May 2006 Archives

I watched the season premiere of Last Comic Standing (LCS) last night. Just as American Idol (AI) reinforces the truth that most people can't sing, LCS reinforces the truth that most people aren't funny. Both shows reinforce the larger truth that people who can't do something are usually the last to know. Incompetence is cruel like that.

Unlike AI, which lollygags through several episodes and highlights all of the talent they didn't find during their coast-to-coast auditions, LCS sprints through six cities in two hours and showcases an even mix of potential comics and hopeless cases. I'm not saying lollygagging isn't entertaining and fun. I'm just saying sprinting is a nice change of pace. I'm also saying that six to eight hours of bad comedy routines would be painful to watch.

With the regular season finished, I would typically spend these first few weeks channel surfing, sulking and moaning about how there's nothing on television. For the sake of tradition, I might still do that, but I'll probably stop for an hour tonight to watch the Fox show that reinforces the truth that most people can't dance.

The alarm on a silver BMW convertible was going off at the train station parking lot this morning. The person who set it off is a regular passenger who seems decent enough, so I doubt he did it intentionally. He probably brushed against the car or breathed on it as he was getting out of his own vehicle. That scenario is more plausible than the one I concocted in which the spotless BMW resented having a beat up Tercel with peeling burgundy paint parked next to it all day and was throwing a temper tantrum.

The long weekend was a good one even though we weren't able to do more than day trips. A celebratory commitment on Sunday kept us relatively close to home.

On Saturday, we braved traffic on Highway 80 to visit V. Sattui Winery in St. Helena. I must admit that my knowledge of wine is limited. What little I retained from watching Sideways is all I know. I didn't get to try a Pinot Noir, but here is the list of wines I tasted:

• Dry Johannisberg Riesling 2005 (white)
• Off-Dry Johannisberg Riesling 2005 (white)
• Gamay Rouge 2004 (rosé)
• Duarte Vineyard "Old Vine" Zinfandel 2002 (red)
• Napa Valley Cabernet Sauvignon 2003 (red)
• Muscat 2005 (dessert)
• Angelica (dessert)

My favorites were the Dry Riesling and the Angelica.

The place was packed, so we had to wait a while to taste the wine. Because of the crowd, I thought the man behind the counter would rush us through the tasting, but he took his time and presented each wine with patience. We selected a bottle or two to take home with us.

We ordered food from the deli (chicken pesto sandwich, Greek salad and a small block of smoked cheddar) and found an empty bench in the busy picnic area. The weather was nice, so we spent a fair time eating and watching people.

As the afternoon drew on, the crowd diminished. I suspect most of them left to visit other wineries. I wonder how many wineries the typical tourist or wine connoisseur visits in a day. I imagine some of them make it an all-day excursion or an entire vacation. A half-day jaunt is good enough for me. After the winery, we paid a short visit to Dean & Deluca, a name I recognized from watching random episodes of Felicity, before heading home.

On Sunday, before our celebratory commitment, we had dim sum and ran around Lake Merced. Two hours separated those two events, which was just enough time for digestion and a solid nap.

The roughly four-and-a-half-mile run around the lake was exhausting, but in a good way. It felt like I was running uphill and into the wind most of the way. It was the longest run I had done in a long time and my legs are painfully aware of that fact today.

There was a lot to see along the way. There was the lake, of course, with its trees and boats and seagulls. On the east side of the lake, our run took us between San Francisco State University and Harding Park. We ran clockwise, so on the west side, we had an excellent view of five or six hang gliders hovering above the treed ridge line separating the lake from Ocean Beach and the Zoo.

Yesterday, we spent a lazy day in Carmel. I finished reading Quicksilver (finally!) while enjoying a coffee at the Carmel Plaza. After grabbing food from Il Fornaio at the Pine Inn, we sat and read some more on the beach. It wasn't exactly warm out there, but it didn't become uncomfortably cold until five, when the wind picked up and drove all but the most stubborn tourists from the beach. Traffic coming home was awful, but we survived it and managed to reach the house in one piece.

I'm feeling rather behind on my online journaling. I set an unofficial goal of twenty entries this month. With this entry, I'll be four shy of the mark. I suppose it could be argued that an entry about the number of entries one writes doesn't really count, so I should probably write something substantive. What would be substantive, but not too heavy for a Friday, especially a Friday before a holiday weekend?

