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!