As I watch the game now, the Mets’ bullpen is doing their best to throw the game away, but deGrom continues to dominate.

Number 2: #SmackDown I assumed this referred to what people want to do when listening to the ravings of Marjorie Taylor Greene, but it turns out it’s a wrestling thing. Or “wrestling” thing. Or wrestling “thing.” Anyway, it’s apparently on TV tonight, so watch if you’re into that sort of thing.

Number 3: #spacesgottalent The description: “Musicians are throwing it back to the 2000s as they perform for a panel of judges on spaces.” I first read that as “. . .in space,” and I thought, “I have no idea what that is, but it sounds incredibly cool.” Then I read it correctly as “…on spaces,” and I thought, “I have no idea what that is.” But whatever it is, musicians are performing on it! So… watch if you’re into that sort of thing.

Number 4: #TheLastDriveIn I think this is a series on Shudder, which I think is like Netflix for horror movies. . .  I thought Netflix was Netflix for horror movies.

Number 5: #readytolove Also apparently a TV show. Certainly not descriptive of Your Not So Humble Correspondent. More like #readytomisanthropize here.

Hoist by Their Own Cyberpetard

Every day, it seems, we glean a little more insight into the wonderful world of Bitcoin. Only a matter of time before we’re cryptocurrency savants. Whether we achieve this knowledge before or after the whole thing completely collapses like the scam it is remains to be seen.

To recap recent events, a few weeks ago, Russian-based cybercriminals hacked into the servers of Colonial Pipeline and locked up their systems, causing chaos up and down the East Coast. The hackers, working with a syndicate known as DarkSide, demanded 75 Bitcoin in ransom to release the company’s computers. Colonial paid the ransom, which was worth somewhere north of $4 million at the time of the payment.

Forward to this week: The FBI announced that they had essentially hacked the hackers. They were able to identify DarkSide’s Bitcoin “wallet” and received permission from a judge to confiscate as much of the ransom as they could. In the event, they were able to claw back about 75% of the money that Colonial had paid.

While I still have no clear idea what Bitcoin actually… is, one thing I did understand was that the whole appeal of the currency—especially to criminals—was its untraceability, it’s imperviousness to such mundane things as confiscation by legal authorities. Only, now it turns out that—go figure!—the same internet that facilitates criminal activity can be used to combat criminals, using many of the same hacking techniques employed by the criminals themselves!

Duffel bags full of cash are looking better by the minute.

Why Can’t We Be Friends

Last week, I got briefly excited when Vice-President Kamala Harris sent me a Facebook friend request.

About damn time! I thought.

Alas, it was not Kamala Harris, but Karen Harris.  Or, more accurately, Harris Karen.  I don't actually know whether this lady's first name is Karen or Harris because, you see, I don't know this lady.  Based on the length of her Friends' list--which at last check stood at zero--I surmise that nobody knows this lady.  It's almost as if . . .  she doesn't actually exist!

Too bad really.  She seems kind of interesting.  She's a Bitcoin miner in Austin, TX.  She might be able to answer some of my burning Bitcoin questions! Also, on the day she sent me her friend request, she also got married!

So, while I didn't accept the friend request, I would like to issue my heartiest congratulations to Harris and her beau.  Given the fact that one of the first things she did on her wedding day was to friend-request a stranger two-thousand miles away, I predict a long and happy marriage.

Basic Economics

A lot of Republican-led states are phasing out extra unemployment benefits that have been offered during the pandemic. They claim that extra benefits dissuade people from rejoining the workforce because why work when the government gives you free money?

There’s a certain logic to that. But since the extra unemployment benefits are around $300 a week, that works out to a little over $7/hr for a 40 hour workweek. Which is to say that, people who are “turning down” work because unemployment pays better must be getting job offers that pay less than $7/hr. So, perhaps the solution would be for employers to pay a living wage?

Of course, increased unemployment benefits are not the only factor keeping people out of the workforce. There are also things like fears of illness and the lack of childcare options, but Republicans don’t want to acknowledge those. Acknowledging those things might necessitate their thinking about actually doing something to help people. And lord knows helping people is not what Republicans got into politics for!

What they did get into politics for remains anyone’s guess.

*****

Amazon update: $5.06. You’re SO close, Bezos!

Save a Cat, Hug a Donut

 Happy National Hug Your Donut Day! It’s also National Cat Day!

...Now that I read that, I think I might have those sorta backward...

Wish I’d realized that before I got myself all covered in sprinkles... and took a bite out of my cat.

I notice that there’s no National Hug Your Dog Day. I suppose that’s because one doesn’t really need an excuse to hug a dog. And hugging even the most amenable cat can sometimes be an unpleasant experience, full of claws and teeth and tears....

