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Book Review – The Blind Side: Evolution of a Game by Michael Lewis

When I was a little girl, my only exposure to football was at family holiday gatherings, when my uncles planted themselves in front of the big screen TV. I thought football games lasted for 8 hours. Sometimes, I would try to watch football, but I never knew what was going on. My uncles, all big, sporting men, would explain: “See that guy, the quarterback? He moves the ball up the field by passing it to the other guys on his team. Those guys lined up try to stop them from moving the ball. And those other guys try to stop the guys who are trying to tackle the guy who has the ball.” And so the explanation continued: Downs, interceptions, time-outs, kicks… yeah, whatever. I’m just a little girl.

I ignored football through high school and college, thinking it to be a refuge for dumb, aggressive jocks. Then, one cold winter day when there was nothing to do but wait for bread to bake, I began watching a Patriots game. And in one fell swoop came a deep comprehension of football, a profound appreciation for its strategy, and the belief that Tom Brady was a God.

A good, handsome quarterback is essential, but what about all those other positions? The Blind Side focuses on the position of left tackle, which has evolved from just another offensive lineman to one of the most strategically-important and lucrative positions on the field. The left tackle guards the quarterback’s blind side, and in today’s NFL where the quarterback is a precious commodity, the left tackle must stop him from getting sacked (or thinking he’s about getting sacked.) To do this, the left tackle must be a “freak of nature… a rare beast… Incredibly nimble and quick feet.. the body control of a ballerina and the agility of a basketball player.” And 300 pounds, minimum.

A rare beast. After explaining why the NFL covets left tackles, the book introduces Michael Ober, a black teenager in Memphis with no father and a crack-addicted welfare mother. By the age of 12, Ober was “completely free of social obligations… he played games from morning until late at night.” Instead of going to school, he focused on his true ambition: To be the next Michael Jordan. He learned to move around a basketball court with control of every one of his 350 pounds.

Through a stroke of luck, Ober ended up at the ritzy Briarcrest Christian school, where a big black kid can’t help but to stand out. He struggled with academics but excelled in sports, earning him the attention of a rich white Evangelical family called the Tuohys, who eventually adopted him. Ober wanted to play basketball but was steered to football (and dabbled in track and field. The first time he picked up a discus, his adopted sister called her father: “Daddy, I think you better come over here and see Michael through the discus. It looks like a Frisbee.”)

Ober’s story is the focus of roughly 2/3rds the book. Ober was born to be a left tackle, and when a grainy VHS tape of him playing began circulating, college coaches from all over the country courted him. Ober’s story is an interesting way to discuss the evolution of the left tackle position. His own evolution from semi-orphaned ghetto child to a college football player with serious NFL prospects is absorbing and touching, even if you can’t tell a left tackle from a kicker.

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By Meredith – December 17, 2006

Movie Review: Inland Empire

Watching a David Lynch film is like visiting an old friend, an eccentric gallivanting friend with consistent hang-ups and inconsistent grasp on reality. And if you have met my friend David, and you found him entertaining, then you will love paying a visit to Inland Empire. But if you’ve never met him, I wouldn’t suggest trying to introduce yourself with this three-hour epic of surreal, non-linear intangible brilliance.

To save us all a bit of trauma, I won’t go into the plot, which was semi-understandable for the first hour but then unravels into a patchwork of nightmarish confusion and stays there. Maybe a second and third viewing will help glean more sense of the narrative, but it may be futile. And that’s fine. I stopped puzzling out what was going on and let the lush jarring Lynchian madness cascade over me.

Secrets. Flash backs. Flash forwards. Talking rabbits on a sitcom set. Movies within movies. Whores doing the Loco-Motion. Gypsy curses. Laura Dern brilliantly holding it all together, except when she suddenly starts being another character. I think it can all be summed up by the end credits, in which a troupe of young black dancers joyously lip-synch to Nina Simone’s “Sinner Man.” It’s a celebration of life, and there just happens to be a monkey there, too.

