Did he just call himself "the talent?"
It's been a banner week for this blog. I'm just busting my buttons. Last week, we called for the firing of FCC chairman Michael Powell, and thanks to your cards and letters, he resigned just 36 hours later. Thursday night, we predicted the Cubs would trade Sammy Sosa based on cryptic comments from his agent, despite the fact that no news sources had indicated that a deal was imminent. And then on Sunday, film critic Roger Ebert posted a review of "Groundhog Day" under his "Great Movies" heading. He wrote that he "certainly... underrated it in (his) original review." His 'retraction' appeared less than two weeks after the film was posted as part of the Chris Moeller Top 50 Films list.
The Groundhog celebration is upon us again, and Monday, Bill Cooper, president of the Punxsutawney Groundhog Club, was interviewed on our radio show, "Drive-Time Des Moines." Cooper has what he calls "the task of interpreting" what Punxsutawney Phil has to say after he emerges from his little groundhog house. Cooper was portrayed by Brian Doyle-Murray in the movie. If I'm not mistaken, he even looks quite a bit like Doyle-Murray. I made a point of looking for him last year, or the year before, on the news video of the event.
Cooper told us that the film crew spent a week in Punxsutawney in 1991 observing the town celebration. Cooper and other community leaders told them they could have free reign over the proceedings as long as-- in the end-- the town didn't come off looking "too dumb or too stupid."
The only major change director Harold Ramis made, he said, was to move the location of the ceremony into the town. In reality, it takes place outside of Punxsutawney on a large hill, the actual Gobbler's Knob. (Of course, it's doubtful that Bill Murray's character would have run into his old high school classmate, Ned Ryerson, if he had traveled
by car from his hotel to the ceremony.)
Cooper says there will be 6,000 to 8,000 people at the ceremony on Wednesday for the 119th edition of Groundhog's Day. That's a low figure, he says, because it's on a Wednesday, the worst day of the week for tourism. Like any good funeral, he added, weather will make the biggest difference.
The one bizarre claim he made is that there has been only one Punxsutawney Phil throughout the festival's history. Evidently, the rodent consumes some kind of "groundhog juice" that adds seven years to his life with every sip. Phil has survived 118 weather prognostications and a car trip over a steep cliff on Bill Murray's lap.
Ebert-palooza
My pal, Jamie, is a graduate of the University of Illinois, and he has been sent an early alert about the 7th Annual Roger Ebert Overlooked Film Festival. It's being held April 20th through the 24th in Champaign, IL. Passes may be hard to come by, but we should be ahead of the curve. In addition to the entertainment, Roger often takes a group out to eat at Steak-n-Shake, and Aaron and I could get some new ideas for the Moeller Television Festival (4th annual coming in Nov.) If you're interested, and a road trip through your town is conceivable, let me know. I think it would be a blast. Email me at
christophermmoeller@msn.com
Moeller TV Listings 1/29/05
The Grinnell College (IA)/Beloit men's college basketball game will be broadcast live on ESPN2 Thursday (2/3) night at 8pm. It will be the first NCAA Division III regular season game televised nationally on the ESPN family of networks in nearly three decades. Grinnell College, located an hour east of Des Moines, plays the most unique brand of basketball in the nation, regularly substituting five new players during each dead ball and scoring an average of 120 points per game. It doesn't necessarily work for them-- they've won only 4 of 15 games this year, but if you're a fan of the game, you might get a kick out of watching this contest.
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David Letterman returns from a one-week hiatus Monday night, and you won't want to miss his tribute to Johnny Carson. Former Tonight Show executive producer Peter Lassally and bandleader Doc Severinson are the scheduled guests.
Say It Ain't S--- , ah, screw it
The Chicago Cubs have a huge mess on their hands, but they will succeed in trading Sammy Sosa before Opening Day.
The Cubs were ready to trade their all-time home run leader last October after he left Wrigley Field in the second inning of the last regular season game. The club knew he was still popular with the fans, so they called him out publicly on his statement that he didn't leave the park until the seventh. In the plot to embarrass him, they admitted to a hidden surveillance camera in the locker room that they said could prove his deceit. Oh, what tangled webs...
What they didn't count on was just how difficult it would be to pawn off their washed-up slugger. Surprisingly, no one was interested in a 36-year-old malcontent with rapidly slowing batspeed, who can't catch the ball, hit the cut-off man, or run the bases, divides the clubhouse, refuses to accept coaching advice, publicly criticizes his manager, quits on his teammates, corked his bat for who knows how long, and is owed $18 million this season.
The best offer the Cubs received for Sosa this winter was from Washington's first-year GM Jim Bowden, who offered to take Sosa if the Cubs paid his entire salary. The secret is out, apparently.
Sosa has still not surfaced from his Florida mansion this winter, but he knows the Cubs might be stuck with him, and he fears returning to a clubhouse full of teammates who think he's a quitter, and took a Louisville Slugger to his infamous boom box to drive home their point. This is why he sent his agent to the press on Wednesday to grease the wheels of transaction. "I think he will be traded," said Tom Reich, in a statement that was as much wishful thinking as it was prognostication, "And I think Sammy will be one of the best pickups of the entire off-season."
Your move, Cubbies. That's Sammy telling the team he does not want to come back and suck up. He would sooner return the contributions of his phony hurricane-relief fund than be forced to apologize to the likes of Dusty Baker, Kerry Wood, Mark Prior, and Todd Walker. You know he's just sweating it out down in Florida, fearing that he'll have to recreate that phony smile and make nice with his colleagues. This is a warning to the Cubs that he could make this thing really ugly. He knows that they know that the window of opportunity for winning a championship is rapidly closing.
That's why the trade will have to happen. It won't be a good one for the Cubs. Sosa is owed a minimum of $25 million over the remainder of this contract- that's one year, plus the buyout of the option for 2006. As the free agent market for sluggers dwindles, his stock may rise, but the Cubs are going to be looking at about $10 million in cash to go along in the deal. I would say "Buyer Beware" to the Tigers, Angels, or Nationals, but if they haven't figured that out by now, they never will.
As a Cardinals fan, I drop down to my knees every night and pray to God that Sosa will stay in Chicago. It would be fun to watch him squirm in Spring Training, then get booed at Wrigley. I would get a kick out of Dusty Baker claiming that he has been misquoted all winter, and it would be interesting to see if Kerry Wood could possibly look more miserable in his life than he already does.
The VH1 Tax
Iowa Senate Republicans dropped a bombshell Monday-- an economic growth proposal that would eliminate state income taxes for all residents under 30 years old. Wowsa. The average yearly tax savings would run about $600 for each person 29 and younger.
Their timing is exquisite. I have about nine weeks remaining before my 30th birthday. Maybe they could twist the knife a little more by signing the plan into law on the actual anniversary of my birth April 2nd, near the close of the session.
Aside from its timing, this is a terrible idea. First of all, everyone should be paying taxes on principle. The twenty-somethings might even be surprised to find themselves marginalized after the law goes into effect. Without taxation, are you still entitled to representation in government? Secondly, it fails to address the real issues that young people consider when they choose their home-- quality of life, cultural and recreational diversity, and employment opportunity. Six hundred dollars a year can be a rather insignificant amount if other parts of the country have more to offer in terms of employment and excitement.
What bothers me most about it is that it's such short term thinking. The "gentlemen farmers" of the state legislature have rarely been willing to actually invest in the state's future, and we're seeing the effects of their laissez fair approach-- dead or dying Main Streets, urban decay, and one of the country's most rapid population declines.
I was in Burlington, VT this summer, and I can tell you that that town has
got it going on. Small business thrives there because the nation's soulless corporate intruders have been well regulated. Young people crowd the sidewalks, relaxing in unique coffee shops and record stores. They ride their bikes all over town thanks to thoughtful zoning plans and an extensive trail system.
An elimination of income taxes on the young people of Iowa might delay the autopsy on our small communities for a decade or two, but the small towns aren't coming back. You killed them when you killed the family farm. After several more years have passed, those communities won't be able to support their hospitals and schools, and that will be that. The future of Iowa is its cities, and the cities need more financial investment. No more tax incentives for out-of-state corporate behemoths that threaten our enterprising small businesses and destroy our distinctiveness.
If you want to give somebody a tax break, make it progressive. Eliminate taxes on the first $20,000 of annual income for all Iowans. It would provide comparable relief for young people still getting started and paying off student loans, and shift the tax burden to the wealthy. Free day care would help, too.
The Oscar Nominations/Some sour grapes
Paul Giamatti's absence from the list of Oscar nominations is almost unfathomable, considering his dominant role over a film that received five other nominations. His two principle acting partners received supporting nominations. His director received a nod. The words his character spoke were nominated. The film was nominated for Best Picture. His performance must have been a real dud to be left out.
Or could it be that Giamatti hasn't been on enough magazine covers during his career? Perhaps Johnny Depp would look better on the red carpet. Don't forget the amount of money Leonardo DiCaprio has made for Miramax and 20th Century Fox studios. (And wouldn't it be great if he and Kate Winslet both won?) It's all Giamatti's fault. He could have made it all better if he had simply signed on to be one of Ocean's 11.
Several weeks ago, "Sideways" was labeled "overrated" by the New York Times essentially because its lead character looks like a film critic. So isn't it fair to point out now that the actors' wing of the Academy selected the candidates that looked like them?
My first thought this morning upon hearing of Giamatti's snub was that this was the second biggest upset of the week. (The first was Roger Clemens returning to the Astros after being "99 percent retired" FOR THE SECOND STRAIGHT YEAR. If I'm correct to be multiplying fractions here, those odds are 10,000 to 1. Unbelievable!) After the news soaked in, I remembered that great Oscar tradition-- vote for what's best for me and the financial interest of my industry. The Oscars are about creating "star power," and Paul Giamatti, I'm afraid, does not have "star power."
Making my case is the existence of the Best Director category. By definition, the best director should be the director of the Best Picture, but not in the eyes of Oscar. "Sideways" may win the Best Picture award (increasingly doubtful), but Alexander Payne doesn't have a chance in hell of beating Martin Scorsese or Clint Eastwood. They're "stars." He's a nobody. Maybe- after he's directed 10 to 12 films-- the voters will catch him on the backside. Scorsese's never won, so Payne is up against, not only "The Aviator," but "Taxi Driver," "Raging Bull," "Mean Streets," "Goodfellas," and "The Age of Innocence." When Scorsese was making these influential pictures, he was losing the directors' award to movie star actors like Robert Redford and Kevin Costner. I guess you can tell- I'm not as optimistic as I once was. The "Sideways" buzz is waning.