Defense Is Overrated; Suits Are Not

When did basketball coaches stop wearing suits? I think it was last year, during the height of the coronavirus pandemic. The NBA resumed the season that had been suspended in March, but the teams all played in what came to be known as “The Bubble”: a state of the art athletic facility in Disney World. While the playoffs progressed, players remained sequestered in Orlando, away from friends and family, but relatively safe from Covid. Still, one can’t help but wonder how many players made half-assed efforts during the playoffs so as to get booted earlier from the Bubble. That would go a long way toward explaining how the Miami Heat made it to the finals.

Anyway, when the season resumed, coaches seemed to decide that the Bubble called for a more casual approach to fashion. Team-logoed fleeces replaced the Armani’s and Hugo Bosses to which we’d become accustomed since the days of Pat Riley. And this year, even with the resumption of relatively normal games, complete with fans on the stands, the coaches are still rocking the casual Friday look every day of the week.

Next thing you know, they’re gonna take a page from baseball and start dressing in uniforms like the players. I hope it doesn’t come to that. Nobody needs to see Tom Thibodeau in a pair of baggy shorts.

Speaking of Tom Thibodeau, the New York Knicks got bounced out of the playoffs yesterday. I’m not overly disappointed—I save my disappointment for the Mets. And the Knicks had a pretty good season, anyway.

It goes to show, though, that the old sports adage about defense winning championships doesn’t always hold true. Tom Thibodeau is universally acknowledged as a defensive-minded coach, and the Knicks did practice spectacular defense throughout the season. But in basketball, the better offensive team will almost always win.

You might respond, “Well, ultimately, doesn’t the better offensive team ALWAYS win in any sport?” Well, no. I mean, in other sports, you could have a team that, in general, is great offensively but that gets shut down by a superior defensive team—a defensive team that manages to eke out just enough offense to win. The key idea here is that, in other sports, the defense can shut down the opposition. Think about a pitcher throwing a shutout, or a football defense blanking their opponents.

In basketball, even a terrific defense is going to give up 90 points or so. So a great defense by itself won’t win you any championships if you can’t score enough. It’ll just cause you to lose by two points instead of 20.

*****

Amazon update: The price of the book today? $5.61. Nice try, Bezos!

Amazon Is Onto Me

I like books. I own quite a few. At least seven! Hard to believe, I know. And in addition to my physical, paper and paste library, I have an ever growing digital library on my Kindle.

I should also mention that I’m frugal. For example, that Kindle I mentioned? It’s not actually a physical device, but a free app downloaded onto my iPad. (To be fair, does anyone own an actual Kindle anymore? Do they post on MySpace about all the great books they’ve read?) So while I’m always looking for things to add to my library, I will not spend great amounts of money to do so.

Amazon makes it easy, though. Every day, I check my Kindle ‘Wish List,” and I sort the list by price, from lowest to highest. Generally, the books range in price from about $8 - $14, but there are frequent markdowns. Whenever a book on the list drops below $5, I go ahead and snatch it up. Every couple of weeks, I get a book for, like, $1.99.

Lately, though, I’ve noticed something strange. The same book shows up at the top of the list as the lowest-priced book of the day. That’s not unusual: Once a book hits its low price of, say, $7.99, it will stay there for a while, and unless and until something drops below it, it will remain at the same position. In this case, though, the price of the book has been changing every day, but very slightly, and within the range of $6.22 - $6.87. And while I admit to feeling a certain temptation on the day the book hit $6.66, I am sticking to my sub $5 principles.

I can’t help but think, though, that Amazon has tumbled to my strategy, and they’re engaged in a psychological probe, trying to tweak the price ever so slightly to see when I might take the plunge. Seeing the algorithm in action as it tries to suss out the exact level of my stinginess is unnerving.

Look, Bezos, I’ll make a deal with you: Drop some juicy “Apprentice” outtakes on the internet, and I’ll spring for the extra buck.

The Word of Dog

There’s a sheepadoodle in Washington State that knows how to talk. I had no idea that such a thing existed. I mean, what the hell is a sheepadoodle?

OK, acceptable.

But as for the whole “talking” thing, I remain unimpressed. 

To be clear, the dog in question, “Bunny” (if that is her real name), is not some sort of real-world Scooby Doo. She communicates by pushing buttons—buttons that have words printed on them, allowing her to create rudimentary phrases at a slightly higher developmental level than that displayed by the former President of the United States.

To be sure, this is intriguing, and it’s somewhat entertaining when Bunny seems to be using her button collection to express displeasure at her owner’s lack of alacrity in taking her for walks. At the same time, having to set up a rather unwieldy Louisiana-shaped mat with about fifty buttons in order to allow a dog to  express such complex thoughts as “Feed me” seems like a bit more trouble than it’s worth.

