When I taught Spanish, some students would complain that it was too complicated, too hard. To be sure, there are some facets of it that are difficult, at first. For example, ser y estar can be a little perplexing, por y para are perplexing and the a personal just makes no sense at times. I would counter that Spanish is much easier to pronounce, even though the comeback from the students would be, How can you tell? They all talk so darned fast! True, dat.
Even so, English isn't exactly easy. Sure, conjugation of verbs is pretty simple compared to Spanish: I eat, you eat, he/she/it eats, we eat, they eat. Wow, one variation. But try being a foreigner unfamiliar with Spanish and confronting our pronunciations. Why, for example, is one word tough but the other though, even though they're virtually spelled the same? Then there's their, there and they're which, it should be pointed out, even Americans can't understand (not to mention hear and here -- There hear!).
The debate can go on. There are some languages, like Irish and Chinese, that can be downright frustrating. Others, like English and Spanish, are comparatively easier. But no language, even Esperanto, is a piece of cake.
But back to English. Whenever I was confronted with a particularly intransigent student, I would pull this one out:
Take the verb to get. In the infinitive, it means to obtain, generally speaking. But start adding prepositions or other verbal forms at the end of it and see what you come up with:
Get by
Get around
Get through
Get over
Get with
Get to
Get up
Get down
Get between
Get on
Get under
Get about
Get across
Get at
Get away
Get into
Get off
Get together
Get it
Get nowhere
Get back at
Get cracking
Get wind of
Get out
And the list goes on.
Think about that the next time someone complains about how hard a foreign language is to learn.
(c) 2013 The Truxton Spangler Chronicles
Friday, March 29, 2013
Thursday, March 28, 2013
Tom Boerwinkle, R.I.P.
Today I read that Tom Boerwinkle died. Unless you're a fan of NBA basketball or a member of his family, you probably don't know who he was. He's not in the Hall of Fame, he never won an NBA championship nor did he do something irresponsible or noteworthy like some NBA players and father ten kids by eight different women. All he was was a decent NBA player and a responsible member of society.
Some reports are referring to him as the Biggest Vol, because he played his college ball at Tennessee. To me and others of my vintage who grew up watching the Chicago Bulls in the 1970's, however, he was the pillar of that team, the seven-foot center out of Tennessee who wasn't flashy but solid. He did his job and didn't seek the limelight. His teams were good, but they never made it to the NBA Finals. He has a couple of club records, but really that's about it.
He died, the article says, of something called Myelodysplastic syndromes, a form of leukemia. Fans didn't even know he was sick since he'd been out of and kept out of the limelight since he retired. From what I recall of him, he was an unassuming and gentle man, not one to blow his own horn or cause trouble on the court. As I said, he was just a good, solid, professional basketball player. He probably appreciated his size since it gave him his professional career, but I wonder how he felt sticking out in a crowd.
What his death means to me and the other Bulls' fans of his era is that his passing is a milestone in our own lives. Whether it was Mickey Mantle or Walter Payton, or Ryan Freel or Korey Stringer, professional athletes have an impact on young children. They mark them just as songs and games and foods do, so that when the child has become an adult, the memory of their childhood is recalled by mention of the player. For me, the '69 Cubs will always do that, and the Bulls from the 70's have the same effect, because I was just learning to play basketball when Boerwinkle and his teammates competed. It isn't hero worship, or the awe of celebrity. It's just something the imprints a young person such that the mere mention of that thing -- in this case, a professional basketball player -- brings the person back to his childhood.
Boerwinkle died too young, sadly. For thousands if not millions of Bulls' fans, his death reminded them of their advancing age, if not their mortality. We never think about our age growing up, other than to hope for the freedom that adulthood brings us. Years pass with us blissfully ignoring what awaits us. Then one of our milestones from childhood rears up and jolts us unexpectedly, reminding us of of the impermanence of life.
(c) 2013 The Truxton Spangler Chronicles
Some reports are referring to him as the Biggest Vol, because he played his college ball at Tennessee. To me and others of my vintage who grew up watching the Chicago Bulls in the 1970's, however, he was the pillar of that team, the seven-foot center out of Tennessee who wasn't flashy but solid. He did his job and didn't seek the limelight. His teams were good, but they never made it to the NBA Finals. He has a couple of club records, but really that's about it.
He died, the article says, of something called Myelodysplastic syndromes, a form of leukemia. Fans didn't even know he was sick since he'd been out of and kept out of the limelight since he retired. From what I recall of him, he was an unassuming and gentle man, not one to blow his own horn or cause trouble on the court. As I said, he was just a good, solid, professional basketball player. He probably appreciated his size since it gave him his professional career, but I wonder how he felt sticking out in a crowd.
