NBA Draft -One last shout out to Cinderella, as George Mason got to the Final Four knocking off a team with 4 first round picks & 1 second round pick

-Dick Vitale's Annual Collegian vs. European Rant is getting tired, just like his schtick. I don't disagree with him sometimes in regards to specific picks, but the generalizations (us vs. them) have to go. Dick, watch the Oympics lately? We get beat. I want to see Dick defend the Nowitzki-Traylor deal. Dick needs to face paint an American flag, just in case anyone misses his point.
I do enjoy how Dick winds down through the night, culminating last night in Dick openly bailing on the broadcast. This is how I think it goes at the Vitale house on draft night:
7:15 Dick jugs 8 Red Bulls
7:30 to 10:00 Dick spikes the systolic with his 5 spots
10:15 Mrs. Vitale pries the remote from his hands
So, Dick, college basketball's biggest promoter, by checking out early, you're saying what for the guys drafted in the second round?
Oh, and what room in Dick's house are they shooting from? Is that the dream sequence set from Twin Peaks? They should have the little guy from Carnivale (same guy in Twin Peaks) waltz through every shot. He came with the set, baybeee!
Ever seen an ESPN Classic game with early Dick broadcasting? You would think he came to work with stomach cramps he's so subdued compared to today.
If you're counting, I just typed Dick nine times. Makes for better blogging.

-Speaking of schtick, Stephen A. Smith's got to go. The hardest job in sports broadcasting has to be casting the funny third wheel. Smith's bombastic outrage act is straight out of sports radio. Worse, he's a sportswriter with, by my count, zero credibility to pull the act. I think if Smith stays with the outrage, he ought to work in some rhymes with it and shoot for the NBA's version of Jessie Jackson. Either way, Charles Barkely's job is safe as the funniest broadcaster ever.

-At the end of the first round, why did everything turn into a fighting analogy for Jay Bilas? Did he need help getting to his car?

-How about J.J. Reddick turning the tables on the Carolina homer Stu Scott during their Q&A? How long was J.J. waiting for that one? 4 years? That's my guess.

-Saer Sene, Seattle Supersonics. I guess you can never have enough 7 foot projects. I guess. Maybe they need someone to go on double dates with Robert Swift. I think I saw Kevin Bacon in his highlight video.

-Thabo Sefolosha, Chicago Bulls. Shouldn't cops use his name for field sobriety tests instead of the reverse alphabet? I like this idea. The NBA's always looking for branding opportunities. How about the Nikoloz Tskitishvili Field Sobriety Test. Maybe J.J. and 1/2 the Jailblazers walk the next time they get pulled over.
Jailblazer, "That bust Russian center for Denver."
Highway Patrol, "That's close enough. Drive safely sir."

-Isiah Thomas. So much will be said here, it's really too easy. I do have one question I haven't heard yet. Is there anyone in the room with him? Anyone? Is it just Isiah and a phone? Or is there nothing but yes men standing around him?  ¶ 9:25 AM

  Weekend Wrap Like most weekends I come out of them tired. When I was younger my useless day used to be Friday because my weekend started Thursday night. Monday is now the useless day of middle age. Cap a weekend full of activity with a drive Sunday, and Monday's shot.
What, this is already Tuesday? See?