Dogs (and for that matter cats, guinea pigs, parrots, and any number of other domesticated animals) have no need for fancy technological support to communicate with humans. They have us wrapped around their paws all on their own power.

Still Not as Gross as Brussels Sprouts

Cicadas are the new sushi. Bun Lai, a chef in New Haven, Connecticut, has developed several recipes centered on the cicada, that most reclusive of insects, known for their ear-splitting noise, as well as the fact that they emerge to swarm over parts of the East Coast but once every 17 years.

So three things:

Number one, yuck.

Number two, see number one.

Number three, did we mention that cicadas only show up every 17 years? Basing a restaurant menu on cicadas, then, seems like a flawed business model, no matter how “delicious” one purports them to be. And one shudders to think what a chef uses as a cicada substitute. ‘Cause let’s face it, when it comes to insects, the East Coast is the furthest thing from a food desert. Indeed, I suspect the kitchen of even the most upscale restaurant hosts whole pantries full of. . .shall we say, ingredients. . . for an enterprising chef.

So, y’know, enjoy your cicada frittatas all you like, if that’s your thing. But come 2022, I’d think twice before chowing down on that Brood X Burger.

No Walk in the Park

I was just reading a review of a couple of books about walking. The theme of both books was the idea of walking as a boost to creativity—literary creativity in particular.

Maybe I need to walk more.

I used to walk a lot, really. When I lived in New York, I followed a principle of only walking—as opposed to hopping the bus or subway—when traveling within a borough. Of course, I couldn’t follow this rule exclusively: Time was often a consideration, as was company. While I might not have thought much about walking from, say, Jackson Heights to Forest Hills, my dinner companions might look askance.

Still, when time was not of the essence, I wouldn’t think twice about employing feet as mode of transportation. When I was working at Hunter College (68th and Lexington) and rehearsing in Alphabet City, I walked every evening, rain or shine. When I was living in Jackson Heights and working at LaGuardia Community College, I would walk to and fro, five days a week. 

I’m not claiming these as examples of great physical exertion. In both cases, we’re talking about walks of three to five miles. But, still, good for the heart, good for the legs, and ostensibly generative of all kinds of creative output. 

Still, the great American novel remains unwritten.

I think the problem might be that, while I’ve never minded—and frequently enjoyed—walking, I’ve never really cared for going for a walk. Whenever someone invites me to go for a walk, my first question is, “To where?” Walking is not an end in itself. I need a destination—even a completely arbitrary one—before setting off.

And maybe that’s what’s blocking the creative juices. Because I suspect that those Romantic poets and Parisian flaneurs were far more comfortable with the idea of letting their minds wander along with their feet. If you’re not concentrating on a destination, with its attendant choices about pathways and street surfaces, you have more mental space for creative contemplation.

Maybe someday I’ll learn to just enjoy the journey and thereby find myself at a strange and wondrous endpoint.

Barnaby Jones Doesn’t Smoke

I like my voice remote. To get to Netflix, I just press the voice-command button and say, “Netflix.” You know, instead of opening the menu, scrolling over to Apps, opening THAT menu, scrolling over to the Netflix icon and selecting it. Like an animal! No, the voice remote is a wondrous innovation.

Sometimes, though, I wonder about it. Like, when I say “Netflix,” and I get the message, “To get to a show faster, say something like ‘“Quincy” on Netflix.’”

[DIGRESSION: And if you’re not impressed by those embedded quotation marks, you are just NOT paying attention! EOD]

“Quincy”? 

I mean, I’m currently bouncing between “Supernatural” and “Penny Dreadful.” I’ve recently watched things like “The Queen’s Gambit” and “Community.” What kind of f—ed up algorithm looks at that and says, “Yup, ‘Quincy’ it is!”?

[DIGRESSION: Seriously, are you not impressed with my punctuation game today? EOD]

Speaking of “Penny Dreadful” and “Supernatural” (and any number of other shows): When I start an episode, I get the standard “rating message,” warning me of all the moral and psychological depravity to which the show might expose me. Standard warning for “Penny Dreadful”: Violence, sex, nudity, gore, smoking.

I know smoking is bad and all, but does it really require a trigger warning?

Checking In

I know I’ve been AWOL the last couple of days. Just kind of exhausted from work. But I know that the last time I disappeared for a while I disappeared for a WHILE, so I wanted to just check in and let you all know—all three of you—that I’m not planning on abandoning the blog again. I just need to be inspired... and maybe get a little more sleep.

But since you’re probably craving some kind of random observation, I will mention this: Whenever I start a new post, the first letter of the post is always automatically indented one space. I don’t understand why. And of course it doesn’t matter, and I could just ignore it. . . But of course I can’t just ignore it! Have you met me? Nothing triggers incipient OCD like random unexplained typographical irregularities!