What his death means to me and the other Bulls' fans of his era is that his passing is a milestone in our own lives. Whether it was Mickey Mantle or Walter Payton, or Ryan Freel or Korey Stringer, professional athletes have an impact on young children. They mark them just as songs and games and foods do, so that when the child has become an adult, the memory of their childhood is recalled by mention of the player. For me, the '69 Cubs will always do that, and the Bulls from the 70's have the same effect, because I was just learning to play basketball when Boerwinkle and his teammates competed. It isn't hero worship, or the awe of celebrity. It's just something the imprints a young person such that the mere mention of that thing -- in this case, a professional basketball player -- brings the person back to his childhood.
Boerwinkle died too young, sadly. For thousands if not millions of Bulls' fans, his death reminded them of their advancing age, if not their mortality. We never think about our age growing up, other than to hope for the freedom that adulthood brings us. Years pass with us blissfully ignoring what awaits us. Then one of our milestones from childhood rears up and jolts us unexpectedly, reminding us of of the impermanence of life.
(c) 2013 The Truxton Spangler Chronicles
Wednesday, March 27, 2013
British knighthood
The other night I saw a commercial for musical acts that are going to appear at a local venue. One of them was Sir James Galway. I wondered if it was the same James Galway who played the flute (I suspected it was but was hoping it wasn't). I checked him out on Google and found out that in fact it was the same James Galway who had been knighted by that old lady across the Atlantic for some contribution or other to the Dying Empire. At first I was appalled because I thought Galway was an Irishman which, technically, he is, having been born in Belfast. But since he was born in the Six Counties the Evil Empire refuses to return to us, that makes him a British subject and his knighthood is understandable, no matter how noxious is it to my sensibilities.
But there is a line to this. Why any American would deign to receive a knighthood from the British is beyond me. That hypocrite Ted Kennedy received an honorary knighthood in his last year of life and the fool accepted it. It's bad enough that an American would accept such a title, but an American of Irish ancestry whose family left at the height of the Famine due to the gentry's landgrab had no business accepting the knighthood. That he did so only underscores the hypocrisy with which the Kennedy family has always operated.
Dwight D. Eisenhower also accepted a knighthood. For someone who had to put up with the intractable and insufferable British superiority complex during World War II to accept a knighthood is amazing to me. The argument can be made that he did so out of political expediency, but he could easily have quashed any feelers before the announcement was made. I just shake my head at how Americans will come a'running whenever the British dangle anything that suggests royalty at them.
For a country that has as one of its most solid bases that all men are created equal, even if it hasn't always practiced this, it shows a perplexing propensity to kneel at the altar of British royalty. Sure, the so-called royals are people too, but I'll be darned if I'm bowing to anyone, much less a person of putative royalty. I can drag out the arguments that we kicked them out of our country twice and saved their bacon two other times, but those really only speak to the fact that we are a different culture and that we may be allies but that's it. The notion that we should accept some knighthood because it's an honor is misguided; not one citizen is beneath Barack Obama but we pay respect to the office of the President of the United States. That we should pay respect to a monarch who alleges to be superior by virtue of birth to anyone is a crock.
There may well be other knighthoods or honors that other monarchs bestow on Americans. If there are, I'm not aware of them. But even if they do, they're certainly no different, intriniscally, than the British knighthood. The one difference is the shared history with Britain and, for me, the horrific history of British subjugation of Ireland for nearly a millenium that devalues any claim the British have to being in a position to bestow honors on anyone. Again, mindful of Godwin's Law, it's as if I would accept some honor from the Third Reich. That, to me, makes no sense.
(c) 2013 The Truxton Spangler Chronicles
But there is a line to this. Why any American would deign to receive a knighthood from the British is beyond me. That hypocrite Ted Kennedy received an honorary knighthood in his last year of life and the fool accepted it. It's bad enough that an American would accept such a title, but an American of Irish ancestry whose family left at the height of the Famine due to the gentry's landgrab had no business accepting the knighthood. That he did so only underscores the hypocrisy with which the Kennedy family has always operated.
Dwight D. Eisenhower also accepted a knighthood. For someone who had to put up with the intractable and insufferable British superiority complex during World War II to accept a knighthood is amazing to me. The argument can be made that he did so out of political expediency, but he could easily have quashed any feelers before the announcement was made. I just shake my head at how Americans will come a'running whenever the British dangle anything that suggests royalty at them.
