Well?

Over the last year, seemingly every week has featured a new instance of extreme police brutality, resulting in the death of an unarmed man.  The fact that all the victims were black has only aggravated the underlying outrage, adding a grimy layer of institutional racism to what was at best an ugly situation indicating a need for better training for--and perhaps screening of--those who would serve as police officers in our communities.  But I've been struck by something: In nearly every news article written about these killings--from Michael Brown (Ferguson, MO) to Eric Garner (Staten Island) to Freddie Gray (Baltimore)--we see some variation of the following disclaimer:

"Because no nationwide database of police killings exists, it is impossible to draw definitive conclusions about the actions of the officers in this case."

Fair enough, but doesn't this suggest it might be time to start compiling such a database?

Crack Is Wack

"Trivia Crack" is ridiculously easy. I mean, "Wheel of Fortune" easy--strike that, "Trivia Crack" makes "Wheel of Fortune" look like "Jeopardy!" And it makes "Jeopardy!" look like the Bar exam--if the Bar exam were written in ancient Finno-Ugric. What I'm saying is, it doesn't exactly tax one's mental capacity.

It does, however, kind of restore one's faith in humanity...or at any rate, it restores one's faith in humanity's faith in humanity. Because, think about it: You're playing this trivia game on a mobile device, which, by definition, is web-enabled. So, if you find yourself stumped by questions like, "Who wrote 'The Raven' and 'The Tell-Tale Heart'?" (actual question) or "Which of these is NOT a style of dance? Merengue, Salsa, Tango, Bogota" (actual question), then all you need to do is tap the "Chrome" icon or ask Siri. Yet presumably, people don't do this--or at least people playing the game are trusting that their competitors won't do this; otherwise, they wouldn't play the game, right?

So thank you, "Trivia Crack." You've proven that people will trust other people to allow themselves to look clueless rather than cheat on a meaningless game. Faith in humanity, restored.

Ignorance Is. . . Something.

A recent psychological study suggested a positive correlation between IQ and anxiety: The smarter you are, the more you worry.

This hardly qualifies as earth-shaking news. I've always thought that, if you're not worrying, you're not paying attention. I find myself thinking about this now, though, as I wrestle with vague feelings of non-specific dread. I imagine this is largely a function of it being Sunday: The imminence of a new work-week often engenders a sinking feeling in the pit of the stomach, a leaden fuzziness in the brain, a slight ringing in the ears. . . . Y'know, now that I write this, I hope this is just anxiety; otherwise, I probably have some kind of tumor.

But seriously, folks.

The funny thing is, this dread has occurred throughout my life, regardless of what was going on. I remember during the early '90's, watching "In Living Color" on Sunday nights, laughing but also struggling with an awareness that this was pretty much the last bit of enjoyment I was going to experience before having to drag myself out of bed less than twelve hours later to begin another stressful week of college classes and student-teaching and just, y'know, life.  Back then, I would tell myself that this dread would pass--that once I got through the trials of those days, things would get better.

And they have gotten better. I mean, I basically like my job. I like my co-workers. And some days I even get the opportunity to go home feeling like I've had a positive impact on the world around me.  And yet the dread persists.  Ignorance may be bliss, but isn't it stupid to keep subjecting myself to dread for no particular reason?

Zen and the Art of Successful Auditions

A lot of the actors I know, whatever their relative level of experience or talent, hate auditioning. They find it stressful. Which I suppose it is. I myself, though, have always rather enjoyed the experience. It's fun to get up onstage and do a monologue or some cold reading from a script. I mean, it's acting! And acting is fun! Why else would anyone do it? And I'm convinced that my comparatively successful track record--I tend to get cast in the plays I try out for--has as much to do with the fact that I basically have fun at auditions as it does with whatever relative reserves of talent or experience I possess. The formula is something like this: Auditioning = fun. Fun = relaxed. Relaxed = natural. Natural = cast-able.

I offer this advice not so much to other actors, who I suspect already know this on an intellectual level, even if they might mutter, "Easier said than done." Rather, I offer this to anyone who faces an "audition" of his own, be it in the form of interviewing for a dream job or asking out that cute co-worker: Don't focus on the outcome. Enjoy the process. Worst case scenario: You'll have some fun doing something that could lead to something wonderful. Best case scenario, you have the fun and the wonderful thing, too.

A Modest Proposal

Much has been written about the attempts on the part of Major League Baseball to speed up the pace of play. A countdown clock now looms over the outfield of every ballpark, ticking away the seconds between innings. Pitchers and hitters are also on the clock, as they face fines for wandering around the mound or leaving the batter's box between pitches. No crackdowns on excessive scratching or spitting yet, unless these activities occur during walks around the mound or require leaving the batter's box. Stay tuned.

I would like to make a modest proposal, though, that would speed up the games AND likely increase the number of runs scored--a lack of offense in the post-steroid era being another major concern of MLB. I would like to propose that a manager be allowed a maximum of one pitching change per inning. A starter could be pulled at any time, but, once a reliever is brought in, that reliever MUST finish the inning. If he gets shelled, he gets shelled. This would also get rid of those frankly annoying instances of a manager bringing in a righty to face a right-handed batter, and then pulling that pitcher if the next hitter is a lefty. Obviously, exceptions would have to be made in the case of an injury, but otherwise, this would clearly shave significant minutes off of most games--and/or allow fans to see more runs scored if a fresh arm can't be brought in to bail out someone who just doesn't have it on a given night. And frankly, this would be a better solution than the introduction of timers into a fundamentally timeless sport.

Couldn't Have Said It Better Myself

The headline on the online version of The New York Times reads, "Stressing Youth, Marco Rubio Joins 2016 Presidential Field."

I don't know about the youth of America, but it certainly stresses me.

Meet the Mets...Later

Does it make sense to record sporting events? I ask this question as I sit here, typing, with the Mets game on--a Mets game that I assume ended several hours ago. I recorded the game because I like the Mets and, living in the Bay Area, I don't get to see them with any regularity. So, on those occasions when they ARE on national TV, I feel almost obligated to watch them--which generally means recording the games, as the games usually start (or in the case of day games like today's, start and end) while I'm at work. But does it make sense?

I mean, I fast forward through the commercials. But when I do that, I think, y'know, I could also fast forward to move more quickly from one batter to the next.  But if I'm going to do that, I could pretty much just skip to "interesting" moments: Maybe I could keep speeding through until I see runners on base.  But if I do that, why not just skip to the end to see who wins? Or just go to Nymets.com and check the score?  Because if I watch the whole game and they actually lost, am I not just setting myself up for disappointment? Leaving aside for the moment the reasonable question of whether being a Mets fan is, by definition, setting myself up for disappointment?  Is watching a recorded sporting event really nothing more than a sort of magical thinking?