Who uses it: Amway salesmen and many other promoters of home-based businesses
What it means: A distribution system that requires you to recruit subordinates before you can make any real money. In other words, a pyramid scheme.
How you can use it: To protect yourself; stay away... far, far away.
It's April Fools Day, and if I'd spent a little time and energy on it, I might have turned this page into an ad for my beauty consulting services, or an announcement of my new affiliation with the Maine Militia, or a love poem in honor of Tom Cruise.
But I didn't have the time or the energy, and the best audience for that kind of thing would have been Mom, and she's not around to be appalled any more. Dad already thinks I'm a little weird, so I'm not sure anything I could do would surprise him.
Instead, Dizzy and I are off to have an adventure at the Pine Tree State Arboretum, if the rain holds off. Things are starting to bloom, and the bugs are back. Yesterday afternoon I had some reading to do, so Dizzy and I went down to the Cobbossee Stream. I sat on a rock and read while Dizzy chewed a stick and watched the birds. The young chickadees are so small and clean-looking; they look new, which I guess they must be.
Saturday, April 01, 2006
Friday, March 31, 2006
Coyotes
Who uses it: Immigrants who cross the southern border of the United States illegally.
What it means: Guides who help run would-be immigrants across the border -- by foot, crammed into vans, packed into crates and car trunks, and worse. Coyotes charge exorbitant fees and treat their clients as anonymous and expendable human cargo.
How you can use it: When discussing immigration policy reform.
The mayor of Lewiston, Maine caused an international uproar in the fall of 2002, when he published a letter telling Somali leaders that the city could no longer accommodate new immigrants. Lewiston, a city of 36,000 that is no one's idea of a glamor spot, had taken in more than 1,000 Somali immigrants in the past 18 months. "The city is maxed-out financially, physically, and emotionally," the mayor wrote.
He was accused of racism, a situation that became much worse when a white supremacist group backed him -- with friends like that, who needs enemies? Today, the population of Lewiston, which is declining, is approximately 7% Somali. (Which is what I told the cab driver who took me to National Airport this week, when he asked, "They got any black people in Maine?") And Lewiston understands that assimilating its new immigrant population is essential to any hopes it might have for economic revival. Maine's population is aging and declining; where will growth come from, if not from immigration?
The current system is obviously not working. Demagoguery on both sides of the issue doesn't help. One of the books I read this week should be required for anyone who's making policy on these issues.
What I Read This Week
Peter Abrahams, Oblivion. A surprisingly moving thriller about a private investigator who suffers a brain trauma that causes short-term amnesia. He's lost three days of his life, and becomes convinced he can only save himself by solving the mystery of those three days. Beautifully written, ingeniously plotted, and deeply compassionate. Just terrific.
Susan Kandel, Not a Girl Detective. The second in Kandel's Cece Caruso series, about a biographer of crime writers. In this book, Cece and her two best friends get involved in a murder case that curiously mirrors the books of Cece's latest subject, Carolyn Keene, the pseudonymous creators of Nancy Drew. A fun read, with lots of great trivia about Nancy Drew's history.
Tim Dorsey, Torpedo Juice. The plots of Tim Dorsey's novels are almost irrelevant to the fun of them, which comes from the laugh-out-loud descriptions of southern Florida and the gonzo personality of Dorsey's main character, Serge A. Storms, a psychopathic Floridaphile. In his latest adventure, Serge decides to get married, and foils an evil real estate developer and a disgraced Enron-style executive along the way.
Luis Alberto Urrea, The Devil's Highway. In May 2001, 26 men -- really, 24 men and two boys -- walked into the Sonoran Desert, crossing the border with three coyotes who promised to lead them to Ajo, Arizona. Just a few days later, a Border Patrol officer found five of them near death, lost and dehydrated and cooked by the sun; ultimately, only 12 of the men made it out alive. The Sonoran Desert is stark and beautiful and inexorable, and so is this book -- which, in the chill of a Maine spring, made me reach for my bottle of water and thank God for the accident of my U.S. citizenship.
What it means: Guides who help run would-be immigrants across the border -- by foot, crammed into vans, packed into crates and car trunks, and worse. Coyotes charge exorbitant fees and treat their clients as anonymous and expendable human cargo.
How you can use it: When discussing immigration policy reform.
The mayor of Lewiston, Maine caused an international uproar in the fall of 2002, when he published a letter telling Somali leaders that the city could no longer accommodate new immigrants. Lewiston, a city of 36,000 that is no one's idea of a glamor spot, had taken in more than 1,000 Somali immigrants in the past 18 months. "The city is maxed-out financially, physically, and emotionally," the mayor wrote.
He was accused of racism, a situation that became much worse when a white supremacist group backed him -- with friends like that, who needs enemies? Today, the population of Lewiston, which is declining, is approximately 7% Somali. (Which is what I told the cab driver who took me to National Airport this week, when he asked, "They got any black people in Maine?") And Lewiston understands that assimilating its new immigrant population is essential to any hopes it might have for economic revival. Maine's population is aging and declining; where will growth come from, if not from immigration?
The current system is obviously not working. Demagoguery on both sides of the issue doesn't help. One of the books I read this week should be required for anyone who's making policy on these issues.
What I Read This Week
Peter Abrahams, Oblivion. A surprisingly moving thriller about a private investigator who suffers a brain trauma that causes short-term amnesia. He's lost three days of his life, and becomes convinced he can only save himself by solving the mystery of those three days. Beautifully written, ingeniously plotted, and deeply compassionate. Just terrific.
Susan Kandel, Not a Girl Detective. The second in Kandel's Cece Caruso series, about a biographer of crime writers. In this book, Cece and her two best friends get involved in a murder case that curiously mirrors the books of Cece's latest subject, Carolyn Keene, the pseudonymous creators of Nancy Drew. A fun read, with lots of great trivia about Nancy Drew's history.
Tim Dorsey, Torpedo Juice. The plots of Tim Dorsey's novels are almost irrelevant to the fun of them, which comes from the laugh-out-loud descriptions of southern Florida and the gonzo personality of Dorsey's main character, Serge A. Storms, a psychopathic Floridaphile. In his latest adventure, Serge decides to get married, and foils an evil real estate developer and a disgraced Enron-style executive along the way.
Luis Alberto Urrea, The Devil's Highway. In May 2001, 26 men -- really, 24 men and two boys -- walked into the Sonoran Desert, crossing the border with three coyotes who promised to lead them to Ajo, Arizona. Just a few days later, a Border Patrol officer found five of them near death, lost and dehydrated and cooked by the sun; ultimately, only 12 of the men made it out alive. The Sonoran Desert is stark and beautiful and inexorable, and so is this book -- which, in the chill of a Maine spring, made me reach for my bottle of water and thank God for the accident of my U.S. citizenship.
Thursday, March 30, 2006
Ice going out
Who uses it: New Englanders
What it means: The day when the last of the ice disappears from a lake or river.
How you can use it: To celebrate spring.