While I think about that, I thought I would try to clear up any confusion that may have been caused by something Ryan Seacrest said on Wednesday's American Idol. Before announcing the winner, he told the audience that the show had tallied 63.4 million votes, more votes than any president in history ever received.

I fear his statement may lead the average person to believe that Americans care more about who is the next Idol than who is the next president. I want the average person to know that isn't the case for me. It might not seem like it considering I voted twenty times for Taylor and only once in the last presidential election, but it's true. If I could, I would vote twenty-one times in the next election to prove how much I care, but I don't think it would be possible without risking jail time.

I also want the average person to know that Americans care more about presidents than they do about Idols. The best way to prove it is to show that more people voted in the last election than in this year's American Idol finale. Since it requires more work to establish how many people voted in American Idol, we'll get that over with first.

My first assumption is that your typical Idol voter is a determined teenaged girl with a fully charged cell phone and the contestant's number programmed in speed dial. Let's assume she had an entire season to perfect a system for voting and she is able to cast one vote every three seconds. There were 14,400 seconds in the allotted four-hour voting period, which gave her enough time to cast 4,800 votes. But let's assume she only got through one out of every ten times. That means she successfully cast 480 votes. If we divide 63.4 million by 480, it would be possible for just 132,000 teenaged girls to produce the stated number of votes.

Of course, a major assumption here is that the teenaged girl only focused on the task of voting for her Idol, which is unrealistic. Everybody knows that teenagers are easily distracted and like to multi-task. In the real world, she would be using the same cell phone to talk to and text message her friends (who were also voting), while also being online to send email and instant messages to her other friends.

During the voting period, she may have been studying, but that is highly unlikely. It's more reasonable to assume she was updating her MySpace account, listening to Kelly Clarkson on her iPod, watching Idol Extra on television and surfing the American Idol site for bonus clips from the show.

We know that multi-tasking is extremely inefficient. Working on tasks in parallel takes longer than working on them in series. To account for this inefficiency, let's assume she was only able to dedicate ten percent of her attention to voting. That means forty-eight votes per girl and that means it would take 1,320,000 teenaged girls to produce 63.4 million votes. Of course, it's sexist to assume that only teenaged girls would vote, so we will simply say teenagers.

The number of voters seems very low, so I think my assumption that a multi-tasking teenager votes at ten percent efficiency is generous. I'll cut that percentage in half and assume they accounted for 31.7 million votes. I'll then assume one person per vote for the rest of the votes. That means that roughly 33 million people voted.

In the last presidential election (also known as Presidential Election: Season 55), nearly 122,300,000 people voted. I've linked to the Wikipedia article because it takes less time to load than the PDF file of the official Federal Elections 2004 results. Doing the math, one can see that 89 million more people voted in the last presidential election than in the American Idol finale, which proves beyond a doubt what Americans care more about.

By pure coincidence, a Southerner with gray hair won in both cases. Of course, I wouldn't be surprised if one were to show pictures of both men to people on the street, more could identify Taylor "Soul Patrol" Hicks than could identify George "Border Patrol" Bush.

I missed of the American Idol finale on Tuesday, but that didn’t stop me from voting for Taylor anyway. I rationalized it as making up for all of the times I watched the show without dialing a single toll-free number. Over the allotted four-hour period, I got through twenty times. Of course, I didn’t get through nearly one-hundred times, which I took as a sign that people were voting for him. I admit that I was tempted to dial one of Katharine’s numbers, just to see how easily I could get through, but that would have given a vote away, so I curbed my curiosity.

I’m stoked Taylor won. His dancing was atrocious, but endearing. He drove me nuts with his constants shouts of “Woooo!” and “Soul Patrol! Soul Patrol!”, but it was that same energy during his performances I found so engaging. I’m not a fan of the song the show wrote for him, but I hope he records Neil Diamond’s “In the Ghetto” and The Beatles’ “Something”, two of my favorite songs from earlier in the season.

Next year will be the sixth season of American Idol. While that’s all fine and good, I’m actually looking forward to when they air Ultimate American Idol Showdown, where previous Idol winners and Clay Aiken compete for the title of Ultimate Idol. If that day ever comes, I’ll be rooting for Clay all the way.

Barry Bonds hit his 714th career home run on Saturday against the Athletics in Oakland. The ball sailed into the right field stands and into the glove of Tyler Snyder, a nineteen-year-old kid, who had it posted for sale on eBay before Bonds finished rounding the bases¹.