For a country that has as one of its most solid bases that all men are created equal, even if it hasn't always practiced this, it shows a perplexing propensity to kneel at the altar of British royalty. Sure, the so-called royals are people too, but I'll be darned if I'm bowing to anyone, much less a person of putative royalty. I can drag out the arguments that we kicked them out of our country twice and saved their bacon two other times, but those really only speak to the fact that we are a different culture and that we may be allies but that's it. The notion that we should accept some knighthood because it's an honor is misguided; not one citizen is beneath Barack Obama but we pay respect to the office of the President of the United States. That we should pay respect to a monarch who alleges to be superior by virtue of birth to anyone is a crock.
There may well be other knighthoods or honors that other monarchs bestow on Americans. If there are, I'm not aware of them. But even if they do, they're certainly no different, intriniscally, than the British knighthood. The one difference is the shared history with Britain and, for me, the horrific history of British subjugation of Ireland for nearly a millenium that devalues any claim the British have to being in a position to bestow honors on anyone. Again, mindful of Godwin's Law, it's as if I would accept some honor from the Third Reich. That, to me, makes no sense.
(c) 2013 The Truxton Spangler Chronicles
Tuesday, March 26, 2013
NFL draft
(Warning: This blogpost contains plenty of Sports Crappola)
As I've mentioned before, I'm not a big fan of the NFL but I do love the draft. I can't explain why, exactly, since I have zero interest in how pro teams do and even less interest in the Super Bowl (I know what I just said; it was intentional). I am a Draftnik, although the days of watching the first two rounds of the draft are long gone. I keep up with the prospects and read virtually anything that I can find on them, trying to evaluate what would be the best move for the Chicago Bears, since that's the team with which I'm most familiar.
There is plenty about the draft that cracks me up. First, the people who actually attend the draft wearing their teams' jerseys and then have seizures when the picks are announced; the players when drafted putting on baseball hats; the green room where people dress up better than many of them would to go to church; and the breathless announcing by Mel Kiper and others of stats that just roll of their tongues like their own social security numbers do (how do they memorize all those forty times, tackles for loss, GPA's, shuttle times, Wonderlic scores, etc.?).
In the buildup to the draft, Kiper and McShay, principally, and virtually every other sports outlet publishes their Mock First Round Draft, where they try to predict what teams will choose which players. These are great conversation starters, but if one were to ascertain their accuracy, they'd fall far short of being accurate. Too often, clubs will leak misinformation in the guise of providing a reporter with a scoop who in turn feeds it to the draft expert who then puts it out there like he's a savant. The team officials must have a lot of fun with those.
Over the years I've been involved with rotisserie basketball and last year did my first year of fantasy football just for grins. I'm more knowledgeable about basketball than football, but I placed a respectable third in the football league. For a first-timer, that's not too bad. What these experiences have shown me is that a person with moderate involvement in a sport can probably do just as well drafting players as the high-priced experts hired by the teams do. They all want us to think they're the latest Gil Brandt who can uncover hidden gems that no one else can find, when in fact the science of drafting has advanced too far for anyone to be a Gil Brandt ever again. What's more, there are just as many players that don't pan out chosen by general managers as there would be by fans. Sure, they may have some inside information, but by and large, they're taking as much of a gamble as anyone else is.
I think an equally interesting fantasy sport would be fantasy general manager. Admittedly, it would have a very limited season, and it would probably only work for football. It might have worked for basketball before foreign players began to get drafted, but no more. And forget baseball and hockey, since those sports draft kids out of high school and junior hockey in the frozen tundra.
Here's my pitch: Each year when a draft is held, take the players drafted in the first round and mark them as being Hall of Famers, Pro Bowlers, journeymen or busts. After five years or so, take out the draft lists and see who's got more correct. This notion of trying to pick which team will draft which player is impossible, given the trades that occur, so why bother? Besides, that doesn't prove anything. What a GM does is try to get the player that will help his squad. Therefore, assess the players' potential by categorizing his expected accomplishments. For example, Jerry Rice was drafted out of Mississippi Valley State in the first round by the San Francisco 49ers. Great. But who knew then that he'd be a Hall of Famer?
This has a very narrow focus group, I admit. But to those of us who enjoy sports, it's an intriguing idea, given the fact that most of us think we could do at least as well as the well-paid general managers who make these picks.
(c) 2013 The Truxton Spangler Chronicles
As I've mentioned before, I'm not a big fan of the NFL but I do love the draft. I can't explain why, exactly, since I have zero interest in how pro teams do and even less interest in the Super Bowl (I know what I just said; it was intentional). I am a Draftnik, although the days of watching the first two rounds of the draft are long gone. I keep up with the prospects and read virtually anything that I can find on them, trying to evaluate what would be the best move for the Chicago Bears, since that's the team with which I'm most familiar.