Accompanied my older son's high school basketball team to a camp/tournament at a major university. Fortunately, there was enough basketball and enough parents that I didn't have responsibility beyond my son and one of his teammates. That allowed me the luxury of making another questionable parenting decision.
One night the team debated where might be the best place to eat. Herd mentality reigned. While the team dynamic is an important consideration, dining with any team can easily slip into the realm of elementary school cafeteria. It was Saturday night, my tanks were low, and I didn't have the energy to deal with that. Plus, it embarrasses my son when I threaten to crack a dinner plate over a teammate's skull and cut his throat with a broken shard. Why I'm asked to chaperone, I'll never know.
I pulled my son and his friend aside, and told them that they had an option that they may not had considered yet. I said, "I have five words for you, Hooters in a college town." That's all it took.
What was I going to do with them? If you're visiting a college, you can look at the campus so many times. After a while, you want to see some people. If you're a guy, by people you mean girls. So where can you go if your a high school teenager? They can't go to a bar. They can't go into a sorority. They could walk through the library, but where's the fun in that. If they stare at girls in there, they're labeled as a stalkers. Trust me. Hooters in a college town! There's got to be coeds working there, right? And Hooters encourages that stalker mentality, as long as the stalker tips.
True to form the place is loaded with talent, and they can barely speak. Taking them there, is like putting little kids on the kiddie coaster, while the monster coaster is on the other side of the park. They know they're on a ride. They think they're all tough for getting on it, but really they have no idea. My son's friend looks up about halfway through and says, "Coming here was the best idea ever!". I bought his wings for that ringing endorsement.
A side note. Some jokes you can't make with the teenagers. We were there late, when they start to thin the wait staff towards closing. Our girl wants to check out & close us out, but introduce us to a replacement girl if we want anything else. She brings the replacement girl over, and the girl is pregnant. Cute girl but about 5 or 6 months pregnant. I'm not commenting on the girl. I'm not judging Hooters. I'm not making a statement on federal labor laws. I'm just relaying a fact germane to the joke I was about to make. So the pregnant girl intro's and then leaves, and I turn to the teenagers and say, "Gee, does it look like we have a fetish?" I guess the over/under on fetish jokes is 23 because it goes right over their head.
Leaving, the girls all say goodbye and the teenagers blush like idiots. At the hotel, the trip gives them street cred with the team, and I get parent cred for coming up with the idea. I didn't much expect I'd be using Hooters to raise kids. Funny how that worked out.  ¶ 2:23 PM

  Blogger, Google,Yahoo, & Technorati Way back in post number one in 2003, I think I talked about a secondary goal in creating this blog of "ramping up my technical knowledge". Wait. Forget that. I just checked the first post, and apparently I've deleted that. Trust me, it was in there.

I do a lot of things just to see if I can do them, and this blog is my current "thing". I guess what I want to see is if I can get it to X # of hits a day, and I don't necessarily know what X will make me happy. It's a moot point currently as I continue to be stuck on zero.

I know I need to be patient. I know I can't expect results after only posting regularly for a week and a half. I also know I can't hardly find me out there. Maybe I don't understand the search engines mechanics. I do understand that whatever that mechanic is it thinks I'm irrelevant. Thank you search engine.

I think I have a problem with too generic a name. I go through a lot of Weimaraner sites looking for mine. No, I don't have Weimaraner. A couple posts back I talked about the girl from strangeblueghost.blogspot who stopped by while exploring liked named blogs. I wonder how the hell she found me? Of my original goals, about the best job I'm doing so far is staying anonymous.

On Google, the only posts of mine I could find where all titled "Report Objectionable Content to Blogger". Sigh? Normally, I'm pretty proud of myself if I've offended someone, unless I've been censored. I can cuss with the worst of 'em, but I've tried to keep it clean here in order that it might have the broadest possible appeal. I haven't used F---. I've said "crap" instead of S---.
Apparently, you can't say "manboob". For that post, there was no getting around "manboob". Sorry Blogger or Google or whoever's offended by "manboob".

So my to-do list is find a new catchy blog name that's not trademarked and easy to find, and clean things up a bit?
F--- That!
How about I just take it straight to raunchy lockerroom, bar talk. Get myself banned from Blogger. If I go down with zero readers, at least I go down in flames.

Ooo, BannedFromBlogger, let me see if that domain's still available.  ¶ 3:48 PM

  World Cup

O.K., last time, and then I'll give it a rest. I gave it fifteen minutes today, the U.S.'s last fifteen. I was fully prepared to go with a mea culpa if they pulled it out. Not to worry, they got beat by, as I've already pointed out, Africa's Oregon. By the end, I was enjoying watching Ghana & their fans. I'm going to guess anybody on Ghana's team is going to have a hard time paying for their own beer in Ghana anymore. It's nice to be immortal.

Stayed with the broadcast to the studio show. Julie Foudy and whoever the guy talking head is proceeded to dismantle a) the team & b) the coach. Yea, and if they had a dog we'd kick it too! Foudy was a nice choice for studio analyst because she could talk from the pulpit of having played on a team that was tough.