Since Saturday, I've been trying to answer the question, "What is the meaning of 714?" Is it a noteworthy milestone or a meaningless number? Is it the meaning of life multiplied by 17? (Well, in fact, it is, but what does that mean?)

As with everything in the universe, it means different things to different sentient beings. While it would be interesting to speculate about what dolphins think 714 means, I'm guessing that since it doesn't concern fish, they haven't given it much consideration. So, I'll limit my speculation to humans.

To those who adore Bonds, 714 means achievement. Only one player in baseball history has hit more home runs and that man reached the mark 32 years ago. Hank Aaron reached 714 in 1974, 39 years after Babe Ruth set the record.

To those who believe Bonds used steroids, 714 means shame. His alleged cheating negates the milestone's historic value. 714 is just the latest tainted home run in a long string of tainted home runs. It is the spoiled fruit of the sport's juiced era.

To Bonds, 714 means superiority. His quest to surpass Ruth and Aaron is second only to his quest for a World Series ring. Bonds believes beating Ruth's record will prove he is better than the Babe. With his chances of winning the elusive ring dwindling, 714 means more now than ever.

To the league and the team owners, 714 means money. Despite the alleged use of steroids, stadiums in San Francisco, Houston and Oakland were sold out as baseball fans filled the seats for a chance to see Bonds tie the record. They'll continue to flock until Bonds beats it.

To the sports media, 714 means a reason for excessive coverage. Since the season began, they've been fattening the story up to milk it for every drop they can. Since 713, the local newscast has been showing clips of every Bonds plate appearance, be it a hit or an out. One night, the sportscaster was so focused on Barry, he forgot to mention if the Giants won or not.

To those who don't follow baseball, 714 means absolutely nothing. It's simply another distraction from world events that truly matter, like the fate of a racehorse with a shattered leg.

For me, I still don't know what 714 means. I know what I want it to mean, but with all of the controversy surrounding it, I doubt it does. I want to believe it is an accomplishment worthy of applause, not an asterisk. I want to believe Bonds reached the milestone with hard work and natural talent, not with the clear and the cream.

I guess my uncertainty stems from my ongoing denial. That explains why I still qualify any mention of steroids with the word "alleged". It helps me hold onto the fading hope that Bonds will be vindicated.

I actually can't wait until baseball shifts its attention away from Barry. I'm looking forward to celebrating a milestone that has unquestionably genuine meaning (as far as that is possible in the vacuum of professional sports). In my eyes, the next big one will be Craig Biggio's 3,000th hit. He is 154 hits away, which means he should reach it next season, if he stays healthy. I hope he does.

¹ To be fair, a Kenyan could complete a marathon in the time it takes Bonds to round the bases.

This meme is courtesy of the Daily C. The rules are simple:

1. Go to Wikipedia.
2. In the Search box, type your birth month and day (but not year).
3. List three events that happened on your birthday.
4. List two important birthdays and one interesting death.
5. Post it.

My birthday happens to fall on August 30, so that's what I typed in. The result was a modest list of events, most of which were war-related. Fortunately, historians (and the Wikipedians who reference them with varying degrees of success and accuracy) keep track of more than just battles and sieges. Here are three of the more peaceful events:

• 1850 - Honolulu, Hawaii, becomes a city
• 1967 - Thurgood Marshall is confirmed as the first African American Justice of the United States Supreme Court
• 2005 - The 17th Street Canal in New Orleans is breached during Hurricane Katrina, leading to massive flooding and destruction.

Since I'm not the best judge of whose birthdays are important and whose are not, I will list two people (a guy and a gal) whose names I think would be most recognizable to the average reader:

• 1918 - Ted Williams, baseball player (d. 2002)
• 1972 - Cameron Diaz, American actress

And as for the interesting death, I chose:

• 30 BC - Queen Cleopatra VII of Egypt (b. 69 BC)

If you want to give this one a try, go for it.

Today is Bike to Work Day. I hoped to see more bikes on the train or around downtown. Unfortunately, I didn't notice even a slight increase. It was like any other day. I suspect that most commuters were like me and believed that bicycling would happen to other people.

It was depressing to see the typical caravan of vehicles dropping Bellarmine Boys off at the train station. It would be nice to see parents encouraging their children to use their bikes for more than just recreational purposes. It isn't like they don't have bikes. In fact, I'm almost positive that most of them have multiple bikes. And I wouldn't be surprised if some of them own bikes more expensive than my car.