And still-- five nominations-- that's wonderful. "Election" only got one.
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Interesting topic on our radio show today...
A medical supply business or some such in Michigan is forcing its employees to stop smoking- not just at work, but altogether. No one has been fired, but a handful of people quit. Management's concern is the rising cost of health coverage.
I'm still on the fence on this one. My first concern, in a story like this, is always the issue of civil liberties. On one hand, an individual has certain inalienable rights in his or her own home. On the other hand, this is not the standard public health issue. One of the news anchors incorporated the phrase "Big Brother" to frame the argument, but this is a policy enacted by a private employer, not the government. The boss sets the rules, and you're free to work elsewhere if you don't like it. Apparently, smokers are not a protected minority under Michigan law (though they are in about a dozen other states) so the ramifications of the current code are pretty obvious. Like I said though, I'm on the fence.
Carson's America
I've enjoyed the regional coverage of Johnny Carson's life and passing that I've found searching on-line today. Every part of the country loved Johnny.
In Nashville, the local paper interviewed some of the former country music performers who were guests on Carson's show, like Barbara Mandrell and Brenda Lee. Lee noted that Johnny loved Dolly Parton best of all, "He just loved Dolly to death, and thought she was the greatest." Parton appeared on the show 15 times.
In Las Vegas, a columnist chatted with comedian David Brenner, who says he feels like he's lost a second father.
In St. Louis, they found the 80 year old local who showed off pieces of his extensive vacuum cleaner collection on the Tonight Show 17 times.
In Baltimore, they sought comment from the director of the Gliner Center for Humor Studies at the University of Maryland. (Enroll me today!)
In Chicago, movie critic Roger Ebert recalled that he and colleague Gene Siskel were so nervous before appearing with Johnny for the first time that they each drew a blank when trying to remember the name of a film that had been released that year. "Gone With the Wind?" Roger asked. "Me too," Gene said.
In Cincinnati, they recalled comedian Ray Combs, a Hamilton, OH native, who committed suicide at the age of 40 in 1996. Combs had called his debut on the Tonight Show, and being invited to sit down with Carson at his desk, one of the greatest nights of his life. Many other comedians have told similar stories.
In Philadelphia, they noted that Carson served on the battleship Pennsylvania during World War II, and that he hired former Philadelphian Ed McMahon as his professional sidekick in 1958, four years before taking over the Tonight Show.
Here in Iowa, we're recalling Johnny's birth in Corning. The
Des Moines Register spoke with the daughter of a woman who used to babysit Johnny, and the governor noted the entertainer's financial contribution to "Main Street" Iowa, which included funding for an arts center in Red Oak and the Carnac Family Skatepark in Corning.
In his adopted home state of Nebraska, they remembered his childhood in Norfolk, the early magic tricks, his collegiate days at NU, as well as his financial generosity to the Cornhusker state in recent years. A former fraternity brother said, "I don't know how to verbalize it... but we always knew this guy had 'it,' whatever 'it' is."
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By the time most of you read this, we will know the Oscar nominees. They will be read by Adrien Brody at 7:30 central time Tuesday morning on ABC, and the awards will air Sunday, February 27th. Johnny Carson hosted the Academy Awards five times. Wouldn't it have been serendipitous if he could have presented this year's Best Picture award to fellow Cornhusker Alexander Payne and "Sideways?" Alas...
Johnny Carson 1925-2005
Johnny Carson was the coolest guy on the planet. He was the entertainment giant of my childhood, a dominant cultural influence, an iconic character, a grandparent of sorts. Nightly television lends itself to feelings of comfort and familiarity more than any other part of our popular culture, and Carson was there almost every night.
The first family trip that I remember taking was to southern Texas in 1979 or 1980. I was 4 or 5 years old. At that time, Grandpa and Grandma spent their winters near Brownsville aboard an Airstream motor home. They didn't have room for the whole family to stay with them so we slept in the nearby Airstream of friends. My brother and I were shown to our bedroom by our parents. We turned the dial on a tiny black and white television, and there was Johnny coming out from behind that unusual striped curtain to the strains of that iconic theme song. At home, he was still just a face on television-- not as interesting as Bugs Bunny or the Muppets. But that night, after an evening with Grandpa and Grandma's retired friends and no other kids around, I watched Johnny Carson, the premier television talent of their generation, for the first time in my memory. For some reason, I've always remembered that flickering image of Johnny's "Tonight Show" on that tiny black and white box.
Letterman was God the Son, but Carson was God the Father. He was
the comic in the culture. The news was dry and boring to a kid. Carson made it fun. He made you laugh. He was a portal to adult ideas and adult conversation. On the nightly news, President Reagan was the guy next to the helicopter, waving and cupping his ear, under Dan Rather's voice. On Carson, Reagan was a character. He was Carson with a wig and red makeup on his cheeks. It had more honesty.
In adolescence, as he was that night in the Airstream, Johnny would become the personification of "vacation." If you were watching Johnny, that meant you had been allowed to stay up late, and Dad, to my eternal indebtedness, let us stay up late quite frequently. We watched Johnny mostly on Friday nights, during Christmas break, and then all summer long. He was Act One of Two each night. We settled in with Johnny before Dave. Dad showered and went to bed during the late local news, but Aaron and I stayed up several hours later, shaping our cultural identities.
Johnny was on our Sylvania TV the night Steve Martin brought a blanket and popcorn and watched the clip of his latest film on Johnny's couch. He was on the Sony the night Judge Wapner came by the show to settle a small claims suit brought by David Letterman against Johnny for having his ugly truck towed, or "stolen," from a Malibu street. He was on the night George Preston appeared to talk about his Lincoln Highway gift shop in nearby Belle Plaine, Iowa, and kept banging his hand down on Johnny's desk to punctuate his point. Before long, the studio audience was clapping along in unison with the elderly man still oblivious and Johnny trying to keep from breaking up. He was on when Jimmy Stewart would read his poetry, and when Garry Shandling would perform his stand-up act, sending my brother and me into fits of hysterics.
Often, Johnny was just "background" while Aaron and I played APBA, the legendary baseball board game. But he was ALWAYS on. I didn't watch an episode of Ted Koppel's "Nightline"
until I was a sophomore in college. As of 2005, I couldn't even tell you what our local CBS affiliate was airing opposite Carson during those years. In high school, the party show
was
"Letterman" or "Saturday Night Live,"
but we always watched and respected Johnny too because
Dave respected Johnny, and because we were each assessing our departing childhood for the first time and we recognized that the Iowa-born entertainer had been a large part of it.
To this day, I have Johnny's last 11 shows on videotape. He wrapped up the run of his show to enormous press attention in 1992 after 30 years on the air. So many tremendous guests came on to say good-bye in those final few weeks-- Bob Hope, George Burns, Clint Eastwood, Dave, Elizabeth Taylor, Bob Newhart, Liv Ullmann, Shandling, Teri Garr, Martin Short, Robin Williams, Mel Brooks and Tony Bennett (who had both appeared on the first show,) and, of course, there was that now-immortal appearance by Bette Midler, which today stands as the historic peak of the television medium. Johnny's goodbye was the greatest exclamation point ever put on a show business career, and Carson knew better than to tinker with it after his retirement.
Johnny was cool because he understood the concept of showmanship. He was grounded by a modest Midwestern upbringing. He generously gave the spotlight to his talented guests. If they looked good, he knew that that made him look good. He exuded class. He dressed well. He was polite and courteous, which seemed to make him universally beloved by old ladies. He was the last man in our popular culture that could get away with winking. He appeared on television as only
mostly harmless because of his slightly devilish smile. In it was the hint of boyish mischief, and it allowed him to bridge the generational gaps during a period of enormous cultural change in America. Johnny was sweet, funny, and enormously entertaining. I hope to be just like him when I grow up.
The 50 Great American Films 26-30
The next five films of the Chris Moeller Top 50, alphabetically, from M to N...
MODERN TIMES directed by Charlie Chaplin (1936)
The last of Chaplin's Little Tramp pictures is also my favorite. It was his first film in five years, and it was released nine years after the advent of sound. "Modern Times" is an indictment of the new assembly-line technology and culture of the time. In the most famous scene, Chaplin's Little Tramp, a worker on a line assigned the task of fastening bolts, causes chaos every time he pauses in his duties. First, he has to scratch an itch, then shoo away a fly. Eventually, he gets caught in the factory's conveyor belt, which continues to keep time while the Tramp holds on for dear life. The entire film plays as a triumph of "the little guy" against the soullessness of the capitalist system, while also taking shots at the Hollywood system. To that end, it's worth mentioning that the film isn't technically "silent." Dialogue is heard, but only through electronic devices such as radios and phonographs, and the factory conveyor belt emits noises, or even "talks." Late in the film, the director finds an ingenious way to allow us to finally hear his voice.
Chaplin films always ended with the Tramp walking off alone into the sunset, but in this final film, he walks with a companion. The musical strains over the shot are of "Smile," a song penned by Chaplin and later popularized by Nat King Cole and Tony Bennett. The final lyrics read, "Al'tho a tear, may be ever so near. That's the time, you must keep on trying. Smile, what's the use of crying. You'll find that life is still worthwhile, if you just smile." A triumph for the sweetness of life over the machination of man.
MULHOLLAND DRIVE directed by David Lynch (2001)
You could spend the week trying to make sense of "Mulholland Drive," but I will save you some time and tell you that it can't be done. If you require that your movies make sense, don't bother. The beauty of Lynch's film is that it almost seems sensible, engages us, than subverts us. It's a noir-ish Nancy Drew mystery in which the clues don't add up. It includes scenes that seem to be included simply because Lynch wanted to include them. Lynch almost always distorts the narrative in his film and television enterprises, mocking our expectations. He has set out to present only one of his film's "straight," and he cleared up any possible confusion by titling it "The Straight Story." Too often, his other films have been cold-blooded or cruel, but "Mulholland Drive" is warm, hypnotic, and entertaining. Enjoy it for the journey. All you need to know about its plot is revealed behind the opening credits. It is bold film-making-- inventive, erotic, and lusciously photographed. It's the best film of the new millenium.
MY DINNER WITH ANDRE directed by Louis Malle (1981)
With the exception of a couple minutes at the beginning of the film and a couple at the end, the action in "My Dinner With Andre" takes place entirely at a Manhattan restaurant with a dinner conversation between two men. What makes the film special is that that's a unique story-telling device, but it's not a gimmick. Screenwriters Wallace Shawn and Andre Gregory, who also appear as the two men, don't divide the meal into acts (appetizers, entrees, dessert, etc.) They are never approached by other "characters." Table service rarely disrupts the conversation. We simply watch two old friends becoming reacquainted after several years apart. Shawn has been living the simple life in New York, struggling to write plays. Gregory has been traveling the world, attempting to live "in his life," rather than "in his art." Throughout most of the film, Shawn listens, spellbound, to Gregory's extraordinary stories.