Is Blogger just messing with me? Pissed off by my extended leave of absence? Blogger! I’m back! Give me a break! Sheesh!

Grover Could Conceivably Refer to Cleveland

 It occurred to me that any “Kermits” born since around 1975 or so were probably named after the frog.

I mean, seriously, if you were on “Match Game,” and the final Super Match was “Kermit _____,” all three answers would be “the Frog.”

And yeah, I just hit you with a “Match Game” reference! That’s just how cool I am!

The Cycle Continues

As of this moment, the Gaza Strip remains relatively quiet, as a cease fire holds between the Israeli military and Hamas.

I have nothing funny to say about this situation. (Yeah, yeah: “Why should today be different?” Ha ha.) As a middle-aged American Jew, one who attended elementary school at a yeshiva no less, I have a certain quasi-genetic connection to Israel—to the idea of Israel at any rate. I’ve never been there, and never really had any strong desire to visit, but I admit to taking some comfort in the thought of a strong Jewish nation. Historical examples of the persecution of Jews are not hard to find—and, frankly, not that historical, Animals attacking the US Capitol, wearing shirts that read “6MWE”—six-million wasn’t enough—come to mind. So you’ll have to forgive me if I take some comfort in the thought of a nuclear-armed nation ready to stand up for the rights of Jews everywhere.

At the same time, I am thoroughly disgusted by the right-wing government that has run Israel more or less uninterrupted for the last twenty-plus years. I hate the idea that Israel is becoming—has become—an apartheid state, where Arab citizens are legally discriminated against because of their ethnicity. I think the settler movement, creating “facts on the ground” in occupied territories, is self-defeating at best and rank colonialism at worst. And as a secular Jew, I find the governmental kowtowing to extreme right-wing Orthodox factions just as appalling in Israel as its parallel in US politicians’ pandering to Evangelical zealots. 

I’m also troubled by the images of destruction and the loss of life—particularly the deaths of children—in the Gaza Strip. But I find more than a little hypocritical the worldwide condemnation of Israel that pours forth whenever Israel responds to Hamas rocket attacks with military force. People condemn Israel’s response as disproportionate, presumably because the rockets launched at Israel are largely ineffectual. But I’m not sure exactly what these critics feel that Israel should do. Ignore the rockets? What other country in the world would be expected to show such restraint?

Now, I know, critics of Israel will argue that Hamas is just representing people who have legitimate grievances against an occupying presence. I don’t entirely disagree with the idea that legitimate grievances exist (see above). And I would agree that the political stance of Netanyahu and his supporters have made things worse. But the problem is that Hamas has never even (to my knowledge) paid lip service to the idea of living in peace with Israel. They’ve made no secret of their desire to see Israel destroyed. So what would even a more liberal, less confrontational Israeli government do?

I have no solution, here. I would love to see Israel pull out of its settlements, if for no other reason than to provide critics with less ammunition to condemn the country’s efforts at legitimate self-defense. Beyond that, though, I despair that we will ever see an end to constant cycles of calm followed by bloodshed followed by calm. . . .but calm that never advances to the level of peace.

Make No-hitters Rare Again

Joe Musgrove just pitched the first no-hitter in San Diego Padres history! Wow!

Carlos Rodon threw a no-hitter for the White Sox?!? Neat!

What? John Means of Baltimore threw a near-perfect game no-hitter? Geez...

Another one? Wade Miley? Cincinnati... Cool... I guess...

Oh, Detroit’s Spencer Turnbull threw a no-hitter? Well, good for him.

Did you hear about the no-hitter? No...not Turnbull, that was last night. Corey Kluber threw one for the Yankees tonight. . . 

This whole no-hitter thing is just getting silly.

The record for most no-hitters pitched in a season is seven (which has happened three times).  With Kluber’s gem last night, we’re at six for 2021.  Or seven, if you count Madison Bumgarner's seven-inning no-hitter.  The record books don't, but Bumgarner may beg to differ.  At any rate, we are, at most, one no-hitter away from tying the record.  And it's not even June.

No-hitters, like Red Sox championships, used to be rare. Now it’s gotten to the point where you’re surprised when a week goes by without one.

Of course, we may go the rest of the season without another no-hitter.  No-hitters, after all, are as much a matter of luck as skill.  All it takes is a ball being hit a few inches to the left or right to change a hit to an out, a no-hitter to a one-hitter to a pitcher not making it out of the first inning.