Here is a quick observation about Bellarmine Boys based on riding the train with them the last few years. In the morning, every Bellarmine Boy comes individually wrapped in a shiny SUV. Each one also comes standard with a cell phone, a laptop, sports equipment (baseball, tennis or lacrosse) and cash (for onboard poker).

This morning, three of them were playing poker across the aisle from me. I happened to overhear their card game conversation because it would have been rude to plug my ears with my fingers to block out their voices. For Bellarmine Boys, volume control is not a standard feature. I don't know their names, but I will make an educated guess to give the following dialogue some semblance of reality.

Lawrence: (holding the deck) Are you ready?
Curtis: Dude, what happened to your finger?
Lawrence: I scraped it killing a snake.
Morris: Killing a snake?
Lawrence: Yeah, I was helping my brother watch the neighbor's horse and there was a garter snake and I killed it.
Morris: Killed it?
Lawrence: Yeah, because it was trying to bite my brother.
Morris: Your brother?
Lawrence: Yeah.
Curtis: You killed it with your bare hands?
Lawrence: No, with a knife. I cut its head off and scraped my hand when I did.
Curtis: You didn't have to kill it. You could have just tossed it.
Lawrence: Well, I didn't. I thought it was going to bite my brother!
Curtis: Yeah, but still.
Lawrence: And what if it bit the horse? Then my brother would be in trouble and the neighbors would sue him.
Morris: You could have lied and said you weren't there. Then your brother wouldn't get sued.
Lawrence: But we were there.
Morris: So what.
Lawrence: So what? Lying would have made things worse.
Morris: No it wouldn't.
Lawrence: Uh, yes, it would.
Morris: I don't think so.

At that point, I made my escape from the train, so I didn't hear the conclusion of Lawrence, Curtis and Morris' great moral debate.

As for last night's blogger gathering, Rich and Ealasaid wrote about it as it happened. Elkit, Silvia and Antwon gave them something to write about and I drank a latte eustachio. I also took photos that I'll post here and on Flickr later. Note to self: Need to remember to come prepared with better, more memorable punch lines for the next gathering.

I drove to work today because I plan to stick around for this evening's blogger gathering. If it's the third Wednesday of the month, it's Coffee Society time.

As regular readers know, I dislike driving to work. I dislike it more now that there is the nagging awareness that my car is not only sitting in traffic, but that it's also wasting gas while it sits in traffic. I interpret today's willingness to drive as an indication of how much I like attending blogger gatherings.

Anyway, to beat the boredom that usually overtakes me as I sit in my car, I tried to pay close attention to my thoughts so I could record them here for future amusement. Here they are the ones I can remember:

• When traffic is actually moving on the highway, it moves at a constant speed, which, in 2006, is approximately 80 mph in all lanes.
• I never understand why people speed to the bottleneck that invariably forms at every highway interchange. The reason the bottleneck forms is because everybody speeds. If they reduced their speed by 20 mph over the course of their commute, they might not need to reduce it by 80 mph at the interchanges. This is what I thought as I kept pace with the flow of traffic.
• I can never seem to sing the lead vocal line of "Don't Worry Baby" all the way through. Somewhere in the middle, I'm usually so caught up in the song that I inadvertently revert to one of the harmonies. The only way to avoid the slip is to actually concentrate on what I'm singing. That would mean listening to me, which would take all the fun out of singing in the first place.
• I'm paranoid about abandoned vehicles. I spotted three Toyota Corollas left on the side of the freeway, approximately two or three miles apart. Any normal person would think, "Wow, that's a coincidence. I feel bad for those unfortunate people. I hope they get their cars fixed soon." I, on the other hand, think, "What are the odds of three cars of the same make breaking down on the same road in the span of a week? That seems awfully suspicious. Does the Department of Homeland Security know?"
• Carpool lanes, by law, are for motorcycles, hybrid vehicles and vehicles with two or more occupants. Carpool lanes, by observation, are for the vehicles I just listed as well as fast sports cars driven by people whose egos are big enough to qualify as second occupants.
• If I have a red light and want a sip of coffee from my spill-proof mug, it doesn't matter where the signal is in its cycle, the light will turn green the moment I reach for the cup. This explains why, despite several attempts, my cup was nearly full by the time I reached the garage.

By the way, tomorrow is Bike to Work Day in the Bay Area. Public transportation agencies and bicycle coalitions are holding special events and giving away free swag to cyclists at certain locations around the Bay. So, if you have a bike, give it a try. Ride safely and don't forget your helmet. I don't own a bike or a helmet yet, but when I do, I'll be sure to join in the fun.