Are the screenwriters playing themselves? Critic Roger Ebert suspects no, but that they're playing their own personalities. The men seem to genuinely enjoy each other, and that makes it pleasurable to watch. The film is so simple in design that it appears easily produced, but Malle's shooting style is calculated with great precision (you would never guess that it was shot in a sound studio,) and Shawn and Gregory carefully scripted and rehearsed their lines, creating the magical illusion of spontaneity.
A NIGHT AT THE OPERA directed by Sam Wood (1935)
The Opera House. Can you think of a more stuffy location in which to set loose the madcap Marx Brothers? They're hitting on all cylinders in "A Night at the Opera." Groucho's deadpan quips are coming fast and furious, frequently at the expense of poor, long-suffering Margaret Dumont. (Groucho: "How many men do you suppose are drawing a handsome salary nowadays? Why, you can count them on the fingers of one hand, my good woman?" Dumont: "I'm not your good woman!" Groucho: "Don't say that, Mrs. Claypool. I don't care what your past has been.") Chico continues to plot his scams and butcher the English language, while the silent Harpo frolics about, with a wide, mischievous grin and a bicycle horn. We break from the story for a humorous, impressive piano performance by Chico, and a performance on the harp by 'what's-his-name.' The brothers returned to box office success on "A Night at the Opera" by switching studios to MGM, and returning to the practice of first trying out the big scenes in front of theater audiences. The greatest scene, for my money, is the crowded stateroom on a luxury ocean liner. Groucho is surprised to find his brothers and their new friend as stowaways in his luggage, and his room proceeds to fill up with people, including a manicurist, who asks Groucho, "Do you want your nails long or short?" "You'd better make them short," he responds, "It's getting crowded in here."
NINOTCHKA directed by Ernst Lubitsch (1939)
In 1939, the following films were released- "Gone With the Wind," "Stagecoach," "The Wizard of Oz," "Wuthering Heights," "Mr. Smith Goes to Washington," and "The Lady Vanishes." The forgotten classic of that year was "Ninotchka." Written by Billy Wilder and Charles Brackett- for Wilder's hero, Lubitsch, "Ninotchka" helped to establish the quintessentially American comedy. Essayist David Kipen has argued that in '39, European immigrants (Wilder and Lubitsch, as well as Hitchcock and Capra) were defining American film for the rest of the world: "These films had a certain optimism, a head-long speed and love of vernacular, American English as impossible to deny as it is to resist. Trying to copy America, they helped create it."
Lubitsch, a native of Berlin, was presenting one of the early spoofs of Stalinist Russia. The film, released a month after Hitler invaded Poland, was banned throughout the Soviet Union and its satellites. Greta Garbo is cast as an emotionally-cool Russian diplomat. In her last role before retiring at the age of 36, she played off her famous "mystique" by portraying little emotion. She is moved to laughter late in the film, and the studio famously promoted this event on the movie's promotional poster. "Garbo Laughs!" it read, a take-off of an earlier campaign for her 'talkie' debut-- "Garbo Talks!" Lubitsch's films are always filled with witty and sophisticated dialogue, and one could make the case that he established the modern structure for romantic comedies in America.
One of my favorite Hollywood anecdotes involves "Ninotchka." Billy Wilder tells this story in Cameron Crowe's 1999 book,
Conversations With Wilder:
"We were previewing (the film,) and Lubitsch took the writers along, too, in Long Beach. And they are outside in the lobby there, a stack of cards, with the audience invited to put down their thoughts. So the picture starts playing, and it plays very well. Now Lubitsch takes the cards, a heap of cards, doesn't let anybody else touch them. We get into the big MGM limousine. We turn the light up. Now, so, he takes the preview cards and he starts reading. 'Very good'...'brilliant'...' Twenty cards. But when he comes to the twenty-first card, he starts laughing as hard as I ever saw him laugh, and we say, 'What is it?' He keeps the cards to himself; he does not let anybody even look. Then, finally, he calms down a little and starts reading. And what he read was-- I have the card-- 'Funniest picture I ever saw. So funny that I peed in my girlfriend's hand.'"
Moeller TV Listings 1/22/05
FOX Sports and St. Louis Cardinals' broadcaster Joe Buck will be featured on next weeks' "Real Sports with Bryant Gumbel" on HBO. The interview will touch on the Randy Moss controversy and Joe's relationship with his father, the late legendary sportscaster Jack Buck. According to press reports, the provocative moment comes when Joe is asked whether he would report the news if he knew a Cardinal was using steroids.
He responds, "I'm not in a position as the Cardinal announcer to break stories. I can't solve the steroid issue with my little headset on calling play-by-play. That's not my job. I'm not a journalist," in that role.
I agree with these comments. We should always remember who's paying these broadcaster's salaries before we project journalistic ethics onto them. Of course, this also means that, among other things, they should never be allowed to join the print journalists in voting on Hall of Fame inductions, as many have lobbied to do.
The show airs at 9pm on Tuesday, and again ad nauseum on HBO and HBO2 throughout the next two weeks.
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"Sideways" star Paul Giamatti hosts tonight's Saturday Night Live.
Flexing my muscles
FCC chairman Michael Powell is announcing his retirement today, roughly 36 hours after I called for his dismissal on this blog. This is frightening, I know. I'm still trying to harness the enormous power of this blog. I promise that I will be extra careful about what I write, and thank you, readers, for what was obviously a furious letter-writing campaign on your part. WE DID IT!
Does MacGyver have a sister?
A character on "The Simpsons" is coming out of the closet, and fans are buzzing. At last summer's Comic-Con gathering in San Diego, executive producer Al Jean teased an episode in which the cash-strapped town of Springfield legalizes gay marriage.
An online bookie, BetUSA.com, is setting odds on which character will be outed, but the British newspaper, The Sun, is already reporting that it will be Marge's sister, Patty. According to the paper, the purple-haired, heavy smoking, DMV employee will decide to pursue women after being snubbed by every man in town. She will be seduced by a butch lesbian in a bar. (I can't wait to find out who will be providing that voice.) Homer, after initially disapproving, ends up being ordained as a minister over the internet in order to marry the pair.
As a result of these published reports, Patty is coming off as a 4 to 5 favorite on the gambling website, followed by Smithers (who I would already consider to be out of the closet) at 4 to 1. Bart's friend Milhouse is running third-- he's already been diagnosed as gay by a school psychiatrist, and Homer's friend, Lenny, has the fourth best odds.
FOX has not set a date for the episode's broadcast.
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CBS has quietly announced that "Everybody Loves Raymond" will be wrapping its final season this spring. "Raymond" was not the best TV show of all time, but it was usually very good, and the networks quiet announcement is an encouraging sign that the final episode won't be annoyingly hyped like that of "Friends" or "Frasier." In fact, the show will not even be expanded beyond its half hour time slot for its finale. "Raymond" will exit as the top rated sitcom on television.
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They're forecasting snow for both NFL conference championships this weekend, and that's good news for my picks, Atlanta and New England. Still, I'm hoping the weather stays dry. Championship weekend is the last great weekend of the football season, with the top teams playing in front of passionate home fans. The Super Bowl has become an entirely separate entity, often devoid of real football atmosphere. It would be nice if we get mild conditions for these games. As I said on this blog last week, I want the games to be decided by merit, not by some random act of Mother Nature. Unfortunately, much of the country disagrees with me. A heavy snowfall in one or both games would give the casual fan something unusual to talk about. Especially after Eagles fans bombard the playing field with beer bottles packed in snow.
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A perceptive thought from
Chicago Sun-Times columnist Elliott Harris: "There are few things in life more worthless than radio reports of first quarter scores from NBA games."
Fuck the FCC
The Federal Communications Commission has been a national embarassment under the leadership of Michael Powell. His public "obscenity" crusade began early last year when Janet Jackson bared her breast during the Super Bowl halftime show. Powell, the son of a Bush cabinet official, was determined to make the event an issue in the national election. Since then, the FCC has been capriciously challenging, often fining, television and radio stations for the "moral" content of their programming. Frequently, the selected targets are vocal critics of the President, like radio disk jockey Howard Stern.
Last summer, the FCC levied the biggest fine in its history against the FOX television network because it aired a reality/game show called Married by America, a program in which viewers voted by phone to determine which contestants should marry. A Freedom of Information request filed with the commission revealed that only 12 people in the entire country had issued complaints about the show, and nine of the received notes were e-mail copies of another. That's three people who actually composed letters, of which, one professed to have seen the show. Meanwhile, 5.1 million other households watched the show. So that's 5.1 million versus three.
A couple months ago, again after a football broadcast, our national nanny thought it appropriate to critique a "Desperate Housewives" promo that aired during Monday Night Football on Disney-owned ABC. "I think it's very disappointing," Powell offered, "I wonder if Walt Disney would be proud." The promo was under inspection for having included a camera shot of-- steady yourself now-- a woman's bare back.
As a result of this fascist policing of our "public" airwaves by a tiny group of citizens, the broadcast networks and their stations have been chilling or suppressing thought-provoking and satiric programming. Over Thanksgiving weekend, 66 TV stations, fearing penalty, refused to air Steven Spielberg's docu-style World War II film "Saving Private Ryan." Powell later said that he didn't want the FCC to fine stations for airing the word "fuck" on that particular movie, but a few months earlier, in response to Bono using the word on an awards show, Powell wrote that "broadcasters are on clear notice that, in the future, they will be subject to potential enforcement action for any broadcast of the 'f-word' or a variation thereof in situations such as that." That's pretty clear, I think. Use the 'f-word,' get fined, risk losing your license. Unless Michael Powell doesn't feel like it today.
The lunacy continues this week- the FOX network covered up the naked rear end of a
cartoon character. The character's butt was blurred on a re-run of "The Family Guy," even though the image was seen five
years ago when the episode first aired.
If you've been aware of how other countries are laughing at our prudish and idiotic public officials, but have been taking comfort in the fact that the FCC's Taliban tactics have not yet damaged our international relations, I have bad news for you. The Greeks are now angry that Michael Powell and the FCC are investigating the broadcast of the opening ceremonies of the Athens 2004 Summer Olympic Games. Globally, 3.9 billion people watched the ceremonies. The FCC received
nine complaints. Among them: one person reported hearing an obscenity; one objected to the male anatomy on a representation of Greek sculpture (presumably this was a member of John Ashcroft's church); another thought a woman's breast had been revealed; and yet another claimed to have seen a couple making love. To half these people, any representation of the Greek origins of civilization would be obscene. To the other half, the inside of a state mental institution might be quite familiar.