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By Meredith – December 16, 2006

Remains of the Day

Feel Good Story of the Day

The ‘world’s tallest man,’ a 7ft 8.95in Mongolian Herdsman, saved the lives of two dolphins using his immense armspan, which allowed him to reach into the dolphins’ stomachs to remove plastic shards. This heroic act is so unlike those other Guinness World Record holders who achieve their feats and then just sit back and receive accolades. He’s like a superhero, using his power to save the day, not to mention save China some face after today’s other Chinese dolphin story: The ancient white dolphin of the Yangtze River is now extinct (the “feel bad” story of the day.)

Prank of the Day

Thousand upon thousands of Belgians, including several politicians, were panicked when a public TV station interrupted a broadcast to announce that their country had been split into two. Although it wasn’t meant to be a joke (the journalists wanted to call attention to the growing number of Dutch-speaking separatists in Flanders), who can deny the humor in imagining Belgium suddenly ceasing to exist? If Iraq can continue to flourish as one nation, surely Belgium will endure.

Wise Quote of the Day

“Wisdom is not a product of schooling but of the lifelong attempt to acquire it.” – Albert Einstein

Wilde Quote of the Day

“America is the only country that went from barbarism to decadence without civilization in between.” – Oscar Wilde

Somber Quote of the Day

“‘I am ready to die,’ said Osama Abdi Rahim, dressed head to toe in camouflage and marching around with a loaded rifle. He is 7 years old.” (here from NYTimes article ‘Somalia’s Islamists and Ethiopia Gird for a War’).

Commuter Rail Quote of the Day

On the train ride home, I sat behind a man who suckled pungent Chinese food for 20 minutes, which got him ‘in the mood’ to talk dirty on his cell phone: “You walking, babe?… Yeah, I can hear your shoes… Sexy shoes… Clack clack clack, like a horse… yeah, like a horse I want to ride…” Apparently, the mare was spooked, because talk soon turned to possible restaurants for dinner.

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By Meredith – December 14, 2006

Mockin’ Around the Christmas Tree

The Papel Christmas tree arrived at the Vatican after a journey beset with more problems than the Exodus. The 106-foot, 9-ton fir tree from Southern Italy was put on Earth expressly so the Pope’s henchman could cut it down, haul it via helicopter to St. Peter’s Square, and adorn it as a simulacrum for the Heavenly creator with whom Pope Benedict XVI enjoys a direct dialogue. (Vatican janitors, however, are already complaining about the pine needles.)

I was surprised that the Pope demands the same earthly extravagances as shopping malls and downtown commercial districts, which use over-sized trees with a vast void under its branches to festively and subliminally remind us to engage in out-of-control consumer spending. It’s a startling blend of “religious” and “secular,” like a praying Santa figurine stuck in a nativity scene (presumably to present Baby Jesus with a TMX Elmo doll.)

Confusion over what’s holy and what’s heathen is growing increasingly divisive, as symbolized by the annual debate over “Christmas” vs. “Holiday” trees. Invariably, someone contends that the public display of trees endorses Christianity and belittles the existence of all other faiths, which forces Christians to galvanize in the “war against Christmas” by asserting their right as Christians living in one nation under God to do whatever they want, including worship their beloved tree.

But there are no Christmas trees in the Bible; the decorating of a tree was a pagan tradition, co-opted by early Christians who arbitrarily associated it with their most holy holiday. And now the Christmas tree is reverting to its pagan roots becoming an icon of our intolerance, proclivity for environmental destruction, and, above all, our insatiable greed. (Having thoroughly established the link between Christmas trees and Satan, I can safely get one without feeling bourgeois, or, even worse, Christian.)

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By Meredith – December 13, 2006

Translating Fritalian

When the Carlyle Group purchased Dunkin Donuts last year for $2.4 billion, they set ambitious growth targets that could not be met by mere donut flavor innovation. Instead, DDs decided to revive their languishing image with an advertising campaign called “America Runs on Dunkin,” which is based on market research that shows consumers want to identify with their coffee cup. This cup of coffee, this is who I am.