Anna discusses this term (with pictures) at her blog; she and her husband live on China Lake, where the annual going-out of the ice is a big event.
Fishermen are out in force along the Kennebec River. A sign at Gardiner Landing reminds everyone that fishermen are limited to no more than two quarts of smelt a day between March 15 and June 15... I can't imagine what anyone would do with two quarts of smelt (a small fish like a sardine), so the limit doesn't change my lifestyle any.
I didn't wear The Coat at all yesterday, and it'll be even warmer today. It's weird, I feel kind of defenseless without it.
What it means: The day when the last of the ice disappears from a lake or river.
How you can use it: To celebrate spring.
Anna discusses this term (with pictures) at her blog; she and her husband live on China Lake, where the annual going-out of the ice is a big event.
Fishermen are out in force along the Kennebec River. A sign at Gardiner Landing reminds everyone that fishermen are limited to no more than two quarts of smelt a day between March 15 and June 15... I can't imagine what anyone would do with two quarts of smelt (a small fish like a sardine), so the limit doesn't change my lifestyle any.
I didn't wear The Coat at all yesterday, and it'll be even warmer today. It's weird, I feel kind of defenseless without it.
Wednesday, March 29, 2006
Umbral shadow
Who uses it: Astronomers
What it means: The shadow the moon casts on the earth during a solar eclipse, which blocks the sun.
How you can use it: Today, if you live anywhere from West Africa to Turkey.
Since umbra is the Latin word for shadow, this term strikes me as a little Pee-wee Hermanish -- "Mmm, shadowy!" -- but I am not an astronomer, so I bow to specialized knowledge.
We had a solar eclipse in northern Virginia when I was very young, and Mom told Kathy and me that we had to be inside by 3:00 in the afternoon. From that, I got the idea that the eclipse would frizzle us if we were outside, or that monsters might walk the streets in the unnatural darkness. (Even as a child, I was good at the worst-case scenario.)
Mom dismissed the idea of eclipse monsters, but said we might burn out our retinas if we were outside during the eclipse -- and so I replaced the idea of monsters with the idea of smoking black holes where my eyes used to be, because how was I supposed to know what a retina was? I was five. Or maybe six.
Anyway, Ashton's mother, Penny, is in Turkey today, seeing the eclipse, and I hope she is well protected from both eclipse monsters and retinal burns.
The Onion's A.V. Club seems to have discontinued its "Five Random Songs from Your iPod Shuffle" feature -- although this week's issue has an interview with the Beastie Boys, which fills me with joy, because they're older than I am. Since they've let me down, here were the first five songs on my Shuffle this morning.
Cat Stevens, “Sitting.” Come on, who doesn’t like Cat Stevens? Admit it. You know you do.
Bill Withers, “Ain’t No Sunshine.” Wow, it’s a ‘70s party this morning. One of the all-time great bad-love songs. “I know-I know-I know-I know-I knoooooow I ought to leave the young thing alone, but ain’t no sunshine when she’s gone…”
Big Head Todd & the Monsters, “Tower.” A lot of BHTM sounds alike to me, though it’s a sound I like. This song is a nice mix of alt-rock and funk.
Rosanne Cash, “Radio Operator.” Black Cadillac is the best album I’ve heard so far this year, and some of the songs are so powerful I can hardly listen to them.
The Connells, “Hey Wow.” A great, catchy, happy pop tune about (I think) being in a mental hospital. I love this song.
What it means: The shadow the moon casts on the earth during a solar eclipse, which blocks the sun.
How you can use it: Today, if you live anywhere from West Africa to Turkey.
Since umbra is the Latin word for shadow, this term strikes me as a little Pee-wee Hermanish -- "Mmm, shadowy!" -- but I am not an astronomer, so I bow to specialized knowledge.
We had a solar eclipse in northern Virginia when I was very young, and Mom told Kathy and me that we had to be inside by 3:00 in the afternoon. From that, I got the idea that the eclipse would frizzle us if we were outside, or that monsters might walk the streets in the unnatural darkness. (Even as a child, I was good at the worst-case scenario.)
Mom dismissed the idea of eclipse monsters, but said we might burn out our retinas if we were outside during the eclipse -- and so I replaced the idea of monsters with the idea of smoking black holes where my eyes used to be, because how was I supposed to know what a retina was? I was five. Or maybe six.
Anyway, Ashton's mother, Penny, is in Turkey today, seeing the eclipse, and I hope she is well protected from both eclipse monsters and retinal burns.
The Onion's A.V. Club seems to have discontinued its "Five Random Songs from Your iPod Shuffle" feature -- although this week's issue has an interview with the Beastie Boys, which fills me with joy, because they're older than I am. Since they've let me down, here were the first five songs on my Shuffle this morning.
Cat Stevens, “Sitting.” Come on, who doesn’t like Cat Stevens? Admit it. You know you do.
Bill Withers, “Ain’t No Sunshine.” Wow, it’s a ‘70s party this morning. One of the all-time great bad-love songs. “I know-I know-I know-I know-I knoooooow I ought to leave the young thing alone, but ain’t no sunshine when she’s gone…”
Big Head Todd & the Monsters, “Tower.” A lot of BHTM sounds alike to me, though it’s a sound I like. This song is a nice mix of alt-rock and funk.
Rosanne Cash, “Radio Operator.” Black Cadillac is the best album I’ve heard so far this year, and some of the songs are so powerful I can hardly listen to them.
The Connells, “Hey Wow.” A great, catchy, happy pop tune about (I think) being in a mental hospital. I love this song.
Tuesday, March 28, 2006
Cutting sign
Who uses it: Trackers and hunters
What it means: Identifying and following the signs that an animal or person has left behind on the way through a wilderness.
How you can use it: When you're lost.
Dizzy will never get lost, because he leaves a trail of hair and mud behind him. Jen and Grace and Dizzy picked me up at the Portland airport yesterday in Jen's Outback. Somehow, Dizzy had managed to get mud on the ceiling of the car; none of us could figure out how. He's tall, but not so tall that his paws hit the ceiling.
It'll take a few days to get back to our routine. Dizzy slept in this morning -- all the way to 7:15, which I was grateful for.
What it means: Identifying and following the signs that an animal or person has left behind on the way through a wilderness.
How you can use it: When you're lost.
Dizzy will never get lost, because he leaves a trail of hair and mud behind him. Jen and Grace and Dizzy picked me up at the Portland airport yesterday in Jen's Outback. Somehow, Dizzy had managed to get mud on the ceiling of the car; none of us could figure out how. He's tall, but not so tall that his paws hit the ceiling.
It'll take a few days to get back to our routine. Dizzy slept in this morning -- all the way to 7:15, which I was grateful for.
Monday, March 27, 2006
Cross-check
Who uses it: Flight attendants
What it means: Checking to see whether the emergency slides are functional on the doors of a passenger plane.
How you can use it: When double-checking your safety measures.