We adopted this turtle over the weekend. He cost five dollars plus tax. I say he because I don't know how to determine the gender of turtle statues. I could refer to the turtle as an it, but that seems callous. I find it funny that while the statue is simply the representation of a turtle resting on a rock, I'm compelled to refer to it as a turtle. I also find it funny that I used the term "adopt" instead of "bought" to describe how we obtained it, I mean, him.

He currently resides on the mound in the backyard, along with three silver dusts, a geranium, a dormant paper white and a flowering plant with purple and white petals that I will never remember the name of no matter how many times I'm told. All I know is that it has been doing a lot better ever since we put out bait to keep the snails from munching on it.

The turtle is the first statue in the backyard. I imagine that most people, after feeling the elation of buying their first ornament and seeing how it enhances their garden, hope to repeat the experience and rush out to buy their next one. Before they know it, they have ducks and frogs and gnomes and rabbits crowding their shrubs and lining their walkways. As the number of garden ornament population multiplies, the effect moves from charming to creepy. I'm hoping to avoid that.

I'm quite content to let the turtle be the first and only garden dweller for the time being. If we happen across a suitable second, we'll likely adopt it, but I'm in no hurry. There is more than enough gardening to do before I worry about another ornament.

Song on my mind... "Universe and U" by K.T. Tunstall

A fire burns
Water comes
You cool me down
When I'm cold inside
You are warm and bright
You know you are so good for me
With your child's eyes
You are more than you seem
You see into space
I see in your face
The places you've been
The things you have learned
They sit with you so beautifully

They played the song in the background, during last night's season finale of Grey's Anatomy, as Dr. Shepherd and Dr. Webber sat in a dark hospital room - their accidentally mutual sanctuary - and tried to gain perspective on their respective situations. Since I don't want to ruin it for those who may have saved the episode on their TiVos to watch later, I'll be cryptic and say that flawed characters are frustrating (especially when I'm rooting for them and they do dumb things), but I still love them. Every good story needs them for tension and resolution. Last night's finale delivered plenty of the former that will need the latter next season.

A Quick Aside: The other song that caught my ear came at the end of the show. For the life of me, it sounded like Snow Patrol. I visited their site and learned it was "Chasing Cars", one of the songs on the album they just released last week.

I recently purchased Tunstall's album, Eye to the Telescope. It currently shares the honor of My New Favorite CD with Daniel Powter's self-titled album. Tunstall's record came out two years ago in the U.K., but I only became aware of it recently because radio stations have "Black Horse and the Cherry Tree" in heavy rotation and Katharine McPhee sang it not too long ago on American Idol. I still think it's funny that some Idol fans believed the song was a McPhee original.

Her performance of "Black Horse" withers when compared to the recording of K.T.'s live performance when she visited NPR a few months ago. I believe her MySpace site also has a video of one of her performances.

Instead of having a band support her, she supports herself with the help of looping machine. She presses a pedal with her foot to start recording, taps her guitar for a few beats and presses the pedal again to stop recording and start the loop. Then, with a good sense of timing, she repeats those steps with a tambourine, a hand clap, some short guitar melodies and some vocal harmonies.

The whole process takes about forty seconds. It's fascinating to hear the creation of each layer of sound and listen as they come together to form the familiar shape of the song right before one's ears. Perhaps it is merely a stage gimmick, but I think it shows she has more musical aptitude than your typical pop star or Idol finalist.

Besides "Black Horse and the Cherry Tree", my other favorite tracks include "The Other Side of the World", "Under the Weather", "Silent Sea", "False Alarm" and "Suddenly I See". That is half of the album, which makes it worth the money in my eyes.

You know there's no need to hide away
You know I tell the truth
We are just the same
I can feel everything you do
Hear everything you say
Even when you're miles away
'Cause I am me, the universe and you

This weekend, I

> ambled through the U.C. Davis' Whole Earth Festival. Every year, the festival organizers aim to increase environmental and social awareness through education, food, music and art. There were vendors selling organic food, hemp clothing, tie-dyed clothing, the usual arts and crafts found at festivals everywhere and henna body art. Made keenly aware of my own materialism, I didn't buy anything.

I was most impressed with the geodesic domes and the concept of community composting, which was rigidly enforced through the removal of all trash and recycling receptacles from the vicinity.