Finally, the whole soccer dynamic of pretending like your mortally wounded every time you lose the ball just kills me. Baseball has knockdown pitches. Football has unnecessary roughness. Basketball has flagrant fouls. In general, men have testicles. Soccer has the pansy flop. I guess we need to except the McBride guy who took an elbow in the Italy game & kept playing. Claudio Reyna today, gets picked, maybe they knocked knees & that can hurt, but the ball is going one on one at the goal. Claudio please, not for America, but for men, chase the play.
Claudio then takes a stretcher off the field, but somehow miraculously returns to play. Must have been a magic stretcher. Here's the list: blown ACL's, broken weight bearing bones, neck or back injuries that require immobilization, line drives or fastballs to the head, you get the cart. Everything else? Walk off the field.
Could we take the lead in fixing this? Would it not be refreshing to here an announcer say,"The Americans will not flop for a foul call."

I guess I don't get it. I now return to my chronic indifference for the sport.  ¶ 1:48 PM

  Return of ManBoob

With the World Cup on now, I recently had the conversation with a friend where you play, "What would I rather watch?". You know the game. Assuming your big 3 is football, baseball, and basketball, in whatever's your particular order, what comes in fourth place? ESPN lives to fill that fourth place vote, and every vote out to 92nd place as well. Usually, you attach some sort of qualifier to that fourth place vote.

This week we've had three good fourth places with their qualifiers. Hockey had the Stanley Cup, soccer's got the World Cup, and golf had a major. Hockey? I'm in the South. One day I'll post about marketing hockey in a place that doesn't stay frozen for more than a day. Not today. World Cup? I've already backed the dump truck up on that one this week. Golf is today's easy target.

Let me preface this with, I suck at golf. A lot. I don't hate it. I'm just not very good. The only time I played with any regularity was right after college. Broke 90 a few times. Mostly shot 95- 105 depending on the course. Never took a lesson. Today if I play it's most likely in a scramble format. If I'm not in a scramble, I don't bother keeping score. I like the social nature of the game. I don't like how much time I have to be out there. 9's not enough holes, 18's to many. I could drive off about 13 holes most days. I have a club membership, but I just use the restaurants and the pools. I'm sure I'll be playing more of it soon as it the popular diversion of the hard artery set. I say all this not to bore you further, but to frame the depths of my indifference.

Be that as it may, a golf major is going to be my fourth place vote. Golf finals also dovetail nicely into the life these days. This weekend I caught a good bit of the final round of the U.S. Open. I'd put a long weekend of family in, so I was due the down time. Down time in this case meant getting a nice dinner ready while watching the U.S. Open. Getting a nice dinner ready is also code for getting a nice dinner ready and having a few beers. Wives give you the pass on the few beers when you're productive during the few. It's only when the few turn to many and cloud the reasoning, do you catch trouble. "Honey, I painted the house." "Why did you paint a stripe on the dog too? How many beers have you had?"

I digress. Watching the U.S. Open Sunday, I started having the, "Is this even a sport?", argument with myself. Deal with a tremendous amount of pressure? Yep. An incredible level of concentration? Sure. Requires a high skill level? No argument, but then again every other sport deals with these also.

Working against golf are a couple of things. Is anybody trying to stop you? Well. Anytime a girl tries to compete with them do some golfers get their panties in a wad? That's embarrassing. And, finally, the best golfer out there now...are those manboobs?

Nobody's making any effort to stop you in golf. There's no 300 pound guy chasing you trying to rip your head off. Nobody's sticking a 90 mph fastball under your chin. So there's no real peril in golf. Often times, like Sunday, your most direct competitor isn't even near you. It's really just one big game of H-O-R-S-E. You make a shot. The other guy's got to make a shot or you win. Now if they allowed you to compete say with your own vices, that would be interesting. "It's the 13th hole, a par 5, he's lying 2, with an 8 iron, and that's his 26th beer in his hand. I'm not sure if he cares if he hits the green here, just as long as he doesn't piss himself."