Consider, for example, the fact that, aside from the Cy Young winner Kluber and World Series MVP Bumgarner, none of the pitchers on this season's list are exactly first-ballot Hall of Famers.  Their combined lifetime won-loss record as of today is 184-205.  Indeed, only one has a winning record (Means, 18-15).  Joe Musgrove is 33-42, and Turnbull is a distressing 10-25.  Meanwhile, any number of All-Star pitchers have never thrown a no-hitter.

Still, the fact that even mediocre pitchers are able to dominate the opposition like this speaks to a problem in the game, and I say that as someone who has always appreciated the art and style of pitching.  Even I get bored watching nine innings of strikeouts and weak ground balls, with only the occasional home run to break the monotony.  Games like this that end 1-0 or 2-1 get old pretty fast.

The big innovation under discussion to help even the odds for hitters is to move the pitcher's mound back a foot, from sixty-feet, six-inches to sixty-one feet, six inches.  That extra foot doesn't sound like it would accomplish anything more than set off my dormant OCD, but those who study such things assure us that this will have the effect of shaving a couple of miles per hour off a fastball.  Nothing to scoff at when pitchers are now routinely breaking triple digits.

There is certainly something aesthetically displeasing about the 61-foot measurement.  Not that 60 feet is any less arbitary, but at least it has that nice, multiple of ten thing going for it.  And I suppose the current spectacle of futile offenses is even less aesthetically pleasing.  Still, something just feels wrong about changing a measurement as ingrained in tradition as the distance between the pitcher's mound and home plate.  It's like changing the distance between bases from 90 to 89 feet. . . .It just sets off my baseball-fan OCD.

Years ago, after an earlier "year of the pitcher," the height of the pitcher's mound was lowered.  Maybe they could just do that again?  Make the pitchers throw from the same level as the hitters?  I agree, though, that something needs to be done.  No-hitters need to remain something special and rare.  They're part of what makes each baseball game a fount of possibility, a chance to see something you don't see every day.

Well Now Don Jr. Just Has to Run for President

 Andrew Giuliani has declared his candidacy for the governorship of New York. He was probably sitting in a bar somewhere and heard someone comment that Caitlyn Jenner’s run for the California statehouse was the most farcical entree into gubernatorial politics imaginable. . .

Andrew: Hold my beer!

It’s truly a gutsy move, not only because the Giuliani name has become a punchline or a synonym for criminal ineptitude or both, but also because, to a certain generation of New Yorkers, the name “Andrew Giuliani” conjures only the image of an ill-behaved, hyperactive brat upstaging his father—who, mind you, still had a modicum of dignity at the time—as he tried to deliver his first inaugural mayoral address:

https://youtu.be/Re_wo_Bl9Uc

Guess the mini-Mussolini is ready for his own moment in the sun.

Few people think Giuliani fils has a shot at the nomination, much less winning the governor’s mansion, but I suppose this is a nice way to grab cash from gullible MAGAts. Sure, few people thought The Former Guy could actually win the presidency. . . until he did. But Andrew G has all of Trump’s faults with none of his star power.

Let’s put it this way: How unlikeable is Juniorliani? He got kicked off a golf team! Think about that! Nobody could stand to have him as a teammate in a sport that you play by yourself! 

Fatal Earworms

The Pet Shop Boys has a modest bit of success in the 1980’s. Their biggest hit (at least here in the US—I think they were bigger in England) was “West End Girls,” but they also got quite a bit of airplay with “Opportunities (Let’s Make Lots of Money).”

I hadn’t really given that song much thought since, like, 1980-whatever until earlier this year, when it debuted as the background track in a commercial for Progressive:

https://youtu.be/BbQBBWGGX9Y

The real trouble is that Progressive sponsors a lot of baseball games on television, and I WATCH a lot of baseball games on television, and, well. . . 

Let’s just say that “Opportunities” has now become just slightly more annoying than the “Cars4Kids” jingle.

Free the Sauce!

The reopening of the world proceeds apace, but in random fits and starts.

Most restaurants now offer at least limited indoor dining, but amenities differ. Some places use regular silverware and ceramic plates; others make use of paper and plastic; sometimes there are random combinations of both. 

One of my regular breakfast haunts recently transitioned from paper to ceramic and from plastic to silver. A welcome development. They still, however, are not placing salt and pepper shakers on tables: Little paper packets are the order of the day. This isn’t so bad. But I like to put a little Tabasco on my eggs, and here’s where the difficulty comes in.

Instead of bringing out a bottle—which, as far as I can see, would be perfectly easy to wipe down between customers—the servers pour a little bit of hot sauce into a small plastic cup. Now, the amount is fine, but one can’t really shake or sprinkle an appropriate amount of sauce, or distribute it properly around the surface of an egg. Instead, one must very carefully pour the sauce out of the cup, which inevitably leads to large splotches of sauce in some places, and nothing in others.

We’ve gotten rid of masks! It’s time to free the hot sauce!