There is plenty about the draft that cracks me up. First, the people who actually attend the draft wearing their teams' jerseys and then have seizures when the picks are announced; the players when drafted putting on baseball hats; the green room where people dress up better than many of them would to go to church; and the breathless announcing by Mel Kiper and others of stats that just roll of their tongues like their own social security numbers do (how do they memorize all those forty times, tackles for loss, GPA's, shuttle times, Wonderlic scores, etc.?).
In the buildup to the draft, Kiper and McShay, principally, and virtually every other sports outlet publishes their Mock First Round Draft, where they try to predict what teams will choose which players. These are great conversation starters, but if one were to ascertain their accuracy, they'd fall far short of being accurate. Too often, clubs will leak misinformation in the guise of providing a reporter with a scoop who in turn feeds it to the draft expert who then puts it out there like he's a savant. The team officials must have a lot of fun with those.
Over the years I've been involved with rotisserie basketball and last year did my first year of fantasy football just for grins. I'm more knowledgeable about basketball than football, but I placed a respectable third in the football league. For a first-timer, that's not too bad. What these experiences have shown me is that a person with moderate involvement in a sport can probably do just as well drafting players as the high-priced experts hired by the teams do. They all want us to think they're the latest Gil Brandt who can uncover hidden gems that no one else can find, when in fact the science of drafting has advanced too far for anyone to be a Gil Brandt ever again. What's more, there are just as many players that don't pan out chosen by general managers as there would be by fans. Sure, they may have some inside information, but by and large, they're taking as much of a gamble as anyone else is.
I think an equally interesting fantasy sport would be fantasy general manager. Admittedly, it would have a very limited season, and it would probably only work for football. It might have worked for basketball before foreign players began to get drafted, but no more. And forget baseball and hockey, since those sports draft kids out of high school and junior hockey in the frozen tundra.
Here's my pitch: Each year when a draft is held, take the players drafted in the first round and mark them as being Hall of Famers, Pro Bowlers, journeymen or busts. After five years or so, take out the draft lists and see who's got more correct. This notion of trying to pick which team will draft which player is impossible, given the trades that occur, so why bother? Besides, that doesn't prove anything. What a GM does is try to get the player that will help his squad. Therefore, assess the players' potential by categorizing his expected accomplishments. For example, Jerry Rice was drafted out of Mississippi Valley State in the first round by the San Francisco 49ers. Great. But who knew then that he'd be a Hall of Famer?
This has a very narrow focus group, I admit. But to those of us who enjoy sports, it's an intriguing idea, given the fact that most of us think we could do at least as well as the well-paid general managers who make these picks.
(c) 2013 The Truxton Spangler Chronicles
Monday, March 25, 2013
Board games
Keith Law isn't a name with which most people are familiar. He writes for espn.com and devotes himself to major league baseball, specializing in the MLB draft and in assessing the teams' various farm systems. He's a Harvard grad who's worked with a MLB team, and I appreciate his more cerebral approach to the game, even if he uses Sabrmetrics beyond my understanding (which really isn't that hard, since it involves math). But what I like about Mr. Law most is that he's very diverse. He's not all about baseball and only baseball. In fact, he has his own blog that only treats sports tangentially. You can read The Dish here:
http://meadowparty.com/blog/
Anyway, one of the topics with which Mr. Law busies himself is gaming, as in video and board games. I haven't heard of a tenth of the ones he reviews, but it got me thinking: What are the video and board games I like? As if anyone would care, here are my favorites and my relative aptitude for them:
Stratego: I've played this since I was a child. I'm not bad at it. My childhood friend Greg and I used to play it so much that he actually came up with a larger map with slightly different features for two sets of pieces per player. I still have that board. Now if only I had someone with whom to play it.
Joint Operations: Typhoon Rising: It's really the first online FPS (first person shooter) game that I played, and although my skills were nowhere near as good as those teenagers who played it with vastly superior operating systems twenty-four hours a day, I wasn't bad. I enjoyed it more than one can believe. I could have been addicted to it myself had it come out when I was young.
Chess: It's the classic game of strategy. I can understand how many smart people went nuts trying to master it. I'm not bad when I've been playing it for awhile, but I don't have the time for it. I'm not bad for a casual player, but I lack the patience necessary to be a great player. I get fidgety when waiting for the other player's move, and then when it's in the endgame, I rush my moves out of impatience. But I do love the game.
Cribbage: Sure, this is a card game, but it's about the only one I'm decent at, and it is played on a board. I have a sweet board I bought in Granada, Spain, and I'd love to be able to use it.
Uno: The only non-board card game at which I have any proficiency, it's Gar-animaled, which explains its allure to me. I prefer the cutthroat version.