It should be obvious to all of us that "obscenity" laws no longer apply, simply, to the 'seven dirty words' or their related images, they are now being applied to social expression and political ideas. It's time for Americans to demand that Powell be kicked to the curb. He serves, unelected, at the behest of a lame-duck, baffoon-ish President, but Congress has the power to re-write the laws regarding our broadcast airwaves, and I stress the word "our." There's a powerful network of religious bigots and ignoramuses organizing opposing lobbying efforts as we speak, so it's time to get busy. Tell your senator or representative that you want Powell out. Better yet, tell them to scrap the FCC all together. It's bloated government bureacracy at its worst. Americans are more than qualified, if not Constitutionally-mandated, to vote on morality and obscenity with their remote controls.
Woke up this morning, got myself a gun
Many people let out that first groan of the day just as the alarm clock goes off. Not me. I don't really mind the buzzer. I typically get enough sleep and wake up ready for action. For me, the first groan emanates when I turn on the television and catch a glimpse of one of the network morning shows. Collectively, they are the worst shows on television. "CBS This Morning," "Today," and "Good Morning America" are not just of poor quality, they're downright dreadful. They're hostile in their dreadfulness. They inspire anger in me.
They shamelessly steal ideas from one another. They employ corporate shills posing as personalities, and corporate shills posing as personalities posing as journalists. They are three and four hour infomercials for their respective networks.
Viewers are forced to watch daily interviews with reality show contestants and B list network actors. Every half hour begins with a perky "toss" to the news reader-slash-pretend journalist, who then awkwardly segues from her colleagues' frivolity to a "serious" news story. On rare occasions, the lead news story involves an important topic like the tsunami, or the war in Iraq, but usually it's about a domestic crime or child custody dispute that's inexplicably receiving national attention.
In and out of commercial breaks, they show us mouth-breathing, nose-picking idiots gathered outside the studio window, waving hand-made signs and engaging in literally any unusual behavior they can dream up to see themselves on television. It's depressing as hell.
Monday morning, I watched NBC weather balloon Al Roker broadcast live from the Golden Globes clean-up in Los Angeles. On a morning when the network could actually claim a legitimate news story from its programming schedule, Roker was interviewing a supporting actor from "Vegas," an NBC show that wasn't nominated for an award.
Over on CBS each day, we get to watch Joie Chen read the teleprompter. Chen, who recently married her boss, CBS head Les Moonves, has obliterated the line between news and entertainment by hosting the network's reality-show "Big Brother" for the last four years while continuing to report the news on "This Morning." She's one of four hosts now on the lowest rated of the three shows. Last year, CBS execs doubled the number of hosts from two to four in a "radical" move to distinguish the show from its competitors. How many hosts would "This Morning" need to have before you would start watching it? I'd like some feedback on that.
Each day I give the shows about five minutes of my time while making my bed. It's the price I pay for you readers to stay on top of major breaking events. But five minutes is the limit of what I can stomach. After that, it's over to "The Golden Girls" on the Lifetime network, where I know I can be assured of entertaining conversation and lively attitude, even on a fifteen year old re-run.
Three Nights in August
In 1988, Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist H. G. "Buzz" Bissinger chronicled a high-drama season of high school football in Odessa, Texas. His accounts, later published under the title "Friday Night Lights," revealed the rabid devotion that the small West Texas town held for it's gridiron heroes. Bissinger's book became a best-seller, and last year, was released as a feature- length motion picture from Imagine Entertainment starring Billy Bob Thornton. Now, Bissinger has focused his considerable literary talent on Tony LaRussa, the manager of Thornton's favorite baseball team, the St. Louis Cardinals.
In 2003, Bissinger was given unprecedented access to the Cardinals' clubhouse. The book's publisher, Houghton Mifflin, summarizes Bissinger's accounts in this excerpt from the promotional news release...
"
Three Nights in August shows thrillingly that human nature- not statistics- dictates ballgames' outcomes. We watch from the dugout as a spectacular series unfolds between the Cardinals and their archrivals, the Cubs, and we uncover surprising truths about the pathology of slumps, the psychology of the clutch, the complex art of beanball retaliation, the rise of video, and the innumerable eccentricities of pitchers. The greatest players of our time grace the line-up: Albert Pujols, Sammy Sosa, Scott Rolen, Mark Prior, and more."
Fellow bloggers, I don't think I'm exaggerating when I say that this may very well turn out to be the greatest book ever published. After reading it, each of us will likely get down on our hands and knees and thank Johannes Gutenberg for inventing the printing press. It promises to be a masterpiece of literature for many reasons beyond even the author's pedigree or his worthy subject. For one thing, the series in focus has been largely forgotten. A week after it was played, another series was played between the two teams at Wrigley Field in Chicago- a five game set in which the Cubs won four games. Many Cubs fans think of the second matchup as perhaps the most pivotal regular season series in the last half century for the Cubs. Now, thanks to Bissinger's exquisite timing in traveling to St. Louis, that second series will be lost to time and posterity, in favor of the previous Busch Stadium tussle, in which the Cards took two of three games in dramatic fashion. (The Cubs went on to win the division, ending the Cardinals three year dominance, and providing brief respite for the Cardinals' five Central Division foes. The Redbirds resumed their dominance in 2004, winning the division once again, this time by 13 games en route to the World Series.)
Bissinger's book will no doubt take Cubs pitchers Kerry Wood, Mark Prior, and Carlos Zambrano to task for their head-hunting pitching styles, and through its story arc, expose Cards' sluggers Albert Pujols, Scott Rolen, and Jim Edmonds as American folk heroes to rival Daniel Boone, Bonnie and Clyde, and Dizzy Dean.
"Three Nights in August" will be available in hardback binding, and upon 256 glorious pages, April 5th- well within the seven day shopping grace period of my birthday, April 2nd.
But coordinate, people! I don't need a dozen copies.
The 50 Great American Films 21-25
The next five films of the Chris Moeller Top 50 list, alphabetically, from G to M...
THE GRAPES OF WRATH directed by John Ford (1940)
For most living Americans, stories of the Great Depression might just as well be tales of Ancient Rome. They are of another time and place, despite the fact that many of its survivors are still among us. Modern marketeers have succeeded in wiping the Depression almost completely from the nation's conscience. Writer Studs Terkel calls the 1930's the decade when "free enterprise... the new religion-- fell on its ass completely... fell on its knees and asked the government to save it." John Steinbeck's 1939 Pulitzer Prize-winning and widely-read novel "The Grapes of Wrath" remains the essential literary document of the era, a tribute to the proletariat, socialist spirit that developed across the nation, providing comfort and purpose to the afflicted. The rights to the book were optioned by 20th Century Fox studio head Daryl Zanuck, and assigned to its top director, John Ford in '39. It was released the following year.
The movie tells the story of a family's journey from the dust bowl fields of Oklahoma to the grim and desperate migrant camps of California. Ford, a staunch right-winger, infused the film with harsh visuals and Biblical subtext. Henry Ford became a star in the lead role of Tom Joad. His hollow face and intense manner portray a simmering ambition to provide food and shelter for his family. Today, these characters look like mammoth heroes. There was a happy, unfilmed fourth act of the film- the arrival of prosperity for the Okies and their descendents in California. "Their grandchildren would star in Beach Boys songs," writes Roger Ebert.
At the end of the film, Tom has discovered some moral clarity, "Maybe it's like Casy (the preacher) says. A man ain't got a soul of his own, just a little piece of a big soul. The one big soul that belongs to everybody."
GROUNDHOG DAY directed by Harold Ramis (1993)
Bill Murray is a fascinating actor. He's a sort of daredevil minimalist. He possesses this Dean Martin-esque ambivalence to his craft and characters, but he's capable of projecting tremendous strength and emotional depth as the layers are revealed. The results are almost always surprising, and surprise is the least celebrated, key ingredient of comedy. "Groundhog Day" is Murray's most brilliant "unlayering." He is Phil Conners, a Pittsburgh weatherman, assigned- again- to cover the annual Groundhog Day celebration in Punxsutawney, PA. Phil is coarse, miserable, and unlikable. On the air and off, he's the type of person we imagine Murray would have become if he had never found the creative outlet of Second City in Chicago, and instead been relegated to a career in front of the camera in the suffocating and monotonous world of local broadcast television. Due to unexplained circumstances, Phil winds up stuck in February 2nd, forced to relive the day over and over. After the initial shock, he experiments with his newfound freedom, then finally settles on a course of action to better his tomorrow. The script, by Danny Rubin, comes up with many inspired variations on the day's events, and the film- like Phil's day- gets better and better with the benefit of time.
L.A.
CONFIDENTIAL directed by Curtis Hanson (1997)
"L.A. Confidential" is the slickest of slick film-making. It's a post-war detective thriller in the tradition of "The Big Sleep" and "Chinatown," but ultra-stylized and modern. It cleverly sets the detective television shows of the 1950's in its background, and has great fun with the conventions of the genre. It's "The Maltese Falcon" meets "Dragnet"- with a Scorcese pulse, and released in the wake of the OJ Simpson trial. Hollywood captures no location more accurately or more affectionately than Hollywood. Here, Hanson, writer James Ellroy, and screenwriter Brian Helgeland, have set the story amidst the Tinsel Town culture of the '50s, mixing it lovingly with both the glamour and the sleeze. The characters are as likely to run into screen idols Robert Mitchum or Lana Turner as they are "a hooker cut to look like Lana Turner." The period music sets the perfect mood, and newcomers Russell Crowe and Guy Pierce are commanding. The individual cop, represented by Crowe, and the police department, represented by Pierce, are shown as equally corruptible. The film's mystery is complicated, tawdry, and riveting. The myths hidden behind Hollywood's bright lights are examined in depth. Some come flooding out into public view. Others are left "off the record, on the Q.T., and very...hush...hush. "
LEAVING LAS VEGAS directed Mike Figgis (1995)
About halfway through "Leaving Las Vegas," Nicholas Cage's character Ben is asked if he's drinking as a way of killing himself. He replies, "Or is killing myself a way of drinking?" We don't know Ben's motivation for drinking himself to death. We get just a small glimpse of his life before he arrives in Las Vegas- he has been humanely let go from his job, and we see him burn a picture of a woman and children, suggesting he has lost his family. He has gone to Vegas to die, and soon he finds Sera (Elizabeth Shue), a high-priced, abused prostitute who no doubt has lots of experience with sad men. She will be his guardian angel at the end of life. Their relationship is not about sex. In a memorable scene, Sera pours a bottle of booze over her body as a last attempt at physically arousing him. The soul of the movie is Sera's, because Ben has lost his.