More about Masks

The common-sense crowd fears that the CDC was wrong in declaring that the fully vaccinated could go maskless, mainly because there’s no way to ensure that only the fully vaccinated will go maskless. That the anti-maskers and anti-vaxxers—a greatly overlapping Venn diagram—will use this guidance as an excuse to continue in their stubborn ways.

The common-sense crowd is undoubtedly justified in this belief.

What these people wanted, I assume, was for the CDC to say, “Well, from a scientific perspective, there’s no real need for fully vaccinated people to continue wearing masks in most situations. But, since a number of unvaccinated people will choose to use this guidance as an excuse to stop wearing masks—even though they haven’t been vaccinated and may have no intention of doing so—and because there is no (politically) easy way to tell who’s been vaccinated—then we recommend that everyone continue wearing masks.” But this is a statement beyond the purview of the CDC. Mask mandates are now fully in the realm of politics, as opposed to that of science.

I choose to believe that CDC scientists, in making their pronouncement, take into account the fact that many unvaccinated people will go around maskless. That is, they’ve thought about the risk to vaccinated people posed by the non-compliant, and they still cleared us for take-off. We should take comfort in this.

But, people say, shouldn’t the CDC not have said anything? Keep mask recommendations, such as they are, in place? 

No.

The CDC would have been wrong NOT to rescind mask recommendations if, in fact, wearing a mask provides no special benefit to people who have been fully vaccinated. Because that strategy would simply give more ammunition to the anti-science conspiracy theorists. “See,” they’d say, “the deep-state just wants to keep controlling us! They know there’s no need to wear masks, but they don’t want us to be free!” Or similar nonsense.

The next phase of this will undoubtedly be. . . interesting. What will happen as businesses continue (as they can) to refuse entry to unmasked, unvaccinated people? How will they enforce this prohibition? Will they require people to show proof of vaccination and, if so, of what will that proof consist? 

I think people’s anger at the CDC stems mostly from fear of what comes next—of the battles that will continue to be fought at the level of the store entrance by people who have misplaced ideas of what “personal freedom” really means. Understandable fears. Yet we must move forward.

*****

Some will continue wearing masks anyway. I think most of these folks hold one of two non-mutually exclusive beliefs: Either they’re worried for their own safety—that they could still be susceptible to one of several Covid variants spreading around the world; or they’re concerned that, while they themselves are protected, they could still spread the disease to the unvaccinated. More power to them.

Already, though, we’re hearing of people screaming at these folks to lose the masks! The CDC has spoken. I can’t help but suspect that most of the screamers are the same people who denied that the CDC had any right to recommend masks in the first place—and that they, thus, are less likely to be vaccinated themselves. Considering, then, that the overcautious vaccinated are mainly protecting them by keeping the masks on, these people are berating others for being... courteous.

America!

Of Masks and Men

So, what? We’re just supposed to take everyone’s word for it?

Finally, after more than a year, the Centers for Disease Control has (have? Can we get a grammar ruling here?), now declared that we—the not so few, the smug, the vaccinated—may now venture forth without masks. Science has spoken!  

I don’t feel as celebratory as I thought I would, though.

For one thing, for me, it’s a minor victory. I never minded the mask much. As a somewhat chin-deprived individual, I took comfort in covering up. And now, I admit that the thought of going outside without a mask now feels. . . uncomfortable. It’s the same kind of feeling you get when you try a drastically new hairstyle: You feel like everyone’s going to be staring at you, judging you.

And, yeah, judgment: I live in a very blue part of a very blue state. If I walk around without my mask, I feel like I also need to wear a t-shirt declaring, in large font, my vaccinated status, lest I be mistaken for an anti-mask, anti-vaccine moron.

I also question the idea that this new mandate will inspire more people to get vaccinated. This presumes a large group of people who don’t particularly want to get vaccinated, but who also dislike wearing a mask, and who are avoiding vaccination in large part because they have been thinking, “Why bother? I’ll still have to wear my mask anyway.” People, in other words, for whom the primary benefit of vaccination is not being protected from a dangerous virus, nor of protecting others, but rather that they won’t have to strap a thin piece of fabric across their faces when they go down to Safeway.

How big is this population? 

And of course, these would also have to be people who are unwilling to lie about their vaccination status. It’s not like anyone is going to be checking medical records of the unmasked (or, indeed, issuing t-shirts like the one I propose above). 

All right, you’ve talked me into it! I’m going into the t-shirt business. Want to invest?

Rockin’ Out with My Quokka Out

 Has anyone ever thought that maybe, deep down, quokkas are really monumentally pissed off?