Home again, faithful dog at my side, plowing through my pile of work and wondering where all my mail is. Seriously... I had no first-class mail waiting for me, except for a Mass card for my mom from my cousin Deidre and her partner, Ruth. The Mass is being said at St. Patrick's Cathedral in New York on April 25, and it's barely possible I can be there in person -- if you will be in New York that day and have any interest in going, send me an e-mail and I'll give you the details.
Spring is here, and the weather is spectacular. The sun won't set until 6:00 tonight, and it'll be up again tomorrow at 5:30. It looks like most of us have made it through another winter.
What it means: Checking to see whether the emergency slides are functional on the doors of a passenger plane.
How you can use it: When double-checking your safety measures.
Home again, faithful dog at my side, plowing through my pile of work and wondering where all my mail is. Seriously... I had no first-class mail waiting for me, except for a Mass card for my mom from my cousin Deidre and her partner, Ruth. The Mass is being said at St. Patrick's Cathedral in New York on April 25, and it's barely possible I can be there in person -- if you will be in New York that day and have any interest in going, send me an e-mail and I'll give you the details.
Spring is here, and the weather is spectacular. The sun won't set until 6:00 tonight, and it'll be up again tomorrow at 5:30. It looks like most of us have made it through another winter.
Sunday, March 26, 2006
Soft science
Who uses it: Physicists, geologists, chemists, and other "hard scientists"
What it means: A disparaging term for any academic discipline or experiment that has scientific aspects, but does not meet the scientific method's requirement that experiments have verifiable and reproducible results. Anthropology, economics and psychology would all be considered "soft sciences."
How you can use it: To criticize sloppy work.
My sister Susan was shelving magazines the other day at the bookstore where she works (at one point, four members of our family were working in bookstores), and came across the current issue of Fate magazine. Her inventory list told her to shelve it as "speculative science," next to that other notorious soft-science rag, National Geographic. In the world of Barnes & Noble's periodicals, the werewolves of England and the tigers of Siberia are roughly equivalent.
Thank God for places like St. John's College, where kids are still learning the process of critical thinking. My friend Megan and I went up there last night to meet the Beas and see Our Chris in a production of Neil LaBute's The Shape of Things. It's a perfect play for college students, in many ways, because it asks the fundamental questions: who are we really? Are we different in relationships than out of them, and if so, why? What are we willing to do to stay connected, and what is our moral obligation to the people we're connecting with? Finally, how much license does an artist have to create at the expense of others? Chris was great, playing somewhat against type (a careless, handsome frat boy -- he is handsome, of course, but neither careless nor the fraternity type).
It's a beautiful day here in Washington, and my back is much better. If I get enough work done, maybe I'll head up to the National Zoo to see the baby panda. I think they have a Siberian tiger, too. But no werewolves.
What it means: A disparaging term for any academic discipline or experiment that has scientific aspects, but does not meet the scientific method's requirement that experiments have verifiable and reproducible results. Anthropology, economics and psychology would all be considered "soft sciences."
How you can use it: To criticize sloppy work.
My sister Susan was shelving magazines the other day at the bookstore where she works (at one point, four members of our family were working in bookstores), and came across the current issue of Fate magazine. Her inventory list told her to shelve it as "speculative science," next to that other notorious soft-science rag, National Geographic. In the world of Barnes & Noble's periodicals, the werewolves of England and the tigers of Siberia are roughly equivalent.
Thank God for places like St. John's College, where kids are still learning the process of critical thinking. My friend Megan and I went up there last night to meet the Beas and see Our Chris in a production of Neil LaBute's The Shape of Things. It's a perfect play for college students, in many ways, because it asks the fundamental questions: who are we really? Are we different in relationships than out of them, and if so, why? What are we willing to do to stay connected, and what is our moral obligation to the people we're connecting with? Finally, how much license does an artist have to create at the expense of others? Chris was great, playing somewhat against type (a careless, handsome frat boy -- he is handsome, of course, but neither careless nor the fraternity type).
It's a beautiful day here in Washington, and my back is much better. If I get enough work done, maybe I'll head up to the National Zoo to see the baby panda. I think they have a Siberian tiger, too. But no werewolves.
Saturday, March 25, 2006
Blood-brain barrier
Who uses it: Neurologists and pharmacologists
What it means: A membrane that keeps most toxins in the bloodstream from reaching the brain. It is the major reason that most infections don't reach the brain.
When you can use it: When ingesting things that aren't good for you. In case you were wondering, alcohol has little trouble with the blood-brain barrier.
This term has no specific relevance to me this morning, because I didn't go out last night; my back hurt too much, and I had too much work to do. Joseph stayed in too, we ordered a pizza, and I finished writing The Mystery Bookstore's massive April newsletter, which is the second-longest of the year.
I meant to do nothing today but work, but my back is not cooperating, again; I need to loosen it up enough to go to Annapolis this evening, so have spent a while in some serious stretches. Growing old isn't much fun.
What it means: A membrane that keeps most toxins in the bloodstream from reaching the brain. It is the major reason that most infections don't reach the brain.
When you can use it: When ingesting things that aren't good for you. In case you were wondering, alcohol has little trouble with the blood-brain barrier.
This term has no specific relevance to me this morning, because I didn't go out last night; my back hurt too much, and I had too much work to do. Joseph stayed in too, we ordered a pizza, and I finished writing The Mystery Bookstore's massive April newsletter, which is the second-longest of the year.
I meant to do nothing today but work, but my back is not cooperating, again; I need to loosen it up enough to go to Annapolis this evening, so have spent a while in some serious stretches. Growing old isn't much fun.
Friday, March 24, 2006
Choke artist
Who uses it: Sports fans and sportswriters
What it means: Players and teams who regularly lose important games; see Boston Red Sox, 1919-2004 and Chicago Cubs, 1908-present.
How you can use it: When your favorite team doesn't do as well as you expected.
Let's get it straight: Teams in the NCAA basketball tournament cannot be choke artists, at this point. They can blow games, they can disappoint expectations, but they cannot "choke." They've already won too many games, and how can anyone call getting to the Sweet Sixteen a failure?
I'm not in the best of moods this morning. I am panicked about my workload, my computer keeps shorting out, and I've thrown my back out again. Why do these things all seem to happen at once? I've had almost no time for reading anything that wasn't work-related, but one of those things was a very good book.
What I Read This Week
Lawrence Block, All the Flowers are Dying. Block's Matt Scudder books may have been the first "darker" detective novels I read, after plowing through all of Agatha Christie and Ngaio Marsh and Margery Allingham. Scudder has aged through the series, and must now be in his mid-60s; he's been sober for many years, and is happily married to Elaine, an ex-call girl. The books, however, remain as dark as ever, and this one is particularly disturbing. Scudder hunts a serial killer who tortured Elaine's best friend to death, and seems determined to wreak vengeance on Scudder himself. The book includes long passages narrated from the killer's point of view, which bothered me a great deal -- I know that was the point, but the almost-loving descriptions of rape, torture and murder are not what I read crime fiction for.
