power

sanctity of life

I was coming home tonight from Albertson's where I picked up some yogurt-covered pretzels because I was starving after accidentally taking a longer run than I was planning on when a possum materialized in front of my car and I slammed on the brakes. The car screeched to a stop a foot or two in front of the possum and my pretzels flew off the passenger seat onto the floor. In that moment, when I was worried that my pretzels might be soiled, I wondered if losing my pretzels (or at least their edibility) was worth saving the life of the possum. Why did I care about the life of the possum anyway? And did I care at all, or has it just been ingrained in me that you aren't supposed to hit animals with your car? If I did care, was it some sort of primordial concern for the sanctity of life? Or is my compassion for nonhuman creatures a learned phenomenon? To be honest, even though I didn't hit the possum, I was pretty fucking pissed at it, especially when it didn't move for several seconds after my car was stopped, and then it ambled off slowly as if its very existence had not moments ago been nearly obliterated. Fortunately, the pretzels stayed in their bag.
power

(no subject)

Recently I read in a newspaper article that liberals on average score about 9 points higher on IQ tests than conservatives. (I think it was 105 v. 96). Likewise, atheists also score higher. It's the type of statistic that makes you want to believe in the veracity of intelligence quotients.
power

something psychoanalytical

I understand why Tiger Woods's infidelity is such big news, but is it really all that surprising? He was married to a Swedish supermodel, which is the fantasy of every thirteen-year old boy. We knew, even before the recent revelations, that he was clearly not motivated by pastoral ideals of the family.
power

(no subject)

Maybe the problem with Monday Night Football is the three announcer set-up. Maybe they should just stick with two. I mean Tony Kornheiser probably wasn't the best personality to be broadcast into the living rooms of middle American football viewers, but his replacement is infinitely worse. Nothing against Jon Gruden personally, although he does need some seasoning. You just can't have two analysts. I don't know if that's ever been done before. It's like having two quarterbacks. Or two wives. It usually doesn't work. There needs to be a one leader, one partner that the viewer--or the team, or husband--can trust. Having a second analyst always trying to throw his two cents in undermines that trust, creates a power struggle, divides loyalties and adds confustion. In these cases, having two of something good is worse then having one, even if having two wives might be pretty sweet in the short term. I don't see it working. (Actually, polygamy has been successfully practiced in some cultures, but I don't see it working in ours. So, really, I'm not discounting the practice so much as questioning its viability in our cultural context.) My point is that one play-by-play guy and one color commentator seems to be the format that works best. And if two partners work together for a long time and develop chemistry so much the better. In a best case scenario, two announcers can cancel out each others' negative personality traits and enhance the positives. Number three throws off any sense of balance. So while it works in religion and archetypal literature, three just doesn't work in the broadcasters' booth.
power

(no subject)

I've always felt like if I had a superpower, I'd want to be able to shoot lightning bolts out of my fingertips. But it always seems like this is something that evil characters do...like the Emperor. Maybe I'm evil.
power

playoff season

Ron Artest's hair gives me a lot of pleasure.

But I'm investing my energy as a sports fan right now in the Capitals who are now tied 2-2 w/the Penguins in the second round of the NHL playoffs.
power

Exercise advice

People often ask me how I maintain such a svelte physique without lifting weights. That's a good question.

First, instead of going to the gym, I bring the gym home. The Iron Gym pullup bar that is.

I know what you are wondering about and the answer is no. My back is even bigger than his.

Next, I use a revolutionary ab workout routine designed by a really eager guy in a pinstriped spandex onesie back when Billie Mays was still hawking fake Gucci sunglasses on the Atlantic City Boardwalk. From the golden age of infomercials, before tae bo, before pilates, and before Chuck Norris ever met Christie Brinkley, there was:

I've been diligently following this routine several times a week for about ten years and I still have a potbelly. But it only takes eight minutes.

And to keep my heart pumping like an oil derrick, I resort to one last piece of equipment. Technically two pieces, I guess. But they form together like Voltron.

The Brooks GTS Adrenalin 8 running shoe in a size 13 Narrow. Long and lean like the rest of me. Many a morning you can find these golden ponies slashing through the Santa Barbara marine layer like a bolt of lightening rending a swarthy cumulonimbus cloud.

That's the secret. With only the resistance of your own body weight, a bit of dedication, and the naivete to fall for cheaply-advertised gimmicks you too can look like me.
power

(no subject)

During the course of this just-completed college basketball season, the University of Maryland Terrapins beat both of the participants in the national championship game. (They were Michigan State and the University of North Carolina.) According to me, that makes the Terps the best team in the country.