*****

2021 Rock and Roll Hall of Fame Inductions were announced today. Artists become eligible for the Hall 25 years after their debut. Jay-Z is going into the Hall, continuing the tradition of honoring artists who, whatever their relative merit, are not what you would call “Rock and Roll” artists. I am not making any judgments—good, bad, or indifferent—on the musical talent of Jay-Z or such other inductees as NWA or Run-DMC, but I still don’t think they belong in a Rock Hall of Fame, any more than Bruce Springsteen belongs in a Hip-Hop Hall of Fame or Ted Nugent belongs in polite society.

Another inductee, Tina Turner. How is Tina Turner only NOW being inducted? Granted, she was previously honored as the better half of Ike and Tina Turner, but still, it’s been way more than 25 years since she burst onto the scene as a soloist. And a world where Run-DMC is apparently considered more rock and roll than Tina Turner is not a world I want to live in.

Drumlines

Watched “Sound of Metal” the other night, and I stand by my earlier assertion that Riz Ahmed should have won the Academy Award for Best Actor. Let’s appreciate the degree of difficulty of his performance: He had to learn American Sign Language and drumming, in addition to the more prosaic suppression of his British accent to portray the American Ruben. All Anthony Hopkins had to do was convince audiences that he was an elderly Brit—some stretch that! And Hopkins’ character suffers from dementia, so even if he forgot his lines, who would know?

*****

Ruben, in “Sound of Metal,” maintains his drumming skills despite deafness. The Def Leppard drummer Rick Allen has only one arm—hasn’t slowed him down. And in “Whiplash,” the main character, Andrew, excels in the cutthroat world of jazz drumming despite being Miles Teller. 

All of which is to say that I think being an excellent drummer may be a lot easier than it’s sometimes made out to be.

Tales from the Crypto

Somebody really has to explain cryptocurrency.

As far as I understand it, "crypto"--things like Bitcoin and Ether and Dogecoin and Mallomar--I might have made up one of those—is essentially computer-generated money.  And it's expensive: One bitcoin is currently worth nearly $56,000.  But crypto doesn't exactly retain its value: If you have one bitcoin today, you have something worth about $56,000, but tomorrow that same bitcoin could be worth $57,000. Or $50,000.  Or $1.98.  In other words, crypto behaves more like a stock than a currency.

And I know, I know: Currency behaves like stock, too.  Just as a bitcoin is worth ~$56,000 US, a euro is currently worth about $1.21US, and the euro, too, will fluctuate from day to day.

I also get that crypto, being a "currency" has slightly more--or at any rate, different--utility than stock.  To wit, I can buy something with a bitcoin--if a seller accepts it--that I cannot buy with stock.  Five shares of Boeing won't buy me a ten-dollar toaster, but one bitcoin could.  And I'd get a helluva lot of change.

But, see, the attraction of crypto seems to be more about its skyrocketing value (at least, it was skyrocketing for a while) than for its value as legal tender.  So if I have a bitcoin, I'm less interested in the possibility of buying a $56,000 toaster—although that would be fascinating—than in being able to sell the bitcoin for 56,000 real dollars.  Dollars that, unlike bitcoin, are actually backed up by the full faith and credit of the United States Treasury.  (And, OK, that faith and credit ain't what they used to be--but they're still not bad.)

Which brings me to my next question: What, literally, is bitcoin (or any cryptocurrency)? I mean, you actually can get a physical bitcoin:

But, again, you're not going to walk into a 7-11 and plunk down one of these puppies for a Slurpee.  (OK, for 50,000 Slurpees, maybe. . . ) No, the functional bitcoin is a purely virtual, electronic, ethereal whatsit. It exists in the realm of bits and bytes.  And yet, I constantly hear about bitcoin "mining," which, as far as I can tell, represents the actual creation of bitcoin--analogous to the coining of pennies and nickels and dimes or the printing of dollar bills. And this "mining" is apparently an incredibly energy-intensive process, involving massive amounts of real-world electricity at huge server installations.

But what is actually physically happening?  How is the creation of a bitcoin a more intensive process than, say, the addition or subtraction of funds from a bank account?  I understand it's more complicated than that--it must be, right--but exactly how?  And, by the same token, the creation of a bitcoin--no matter how much energy is expended in its creation--still boils down to some . . . guy. . . somewhere. . .  making up a currency and declaring that it has value.  How is this possible?

Can I just declare the existence of "Solipsist Bucks" and make myself a quintillionaire?  Seems just about as legitimate as anything else.

Make the Punishment Fit the Crime?

Should cybercrime be a capital offense? No, wait, hear me out.

 A major pipeline operator had to shut down operations due to an apparent ransomware attack. Details are a bit sketchy, but Colonial Pipeline, which is responsible for transporting a major percentage of the gasoline for the East Coast, apparently got hacked and had to shut things down. No word yet on when service will be restored.