Axis and Allies series: I've played this by myself, not how it's ended to be played. I enjoy games of strategy and war games, and this is a win-win as a result. Now if only I had someone with whom to play.
The Myst Trilogy: I played Myst and fell in love with it. Then I got caught up in JOTR and left this alone. Computers were improved and the game didn't match the pace of the improvements, but I have the boxed set and would love to revisit it someday. It's logic and strategy combined.
Chinese Checkers: I'm not great at it, but I prefer it to the basic checkers game, especially if more than two people are playing.
Trivial Pursuits: About the only version of this I've played is the original version, although I think I'd be quite good at an all-sports version of the game.
Mahjongg Dimensions: My gallows humor says I play it to fend off Alzheimer's, but I just find it enthralling. I'm good enough now I can play it when I'm on the phone.
Sudoku: I got frustrated with this and gave it up for awhile until I read in The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo that Lisbeth Sander did them easily. Now I'm back to frustrating myself liberally, shocking myself occasionally and wasting time endlessly. No, it's not a board or a video game, but I do need to write on something hard, so it makes the list.
(c) 2013 The Truxton Spangler Chronicles
http://meadowparty.com/blog/
Anyway, one of the topics with which Mr. Law busies himself is gaming, as in video and board games. I haven't heard of a tenth of the ones he reviews, but it got me thinking: What are the video and board games I like? As if anyone would care, here are my favorites and my relative aptitude for them:
Stratego: I've played this since I was a child. I'm not bad at it. My childhood friend Greg and I used to play it so much that he actually came up with a larger map with slightly different features for two sets of pieces per player. I still have that board. Now if only I had someone with whom to play it.
Joint Operations: Typhoon Rising: It's really the first online FPS (first person shooter) game that I played, and although my skills were nowhere near as good as those teenagers who played it with vastly superior operating systems twenty-four hours a day, I wasn't bad. I enjoyed it more than one can believe. I could have been addicted to it myself had it come out when I was young.
Chess: It's the classic game of strategy. I can understand how many smart people went nuts trying to master it. I'm not bad when I've been playing it for awhile, but I don't have the time for it. I'm not bad for a casual player, but I lack the patience necessary to be a great player. I get fidgety when waiting for the other player's move, and then when it's in the endgame, I rush my moves out of impatience. But I do love the game.
Cribbage: Sure, this is a card game, but it's about the only one I'm decent at, and it is played on a board. I have a sweet board I bought in Granada, Spain, and I'd love to be able to use it.
Uno: The only non-board card game at which I have any proficiency, it's Gar-animaled, which explains its allure to me. I prefer the cutthroat version.
Axis and Allies series: I've played this by myself, not how it's ended to be played. I enjoy games of strategy and war games, and this is a win-win as a result. Now if only I had someone with whom to play.
The Myst Trilogy: I played Myst and fell in love with it. Then I got caught up in JOTR and left this alone. Computers were improved and the game didn't match the pace of the improvements, but I have the boxed set and would love to revisit it someday. It's logic and strategy combined.
Chinese Checkers: I'm not great at it, but I prefer it to the basic checkers game, especially if more than two people are playing.
Trivial Pursuits: About the only version of this I've played is the original version, although I think I'd be quite good at an all-sports version of the game.
Mahjongg Dimensions: My gallows humor says I play it to fend off Alzheimer's, but I just find it enthralling. I'm good enough now I can play it when I'm on the phone.
Sudoku: I got frustrated with this and gave it up for awhile until I read in The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo that Lisbeth Sander did them easily. Now I'm back to frustrating myself liberally, shocking myself occasionally and wasting time endlessly. No, it's not a board or a video game, but I do need to write on something hard, so it makes the list.
(c) 2013 The Truxton Spangler Chronicles
Sunday, March 24, 2013
Cringeworthy
Cringeworthy. I dont't know if I came up with that word or if I heard it somewhere else. Whatever the case, aren't there times when a performer is doing something that isn't remotely funny or good yet because of the celebrity's stature, everyone cheers as if it's the greatest or funniest performance ever? I don't know what happend to booing, except that it's probably not PC to do anymore, but why must we encourage a person to continue with an act or performance that is so wretchedly horrible?