Figgis shoots the movie with remarkable realism. Many of the scenes were filmed with a hand-held 16mm camera, often in locations in which Figgis had not received permits or permissions. Infused by modern recordings of jazz standards and a haunting score written by Figgis, "Leaving Las Vegas" is also one of the great modern musicals. The songs are "easy and sad," as Sinatra once sang, and they occasionally repeat, like the selections in the jukebox when the drunks call on their boozy favorites in the wee small hours.
THE MANCHURIAN CANDIDATE directed by John Frankenheimer (1962)
"The Manchurian Candidate" was withdrawn from the market after star Frank Sinatra's former friend, President Kennedy, was assassinated in 1963, and it did not resurface until 1986. Sinatra says he didn't know he owned the rights to the political thriller, and perhaps that's true. (A notorious spender doesn't enjoy talking to his money managers.) But when you watch the movie, you can understand why one might take pause to consider its cultural ramifications. It has enormous power. It's politically astute, if not wildly exaggerated, and just might be the most thrilling movie ever made. The film had no baring on the Kennedy killing beyond providing a template for conspiracy theorists, but the President's death forever cast a shadow over the film, making it seem equal parts glib and prophetic.
"The Manchurian Candidate" contains one of the most unusual scenes in film history- when the Sinatra "Marco" character and Janet Leigh's "Rosie" meet for the first time on a platform between train cars. The dialogue is odd, and might suggest an even deeper political plot than we've previously been led to believe. I'll reveal nothing more about the scene or the film. Rent it and watch it for all of its immediacy and tension. It will knock you down.
Previous Top 50 films were posted on 12/18, 12/23, 12/30, and 1/9.
Television Series on DVD Consumer Guide
I've been searching on-line for the future release dates for television series on DVD. Putting these past series out for the public, uncut, digitally improved, and often loaded with extra features has been the greatest development in the entertainment industry since video recording machines. Here's a list of some noteworthy series collections on the way to your local stores...
Tuesday-
Curb Your Enthusiasm- Season 3
Jan. 25-
MacGyver- Season 1
Soap- Season 3
Married... With Children- Season 3
The Wire- Season 2
Homicide, Life on the Street- Season 6
Feb. 1
Charmed- Season 1
Cheers- Season 4
I Love Lucy- Season 3
Frasier- Season 4
Taxi- Season 2
Feb. 8
Miami Vice- Season 1
Murphy Brown- Season 1
The Fresh Prince of Bel Air- Season 1
Deadwood- Season 1
Night Court- Season 1
Murder One- Season 1
Full House- Season 1
Greatest American Hero- Season 1
Feb. 22
Ellen- Season 2
King of Queens- Season 3
March 1
Brady Bunch- Season 1
May 24
Newsradio- Seasons 1 & 2
No Word Yet
The Sopranos- Season 5
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This weekend, your winners will be the Rams, Vikings, Patriots, Steelers, and "Sideways" in the Golden Globes. I'll of course be watching the Rams' game the closest, but the best matchup is New England vs. Indianapolis. I read yesterday that the Patriots' grounds crew has left the field uncovered during the week despite some very inclement weather. This tactic is, of course, designed to slow down Peyton Manning and the Colts' potent offense, similar to the way the crews in Candlestick Park and Wrigley Field used to water down the infield to slow down Whitey Herzog's baseball Cardinals.
Here's the thing- football should be played indoors. Traditionalists will argue that the game was designed to be played outdoors amidst the elements, but I would remind those persons that the traditional football elements are the elements of Autumn, not January- or even November. Look at the oldest football records, those of the college ranks at the turn of the last century. They played five or six games a year, and were home with their families watching the Lions on Thanksgiving. Build a roof over your football team, Green Bay and Foxboro. We want to see what the best athletes are capable of achieving, we want to watch the games in comfort (especially considering the exorbitant ticket prices,) and we want to see the cheerleaders in tight fitting clothes.
Moeller TV Listings 1/14/05
Amy Sedaris is the first guest on Letterman tonight. She hosts a new show called "Film Fanatic" on TRIO. (Call your local cable provider.) Her film, "Strangers With Candy," based on the sketch comedy show, comes out later this year.
Legislative Roll Call
For the media in Iowa, the most exciting part of the state legislative season is the beginning. In January, lawmakers of every political stripe float bills for consideration, many of which don't have a mourning dove's chance in Missouri of ever becoming law. By scheduling press conferences and faxing press releases, the legislators are, in effect, throwing their ideas against the wall and seeing what sticks.
Three major issues have caught my attention in the opening week of the session:
Issue 1: The push to get tougher on the production of methamphetamine.
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As far back as 1999, I advocated that the Iowa state motto be changed to "Don't Meth With Us." I felt it was a catchy and timely derivation of Texas' popular "Don't Mess With Texas" anti-litter campaign, and much more honest than Governor Vilsack's suggestion, "Fields of Opportunities." After years on the sidelines, the rise in rural meth production has given Iowans a bird's eye view of our nation's out-of-control drug problem and the asinine government policies that have led to its growth. (Disclaimer: I believe drugs should be legal and heavily taxed.) Iowa and the other 49 nifty states continue to tackle the problem from the standpoint of law enforcement and punishment, rather than prevention. In Iowa-speak, this is closing the barn door after the cows are already out.
Rural Iowa has been ravaged by the loss of industry and community due to the unregulated expansion of corporate hog lots and national chain discount stores. Main Street Iowa is dying, if not already dead. The bright idea of our governor and lawmakers in this session is to make pseudoephedrine a controlled substance. Pseudoephedrine is a common ingredient in cold and flu medicines, but also used commonly in the "cooking" of meth. If this doesn't tell us everything we need to know about "the war on drugs," I don't know what does. We're now so powerless to the mushrooming consumption of narcotics that law-abiding citizens will have to go to a pharmacist and sign out for their parceled allotment of NyQuil. Before long, I'll have to endure a five day waiting period and background check to utilize my nighttime sniffling, sneezing, coughing, aching, stuffy head, fever, so I can rest and have a good morning medicine. Can't we just throw in the towel at this point and admit we've lost the war?
Issue 2: The increased cigarette tax.
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It hit me today as I watched a co-worker brave a below-zero wind chill to get his hourly nicotine fix just how strong an addict's urge can be. Governor Vilsack supports the raising of the cigarette tax to close the $100 million gap in the state Medicaid program. The Senate's co-leader, Stewart Iverson, opposes all new taxes, and presumably prefers cutting Medicaid services and/or eligibility to bridge the gap. I say score one for the governor on this issue. The American Cancer Society, which recommends raising the 36-cent tax by $1 per pack, estimates that an increase would generate $160 million and reduce smoking overall and by 20 percent among teenagers. (Have at it, Semelroth.)
I enjoyed the legislator I heard on the radio yesterday who said she refuses to call it a 'tax,' but rather a 'user fee.' This is bold thinking. If the Republicans can change the phrase "luxury tax" to "inheritance tax," and later to "death tax," liberals can play the semantics game, too. I've said on this blog before that we have to start framing the debate if we want to win it.
Issue 3: The beverage container redemption bill.
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Writing today's blog, I realize how important it will be for the grocers in Iowa to have a powerful lobbyist at this year's session. All three of these issues affect their business, and none more so than this one, judging by their behavior. Fareway Stores in Iowa made headlines in November when they began rejecting empty cans and bottles. Last week, Attorney General Tom Miller threatened legal action, and the grocery chain caved. This session, the grocery lobby will be raining millions in contributions down upon the legislature to overturn the overwhelmingly successful 1978 bottle-deposit law that requires grocers to take back empty containers and refund the five cent deposit.
In addition to being a huge success, the redemption law is also overwhelmingly popular. A recent poll found that 90 percent of Iowans support it, and 76 percent even support expanding it to include other containers. The grocery stores make a bundle off the sale of liquor and soda, and provide the most convenient return location for most Iowans. If I were Tom Miller, I wouldn't stop there. Fareway dropped its protest, but for two months, they continued to charge the five cent deposit on sales without refunding it on the back end. I say he should
still sue their ass. It would send a message to the other chains- and all corporations in Iowa- that the public expects them to be good citizens and responsible neighbors.
A Gathering Storm Gathers Some Moss
The Randy Moss Moon Dance story is my favorite type of sports story because it makes everyone look bad except for my team. I was originally intending to pass over this hot topic in favor of the more penetrating tale of how Brad and Jennifer's marriage came to resemble a California mudslide, but the Moss story keeps getting better.
First, let me say that this is a sports story only. As half the country continues to cope with the copious fallout of Janet Jackson's copious fallout, I believe it's unnecessary to view every sports story through the prism of Miss Jackson's decorated mammary. (I call her Miss Jackson because I'm nasty.)
Let's take a giant step back and review Moss' action. He didn't moon the fans. He pretended to moon the fans. It wasn't obscene. What it was was another example of bad sportsmanship from one of bad sportsmanship's poster boys, and shouldn't we all be immune to it by now? The thing that makes me angry is that people are buying into the debate. I'm not. I still remember what you did nine days ago, Randy. You quit on your team when you walked off the field, and no elaborate end zone stunt this week or next is going to make me forget it.
Though he's never held his star receiver accountable for
his behavior, Vikings owner Red McCombs took time out Monday to scold FOX Sports broadcaster Joe Buck for his on-air comments regarding Moss' behavior. Buck, a model citizen, St. Louis resident, and frequent Sports Emmy recipient, called Moss' celebration "a disgusting act," adding, "I think it's unfortunate that we had that on our air live."
"Joe Buck missed it entirely," McCombs said- in between phone calls to cities where he'd like to relocate the Vikings. "In the first place, he's supposed to be reporting a game. I didn't know he had become an analyst. I imagine there will be some others in his organization that will take a look at that. He was totally out of line." (A FOX Sports vice president says the network stands behind Buck 100 percent.) Buck, referring to McComb's comments, added, "I slept good (Sunday) night."
Last month, on this blog, a certain brother of a certain blogger accused Buck of lacking "a distinct personality." As I recall, he lacked even "the occasional fresh idea." Well, apparently, he's giving the NFL establishment all it can handle right now.