I was least impressed with the man at the tent providing information about local trail preservation efforts. I glanced at some of the brochures he had on display, but didn't take any of the literature. As we moved on to the next tent, he said, "If you don't stop to ask questions, you'll never learn anything. Just keep walking. It's the mindless twenty-first century." I don't know what he was hoping to accomplish with his remarks, but if he was hoping to win me over with his charm, it didn't work. It's not what he said (for I agree with him). It's the way he said it.

> annoyed strangers and acquaintances alike with my constant sniffling and bouts of sneezing. My allergies were at their worst on Friday and Saturday and were only slightly better on Sunday. They finally began to let up in a noticeable way after I used an over-the-counter nasal spray that I purchased from Costco during a medicine run last night. I decided to stop buying everything in 12-dose quantities where the pills are individually sealed and separated in a perforated field of plastic and foil and packaged in a box one-hundred times the size of the product it contains. From now on, I'm buying my allergy medication in bulk.

> celebrated Mother's Day with my mom the day before Mother's Day. Since my dad planned to treat her to a dinner for two on the actual day, the family dinner was moved a day ahead. We had Chinese food, which is the default food for almost all family occasions. Every birthday, anniversary and holiday has been celebrated with Chinese food at least once. Nothing says Christmas, Thanksgiving or St. Patrick's Day like a plate of chow fun and bowl of steamed rice.

> bought a dozen easy-to-install solar lamps for the backyard. They were on sale and the hardware store was also having a special tax-free weekend event, so I snapped them up. When fully charged, each light provides fifteen hours of white LED goodness in a bronze-colored fixture. The best part is that they are wireless, which gives the yard an unusually clean look and makes future relocations easy. I never imagined myself being one of "those people" with outdoor lighting, but now that I am, I feel inclined to go all in and buy a set of tiki lamps, a flock of plastic flamingoes and a horde of lawn gnomes.

> watched The Good, the Bad and the Ugly (TGtBatU) on DVD. Within the past two months, I've seen the three spaghetti westerns that make up Sergio Leone's unofficial trilogy featuring The Man With No Name played by Clint Eastwood. (The first two in the trilogy are A Fistful of Dollars and A Few Dollars More.) After watching them, I can confidently say that nobody squints better than Clint. I've always been a big Eastwood fan, but this most recent viewing also made me a fan of Lee Van Cleef, Eli Wallach and Ennio Morricone. Van Cleef played Angel Eyes (or The Bad) in TGtBatU and Colonel Mortimer in A Few Dollars More. Wallach played Tuco (or The Ugly) in TGtBatU. Now I'm curious to see his performance in The Magnificent Seven. Morricone composed the music for all three films.

Watching Leone's movies, I can see how he influenced Robert Rodriguez's El Mariachi trilogy. Now I want to see how Akira Kurosawa's Yojimbo influenced Leone's A Fistful of Dollars.

To my own surprise, I haven't been regularly watching Lost for the past few weeks. I think I'm waiting for the second season to arrive on DVD to get my island fix all in one weeklong marathon. It isn't that I've lost interest in Lost. It's just that I've lost interest in the show, which airs at the same time on the same channel, called Grainy Reception. Until I'm willing to pay for satellite or cable television, GR will stay on the air.

Last night, everybody I wanted to win, lost. That goes for hockey, basketball, baseball and American Idol.

In hockey, San Jose lost to Edmonton in the third overtime period of what became the longest game in Sharks history. The game was painful to follow because the Oilers always seemed to be winning, even when they were losing. The fact that they made more shots on goal (57-34) and won more face-offs (69-45) than the Sharks helped to foster this perception. San Jose now leads the series 2-1. Game 4 is tomorrow night.

In basketball, the Phoenix Suns lost to the L.A. Clippers. I'm rooting for Phoenix because I'm a Steve Nash fan. I would claim that I know him personally, but that claim would fall into the not-exactly-true category. My only connection to him is that we went to the same university during the same four years and that I saw him a time or two on campus. Apparently, that's all it takes to win my loyalty as an occasional basketball observer.

In baseball, the Giants lost to the Cubs by a score of 8-1. The game was notable for two reasons:

1. Barry Bonds' failure to hit No. 714 to tie Babe Ruth's record.
2. The sheer number of boats amassed in McCovey Cove waiting for Bonds to hit No. 714.

I'm sure the armada will be assembled in the bay this afternoon in anticipation of a home run ball that will greatly improve somebody's quality of life. I hope they remember to wear plenty of sunscreen.