Karen and I have seen some movies that, no matter how good the movie, contain some awkwardly cringeworthy moments. The first time we saw one of these was in the Vince Vaughn vehicle The Dilemma, an uneven movie that couldn't decide whether it wanted to be a drama, a comedy or a dramedy. Putting that aside for the moment, there was one scene in the movie that just flamed:
Then there was the equally uneven Wanderlust, with Jennifer Anniston and Paul Rudd. I didn't realize that Paul Rudd was in Anchorman since I'd never seen the movie, but knowing that explains his one scene in front of the mirror:
Unlike Vince Vaughn (and it pains me to say this about a fellow follower of the Indian Head), Rudd has more diversity and texture to his performances. Vaughn is a one-trick pony. He should have stuck with drama; apparently, when the ersatz Dan Devine threw him out of practice in Rudy, he must have thought he took that as a cue to leave drama and try his hand at comedy. His schtick is always the same and it painfully goes on forever. Rudd should know better than this.
The last example pains me to say this, because we loved the movie Bridesmaids. The movie is what The Hangover is for people not as inclined to raunchy humor although, of course, there was some of it in there. It had a sweetness to it that balanced the raunch and the humor was more creative -- most of the time. Not so in this scene that came straight out of Vaughn's playbook:
I think Kristen Wiig is superior to either Vaughn or Rudd as a comedic actor, but she really blew it in this scene. Fortunately, the rest of the movie is superior to either of the other two. That scene where the group tries on dresses after eating at the inferior restaurant is classic.
These are but three examples of what goes on all the time. Those infernal Twilight movies bring people out in droves but they're pure dreck. Comedians who either aren't funny or who have ceased being funny continue to get booked and people encourage them; see, Pablo Francisco. Even the venerable Bill Cosby needs to hang it up. I admire and respect Cosby, but his days as a comedian are over. He should just be the eminence gris of comedians and tell war stories instead of trying to do stand-up. Even Will Farrell doesn't know when to stop sometimes.
It's said that to play comedy is harder than to play drama. For all I know that's true. But these people need someone to be honest with them and tell them when something they're doing isn't working.
(c) 2013 The Truxton Spangler Chronicles
Karen and I have seen some movies that, no matter how good the movie, contain some awkwardly cringeworthy moments. The first time we saw one of these was in the Vince Vaughn vehicle The Dilemma, an uneven movie that couldn't decide whether it wanted to be a drama, a comedy or a dramedy. Putting that aside for the moment, there was one scene in the movie that just flamed:
Then there was the equally uneven Wanderlust, with Jennifer Anniston and Paul Rudd. I didn't realize that Paul Rudd was in Anchorman since I'd never seen the movie, but knowing that explains his one scene in front of the mirror:
Unlike Vince Vaughn (and it pains me to say this about a fellow follower of the Indian Head), Rudd has more diversity and texture to his performances. Vaughn is a one-trick pony. He should have stuck with drama; apparently, when the ersatz Dan Devine threw him out of practice in Rudy, he must have thought he took that as a cue to leave drama and try his hand at comedy. His schtick is always the same and it painfully goes on forever. Rudd should know better than this.
The last example pains me to say this, because we loved the movie Bridesmaids. The movie is what The Hangover is for people not as inclined to raunchy humor although, of course, there was some of it in there. It had a sweetness to it that balanced the raunch and the humor was more creative -- most of the time. Not so in this scene that came straight out of Vaughn's playbook:
I think Kristen Wiig is superior to either Vaughn or Rudd as a comedic actor, but she really blew it in this scene. Fortunately, the rest of the movie is superior to either of the other two. That scene where the group tries on dresses after eating at the inferior restaurant is classic.
These are but three examples of what goes on all the time. Those infernal Twilight movies bring people out in droves but they're pure dreck. Comedians who either aren't funny or who have ceased being funny continue to get booked and people encourage them; see, Pablo Francisco. Even the venerable Bill Cosby needs to hang it up. I admire and respect Cosby, but his days as a comedian are over. He should just be the eminence gris of comedians and tell war stories instead of trying to do stand-up. Even Will Farrell doesn't know when to stop sometimes.
It's said that to play comedy is harder than to play drama. For all I know that's true. But these people need someone to be honest with them and tell them when something they're doing isn't working.
(c) 2013 The Truxton Spangler Chronicles
Saturday, March 23, 2013
Odds and ends
There is no question that when it comes to technology, I'm a Luddite. I admit it. I'm not proud of it, but facts is facts. Karen always says that for someone so (allegedly) smart, I sure can be pretty stupid when it comes to technology. Actually, she says goofy, but I know what she really means. And she's right. But just because someone's smart doesn't mean they can understand everything and do it competently. For example, I don't recall reading that Albert Einstein, the father of the theory of relativity, could hit a curveball. I could. I don't think Albert understood the Spanish subjunctive either. I do.