Green Bay also comes off bad in this whole thing. On top of playing horribly, they looked like sore losers. Colts head coach and former Vikings assistant Tony Dungy suggested on Monday that a possible prompting for the incident was a tradition by Packers fans outside Lambeau Field. Apparently, a large group gather around the opponent's team bus after a loss and moon the passengers. What a lovely tradition.
All of this is why I'm so pleased to be a fan of St. Louis sports teams. "Honored" is the word that often comes to mind. The Rams, Cardinals, and Blues have conducted themselves with such great sportsmanship during my lifetime that I proudly associate myself with the city, despite having lived there only three months of my life.
This weekend, as Randy Moss' team battles Terrell Owens' team in front of football's most profane and violent fans, I have the honor of cheering on Marshall Faulk, Isaac Bruce, Aeneas Williams, Marc Bulger, Orlando Pace, and Torry Holt. Win or lose, I'll "sleep good" after the game.
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In this week's
Sports Illustrated, Bill Scheft offers this quip:
"Iowa scored as time expired to beat LSU in the Capital One Bowl. Nick Saban may have been distracted. At one point he tried to replace Marcus Randall with Sage Rosenfels."
This is a reference to the Dolphins' new head coach wanting to insert the Dolphins' back-up quarterback into LSU's line-up. But what's really funny is that Scheft isn't even aware of how much trouble Iowa had beating Rosenfels when Sage the Rage was the quarterback at Iowa State. Hysterical!
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The narcissism of the New York sports media knows no bounds. They have monumentally overblown the Randy Johnson story, in which he told a cameraman to "get out of (his) face."
Daily News and ESPN blowhard Mike Lupica, today, called the newest Yankee "the biggest hick" in town. Despite the fact that the cameraman was in Johnson's path, that Johnson followed his demand with the words "that's all I ask," and that he apologized a day later, Johnson will remain in the media crosshairs.
The Daily News also printed a list of Johnson's previous altercations today, none of which I had ever heard of, and none of which seemed to be out of the ordinary for a competitive athlete.
Never forget that the members of the media are the real stars of the show in the Big Apple. Suck up to them, or hit the road. Their behavior is laughably predictable- Johnson brings the hammer down on the Yankees in the 2001 World Series. Now he wants to play for them.
Get down on your hands and knees, big man, and grovel for your right to join the ranks of the powerful. Grovel before Mr. Letterman. In return, we'll make you an icon. And what a story we'll have to tell for generations to come. I'd feel bad for the dunce if he hadn't whored himself by taking Steinbrenner's blood money.
That reminds me of a statistic I read last week. The Yankees' five starting pitchers alone (Johnson, Kevin Brown, Mike Mussina, Carl Pavano, and Jaret Wright) will combine to earn $64 million dollars this year. That's more than the entire payroll of exactly half of baseball's 30 teams. The Yankees' entire 2005 payroll, which exceeds $200 million, is more than the combined payrolls of the 2001 World Champion Diamondbacks, 2002 World Champion Angels, and 2003 World Champion Marlins.
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I won't be posting Wednesday night unless the weather gets too severe. Scored tickets to the Iowa State/Kansas basketball game.
Moeller TV Listings 1/11/05
I'm sure you all know by now that the journalism profession in America is in the toilet, but there's still a great news investigation show on television- "Frontline" on PBS. Tonight, the newsmagazine returns for a new season with a report on the dangers for journalists covering the war in Iraq. It starts at 9pm central time.
Oscar Tune-up
Tonight, I enjoyed the Critics' Choice Awards on the WB. These were the 2004 film awards given by the broadcast television film critics, and presented, by and large, by the stars of WB shows like "Everwood," "Charmed," "Jack and Bobby," and "Gilmore Girls." I called it a 'tune-up' in my clever title, not because "Sideways," the 2004/2005 official movie of this blog, needed another tune-up. Alexander Payne's masterpiece has already racked up multiple awards from the New York, Chicago, and Los Angeles Film Critics Associations, and those organizations aren't accustomed to giving movies "multiple" awards. No, this was a tune-up for me as an award show viewer. This year I plan to watch the Oscars, Golden Globes, Actors' Guild Awards, and all the others as I would a sporting event- making lots of noise, cheering for the "home team," and eating grapes while sitting naked on the couch. I'm going to be just like Rita Wilson, cheering my man to victory.
Tonight, for the first time this award season, I felt that nervousness in my stomach when the winners were announced. I missed Virginia Madsen's category and the screenplay award, but Thomas Haden Church showed modesty and emotion when he won Best Supporting Actor, and producer Michael London was thorough when giving his thank-yous after winning the Best Picture category. Unfortunately, London couldn't persuade Payne to make a speech. A great night all around, but I want to say this right now- the Academy Awards and ABC better not pull the same stunt we saw tonight on the WB- starting the credits and cutting off London's speech so that my local affiliate could show a "Will and Grace" re-run. You're going to read a lot of my bitching between now and Spring if we don't get the Tom Cruise treatment we deserve.
The 50 Great American Films 16-20
The next five films of the Chris Moeller Top 50 list, alphabetically, from E to G...
ELECTION directed by Alexander Payne (1999)
We all have known a Tracy Flick in our lives. Tracy, played by Reese Witherspoon, is chipper, bright, and ambitious. She'll one day become president of the world, but first she has to win the high school student council race. Mr. McAllister (Matthew Broderick), the school civics and history teacher, recognizes the face of Satan in Tracy's well-rehearsed smile. He recruits the school's popular, earnest, and unwitting star quarterback, Paul Metzler, to enter the council race and derail Tracy's bid. Paul's lesbian sister, who sits on a hill and stares at the power station after school, becomes the Ralph Nader of the campaign. Alexander Payne knows our culture's "character types" better than any modern director. (And the four terrific leads in "Election" might all take a back seat to the school principal, played by Phil Reeves.) "Election" is a sinister fable, and a biting satire. It is small and simple, but it is not simple-minded. It never steps wrong. Others films have accomplished more in terms of scope and design, but it might be the only movie that could not be improved upon.
EVE'S BAYOU directed by Kasi Lemmons (1997)
History is not as it appears in Mr. McAllister's high school textbooks- linear and straight-forward. It is our collected memories, each with its own biases, colors, and perspective. Eve is the adult narrator of "Eve's Bayou," who begins the film with a better summary than mine- "Memory is a selection of images, some elusive, others printed indelibly on the brain." Then she adds, "The summer I killed my father, I was 10 years old." Lemmons, the only African-American female director that I could name, presents the entire movie through the eyes of the little girl. On at least two occasions, an older character even puts her arm around Eve and helps her to understand her confusion. The movie is directed with such stunning maturity, and with such beautiful visuals, that you would never guess it was Lemmons' first film. Samuel L. Jackson is Eve's father, whose sympathetic Southern Gothic patriarch tells us more about Bill Clinton's sexual weaknesses than John Travolta did in an almost specific impression of Clinton in Mike Nichols' "Primary Colors," released five months after "Eve's Bayou." "Bayou" contains a magical scene where Eve's aunt (Debbi Morgan) recounts the death of her former husband. The scene of his death is reenacted as a reflection in the mirror. Indelibly printed memories of "Eve's Bayou" call me back to see it time and again. It should also be seen for the largest collection of gorgeous women ever captured on celluloid.
FARGO directed by Joel Coen (1996)
Marge Gunderson (Frances MacDormand) is "a police officer from up Brainerd, investigating some malfeasance." She is an old-fashioned movie hero. She pursues the criminals, solves the crime, even gets an impassioned speech at the end of the film. It's a tribute to the sheer and utter originality of "Fargo" that you watch the movie without realizing how traditional she is. (Can you think of another movie in which the pregnant lead character doesn't give birth by the time the credits roll?) As a viewer, you're too busy absorbing the climate and the accents to notice the structure. It's a foreign film set in the middle of the country. It's a comedy, but there's not a joke to be found in the script, just an attitude. When the Coen Brothers released the movie,
Time Magazine's Richard Corliss wrote that the Minnesota natives' function was to "italicize (their) giddy contempt toward people who talk and think Minnesotan." That reminds me of the constant criticism surrounding Nebraska-based Alexander Payne. Do New York critics really think we're so noble in the heartland that we don't have a sense of humor about ourselves? Marge Gunderson is a hero. No one would watch this movie and accuse the Coens of robbing her of her dignity? And didn't the brothers cut their home state a break simply by naming the movie after a bordering city?
One of the infamous scenes in "Fargo" involves Marge having dinner with a former high school classmate. Until recently I accepted the conventional wisdom that the scene was superfluous and inexplicable, but in his recent "Great Movies" review of the film, Roger Ebert points out that Marge adjusts her police interrogating technique based on the encounter. An odd exchange? Yes. Utterly original? You're darn tootin'.
GODFATHER directed by Francis Ford Coppola (1972)
I know this is one of your favorites because one of you references it in the comment box every couple weeks. 'The legend' of the "The Godfather" is bigger than the film itself more than 30 years later- so much so that those of us younger than the film can't fully appreciate the stunning way that it changed the world of moviemaking in 1972. Unlike other masterpieces like "Citizen Kane," its impact was immediate. It's operatic and auteristic, but it's also incredibly mainstream. Marlon Brando was considered the greatest actor in the world at the time, and audiences waited around the block to get a glimpse of how he would breathe life into one of the popular novel characters of the time. Brando delivered one of the extraordinary characters in movie history. Vito 'Don' Corleone is bigger than life in a role that demanded it. Brando stuffed tissues in his jaw and mumbled many of his lines throughout the film. The effect causes us to lean in and pay attention to his words. It adds reserve and strength to the mafia family's powerful leader. By the end of the film, when his successor is ascending to the family throne by consolidating power, we realize that we've been thoroughly absorbed into the greatest family epic ever told. One that, believe it or not, is even larger than that statement. Try this one out- It's the greatest movie ever made about the American Experience, about the constant bloodstream of immigration that gives us our vitality and demands to be preserved.
When Brando died this year, I watched the movie again and was struck by the new poignancy of the scene where Vito collapses and dies in his tomato garden, with his infant grandson there representing the Don's continuing legacy. A giant has passed, and we feel the entire weight of his remarkable life.
THE GODFATHER, PART II directed by Francis Ford Coppola (1974)
I know I wrote earlier that "Bride of Frankenstein" was the only film sequel to surpass the original, but the second installment of "The Godfather" is, hands-down, the best movie sequel period. It adds depth and texture to the first movie.