Merle Miller, Plain Speaking: An Oral Biography of Harry S. Truman. Journalist Merle Miller conducted a series of interviews with former President Harry S. Truman, his friends and White House colleagues in preparation for a television series that never aired. Instead, Miller turned the interviews into this wonderful book. Harry Truman never worried about polls or politics. He cared about what was right, he did his research, and he had no desire for the perks of office. Public life never had many men like him, and now seems to have none at all. The Lechners love this book so much that they own two copies, and lent one to me.
What it means: Players and teams who regularly lose important games; see Boston Red Sox, 1919-2004 and Chicago Cubs, 1908-present.
How you can use it: When your favorite team doesn't do as well as you expected.
Let's get it straight: Teams in the NCAA basketball tournament cannot be choke artists, at this point. They can blow games, they can disappoint expectations, but they cannot "choke." They've already won too many games, and how can anyone call getting to the Sweet Sixteen a failure?
I'm not in the best of moods this morning. I am panicked about my workload, my computer keeps shorting out, and I've thrown my back out again. Why do these things all seem to happen at once? I've had almost no time for reading anything that wasn't work-related, but one of those things was a very good book.
What I Read This Week
Lawrence Block, All the Flowers are Dying. Block's Matt Scudder books may have been the first "darker" detective novels I read, after plowing through all of Agatha Christie and Ngaio Marsh and Margery Allingham. Scudder has aged through the series, and must now be in his mid-60s; he's been sober for many years, and is happily married to Elaine, an ex-call girl. The books, however, remain as dark as ever, and this one is particularly disturbing. Scudder hunts a serial killer who tortured Elaine's best friend to death, and seems determined to wreak vengeance on Scudder himself. The book includes long passages narrated from the killer's point of view, which bothered me a great deal -- I know that was the point, but the almost-loving descriptions of rape, torture and murder are not what I read crime fiction for.
Merle Miller, Plain Speaking: An Oral Biography of Harry S. Truman. Journalist Merle Miller conducted a series of interviews with former President Harry S. Truman, his friends and White House colleagues in preparation for a television series that never aired. Instead, Miller turned the interviews into this wonderful book. Harry Truman never worried about polls or politics. He cared about what was right, he did his research, and he had no desire for the perks of office. Public life never had many men like him, and now seems to have none at all. The Lechners love this book so much that they own two copies, and lent one to me.
Thursday, March 23, 2006
Looping
Who uses it: Filmmakers and sound technicians
What it means: Replacing live dialogue with dialogue recorded in a studio. The official name for this process is automated dialogue replacement (ADR). It may also be called "dubbing," but looping is replacing dialogue in the same language, and dubbing sometimes means replacing dialogue in a different language.
How you can use it: When you're not hearing what's being said.
The project I've just started involves recording and transcribing what will be hours of personal interviews. It's got me thinking a lot about the processes of listening and hearing.
I don't usually tape interviews. I am blessed with an exceptionally good memory (that's not bragging, because I did nothing to earn it and and do nothing to take care of it -- rather the reverse, in fact), and I've always found that my note-taking and my memory were accurate enough for anything I was doing. I do believe in allowing sources to approve their quotations, which is a controversial and objectionable practice among serious journalists. But I don't write exposes, and I think that adversarial journalism is often just as misleading as press releases can be.
Anyway, transcribing these tapes has shown me that my memory is not as good as I thought it was. When I listen to a live speaker, I fill in words that might be missing, and draw conclusions that the words themselves might not support. I don't know how dishonest that is; I don't know if I'm intuiting what the speaker actually means, or simply imposing what I think they should mean.
It's very interesting, and not a little humbling. I think I'll be taping a lot more of my interviews from now on.
Dad came up from Virginia Beach last night. Joseph and I met him at the train station, and we all had dinner at The Dubliner. Is it just me, or are there really only about a dozen Irish songs? I swear we heard three different versions of "The Wild Rover" last night. Not to be disloyal to my heritage, but one would have been enough for me.
What it means: Replacing live dialogue with dialogue recorded in a studio. The official name for this process is automated dialogue replacement (ADR). It may also be called "dubbing," but looping is replacing dialogue in the same language, and dubbing sometimes means replacing dialogue in a different language.
How you can use it: When you're not hearing what's being said.
The project I've just started involves recording and transcribing what will be hours of personal interviews. It's got me thinking a lot about the processes of listening and hearing.
I don't usually tape interviews. I am blessed with an exceptionally good memory (that's not bragging, because I did nothing to earn it and and do nothing to take care of it -- rather the reverse, in fact), and I've always found that my note-taking and my memory were accurate enough for anything I was doing. I do believe in allowing sources to approve their quotations, which is a controversial and objectionable practice among serious journalists. But I don't write exposes, and I think that adversarial journalism is often just as misleading as press releases can be.
Anyway, transcribing these tapes has shown me that my memory is not as good as I thought it was. When I listen to a live speaker, I fill in words that might be missing, and draw conclusions that the words themselves might not support. I don't know how dishonest that is; I don't know if I'm intuiting what the speaker actually means, or simply imposing what I think they should mean.
It's very interesting, and not a little humbling. I think I'll be taping a lot more of my interviews from now on.
Dad came up from Virginia Beach last night. Joseph and I met him at the train station, and we all had dinner at The Dubliner. Is it just me, or are there really only about a dozen Irish songs? I swear we heard three different versions of "The Wild Rover" last night. Not to be disloyal to my heritage, but one would have been enough for me.
Wednesday, March 22, 2006
Summary judgment
Who uses it: Judges and lawyers
What it means: A ruling that ends a trial by declaring that no facts remain to be established, and that the judge can make a decision without continuing.
How you can use it: To end an argument.
As I wrote to Claire yesterday, I might be getting a little old for this lifestyle. I was up at 4:15 yesterday morning, rushing around to finish a couple of things before leaving for Washington. I landed at Reagan National around 1:30, took the Metro into the city, and spent the next few hours talking on the phone, shooting off e-mails, and trying to finish some reading before a meeting this morning.
I had dozed on the plane, but never got a real nap, and then Joseph and I went to the 9:30 Club to see Stereolab. It was a good show -- I love watching electronic bands recreate their sound live, and any band with a female lead singer who also plays the trombone is aces with me -- but sometime around 11:00, I hit the wall. We left before the encores -- one of these days I'll rant about the practice of the automatic encore -- and walked back to Johnson Avenue in a light snowfall, which was mildly surreal. The cherry blossoms are already starting to pop, and the combination of snow and flowers in the middle of the city was breathtaking.
Anyway, all of this is to say that I'm feeling a little fragile this morning, and I still have a couple of things to do before my 9:30 appointment. Today promises to be another long day, so I'm about to have the first of many cups of coffee, and I'll be back tomorrow.
What it means: A ruling that ends a trial by declaring that no facts remain to be established, and that the judge can make a decision without continuing.
How you can use it: To end an argument.