I lost a lot of respect for golf during the Annika Sorenstam episode. Although, I don't hear as much crying this time with Michelle Wie. If your worried about a girl beating you? C'mon, how tough a guy are you, and how hard is this "sport"?. Granted, it was only a few knuckleheads, but it was enough to drag golf down. And nothing against the ladies, I love 'em. If Jennie Finch could pitch in the bigs, she can go right ahead. In fact, take the locker next to mine. Just no crying from the boys, please. Needless to say I was rooting for Sorenstam to stomp some people's guts out.

I don't have anything against Phil Mickelson. I've read some people on the tour don't like him because he's arrogant. Arrogance is pervasive in sports. I realize he came up short Sunday, but 2 straight majors and a second in the third? He's the best golfer out there right now. Golf, though, needs Tiger Woods back in the worst way. Tiger looks like he could play something else. Phil? I don't even want to make jokes about those. You got embarrassed looking at them, like you got caught looking at some girl's chest. That's bad...for both of us, me & Phil.

But my point is, if that's your best guy? Not a sport. Sorry. Still got my 4th place vote, but it's not a sport.  ¶ 2:22 PM

  Now What About Ghana?

My younger son walked in the room and asked that after he heard me & my older son talking about the World Cup. Yes, what about Ghana? It's another fun idea from soccer that you can play like crap, tie, then beat up on Africa's Oregon, and still advance. Seems fair.
Every four years (is it 4? I don't honestly know) the World Cup also gives my older son the chance to lambast me yet again for my one season of inglorious soccer coaching, and my advance on goals differential coaching blunder.
One of the baseball guys I coached with doubled as the soccer recruiter. He comes to me one day with, "I see your son is signed up. We're going to need you to coach a team."
To which I quickly reply, "I don't know a damn thing about coaching soccer."
But he's ready for me with, "You don't need to know anything. You're coaching Americans, and better yet their parents are Americans too."
Which sounds reasonable, and also which is why he was the recruiter. So away I go. I do the requisite cram session with soccer books, but it doesn't buy me a good ten minutes of soccer practice. In no time I've got the worst thing in the world, bored kids. My practices quickly degenerate into playground sessions of soccer baseball and soccer home run derby with no practical instruction because I have no practical knowledge.
This works for a while. The kids are having fun. I dump them out of practice tired, a positive for the parents. Nobody seems to mind that we're getting beat like cheap rugs every Saturday. It starts to get bad for me at practices. The practice facility has three adjacent fields with me in between a) an Englishman and b) a Brazilian. The English guy is running like a Bridge on the River Kwai soccer boot camp. The Brazilian's got some kind of Soccer Carnivale thing going on that looks like so much fun I want to go down there and play. Worse is their kids are getting better, and having fun. Mine? You can only kick a ball over a fence & scream "Gooooaaalll!!!" so many times. The season can't end soon enough for all of us.
We get to the playoffs, and through some miracle win our first game. Actually, it's not much of a miracle. We beat the team with the only other baseball guy/soccer coach. It's no particular joy to me other than to be able to say to the parents, "Hey, you could have had him."
Our next game is a more formidable opponent, but now, in true miracle fashion, we find ourselves deep in the second half tied. This is where, to my son's perpetual consternation, I screw up. I never expect us to advance, so I never gave more than a cursory glance at the playoff rules to advance. I think I know them, and I think a win and tie is enough. I had two kids, my kid and another one, who were good athletes, not soccer players, but athletes. So I pull the air out of the offense, stick those two back on defense, and try to stall it out for the tie. My kid spends the last ten minutes of them game clearing balls out of our end and yelling things at me like, "Are you sure?", and, "We can win this game!!", and, finally, "ARE YOU SURE!!!???" It was really cute coming from a ten year old.
Over the years, I've tried to tell him I tanked it on purpose. I tried to tell him it was better to go out like that than advance, and take another 10-0 beatdown. I tried telling him that a win, a tie, and the parents not lynching me were the three miracles needed for sainthood, and more than anyone could expect from that team. And I tried, "I had us & 3 goals, so, hey ho, who got the dough?" He believes none of that.
Thank you World Cup...On Father's Day.  ¶ 6:31 PM

  I like the anonymity of the web. I hesitate to talk to specifically about life events lest I inadvertently identify myself. I'm sure I'm not alone in feeling that way. If exposure becomes inevitable, I'm comfortable with it. Discussing this within the vacuum this blog exists in is tantamount to paranoia. As for now, I'm sure I'm safe.