But I digress. I'm not making excuses for my obvious shortcoming. It certainly gets in my way at times. Yesterday, my overly patient assistant Mary was asking me what I wanted for my password for this new, super whizbang office phone to which we're transitioning our phone lines. Before I give my password out -- which will help absolutely no one, which you'll see in a minute -- one has to know that this phone can do basically everything except cook dinner and take out the garbage. Among the other features it provides direct access to my phone of emails that I receive which would be great if I had a smart (Smart?) phone. But I don't. I purposely have a dumb phone because, in my Luddite version of the world, my phone should be for making phone calls and nothing else. I don't have the need or desire to play games on it, read books, take photos or any of the multitudinous other things that smart (Smart?) phones can do. Heck, I can barely hear Karen half the time on the darned thing. I'd settle for good reception.
Anyway, Mary gets done explaining all these nifty things to me that sound very much like blah, blah, blah to me and asks, now what do you want for your password? Without missing a beat I tell her Iwillneverusethisthing, and she laughs. I said, No, I'm serious (I wasn't really, but what the heck), and she laughs again and starts typing it. It tells her that it needs to have a number, so I tell her to put a twelve after it, resulting in the ridiculously unsecurity-conscious password of Iwillneverusethisthing12. I doubt I'll ever use it.
I'm not a Luddite in the true meaning of the word. I don't abhor progress. I even use the computer now and then. But it's a constant struggle for me. Let's examine my record with technology:
Recently I was told that I had a message on my office phone and that to retrieve it, I had to push the button with the blinking light on the phone. I kept pushing the light that was flashing, not noticing the button on the console that also had a tiny light that would have allowed me to retrieve my messages.
The headlight on my car went out, so being the cheap person I am, I bought replacement bulbs and looked up on youtube how to replace the bulbs. I dutifully did everything it told me to do and still couldn't replace the bulb, so I ended up taking it to a body shop where they replaced the headlight for me instead of the high beams I had been unsuccessfully and erroneously trying to replace.
It was only when I had to replace the rear brakelight that I was successful using a socket wrench. I had never before used a socket wrench successfully.
I bought a chainsaw and had to take it back to Home Depot to have them instruct me on how to get it started.
When I replaced the toilet a few months ago, I was told it would take me at most four hours. It took me three days.
I'm expert in hitting three or four keys at once on my keyboard and making my document disappear, reformat or replace text with different fonts or old text I'd previously deleted. When I ask a techy to help me figure out what I'd done, he can't.
When I go to the bodyshop or the parts store and they ask me what kind of motor I have I'm clueless. You'd think I'd have memorized it by now.
I keep my Ipod on shuffle. Somehow, it stopped shuffling music. Then I called the Apple store to ask them about something and casually mentioned that the thing had stopped shuffling songs even though I'd set it on shuffle on my Itunes. The guy patiently told me I had to also set it to shuffle on my Ipod. (In my defense, the wonks that run Apple seem to think that their products are so intuitive that the manual they included in the box that contained my Ipod was written in Osmotic, a language I don't understand).
I routinely can't conference telephone calls. Don't even ask me why.
I could go on forever. This is but a taste of my ineptitude with technology. Our grandfather took apart and rebuilt a Model T when he was a teenager. I'm sure my grandfather is spinning in his grave so fast that he's probably near China right now. I can't help it. This stuff just isn't intuitive to me.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
While I've been typing this and waiting for the person on craigslist to tell me whether the other person has come to take the chairs I so desperately need for my office, I trolled the internet (OK, nbcnews.com and espn.com) and found these two gems.
I'm no fan of Gwyneth Paltrow, despite the fact that she speaks Spanish with a Castilian accent. I find her pretentious beyond belief. You can only imagine the howls this site provided me:
http://jezebel.com/5971671/do-make-be-barf-the-year-in-goop
Absolutely hilarious.
The other is about the coach of the Florida Gulf Coast Eagles whose team yesterday achieved an improbable upset of Georgetown in the NCAA tournament. Since I'd never heard of the guy I checked it out. Whoever did this page did a great job with it:
http://www.buzzfeed.com/mjkiebus/this-is-what-happens-when-you-practice-your-free-throws
Then I followed the links at the bottom of that page and came up with this:
http://www.buzzfeed.com/jpmoore/every-march-madness-school-ranked-by-their-most-embarrassing
Even Karen might find that one amusing if she takes the time to scroll through it. The payoff should make her smile.