As I wrote to Claire yesterday, I might be getting a little old for this lifestyle. I was up at 4:15 yesterday morning, rushing around to finish a couple of things before leaving for Washington. I landed at Reagan National around 1:30, took the Metro into the city, and spent the next few hours talking on the phone, shooting off e-mails, and trying to finish some reading before a meeting this morning.
I had dozed on the plane, but never got a real nap, and then Joseph and I went to the 9:30 Club to see Stereolab. It was a good show -- I love watching electronic bands recreate their sound live, and any band with a female lead singer who also plays the trombone is aces with me -- but sometime around 11:00, I hit the wall. We left before the encores -- one of these days I'll rant about the practice of the automatic encore -- and walked back to Johnson Avenue in a light snowfall, which was mildly surreal. The cherry blossoms are already starting to pop, and the combination of snow and flowers in the middle of the city was breathtaking.
Anyway, all of this is to say that I'm feeling a little fragile this morning, and I still have a couple of things to do before my 9:30 appointment. Today promises to be another long day, so I'm about to have the first of many cups of coffee, and I'll be back tomorrow.
Tuesday, March 21, 2006
"Laugh while you can, Monkey Boy."
The Movie: The Adventures of Buckaroo Banzai Across the 8th Dimension, 1984 (Earl Mac Rauch, screenwriter; W. D. Richter, director)
Who says it: John Lithgow as Dr. Emilio Lizardo, a mad scientist
The context: Dr. Lizardo warns the attendant at the mental hospital where he's confined.
How you can use it: When people aren't taking you seriously enough.
I'm rushing around this morning because I'm leaving for Washington, D.C. this morning, and Jen is coming to pick Dizzy and me up in about three hours.
Why, you ask, can I not drive myself to the Portland Jetport, dropping Dizzy off along the way? Ha, ha! Because it's been more than a year since my last major car trauma, and I was overdue.
Last Friday, driving up to Gardiner from Freeport, I noticed an ominous clunking sound from my engine. Jen was in the car with me, so we pulled off to the nearest gas station and added two quarts of oil to the engine -- which mystified me, because it hadn't been very long since my last oil change, and I hadn't seen any leaks.
The clunking sound improved, but didn't go away -- so I brought the car in yesterday morning, and discovered that the engine had actually slipped off one of its mounts, and was partially resting on the car's front axle. No wonder it was clunking. The mechanic's theory is that the engine mount had been loosened during one of the accident or repair adventures of 2004-05, and the recent crop of frost heaves knocked it off completely.
Remarkably, this will not be as expensive to repair as I'd feared; a week and $500 from now, my car will be as good as new. Again.
Who says it: John Lithgow as Dr. Emilio Lizardo, a mad scientist
The context: Dr. Lizardo warns the attendant at the mental hospital where he's confined.
How you can use it: When people aren't taking you seriously enough.
I'm rushing around this morning because I'm leaving for Washington, D.C. this morning, and Jen is coming to pick Dizzy and me up in about three hours.
Why, you ask, can I not drive myself to the Portland Jetport, dropping Dizzy off along the way? Ha, ha! Because it's been more than a year since my last major car trauma, and I was overdue.
Last Friday, driving up to Gardiner from Freeport, I noticed an ominous clunking sound from my engine. Jen was in the car with me, so we pulled off to the nearest gas station and added two quarts of oil to the engine -- which mystified me, because it hadn't been very long since my last oil change, and I hadn't seen any leaks.
The clunking sound improved, but didn't go away -- so I brought the car in yesterday morning, and discovered that the engine had actually slipped off one of its mounts, and was partially resting on the car's front axle. No wonder it was clunking. The mechanic's theory is that the engine mount had been loosened during one of the accident or repair adventures of 2004-05, and the recent crop of frost heaves knocked it off completely.
Remarkably, this will not be as expensive to repair as I'd feared; a week and $500 from now, my car will be as good as new. Again.
Monday, March 20, 2006
Vernal equinox
Who uses it: Meteorologists and astronomers
What it means: The date when the sun passes over the equator, traveling from south to north, and day and night in the Northern Hemisphere are roughly equal.
How you can use it: Happy first day of spring.
Day and night are not completely equal, up here in Maine; we're far enough north that it's already 12 hours and five minutes between sunrise and sunset today. And it's 14 degrees outside, but I believe that spring is here. I saw some baby birds the other day, and the trees are budding.
The sun rose at 5:45 this morning, which I know because Dizzy alerted me. For once, I was grateful, because I have a ridiculous amount of things to do before I leave for Washington again, tomorrow.
I'm 9-7 on my second round NCAA picks, which I don't care about, since Georgetown crushed Ohio State so handily. Last night's Sopranos episode was one of the best things I've ever seen on television, and yesterday's LVA fundraiser raised a few thousand dollars for the cause. I was relieved to see that most of the books for auction went for higher prices than the giant Whoopie Pie.
What it means: The date when the sun passes over the equator, traveling from south to north, and day and night in the Northern Hemisphere are roughly equal.
How you can use it: Happy first day of spring.
Day and night are not completely equal, up here in Maine; we're far enough north that it's already 12 hours and five minutes between sunrise and sunset today. And it's 14 degrees outside, but I believe that spring is here. I saw some baby birds the other day, and the trees are budding.
The sun rose at 5:45 this morning, which I know because Dizzy alerted me. For once, I was grateful, because I have a ridiculous amount of things to do before I leave for Washington again, tomorrow.
I'm 9-7 on my second round NCAA picks, which I don't care about, since Georgetown crushed Ohio State so handily. Last night's Sopranos episode was one of the best things I've ever seen on television, and yesterday's LVA fundraiser raised a few thousand dollars for the cause. I was relieved to see that most of the books for auction went for higher prices than the giant Whoopie Pie.
Sunday, March 19, 2006
Functional illiteracy
Who uses it: Teachers, social workers, sociologists
What it means: Having basic reading, writing and math skills, but not being able to use those skills in everyday life.
How you can use it: Don't assume everyone can read what you're writing, and act accordingly.
The student I work with through Literacy Volunteers grew up speaking a language and using an alphabet other than English. Her English reading and writing skills are actually quite good, but business English is full of mysteries that need decoding, even for native speakers.
We spent one morning going through a newspaper's classified ads, which was a revelation to me. Classified ads aren't even written in English: F/T, P/T, EOE, exp. req.? People with low reading skills skip over the words they don't understand, and look for words they recognize -- which makes them particularly susceptible to scams and exploitation. Sometimes they pretend to be able to understand more than they do; sometimes they admit that they have to trust another person's explanation of the paper in front of them. Either way, they're vulnerable.
Literacy Volunteers of Augusta is holding its big annual fundraiser, a dessert party at the Senator Inn, this afternoon at 1:00 p.m. Tickets are $10.00; if you're in the neighborhood, drop by. If you're not, think about volunteering or making a donation to your local LVA chapter or adult education program.
What it means: Having basic reading, writing and math skills, but not being able to use those skills in everyday life.