Ransomware and other cyber crimes have been in the news a lot over the last few years. Russian and other international  hackers have managed to install malware on any number of American companies’ and government agencies’ systems. Others have managed to disrupt operations at schools, hospitals, and state and local governments. I see no reason not to expect these kinds of crimes to continue, at least until the white hats in the information technology field figure out consistent ways to thwart them.

This got me thinking about crime and punishment. I mean, cybercrime flourishes at least in part because of relatively small overhead—what does an enterprising hacker really need beyond their own skills and an internet connection?—combined with relative apathy towards the consequences. Sure, if caught, you might go to jail. But getting caught is not guaranteed, and there’s potential to make millions of dollars if you target the right people. The risk-reward calculation seems out of whack.

Now, I’m not really a death-penalty enthusiast. I do think some crimes are so heinous and perpetrators so unrepentant, that the death penalty is appropriate. At the same time, I sympathize with people who argue that the death penalty is barbaric, and I agree that it’s applied in a discriminatory way—and far too prone to error. Just today comes a report that, after Ledell Lee was executed for a 1993 murder, DNA evidence was found that points to another suspect. Personally, I wouldn’t have any major concern if the death penalty were abolished.

Still, if we MUST have the death penalty, we should think about its efficacy less as punishment than as deterrent. And in this sense, I think we’ve made the wrong things into capital offenses. Murder is a capital offense, for example, but fear of the death penalty doesn’t prevent murder. If someone really wants someone else dead, they’re not likely to be swayed by a fear of consequences. Similarly, certain crimes against the state, like treason, are punishable by death—but traitors, whatever else you may say about them, see themselves as pursuing a cause greater than themselves and are often all too happy to embrace martyrdom.

Cyber criminals, though? They’re in it for the money. And with a low-risk/high-reward calculation, why wouldn’t someone with the basic skills to extort deep-pocketed victims take advantage? But what if the consequences of getting caught were exponentially worse? Might this not convince some people that it’s really not worth the effort?

And lest you think this too extreme—that it’s an example of the punishment being wildly disproportionate to the crime—consider that we’re not just talking about a hacker making it impossible to access your email or deleting a few files from your computer. We’re talking about things like potentially shutting down hospitals or knocking a city’s electrical grid offline. The consequences could most definitely be life-threatening.

We are, for better and for worse, so technology dependent as a society, that attacks on internet connections should probably be considered in much the same way as would an attempt to poison a water supply or blow up a bridge. Unless and until authorities start treating these acts as such, we’ll only see more and more of these attacks. Many of them will simply be nuisances, but some of them won’t. And it only takes a few of the worse attacks to cause mayhem.

The R-Word

George Carlin had a famous routine about “The Seven Words You Can’t Say on Television” (cover your ears, kids): “Shit, fuck, piss, cunt, cocksucker, motherfucker, and tits.” This was the 1970’s, but even today, despite the advent of HBO, Showtime, and presidential comments about “shithole countries” and grabbing women by the pussy, these words are still pretty much verboten on broadcast television.

I was thinking about this while playing Boggle online—one of my regular timewasters. Three of Carlin’s forbidden words—shit, piss, and tits—are perfectly acceptable—albeit not particularly high-scoring, worth a measly six, seven, and four points, respectively (which seems unfair to poor little tits). The other four are still off limits.

The administrators of online Boggle, though, have lately begun displaying a strange and arbitrary prudishness. About three months ago, I noticed that I could no longer play the word “ass”—a previously unexceptionable source of three points. Thus, while “shit” remained acceptable, the place from whence it springs—a donkey, that is; what did you think I meant—was suddenly beyond the pale. Even stranger, “asses” is still OK. One donkey is bad, but two or more are. . .adorable, I guess.

And just this week, I noticed that another word seems to have been removed from the active lexicon: “rape.”

Now rape, of course, is horrible, but the word is . . .just a word. Do the game administrators somehow believe that allowing a player to collect seven points for identifying r, a, p, and e tiles in proximity to each other is somehow promoting sexual violence? Are they concerned that the word is “triggering”? Remember, the only person who “sees” the word is the player who types it in: If someone is traumatized by the word, then not allowing the word won’t obviate someone’s ability to “see” it. If “rape” is censored, why not “murder,” “molest,” “torture”?

I confess, I am somewhat uncomfortable about this whole discussion. I feel like one of those bigots complaining about not being allowed to use the N-word: “But, they call each other ‘N——‘! Why can’t I say it?!?” Obviously, I’ll get over the trauma of not being able to use “rape” in an online game of Boggle. But any form of arbitrary censorship—no matter how trivial—should be questioned. Why is it happening? What’s the reasoning?

What’s next?