Entertainment Weekly calls it "the greatest parenthesis ever put on film." I also think it was a necessity. Coppola never made up his mind about how he felt about Vito Corleone. In Part II, the entire epic comes into view as Greek Tragedy. Vito's son Michael (Al Pacino) has taken over the family business. We see the disintegration of his relationships, and, then ultimately, the gutting of his soul.
The Godfather Epic gave birth to a generation of crime families on screen. The most entertaining of the bunch is HBO television's "The Sopranos." (It's not really television.) David Chase's series is really an homage to Coppola's masterpiece. The same demons haunt the family. They wrestle with the issues of loyalty, obligation, assimilation, and death. The canvas is similarly painted with colorful characters. Luca Brasi, Salvadore Tessio, Frankie Pentangeli, and Hyman Roth have given way to Paulie "Walnuts," Salvatore "Big Pussy" Bompensiero, Silvio Dante, and Hesh Rabkin. The Godfather also inspired generational epics such as the miniseries "Roots," broadcast to record television audiences in the late '70s, and it's not unfair to say that it had a significant contribution to the geneaology movement in America over the last three decades.
America is still a country going through puberty, but "The Godfather" helped to give Americans our first sense of a shared heritage.
Previous Top 50 summaries were posted on 12/18, 12/23, and 12/30.
Rams Recap
I feel like it's October again. A St. Louis sports team plays in the afternoon with the TV network's B announcers, while New York plays in prime-time. Either way, today was a huge win for the Rams and their head coach/media punching bag. "The Madman" Mike Martz was at his time-out burning- and offensive play-calling best. He drew up a great plan, working both Marshall Faulk and Steven Jackson into the offense, while exploiting the inexperience in the Seahawks' secondary. The winning touchdown came on an aggressive call- a play-action toss in tight man coverage to a man who caught only seven passes all year.
Yet another criticism of Martz this week was that he had the audacity to suggest that Marc Bulger was a better quarterback than Kurt Warner ever was. I'm a big fan of both players, but I can't help but notice another double standard directed towards Martz. Other coaches would be applauded for trying to build up the confidence of the current field general. Not a bad idea in this case considering the large shadow Bulger stepped into. The early season TV ratings for the New York Giants in the St. Louis market bear that out. Again today, Bulger was as cool as they come.
Chargers head coach Marty Schottenheimer needs trendier eyeglasses. Fair or not, I've always viewed Schottenheimer as the posterboy for NFL conservatism. It's fitting on a day that Martz flaunts the conventions of the game and rolls to victory that Schottenheimer goes down to yet another playoff defeat. Observe the last Chargers' possession against the Jets- the team is driving and Marty switches off with three running plays and a field goal attempt. Playing it safe, were we? If you're not going to loosen up the play calling after all these years, how about some new specs? I look at Schottenheimer and it's 1985 again. He should suction a Baby On Board sign to those lenses. How 'bout a Queer Eye Day at Qualcomm Stadium next year?
One of the early newswire recaps of the Rams' game proclaimed that both the 8-8 Rams and the 9-7 Seahawks "played down to expectations." I'm sure Sunday morning's AFC recap will likewise hold the conference accountable for the 'roughing the passer' penalty and the shanked field goal.
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It wasn't a bad day for the Cardinals, either. Their manager gets a three year extension, with a contract for the GM to follow. The deadline for the Astros to re-sign Carlos Beltran passes without an agreement, which also makes it harder for them to talk Roger Clemens out of retirement.
Psychic Suzy
Psychic Suzy is a woman who comes into the radio building every four to six weeks, always on Friday. She stops by to be a sort of novelty guest on the Jan Mickelson program. Psychic Suzy brings candy for the whole office when she visits. After her on-air appointment, she walks through the office, chatting loudly. "Would you like a Kit Kat or an Almond Joy, young man?" she'll say, or "I'm not going to offer you a Snickers, young lady, because I know you're on a diet." People usually respond enthusiastically. They might say, "I'd like a Kit Kat, please, Psychic Suzy."
A year ago, Psychic Suzy told me I would be married before I was 30. I'm down to the last four months to make her dream for me a reality. Today, she told me she had a dream that I gave my earring to her. I'm not sure what that meant. I think she just picks out characteristics on a person's body. (I should have asked her to confirm my Pigskin Picks for the weekend.)
After leaving my area, she went into the bosses' office. He was talking with one of the young salesmen. I heard her say to the boss, "I know you want some candy. Kit Kat or Almond Joy?" He picked something. Then, to the other guy, "I don't know you. You must be selling something?" He said yes. Then she followed with, "You're not a very good closer. You don't close very well." Silence.
After Psychic Suzy left, I teased the guy. I said, "You know, that's a free evaluation." He responded somewhat seriously, "Christ, did she have to say that in front of the boss?"
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"Psychic Suzy" is actually "Suzanna." Her website is
www.mediapsychic.com if you wish to schedule a private consultation.
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Overall, it was a good day at work. I also learned how to catch a polar bear. You take a can of peas and set the peas out, one by one, onto the ice. Then when the polar bear bends over to take a pea, you kick him in the icehole.
Chris' Pigskin Picks
You asked for 'em. You got 'em. The NFL playoffs will play out this way. The Rams will take down the Seahawks for the third time this year behind a healthy Marc Bulger and a star-making performance by rookie RB Steven Jackson. The Packers will have no problem at home with Minnesota, and Randy Moss will be back at the hotel in time to watch the first Peyton Manning touchdown on Sunday. The Chargers will win with ease against the Jets, who have had a lot of trouble scoring points on the road. The Colts will be severely tested by the Broncos, but ultimately advance. I'll give you next week's picks next week. The handicappers, meanwhile, can use Vegas Jim's money to light the strip next week.
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I forgot to tell you about "The Aviator." I saw it last weekend. If I had to use one word to describe Martin Scorcese's Howard Hughes bio-pic, that word would be 'thrilling'- from the aerial photography and special effects of the "Hell's Angels" sequence to the drama of the Congressional Hearings when Hughes is accused of war profiteering. Everyone should see "The Aviator" just to get the early history of our nation's military-industrial complex. President Eisenhower warned us of the undue influence it could have on American foreign policy. Cate Blanchett brings Katherine Hepburn back to life in the movie. It's a stunning portrayal of an iconic woman who may or may not have been the person America recognized in Hollywood. She's smart, vibrant, and adventurous. If she really wasn't as Blanchett imagines her, she should have been.
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The new year is underway so it's time to start thinking about your St. Louis summer get-away. This is the last year the Cardinals will play in Busch Stadium so we gotta make this one count, people. The Red Sox and Yankees will play regular season games in St. Louis for the first time since the Brownies left for Baltimore. There are some nice weekend matchups with the Astros and Cubs, and they shut down the regular season with the Reds, brother Aaron's favorite team. E-mail me at
christophermmoeller@msn.com if you want to make this happen. I'm down for as many road trips as possible.
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Today's blog is dedicated to my kindly neighbor, what's-his-name. He pitched in to help shovel out my car tonight after the city buried it this morning. A person really shouldn't be forced to bend down to brush the snow off the roof of his car. I also want to thank WHO custodian Dean Rinkin, who- unbeknownst to him- let me walk home with the big metal shovel that sits in the entryway of the station. Finally, congratulations to Jim Zabel, who won the "King of the Mountain" competition this afternoon in the station parking lot.
Winter Wonderland
I've been trying not to blog about the "what I did today" type subjects, but the ice storm and blizzard this week have robbed my daily life of much of its usual variety in topic and conversation. Des Moines' television and radio stations have shut down all other news gathering operations to focus completely on the weather.
Working within walking distance of my home, I have the option each day of deciding which location to leave my car. Last night, because of the relatively mild temperature, I decided to scrape the ice off my windshield at the radio station, but I decided it was better to get buried again in the spacious company parking lot than by the city plows on my street. As a result, I wound up starting the car and clearing it off completely. I then drove it to a better spot in the corner of the lot, and walked home. Today, I brushed off the snow during my lunch break, rather than having to scrape it before work. I pray I made the right decision.
Several inches of snow fell today so the phone calls for cancellations flooded into the radio station. A few of us in the building wondered if the various community organizations didn't just call in for the free publicity. I got the idea the day before. There was a news story about the stores running short on bags of salt for the ice. A dozen retail store managers called to say they still had it in stock. Same thing tonight with the clubs and organizations: there must have been a half dozen dance studios calling off classes. How many dance studios does this city have? And how big can they be? Hasn't anyone ever heard of the "phone tree?"
Wednesday night church cancellations poured in during the afternoon. The list looked like the Ames phone book. I'm convinced that the clergy just wanted to hear their church mentioned on the radio. The Manson Mennonite Church? Do Mennonites even have radios?!
This morning, the snow caused a semi-trailer to overturn and spill chocolate chips onto the interstate. True story. I was reminded of the Simpson's episode "Lisa's Rival," where the sugar truck spills on the highway and Homer shovels it into his car. He then packages and sells it for a dollar a pound as "Farmer Homer's Sweet Sweet Sugar."
"But the grocery store sells sugar for 35 cents a pound," Marge says, "and it doesn't have nails and broken glass in it." "Those are prizes," Homer explains. He eats a mouthful. "Ooh, a blasting cap.-- Don't bite down too hard, now, Lisa's Rival."
And scene.
Induction Tuesday
There are various sports issues to discuss today...
First, congratulations to Wade Boggs and Ryne Sandberg on their induction into the National Baseball Hall of Fame. Boggs was a no-doubter for me, but not because of his 3,000 hits. I'm not a big believer in the magic numbers for induction, especially the ones that have their own "club"- 3,000 hits, 500 home runs, 300 wins, etc. Certainly, 500 career home runs meant more in 1980 than it did in 2000, and 300 wins meant less in 1980 than it did in 2000. What makes Boggs one of the greats is the five batting titles. That's an achievement that tells you a little about how he stacked up against his peers.
Sandberg proved your team doesn't have to win for you to reach the Hall. Frankly, I always thought "Ryno's" offensive stats were the product of his home ballpark, Wrigley Field. Furthermore, he was the first of these middle infielders playing out of position. He was sure-handed of course, but he had very little range at second base, and I can't remember ever seeing him dive for a ball. You have to wonder if his numbers would be worthy of the Hall if they had been achieved at third or first base where he was more suited defensively. He was also painfully quiet, and I've always wondered whether his unwillingness to assume a leadership role kept the Cubs from winning during the Sandberg era.
My favorite memory of Boggs was during my one and only trip to Fenway Park in 1987. My father, brother, and I were crowding the dugout before the game as Boggs played catch along the first base foul line. At Fenway, the fans can get very close to the field, and an annoying kid kept shouting out, "Wade... Wade... Wade." Boggs yelled, "Shut up, kid."