In order to forge a unique identity, DDs brands themselves as the antithesis of their most notable rivals. A paper Starbucks cup says: I enjoy sitting idly in a comfortable couches, listening to jazz, and contemplating life’s infinite largess. A stryofoam Dunkin Donuts cup says: I’m a frazzled, on-the-go American in need of caffeine and sugar to fuel my toxic, stressed-out, sleepless lifestyle.

The “Fritalian” commercial draws the battle lines by taking a thinly-veiled swipe at the Euro-stylings of Starbucks. In the 30-second commercial, a group of normal-looking people stand in a coffee shop, staring at the menu with total befuddlement, singing “My mouth can’t form these words. My mind can’t find these words. Is it French or is it Italian? Perhaps Fritalian.”

Americans, Dunkin Donuts forgives you. You’ve been a loyal Dunkin Donuts customer for most of your adult life, but at one time or another, you put on lofty airs by frequenting a certain other coffee chain. And – admit it – you were way over your head.

There you were, the hard-working American consumer, already inundated with cryptic words like “WiFi,” “Nanotubes,” and “Hazbollah,” struggling to draw on your 3 years of high school foreign language to pronounce “venti” and “macchiato” so you won’t look like a total fuck-face in front of these hipsters with their prominent tip jars and those yuppie professionals who know all the “coffee ordering” ropes by virtue of their trust fund youths and European vacations.

Americans, you don’t want to be degraded. All you want is a cup of coffee to fuel your go-go lifestyle. So come to Dunkin Donuts, where you can proudly speak American when you order your Dunkaccino.

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By Meredith – December 12, 2006

More Lasciviousness

Today on the train, I sat behind two mid-teenaged boys. For much of the trip, I could only see baseball caps and hear back-and-forth mumbles that averaged two words per utterance. Then one youth stood up to wrestle something out of his deep-pocketed jeans, and a cursory glance turned into a pensive gaze.

15 years ago, his cuteness would have unleashed a dizzying surge of boy-crazy hormones. His abundant mess of curly, shoulder-length hair would be enough to drive me wild, let alone his big brown eyes, strong youthful jaw, and a killer cleft in his hairless chin. The 15-year old Meredith would be beside herself.

Age does strange things to a woman, like make it impossible to feel even a twinge of physical attraction for any man who doesn’t have a college degree. I speculate that this does not happen to men, that comely teenaged girls are a constant captivation throughout their lives. But it’s a relief not to be beholden to the charms of teenaged boys, because then I’d have to compete with teenaged girls. And I couldn’t do that even when I was a teenaged girl.

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By Meredith – December 11, 2006

Indian Men Exposed

A survey found that men in India have difficulties using condoms that are sized for an international market because the condoms are too big. The survey could have stopped there and left the reader to make the obvious conclusion, but like a mother determined to discuss her teenaged son’s inseam measurements, relentlessly plowed on to scientifically prove that Indian men lack the penal girth to properly use the condoms that were designed for the world’s average man.

I first read about this on the BBC, of all places, which reported the story in its typically staid fashion: Indian men are smaller, measurements were taken, and if you think for a minute we’re being gleeful, we hasten to remind you that this inadequacy results in condom failure, which leads to AIDS and unplanned pregnancy, which is legitimate news that necessitates us making a public proclamation about India’s penis size.

Then, bizarrely, the story appeared on the local news – at 6pm! It was even used throughout the broadcast as a teaser: “Coming up next, why men in India have trouble using condoms.” Mr. P and I howled fiendishly, imagining all our Indian neighbors hastily turning off the news so their families wouldn’t be forced to contemplate their patriarch’s shortcomings. But for non-Indian men, it was a feel good story, like being in an international locker room.

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By Meredith – December 11, 2006

Arbored

Keep a green tree in your heart and perhaps a singing bird will come.– Chinese proverb

At Weir River Farm in Hingham, a Sunday morning walk in 50-degree sunshine respited creeping Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD), which I only claim to have because the acronym is catchy.

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By Meredith – December 10, 2006

Top 5 Hated Christmas Songs

5. Jingle Bells

As a rule, I love Christmas songs that glorify bells: “Carol of the Bells,” “Silver Bells,” “Sleigh Ride,” “Christmas in the Drunk Tank.” But thanks to those Jingle Dogs, all I hear are barks, not bells.