By the time I found out the results of American Idol, I had a healthy disappointment streak going, so the news of who lost didn't have as great of an impact as it normally would. Ever the optimist, I tried to see it as keeping the streak alive. Only two of the four contestants I predicted for the Final Four remain. With any luck, Elliott and Katharine will survive next week's vote to compete for this season's title.

My allergies have been worse than usual this year. I've been taking a steady dose of antihistamines and decongestants, but nothing seems to work (or is taking an incredibly long time to work). So far, the medication has only succeeded in confusing my nose, which can't decide if it's runny or stuffy.

One of the reasons autumn and winter are my favorite seasons is that my allergies take a long vacation during that time of year. I never know where they go and I never ask. Before, I imagined they booked trips to tropical destinations with sandy beaches to recuperate before returning in the spring. Now I suspect they actually participate in winter leagues or spring training camps to hone their sinus-attacking skills. And while I have no solid proof, I wouldn't be surprised if some of them were using steroids.

I blame the weeds and wind for most of my suffering. The acres of barren soil surrounding the neighborhood are now acres of bountiful weeds, three to four feet tall. When the winds pick up, they move like ocean waves. On extremely windy evenings, I picture the fields releasing great quantities of pollen into the air that roll across the valley like fog.

This evening, when I get home, I'm staying inside to avoid the pollen, keeping the windows closed and launching a major assault on the indoor allergens. This will involve wearing a hazmat suit (or maybe just a face mask) to dust, vacuum, wash the bedding and replace the air filter (with an allergen filter). The effort will hopefully help me get a handle on my allergies.

I don't know who Kelley, Francesca, Milton or Sophia are, but they apparently know me or are familiar enough with me to call me baby or bro in the emails they've sent about sites they thought I would find interesting. Of course, if they really knew me, they would know that I don't like being called baby or bro. I'm okay with dude, though. I hope they won't be offended that I deleted their messages without reading them.

Two other strangers, Clinton and Elbert, recently sent me particularly personal email revealing their use of enlargement patches. They didn't specify what the patches enlarged, so I naturally assumed they were referring to the eyelid enlargers that have become all the rage. While I admire they're willingness to share their feelings of inadequacy with me, I hope they won't think I'm insensitive for deleting their messages, too. I'm just not a fan of patches and I'm quite content with my eyelids.

Because it was such a beautiful morning, I decided to walk from the train station to work today.

As I strolled through downtown San Jose, I tried to spot any evidence of this weekend's huge Cinco de Mayo celebration, but found nothing more than the usual amount of litter on the streets. I also kept an eye out for any stragglers, but only spotted one vehicle cruising up and down Santa Clara Street with a Mexican flag attached to its antenna.

Okay, that's unfair. The guy might not have been cruising. He could have been lost. Just because he was slowly driving up and down the street with his windows rolled down and his stereo blaring Mariachi music doesn't mean I should jump to conclusions.

Along my walk I noticed the San Jose Sharks banners hanging from the light poles. Each one displays a different player and a white street sign that reads, "This is Sharks Territory".

The hockey buzz in San Jose is stronger than usual these days as the Sharks progress towards the Stanley Cup. Based on overheard conversations, people actually know who Joe Thornton and Jonathan Cheechoo are, which is strange. The town also seems more teal than usual.

Downtown businesses that were hit hard by the hockey strike must be stoked. I'm sure revenue is up. San Pedro Square, the home of some of San Jose's finer downtown restaurants and bars, has been transformed into Sharks Square. The sign over the arched entrance to the square now says "San Jose Sharks" in big, teal lettering. Behind the sign, the names and jersey numbers of team members hang high above San Pedro Street from wires stretched between the trees.

The Sharks reached the second round of the playoffs last week by beating the Calgary Flames. Yesterday, they took Game 1 of the series from the Edmonton Oilers by a score of 2-1. Since I doubt I'll be able to buy reasonably priced tickets, I hope one of the local networks will broadcast a Sharks game on television.

I thought I would take a minute to list the books I read in March and April. I also thought I would use the same minute to rate them on a scale from 0 to 10, where 0 is "Help! My eyes! My eyes!!" and 10 is "I never ever want to stop reading this book. Never. Ever!" I could have said I would score them on a scale from 0 to 10, where 0 is bad and 10 is good, but that would make sense and, well, why would I want to make that? I would recommend anything rated 6.5 or greater.