Finally, there are actually some funny jokes in this one about Harvard's upset win over New Mexico. But beware: It involves Sports Crappola:
http://www.buzzfeed.com/ktlincoln/the-31-best-jokes-about-harvards-march-madness-win
(c) 2013 The Truxton Spangler Chronicles
But I digress. I'm not making excuses for my obvious shortcoming. It certainly gets in my way at times. Yesterday, my overly patient assistant Mary was asking me what I wanted for my password for this new, super whizbang office phone to which we're transitioning our phone lines. Before I give my password out -- which will help absolutely no one, which you'll see in a minute -- one has to know that this phone can do basically everything except cook dinner and take out the garbage. Among the other features it provides direct access to my phone of emails that I receive which would be great if I had a smart (Smart?) phone. But I don't. I purposely have a dumb phone because, in my Luddite version of the world, my phone should be for making phone calls and nothing else. I don't have the need or desire to play games on it, read books, take photos or any of the multitudinous other things that smart (Smart?) phones can do. Heck, I can barely hear Karen half the time on the darned thing. I'd settle for good reception.
Anyway, Mary gets done explaining all these nifty things to me that sound very much like blah, blah, blah to me and asks, now what do you want for your password? Without missing a beat I tell her Iwillneverusethisthing, and she laughs. I said, No, I'm serious (I wasn't really, but what the heck), and she laughs again and starts typing it. It tells her that it needs to have a number, so I tell her to put a twelve after it, resulting in the ridiculously unsecurity-conscious password of Iwillneverusethisthing12. I doubt I'll ever use it.
I'm not a Luddite in the true meaning of the word. I don't abhor progress. I even use the computer now and then. But it's a constant struggle for me. Let's examine my record with technology:
Recently I was told that I had a message on my office phone and that to retrieve it, I had to push the button with the blinking light on the phone. I kept pushing the light that was flashing, not noticing the button on the console that also had a tiny light that would have allowed me to retrieve my messages.
The headlight on my car went out, so being the cheap person I am, I bought replacement bulbs and looked up on youtube how to replace the bulbs. I dutifully did everything it told me to do and still couldn't replace the bulb, so I ended up taking it to a body shop where they replaced the headlight for me instead of the high beams I had been unsuccessfully and erroneously trying to replace.
It was only when I had to replace the rear brakelight that I was successful using a socket wrench. I had never before used a socket wrench successfully.
I bought a chainsaw and had to take it back to Home Depot to have them instruct me on how to get it started.
When I replaced the toilet a few months ago, I was told it would take me at most four hours. It took me three days.
I'm expert in hitting three or four keys at once on my keyboard and making my document disappear, reformat or replace text with different fonts or old text I'd previously deleted. When I ask a techy to help me figure out what I'd done, he can't.
When I go to the bodyshop or the parts store and they ask me what kind of motor I have I'm clueless. You'd think I'd have memorized it by now.
I keep my Ipod on shuffle. Somehow, it stopped shuffling music. Then I called the Apple store to ask them about something and casually mentioned that the thing had stopped shuffling songs even though I'd set it on shuffle on my Itunes. The guy patiently told me I had to also set it to shuffle on my Ipod. (In my defense, the wonks that run Apple seem to think that their products are so intuitive that the manual they included in the box that contained my Ipod was written in Osmotic, a language I don't understand).
I routinely can't conference telephone calls. Don't even ask me why.
I could go on forever. This is but a taste of my ineptitude with technology. Our grandfather took apart and rebuilt a Model T when he was a teenager. I'm sure my grandfather is spinning in his grave so fast that he's probably near China right now. I can't help it. This stuff just isn't intuitive to me.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
While I've been typing this and waiting for the person on craigslist to tell me whether the other person has come to take the chairs I so desperately need for my office, I trolled the internet (OK, nbcnews.com and espn.com) and found these two gems.
I'm no fan of Gwyneth Paltrow, despite the fact that she speaks Spanish with a Castilian accent. I find her pretentious beyond belief. You can only imagine the howls this site provided me:
http://jezebel.com/5971671/do-make-be-barf-the-year-in-goop
Absolutely hilarious.
The other is about the coach of the Florida Gulf Coast Eagles whose team yesterday achieved an improbable upset of Georgetown in the NCAA tournament. Since I'd never heard of the guy I checked it out. Whoever did this page did a great job with it:
http://www.buzzfeed.com/mjkiebus/this-is-what-happens-when-you-practice-your-free-throws
Then I followed the links at the bottom of that page and came up with this:
http://www.buzzfeed.com/jpmoore/every-march-madness-school-ranked-by-their-most-embarrassing
Even Karen might find that one amusing if she takes the time to scroll through it. The payoff should make her smile.
Finally, there are actually some funny jokes in this one about Harvard's upset win over New Mexico. But beware: It involves Sports Crappola:
http://www.buzzfeed.com/ktlincoln/the-31-best-jokes-about-harvards-march-madness-win
(c) 2013 The Truxton Spangler Chronicles
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)