4. I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus

It’s cute if you’re in on the joke, but if you’re not… man, what a mind-fuck.

3. Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer

I have major philosophical problems with this one. The song is a self-fulfilling prophesy; the only reason Rudolph goes down in history is because we keep singing this song. The whole Rudolph myth sprung from crass commercialism, with no basis in tradition, logic, or science.

2. Holly Jolly Christmas

Something about the phrase “holly jolly” being sung repeatedly just grates my nerves. It tries too hard. It’s the musical version of that sweaty, red-faced guy at the Christmas party who is so determined to be merry that he gets shamelessly wasted.

1. Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer

If you’re eight years old and your Grandmas are still alive, this is the best Christmas song ever. It’s essentially a children’s song, with that hokey beat and novelty twang, sung by a guy named Elmo. Hysterically funny. But musical maturation inhibits the ability to rejoice over silly songs. The giggles have faded, and the inevitable listening of this song has become an annual dread that’s enough to make me go Jew.

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By Meredith – December 9, 2006

Artichokes

…A leaf for everyone, a meal for no one…

Another month, another batch of my favorite search engine queries, which are increasingly persnickety, perhaps because my site would not rank in the top 50 million for any really popular queries that have entire industries devoted to garnering revenue-generating clicks (although, a tip for enterprising pervs: Judging by the plague of hits for porn involving Meredith Vieira, there is a market need going unsatisfied.)

The sophistication of the queries compelled me to break them down into categories. Some qualify for two or even three categories, like woman who find children’s entertainer ‘the great zucchini’ sexy, which is slightly all of the following: Interrogative, Smut, Celebrity, and Misspelled. I picked Smut by virtue of the subject’s moniker.

The last category, Perquisite, contains queries that don’t fit under any other category, but tickle my aesthetic sense, like a bonus for doing this website. More satisfying than money or recognition, it’s gratifying to know that the authors were here, on this website, if only long enough to think “Why, this has nothing to do with knitted toilet tissue covers!”

INTERROGATIVE

why do the jets disintegrate on my hot tub

places to eat in wisconsin dolls that ar highly expensive

what is the name of the girl in the royal caribbean cruise commercials that refuses to smile

is armani code for men the same as armani black code for men

is racism fueled by jealousy or fear

is there a connection with target stores and the french

what does the clean cover of ritual de lo habitual say

where is a poem about a boyfriend stealing your moms money

why rosie palm is better than girls

SMUT

umass sluts partying

sluts dressed in skirtsuits

x-rated pictures of men in kilts

redneck licking hoi

nude red headed males

gay hang outs in ventura california

spanked fat chicks

woman who find children’s entertainer ‘the great zucchini’ sexy

teens rape couth on tape

“mary lou’s coffee” hooters

CELEBRITIES

“emily post” holocaust interview

“hitler’s last meal”

mitt romeny boxers or briefs

chris farley’s unmade movie

email jokes about george bush the dumbo

bond casino royale daniel craig “blue eyes” “contact lenses”

piet mondrian stray

marietta fortune

olsen twin crackman

diagnosing matt damon in goodwill hunting

joakim noah’s religion

barry gibb denim shirt

QUOTATION

“eye mucus” idiom

“closet chubby chaser”

“lust for the gutter”

“women on top” “role reversal”

“stripping to my bra”

rape wedding crashers “gone with the wind”

“bend it like beckham” “orientalism”

older woman younger man “middle east”

“cambridge inspired me”

“coke zero” headache

MISSPELLED

puetorican god

hiring outside tiolets for weddings

pitchers of kegel exercises

becuise have you

see my nude stoking

PERQUISITE

ban deodorant loneliness

ban drinking ensure right before you eat make you gain weight

meth joke mini bake oven

meredith meeting clorox

subtle to violent ways to seek revenge

bale strapping hummer

knitted toilet tissue covers

priam retrieves hector’s body

nutrition for gyming

going to get an office job and make a lot of money like the rest of the phonies

her ass

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By Meredith – December 8, 2006