How you can use it: Don't assume everyone can read what you're writing, and act accordingly.
The student I work with through Literacy Volunteers grew up speaking a language and using an alphabet other than English. Her English reading and writing skills are actually quite good, but business English is full of mysteries that need decoding, even for native speakers.
We spent one morning going through a newspaper's classified ads, which was a revelation to me. Classified ads aren't even written in English: F/T, P/T, EOE, exp. req.? People with low reading skills skip over the words they don't understand, and look for words they recognize -- which makes them particularly susceptible to scams and exploitation. Sometimes they pretend to be able to understand more than they do; sometimes they admit that they have to trust another person's explanation of the paper in front of them. Either way, they're vulnerable.
Literacy Volunteers of Augusta is holding its big annual fundraiser, a dessert party at the Senator Inn, this afternoon at 1:00 p.m. Tickets are $10.00; if you're in the neighborhood, drop by. If you're not, think about volunteering or making a donation to your local LVA chapter or adult education program.
Saturday, March 18, 2006
Meme
Who uses it: Sociologists
What it means: Any piece of information that gets transmitted from one person to another, helping build a cultural identity -- the word comes from the Greek mimeme, something that is imitated. Richard Dawkins coined the term in his book The Selfish Gene, which I need to reread.
How you can use it: To describe everything from urban legends to your school's fight song.
In Blogworld, memes are the kind of lists we used to record in our elementary school slam books -- three places you'd like to live, five people you'd like to banish from the face of the earth, ten things you'd do with a million dollars.
NCAA tournament picks are a meme, too, and I'm feeling a little cocky about my record so far: 23-9, including Bradley's stunning upset of Kansas. HA! All of my Elite Eight teams are still in it, too. Hurray for me.
In honor of today's term, let's start a meme. Post your own answers in the comment section, and forward this to anyone you think might want to play.
1. What's the last book you finished? All the Flowers are Dying, by Lawrence Block.
2. What's the first book you remember reading on your own? The Cat in the Hat, by Dr. Seuss.
3. Name one book you still have from your childhood. A Little Princess, by Frances Hodgson Burnett.
4. Name one book you really, really wish you hadn't read. The Bridges of Madison County, by R. J. Waller.
5. Name one author, living or dead, you'd like to have dinner with. Dorothy Parker.
Oh, and if you're a Maine resident, please don't forget to sign our petition to Bring Trader Joe's to Maine. Thanks for your support.
What it means: Any piece of information that gets transmitted from one person to another, helping build a cultural identity -- the word comes from the Greek mimeme, something that is imitated. Richard Dawkins coined the term in his book The Selfish Gene, which I need to reread.
How you can use it: To describe everything from urban legends to your school's fight song.
In Blogworld, memes are the kind of lists we used to record in our elementary school slam books -- three places you'd like to live, five people you'd like to banish from the face of the earth, ten things you'd do with a million dollars.
NCAA tournament picks are a meme, too, and I'm feeling a little cocky about my record so far: 23-9, including Bradley's stunning upset of Kansas. HA! All of my Elite Eight teams are still in it, too. Hurray for me.
In honor of today's term, let's start a meme. Post your own answers in the comment section, and forward this to anyone you think might want to play.
1. What's the last book you finished? All the Flowers are Dying, by Lawrence Block.
2. What's the first book you remember reading on your own? The Cat in the Hat, by Dr. Seuss.
3. Name one book you still have from your childhood. A Little Princess, by Frances Hodgson Burnett.
4. Name one book you really, really wish you hadn't read. The Bridges of Madison County, by R. J. Waller.
5. Name one author, living or dead, you'd like to have dinner with. Dorothy Parker.
Oh, and if you're a Maine resident, please don't forget to sign our petition to Bring Trader Joe's to Maine. Thanks for your support.
Friday, March 17, 2006
Hoya
Who uses it: Georgetown University (est. 1789, ad majorem Dei gloriam)
What it means: "What." Really. According to tradition, Georgetown's football team used to be called the Stonewalls. The students cheered them on with the chant "Hoya Saxa," which is the Greek word for "what" and the Latin word for "stones," or "rocks." Eventually, the team became the Hoya Saxas, and then just the Hoyas. Georgetown still uses the "Hoya Saxa" cheer, which is call and response -- so if someone (not me, of course) leans in your face and yells, "HOY-AH!" you yell, "SAX-A!"
How you can use it: See if you can get a round of "Hoya Saxa" going in your place of business, around 2:30 this afternoon Eastern time. It couldn't hurt.
Answer Girl's NCAA bracket picks: 10-6. Not bad, especially since I was looking like a genius for picking Xavier, for most of that game. It's turning out not to be such a great year for the Big East -- so far -- but we'll see how things go today.
Dizzy and I are in Freeport this morning, and getting ready for a busy weekend. This afternoon, Jen and I are going up to Gardiner to watch the Georgetown game at the Kennebec Brewing Company, where we will all partake of Frank's corned beef-and-cabbage feast (I skipped meat on Wednesday, in anticipation). Then we'll roll by the RV and Camper Show in Augusta -- I'm not kidding about this, Jen really wants to go (and I do too, for the anecdotal value), before returning to the pub for more basketball and beer.
Tomorrow I need to run some errands, including picking up a giant Whoopee Pie to be auctioned off at the Literacy Volunteers of Augusta's annual fundraiser on Sunday afternoon. It's a dessert party at the Senator Inn, and we'll be auctioning off signed first editions of books by Maine-based or Maine-affiliated authors, including John Connolly, Tess Gerritsen, Linda Greenlaw, and Julia Spencer-Fleming. Gerry Boyle will give a short talk, and it should be a grand time. Tickets are $10, available at the door.
What I Read This Week
Thomas Perry, Nightlife. It's been more than three years since Thomas Perry's last novel. On his website, he says he's spent the time "learning how to write a better book," which was hard to imagine, because his earlier books (Metzger's Dog and the Jane Whitefield series, among others) are terrific. But Nightlife was worth the wait. Charlene Bruckner reinvented herself as Tanya Starling, a woman any man would want, in order to get the life she wanted. When things don't work out with the man she'd chosen, she kills him -- and then has to kill again, and again, to keep herself safe. Pursuing her is homicide detective Catherine Hobbes, who's been on her own quest for safety. When these women finally meet, the ending feels both inevitable and abrupt -- but only because we've been so completely drawn into their world. Bravo.
David Prerau, Seize the Daylight: The Curious and Contentious Story of Daylight Saving Time. I actually wish this book had been longer. It's a quick and fun history of the adoption of DST, or Summer Time, and includes some good anecdotes about the confusion of the 1950s and '60s, when every U.S. locality was allowed to make its own decision about changing the clocks. But because I am a nerd, I'd have loved to read more about the politics of it -- particularly the 1984 bill that was the last big national debate over it, and inspired a newspaper contest to see who could save the most daylight.