I have a couple of fond memories of Sandberg. During the course of this year, you'll no doubt hear a lot about the day Ryno hit 2 homers off Bruce Sutter and the Cardinals on the NBC Game of the Week in 1984. It was a great ballgame. Willie McGee hit for the cycle, and had already been named the NBC Player of the Game when Sandberg hit his first homer in the ninth inning. Keep in mind when you hear about this game that it took place in June. What does it say about the Cubs that their shining moment in the Cardinals series took place three weeks before the All-Star Game?
My other fond memory of Sandberg is that he was my good friend David Levenhagen's favorite player. Dave owns a Sandberg #23 jersey, and he and I have enjoyed a few nice afternoons at Wrigley Field and Busch Stadium with him in his jersey and me in my Ozzie #1 jersey. (See Saturday's blog for Ozzie's ranking as the most famous #1 in sports history.) When we wear them together at the park now, years after both players have retired, we get a lot of nice comments from both Cards and Cubs fans. The two players were frequently double play partners in the All-Star Game, and best embody the rivalry during the '80s and early '90s. After Musial and Banks, Gibby and Fergie- and before McGwire and Sosa, it was Ozzie and Ryno.
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For the record, my Hall of Fame ballot would have been very sparse. I would have put Boggs at the top of my ballot. I would have put former Cubs' and Cards' reliever Bruce Sutter second, for having pioneered the closer's position. He racked up 300 saves, 2 or 3 innings at a time. He shut down Game 7 of the 1982 World Series, which should be the equivalent of about 50 more saves. He invented the split-finger fastball, and he won five Rolaids' Relief Man Awards to Goose Gossage's three- which means he should go in first. I'll support Gossage's effort after Sutter gets in. My third and final vote would have gone to Willie McGee, for winning an MVP, two batting titles, and being the most Christ-like ballplayer in the game's history. I hope Boggs and Sandberg will display McGee-like humility when they make their induction speeches. I'm pleased to announce that Willie got 26 votes in his first year- and he needed all 26 of them to hit 5 percent. Reaching that plateau means he'll stay on the ballot next year. I would have made Ryno sweat it out for a few more years.
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The ABC play-by-play man started tonight's Orange Bowl with the line, "This is what all the teams play for." I couldn't help but wonder what the Auburn Tigers and Utah Utes must have been thinking when they heard that. Both those teams won every game they played this year. They were left out of the championship game basically because their schedules- made out four years ago, weren't tough enough.
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The sports media is gullible to believe the Yankees are dropping out of the Carlos Beltran bidding. They're just posturing, people! That's what they do. Did anyone doubt that the Randy Johnson trade wouldn't work itself out? Beltran's agent, Scott Boras, needs the Yankees to spike the auction, and Steinbrenner's pretending he's a virgin on his wedding night. The Mets might wind up throwing more money at Beltran, but the Yankees have not made their last offer. The good news is that the Bronx Bombers are continuing to disintegrate. There have now been four franchises that have won the World Series since the Yankees. They continue to get older, more fragile, and less suited to their ballpark- which is a lefty pitcher's and lefty slugger's paradise. Steinbrenner's wild spending simply reveals his rampant insecurity. They can still buy the horses to flatten their division rivals, but the intangibles they relied upon in the post-seasons of the late '90s- the tough at-bats and the professional execution- have left the building.
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I must now watch the Orange Bowl. I rented an HDTV for the night. I'm going to get out a magnifying glass and search for O.J. in the stands.
Drama Relief
Why is it that Americans feel such ambivalence towards the homeless? This morning there was a notice posted at work about avoiding the "black man" someone encountered over the weekend in the parking lot asking for change. They requested that we report the man to building management so they could get the cops to chase him off. The most common response to the note seemed to be anger directed towards the man, with some declarations of fear thrown in. There was no hint of compassion in any of the conversations I overheard. Odd, I thought, considering we had all just driven through the first winter storm of the year that morning to get to work.
Do we disdain the homeless because we don't like to be reminded that they exist? Being confronted with capitalism's failures jars the average American from his/her contented distractions. There are 800 million people in the world who live in such extreme poverty that they're unable to meet daily food requirements. Yet in America, you can slide through life rather easily without ever acknowledging the hungry- save for these rare interruptions. We expect every able-bodied person in the U.S. to "pull themselves up by their bootstraps." Never mind that most of the nation's homeless are physically-impaired, mentally-ill, or recently born of homeless parents. At the ballot box, we continue to support a system of astronomical health care costs, disappearing jobs, and stark economic inequality, while our prison system does little to deliver on its promise of rehabilitation.
I know it's better to give to a shelter, but I'm not afraid to give money on the street. I don't mention this to make myself sound good. Frankly, this is all I've ever done to help, and even on the street, it's just a couple bucks. I have a high enough opinion of humanity to believe that a person begging for money has already been through hell to have arrived at that point. I
haven't been there, and I'm not willing to make a 10 second diagnosis of this guy's problems, so I withhold judgment. Simply by sharing my species, he has earned that from me. The money comes with no strings attached. It is his to do with as he pleases.
Right-wingers claim that the "Welfare State" has trapped the poor in poverty (presumably they mean 'social' welfare, not 'corporate'), and I admit there are times when I question the success of the Great Society programs. They are a work in progress at best- trial and error. At the same time, I'm pretty sure we can eliminate "let 'em rot" from our list of social solutions.
The ranks of the homeless are growing in the U.S. so, as a culture, we need to start figuring out how we feel about the least fortunate souls among us. In a materialistic country, change will come only after dignity has been restored to those without material. The struggle will end after there is education and economic opportunity for all. When you have justice, you don't need charity.
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The terror alert level hasn't been raised in the two months since the election. Just an observation.
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The Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim? Can't we get Fullerton in there somewhere? Or Yorba Linda?
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If you're like me, you found out too late that this was going to be NFL Week on "Wheel of Fortune." Rams wide receiver Torry Holt was on Monday's show, playing for the Torry Holt Foundation with Rams fan Dianne Guittar. I missed it, but there are more shows worth watching later in the week- former Ram Kurt Warner is on Tuesday, former Ram Eric Dickerson is on Wednesday, and former Iowa Hawkeye Robert Gallery is on Thursday, playing for Camp Courageous of Iowa.
www.wheeloffortune.com has all the details.
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The Rams are in the playoffs, and I'd like to take this opportunity to say nyah, nyah to all of you doubters. On Friday, washed-up Raiders defensive tackle Warren Sapp said Rams head coach Mike Martz was "a little on the girly side," and, referring to the Martz/Kyle Turley confrontation, said "I'll just stomp him (Martz) right across his damn head because he really thinks his shit don't stink and you really don't like those types of guys in this league."
When asked to name the worst coaching decision of the year before Sunday's game, ESPN idiot Tom Jackson responded, "Anytime Mike Martz did anything on the field."
Well, that's four playoff appearances in five years for Mike Martz, to go along with a .638 career winning percentage, and Sapp will have to wait at least one more week before he starts sniffing around the Madman's ass.
Inside the Numbers
On Christmas Eve, the St. Louis Post-Dispatch printed their picks for the most recognizable athlete for each jersey number. The picks naturally have a St. Louis flavor, (Even my pick for number 2 would be different) but it's an interesting concept and I actually think they showed remarkable restraint. Willie McGee is the real #51 and everyone knows Dan Dierdorf is #72. It's obviously unscientific when "The Moose" Darryl Johnston makes the list, and Magic Johnson doesn't. Here are the Post-Dispatch picks, with St. Louis athletes noted...
00- Robert Parrish
0- Johnny Olszewski
1/8- Eddie Gaedel, St. Louis Browns' midget
1- Ozzie Smith, Cards' HOF SS
2- Red Schoendienst, Cards' HOF 2B
3- Babe Ruth
4- Lou Gehrig
5- Joe DiMaggio
6- Stan Musial, the greatest Cardinal of them all
7- Mickey Mantle
8- Cal Ripken Jr.
9- Ted Williams
10- Pele
11- Isiah Thomas
12- Joe Namath
13- Wilt Chamberlain
14- Pete Rose
15- Bart Starr
16- Joe Montana
17- Dizzy Dean, Cards' HOF pitcher
18- Peyton Manning
19- Johnny Unitas
20- Lou Brock, Cards' HOF OF
21- Roberto Clemente
22- Emmitt Smith
23- Cal Eldred (just joking)
24- Willie Mays
25- Barry Bonds
26- Billy Williams
27- Juan Marichal
28- Marshall Faulk, Rams RB
29- Rod Carew
30- Ken Griffey, Jr.
31- Greg Maddux
32- Jim Brown
33- Larry Bird
34- Walter Payton
35- Phil Niekro
36- Meadowlark Lemon
37- Doak Walker
38- Curt Schilling
39- Roy Campanella
40- Gayle Sayers
41- Brian Piccolo
42- Jackie Robinson
43- Richard Petty
44- Hank Aaron
45- Bob Gibson, Cards' HOF pitcher
46- Andy Pettitte
47- Mel Blount
48- Darryl Johnston
49- Hoyt Wilhelm
50- Ed Macauley, St. Louis U basketball
51- Dick Butkus
52- Mike Webster
53- Don Drysdale
54- Randy White
55- Orel Hershiser
56- Lawrence Taylor
57- Darryl Kile, Cards' pitcher
58- Jack Lambert
59- Jack Ham
60- Chuck Bednarik
61- Nate Newton
62- Charley Trippi
63- Willie Lanier
64- Jerry Kramer
65- Tom Mack
66- Mario Lemieux
67- Larry Stallings, football Cardinals' linebacker
68- Jaromir Jagr
69- Tim Krumrie
70- Sam Huff
71- Alex Karras
72- Ed "Too Tall" Jones
73- John Hannah
74- Merlin Olson
75- Mean Joe Greene
76- Loe "The Toe" Groza
77- Red Grange
78- Bobby Bell
79- Harvey Martin
80- Jerry Rice
81- Jackie Smith, football Cardinals' TE
82- Raymond Berry
83- Mark Clayton
84- Randy Moss
85- Jack Youngblood
86- Buck Buchanan
87- Dwight Clark
88- Alan Page
89- Otis Taylor
90- Jevon Kearse
91- Dennis Rodman
92- Reggie White
93- Gilbert Brown
94- Charles Haley
95- Richard Dent
96- Bill Voiselle
97- Jeremy Roenick
98- Tom Harmon
99- Wayne Gretzky