Thus...

Looking out the window today, I'm watching 6 years of a struggle finally result in tangible progress. It doesn't sound like much, but I'm getting drainage improvements installed for the block. To say that I spearheaded the effort to get the county to do this, implies that I had help. Further, I did it will managing to avoid seeking relief through the civil courts, a very real option the entire way. We will see if any one thanks me for my work or restraint.

I don't have a lot of time to spend with this today, but I did have a couple thoughts I could share.

Fantasy
No, it's not always about women. I wonder if my involvement entitles me to the free use some of the construction equipment. They've got a little mini steam shovel I've got my eye on. I'd like to take it, extend the shovel straight out phallic style, then ram a hole in my neighbor/nemesis garage door, work the shovel in & out of the hole a few times. I think it'd be pretty clear what I'd be implying. Too subtle?

Send Me 5 Men
I've got about 15-20 guys on the block right now. Starting out, the county repeatedly sent me one, at most, two guys at a time. One guy can easily set anything aside. Two can easily conspire to "hot potato" something to oblivion. But 5 guys? That's a lot of finger pointing.
It can't just be any 5 guys either.
First, it has to be 5 guys none of which has a shovel in there truck. You need decision makers. Save the shovels for the end.
Second, they all have to be from the same agency or department. That way you avoid the interagency fumblerooski. If you hear, "Let's get Bob from Highway in on this" that's the equivalent of "I know a special tomb to drop this in so that we may never hear of it or pretend we've heard of it again".
Finally, surveyors don't count toward the 5. County use surveys to placate you. I call survey flags the illusions of progress. It's a low cost way to fool you into thinking something's being done. I've been surveyed so many times, I came to think the surveyors just took turns watching porn through that little sighting thing they carry around.

Anyway, middle age beckons, so I am off. I think I'm going to ask about that steam shovel on my way out.  ¶ 12:46 PM

  Welcome to today's unique & interesting content. Can you tell I've been reading blogs on blogging in order that I might drive more traffic here? Right now, Cary Grant saw more traffic standing in that field in "North by Northwest" than I'm seeing here. A plane buzzing my ass would be an improvement.

I pretty much discard any advice relating to writing code because I don't write code.
Virtually every time I've tried to "code" in some improvement, the blog comes out with a "Frankenstein took a spin in a rock tumbler" quality to it. So I'll be following the standard policy of inertia, "Dance with the One That Brung Ya".
That then pretty much limits all blog improvements to this, unique & interesting content. And let's face it, it's not my decision or any other blogger's what's unique & interesting. It's you, my imaginary reader's decision. All I can do is throw it out there everyday. That I've made three days in a row is my best effort to provide U & I C. You're welcome.


On to today's tale from middle age...

About 6 or 7 years ago, I changed what had been just about a life time hairstyle (part on the side, hair swept over) to a total razor cut (2 on the side, 4 on top). I did it because I was tired of messing with my hair. It was easier to deal with, much cooler in the summer, and as you'll come to know if you read this blog enough, I'm all about the simplicity. I think it was in a style at the time, although that didn't matter much to me. I had reached an age & understanding with the wife where, short of tattooing swastikas on my knuckles, I could get away with just about anything.
So this works out until about 3 months ago when the older little Ghost looks at me and says, "You look bald." Now it was an exaggeration on his part as a teenage son is prone to do to his father, but he had a point. It's not like I hadn't seen it. You look up one day and realize what was once scalp was now head...forehead. Gradually like beach erosion or suburban sprawl, you lose turf that you'll never get back. I'm at terms with it. I made it to 2006. I'll certainly use that against the friends who didn't make it out of the 80's.
It's a dilemma today though because now I need somebody to cut my hair. When you're getting a 2/4 razor cut, anybody, up to and including your yard crew, can do it. Even when they screw it up, the wife can play giant Ken doll with your head and touch it right up. Today, I'm getting an artful & distinguished pre-combover actual haircut, and I need it done right.
I've been going to a place that's all walk in, and it's worked out pretty well so far. The regular crew consists of one cool guy, a bunch of girls, and a schleppy guy. If I had to pick one to cut my hair say for a wedding, I'd pick the cool guy because he's done it best. The girls I'll take any day because, and the married guys will attest to this, a haircut is the only time when another women is allowed to touch you. So it becomes a "two birds with one stone" deal for married guys, get a haircut and get touched by another woman. The schleppy guy, no offense, is not touching my head. I'm no metrosexual, but if you look like you've got half a chance of coming out the door with your underwear on outside your pants, you're not cutting my hair.
The problem now is I've had to negative request the guy so many times, including an "anybody but him", it's getting uncomfortable. It's going to drive me back to a salon. I used to go to a salon, but the girl I had always had drama in her life and then started busting appointments. I already have a woman in my life who drives my crazy, and I've married her. I don't need two. For the expense & inconvenience of the salon, you do get that shampoo where she leans completely over you, if you hear what I'm saying. It's the Champagne Room of haircutting.
I think I miss that, and I think I've talked myself into it.
Thank you Blog.  ¶ 1:03 PM