What it means: "What." Really. According to tradition, Georgetown's football team used to be called the Stonewalls. The students cheered them on with the chant "Hoya Saxa," which is the Greek word for "what" and the Latin word for "stones," or "rocks." Eventually, the team became the Hoya Saxas, and then just the Hoyas. Georgetown still uses the "Hoya Saxa" cheer, which is call and response -- so if someone (not me, of course) leans in your face and yells, "HOY-AH!" you yell, "SAX-A!"
How you can use it: See if you can get a round of "Hoya Saxa" going in your place of business, around 2:30 this afternoon Eastern time. It couldn't hurt.
Answer Girl's NCAA bracket picks: 10-6. Not bad, especially since I was looking like a genius for picking Xavier, for most of that game. It's turning out not to be such a great year for the Big East -- so far -- but we'll see how things go today.
Dizzy and I are in Freeport this morning, and getting ready for a busy weekend. This afternoon, Jen and I are going up to Gardiner to watch the Georgetown game at the Kennebec Brewing Company, where we will all partake of Frank's corned beef-and-cabbage feast (I skipped meat on Wednesday, in anticipation). Then we'll roll by the RV and Camper Show in Augusta -- I'm not kidding about this, Jen really wants to go (and I do too, for the anecdotal value), before returning to the pub for more basketball and beer.
Tomorrow I need to run some errands, including picking up a giant Whoopee Pie to be auctioned off at the Literacy Volunteers of Augusta's annual fundraiser on Sunday afternoon. It's a dessert party at the Senator Inn, and we'll be auctioning off signed first editions of books by Maine-based or Maine-affiliated authors, including John Connolly, Tess Gerritsen, Linda Greenlaw, and Julia Spencer-Fleming. Gerry Boyle will give a short talk, and it should be a grand time. Tickets are $10, available at the door.
What I Read This Week
Thomas Perry, Nightlife. It's been more than three years since Thomas Perry's last novel. On his website, he says he's spent the time "learning how to write a better book," which was hard to imagine, because his earlier books (Metzger's Dog and the Jane Whitefield series, among others) are terrific. But Nightlife was worth the wait. Charlene Bruckner reinvented herself as Tanya Starling, a woman any man would want, in order to get the life she wanted. When things don't work out with the man she'd chosen, she kills him -- and then has to kill again, and again, to keep herself safe. Pursuing her is homicide detective Catherine Hobbes, who's been on her own quest for safety. When these women finally meet, the ending feels both inevitable and abrupt -- but only because we've been so completely drawn into their world. Bravo.
David Prerau, Seize the Daylight: The Curious and Contentious Story of Daylight Saving Time. I actually wish this book had been longer. It's a quick and fun history of the adoption of DST, or Summer Time, and includes some good anecdotes about the confusion of the 1950s and '60s, when every U.S. locality was allowed to make its own decision about changing the clocks. But because I am a nerd, I'd have loved to read more about the politics of it -- particularly the 1984 bill that was the last big national debate over it, and inspired a newspaper contest to see who could save the most daylight.
Thursday, March 16, 2006
Pandemic
Who uses it: Epidemiologists
What it means: A worldwide or nationwide outbreak of an infectious disease.
How you can use it: Wash your hands.
My friend Dan lives on a small farm in the west of England, and lost his chickens to a marauding fox last year. ("Losing one's chickens" sounds like a euphemism for something much worse, doesn't it?) The other day I asked whether he'd be getting more, now that spring is here.
He said he was going to wait until the outbreak of avian flu had passed -- which startled me, because I hadn't given any thought to avian flu since shrugging off the press hysteria last fall.
But yesterday, the federal banking agencies sent out their own Interagency Advisory on Influenza Pandemic Preparedness, part of a nationwide federal initiative to make people aware of the possibility of a flu outbreak, and take appropriate steps.
Curious, I clicked through a few links, and managed to scare myself silly. The federal government's set up an elaborate website at www.pandemicflu.gov, with checklists to tell people what to do to prevent infection and keep from spreading the flu if they get sick.
It all boils down to three things: 1) Wash your hands a lot. 2) Cover your mouth and nose when you cough or sneeze. 3) Stay home if you're sick, and stay away from sick people if you're not. The website also provides a list of things people should have on hand for an extended stay at home, but they're things we should all have on hand anyway: canned goods, extra pet food, batteries, etc.
I've been interested in the history of the Spanish flu outbreak in Maine, because the second wave of the pandemic in the United States started in Boston. It's been hard to find contemporary local accounts, because everything simply shut down during the epidemic, and government officials didn't want to panic people by releasing too much information.
Looking at Pandemicflu.gov yesterday, I wondered whether we have the opposite problem now: with so much information available, it's hard to know what really needs our attention.
What it means: A worldwide or nationwide outbreak of an infectious disease.
How you can use it: Wash your hands.
My friend Dan lives on a small farm in the west of England, and lost his chickens to a marauding fox last year. ("Losing one's chickens" sounds like a euphemism for something much worse, doesn't it?) The other day I asked whether he'd be getting more, now that spring is here.
He said he was going to wait until the outbreak of avian flu had passed -- which startled me, because I hadn't given any thought to avian flu since shrugging off the press hysteria last fall.
But yesterday, the federal banking agencies sent out their own Interagency Advisory on Influenza Pandemic Preparedness, part of a nationwide federal initiative to make people aware of the possibility of a flu outbreak, and take appropriate steps.
Curious, I clicked through a few links, and managed to scare myself silly. The federal government's set up an elaborate website at www.pandemicflu.gov, with checklists to tell people what to do to prevent infection and keep from spreading the flu if they get sick.
It all boils down to three things: 1) Wash your hands a lot. 2) Cover your mouth and nose when you cough or sneeze. 3) Stay home if you're sick, and stay away from sick people if you're not. The website also provides a list of things people should have on hand for an extended stay at home, but they're things we should all have on hand anyway: canned goods, extra pet food, batteries, etc.
I've been interested in the history of the Spanish flu outbreak in Maine, because the second wave of the pandemic in the United States started in Boston. It's been hard to find contemporary local accounts, because everything simply shut down during the epidemic, and government officials didn't want to panic people by releasing too much information.
Looking at Pandemicflu.gov yesterday, I wondered whether we have the opposite problem now: with so much information available, it's hard to know what really needs our attention.
Wednesday, March 15, 2006
On spec
Who uses it: Writers, other creative types, entrepreneurs
What it means: Doing a job with no promise that anyone will pay you for it.
How you can use it: When you're taking a risk.
This week, among many other projects, I'm reading three spec scripts for a production company I do coverage for. Breaking into Hollywood is not as difficult as you might think... in the same way that getting your first novel published isn't that hard, either. All it takes is writing something excellent.
Hundreds of people like me read thousands of scripts every week, and speaking only for myself, three-quarters of them are absolute trash. Another fifteen percent of them have strengths but need work, or are movies that just aren't my cup of tea. About 10% of them are movies that I'd actually want to watch.