• Had Enough? by James Carville (6.3)
• The Historian by Elizabeth Kostova (7.0)
• Feet of Clay by Terry Pratchett (8.1)
• A Preface to Paradise Lost by C.S. Lewis (6.0)
• Jingo by Terry Pratchett (8.5)
• Wedding of the Waters by Peter L. Bernstein (7.2)
• Misunderstimated by Bill Sammon (3.5)
• The Fifth Elephant by Terry Pratchett (8.0)

As you might notice, I've resumed my Pratchett habit. I know of no more entertaining way to read about discrimination, racism, nationalism (or jingoism), crime, war (the worst crime of all) and werewolves than to read a Discworld novel.

For over two weeks, I've been trying to get through Neal Stephenson's Quicksilver. The book is over 900 pages long and is the first of three in Stephenson's The Baroque Cycle. (I say this not to brag, but to excuse my slowness.) It's a piece of historical fiction set in late 17th-century England. The first quarter of it focuses on Daniel Waterhouse, a member of the Royal Society, who returns to England from Boston to try and settle a dispute between Isaac Newtown and Gottfried Leibniz over which of the two men invented calculus first. This book is like quicksand. It isn't a quick read, but I'm hopelessly drawn in and the only way to escape is to finish it.

By order of The Court, I'm required to serve as a prospective juror this week. For the last two-and-a-half days, I've been on telephone/internet standby. That's right. Today's prospective juror now has two convenient ways to find out if he or she will be reporting to the courthouse.

In the old days (a.k.a. three years ago), you could only learn such information by phone. You would sit through a taped message - recorded by woman who had, through years of experience, eliminated any and all hints of energy and emotion from her voice - that would provide an update about each and every jury group. If you happened to have a high group number, you could, in theory, sort your entire supply of toothpaste by expiration date and flavor before hearing anything concerning you.

Thanks to the convenience of the new English-only, push-button menu system, prospective jurors who are competent in the use of Touch-Tone phones and the English language can now navigate through layers of options to find their group number and learn when and where they'll need to report. Web-savvy (or phone-averse) jurors-to-be can conveniently visit The Court's site (updated four times a day), click on the three-word link (jury duty status) buried in the middle of the 250-word main page and scroll through the subsequent canary yellow page packed with bold black and red text to learn his or her status.

How have these technological advances for my convenience affected me?

On Sunday night, I called and was told to call again or surf the site between 11:00 and 12:00 on Monday. Come Monday, I was told to check back after 5:00. I was lucky I checked during that hour because I noticed the groups just ahead of me were told during that same hour to report to the south county courthouse (some twenty miles away) by 1:30.

That cycle of checking between 11 and 12 and after 5 has continued for the last two days. Knowing that I might need to travel to the courthouse on an hour's notice has forced me to abandon public transportation and drive to work this week. It means that I not only have the joy of sitting in rush hour traffic, but I also have the pleasure of spending thirty dollars on an extra tank of gas.

With its newfound ability to rapidly update its phone system and website as its jury needs change, The Court has discovered a more efficient way to annoy me and (I suspect) other prospective jurors for our convenience.

I imagine a day, not so long from now, when The Court will seek to make the process even more convenient by simply having a computer generate and send a text message to John Q. Juror that instructs him to drop everything, report to the courthouse and fulfill his civic responsibility immediately.

How I miss the days of boring telephone recordings and properly sorted toothpaste.

Last week, somebody posted the following Dilbert strip above the coffee carafe at work that cracked me up...

Catbert: Wally, I'm sending you to a coffee rehab program.
Wally: Gaaa!!!
Catbert: They'll get you down to forty cups a day.
Wally: (as he's taken away) Not double digits!!! You monster!!! I won't survive!!!
Catbert: If you're lucky.

I spotted that strip again today and it brought a smile to my face and two "Happiness is" phrases to mind...

1. Happiness is a sense of humor.
2. Happiness is the ability to laugh at yourself.

This morning, an incident reminded me that taking myself too seriously is unhealthy and not the way I want to be. It's something I forget every now and then. After I said whatever convoluted thing I said and had a moment to reflect, I remembered another comic strip I read recently. It was from Calvin and Hobbes...

Calvin: Sometimes when I'm talking, my words can't keep up with my thoughts. I wonder why we think faster than we can speak.
Hobbes: Probably so we can think twice.

Just so you know, I contemplated linking to the comics like I normally try to do, but I thought I'd link to the hilarious Dilbert Blog instead.