  Technorati Profile

O.K. so Technorati said to do this so that I can expand the reader universe beyond just me. Techno was also kind to point out I'm currently ranked 1,377,405th. I'm very proud. What would it take to get to 1,377,404th? What's more likely is that I'm over 2 mill by next week.

Techno also gave me 20 tags to describe the blog. I used 5. Who uses 20 tags? If your using 20 tags to describe your blog, people probably avoid you at parties. Please, get to the point and shut up about yourself already.

Well this is a milestone. Posted on consecutive days, turned on ads, and got on a blog listing. I'm practically retired already.  ¶ 6:18 PM

  Despite my best intentions, I can't seem to hit this more than once a month. Insert your obvious middle age joke here:_____________________________________.
I have managed to activate the ads. I'm interested to see what Adsense thinks of me. Probably feels the same way as Mrs. Grey Ghost.
Here's some quick hits:

Bidness
Had to walk in an office building yesterday. Can we do something with the smokers out front?
They've turned into this generation's gargoyles. Yes, we all benefit from the smoke free work place, but somebody's suffering from the lack of productivity. Maybe they could hand out fliers. Get something out of them. Or they could hand out their performance reviews. Shame the crappy ones back inside. "Your lowman. Your killing our benefit costs. And you've decided to waste some more time giving the building a blood bank ambiance. Thank You." I shouldn't generalize. Could be the smokers I'm passing are productive. "Nice month, Bob! Enjoy the cancer stick." How about a smokers suite in every building? Just like that iron lung chimney stack room they've got for smokers in airports.
My other problem with them isn't the second hand smoke, it's the second hand smell. I don't care about the smoke. I'm sure I have plenty of tangential contact with death causing agents. I care about smelling like I've smoked. It happened to me yesterday. I walked by the gargoyles out front, and as I walked by a woman in the building, she gave me that sideways glance sniff. Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe she didn't smell the smoke. Maybe she thought I crapped my pants. When I got home, the wife did the same thing. Sniff? "Did you smoke?" If I'm going to get busted for something, I'd like to have at least enjoyed it to some obscene, gluttonous degree. Say, like a 1/2 a bottle of scotch & a pack of Marlboro Lights in a strip club, that's worth it.
There's no convincing the wife though. "No, honey, I didn't smoke. I walked into a building." Sniff? "Was the building on fire?" You can see the level of trust I've developed. "No, honey, I had to walk through the smokers that guard the front of the building to get into the building." Sniff? "Did you crap your pants?"

World Cup
Speaking of crapping the pants, how about the U.S.? It's not like I'm rooting against them. I'm just amused by all the tremendous build up to a 3-0 beat down. Miracle on Ice this ain't. The coach immediately starts pointing fingers. I'm not saying he's wrong. I didn't even watch. But whose job is it to bring your team in up? And how hard is it to get them up for your sports preeminent event? Herb Brooks he ain't.
It's o.k. though. Soccer in America just goes back to Who Cares. I know we have a lot of kids coming up in the sport. I know people feel it's just a matter of time. Heard all that, plenty. Until we see some results, Who Cares. If this was a tv show, it's a 2 episode cancellation.
Unless they beat Italy...then I tune in for Ghana. U-S-A!!!
  ¶ 12:12 PM