Of the scripts I'm reading this week, one is abysmal but will probably get made, because it's a marketer's dream. One is for an audience I will never be part of, and might already be too late to catch the pop culture wave it's trying to ride. One is excellent, and would make a great vehicle for any of several 30-something actresses, but will need luck and a strong advocate to make it to the screen.
This week's issue of the Onion A.V. Club is missing my favorite recurring feature, where they ask some random celebrity to name and explain the first five things that come up on their iPod's random shuffle. To remedy this absence, the first five songs that came up on mine this morning were "The Broad Majestic Shannon," by the Pogues; "Funny How Time Slips Away," by Al Green; Nina Simone, “My Baby Just Cares for Me;” Francine Reed, “I Want You to Love Me;" and Bruce Springsteen, “Spare Parts.” Contrary to what this list might suggest, I have bought new music since the turn of the century...
What it means: Doing a job with no promise that anyone will pay you for it.
How you can use it: When you're taking a risk.
This week, among many other projects, I'm reading three spec scripts for a production company I do coverage for. Breaking into Hollywood is not as difficult as you might think... in the same way that getting your first novel published isn't that hard, either. All it takes is writing something excellent.
Hundreds of people like me read thousands of scripts every week, and speaking only for myself, three-quarters of them are absolute trash. Another fifteen percent of them have strengths but need work, or are movies that just aren't my cup of tea. About 10% of them are movies that I'd actually want to watch.
Of the scripts I'm reading this week, one is abysmal but will probably get made, because it's a marketer's dream. One is for an audience I will never be part of, and might already be too late to catch the pop culture wave it's trying to ride. One is excellent, and would make a great vehicle for any of several 30-something actresses, but will need luck and a strong advocate to make it to the screen.
This week's issue of the Onion A.V. Club is missing my favorite recurring feature, where they ask some random celebrity to name and explain the first five things that come up on their iPod's random shuffle. To remedy this absence, the first five songs that came up on mine this morning were "The Broad Majestic Shannon," by the Pogues; "Funny How Time Slips Away," by Al Green; Nina Simone, “My Baby Just Cares for Me;” Francine Reed, “I Want You to Love Me;" and Bruce Springsteen, “Spare Parts.” Contrary to what this list might suggest, I have bought new music since the turn of the century...
Tuesday, March 14, 2006
RPI
Who uses it: College basketball coaches, analysts and fans
What it means: The Ratings Percentage Index, used to help the NCAA Tournament selection committee choose teams and seedings. For men's basketball, the RPI is a combined numerical rating of the team's record, its strength of schedule, and its opponents' strength of schedule; the women's RPI includes a bonus factor based on the team's performance against top-ranked opponents.
How you can use it: When making your NCAA tournament picks.
Okay, let's get this out of the way first: betting on college sports is wrong. These are kids, not professionals or racing animals, and they are in no way responsible for the financial well-being of strangers.
That said, making predictions for bragging rights, or for some token reflection of those bragging rights (say, a pool that does not exceed some humble amount) doesn't really count as betting. How's that for a rationalization? (It's the same, in my mind, as saying that "Jesus, Mary and Joseph," is not taking the Lord's name in vain, it's a spontaneous prayer.)
So let's get down to it. My Final Four predictions: I think it's going to be a very, very good year for the Big East. I pick West Virginia, Pitt, UConn, and Villanova, with West Virginia and UConn in the final, and UConn winning it all. First round upset predictions: Iona, NC State, Penn, Bradley, Xavier -- yes, Xavier! -- South Alabama, Montana, Seton Hall, and George Mason. My beloved Hoyas will make it to the Round of Eight before losing -- again -- to Villanova. Only Scott Peeples will truly understand how that prediction pains me, but it's a rebuilding year.
Post your own predictions in the comments section...
What it means: The Ratings Percentage Index, used to help the NCAA Tournament selection committee choose teams and seedings. For men's basketball, the RPI is a combined numerical rating of the team's record, its strength of schedule, and its opponents' strength of schedule; the women's RPI includes a bonus factor based on the team's performance against top-ranked opponents.
How you can use it: When making your NCAA tournament picks.
Okay, let's get this out of the way first: betting on college sports is wrong. These are kids, not professionals or racing animals, and they are in no way responsible for the financial well-being of strangers.
That said, making predictions for bragging rights, or for some token reflection of those bragging rights (say, a pool that does not exceed some humble amount) doesn't really count as betting. How's that for a rationalization? (It's the same, in my mind, as saying that "Jesus, Mary and Joseph," is not taking the Lord's name in vain, it's a spontaneous prayer.)
So let's get down to it. My Final Four predictions: I think it's going to be a very, very good year for the Big East. I pick West Virginia, Pitt, UConn, and Villanova, with West Virginia and UConn in the final, and UConn winning it all. First round upset predictions: Iona, NC State, Penn, Bradley, Xavier -- yes, Xavier! -- South Alabama, Montana, Seton Hall, and George Mason. My beloved Hoyas will make it to the Round of Eight before losing -- again -- to Villanova. Only Scott Peeples will truly understand how that prediction pains me, but it's a rebuilding year.
Post your own predictions in the comments section...
Monday, March 13, 2006
UNSUB
Who uses it: Law enforcement officials
What it means: The unknown subject of an investigation.
How you can use it: When you don't know who's responsible for something.
If you watched last night's episode of "The Sopranos," you know exactly who's responsible for shooting... oh, wait. Did anyone out there not see it? I don't care about spoiling it for any American readers, but I'm not sure when this season will air in Germany or the UK... so maybe I won't say any more about it.
But I watched Don Imus this morning, and if I didn't already have plenty of reasons to loathe and despise Donald Trump, his admission that he doesn't really care about "The Sopranos" would have been the last nail in his coffin.
I will say this, though. David Chase and his writers are never willing to let us get too comfortable with these characters. Just when we've decided Tony is a jerk, they show us him cooking dinner for the uncle who tried to kill him. Just when we think we'll root for Carmela, we see that she is a nasty piece of work in her own right. And everything -- everything -- has consequences. It's the best thing on television, and I may have to watch this episode again before next week.
What it means: The unknown subject of an investigation.
How you can use it: When you don't know who's responsible for something.
If you watched last night's episode of "The Sopranos," you know exactly who's responsible for shooting... oh, wait. Did anyone out there not see it? I don't care about spoiling it for any American readers, but I'm not sure when this season will air in Germany or the UK... so maybe I won't say any more about it.
But I watched Don Imus this morning, and if I didn't already have plenty of reasons to loathe and despise Donald Trump, his admission that he doesn't really care about "The Sopranos" would have been the last nail in his coffin.
I will say this, though. David Chase and his writers are never willing to let us get too comfortable with these characters. Just when we've decided Tony is a jerk, they show us him cooking dinner for the uncle who tried to kill him. Just when we think we'll root for Carmela, we see that she is a nasty piece of work in her own right. And everything -- everything -- has consequences. It's the best thing on television, and I may have to watch this episode again before next week.
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