Exhale on the way up

I finally got the GRE out of the way last night. After you've been out in the real world for a while, standardized tests are even more of a pain in the ass than they were in high school or college. Thank goodness that's done. Now I have several hundred esoteric vocabulary words taking up room in my head, most of which will never see the light of print again.

Poking my head up above ground, I find a cold and rainy NY. Okay, back into the cave for another week or so of asceticism.

***

At long last, photo printing through Flickr, though only for folks in the U.S. for the time being.

The latest MP3 blog I'm digging: Out of 5. A different themed mix every week, 10 songs chosen by 10 different people. You can download each week's mix as a zip file, but there's no archive, so tune in weekly.

Jackie Chan's iTunes Music Store celebrity playlist reveals that Apple's music store offers more than a handful of Chinese tracks. Jackie on "Jia Xiang de Long Yan Shu": "A memorable song representing a noble mission saving sight." Huh?

The first and second seasons of The West Wing on DVD, for only $19.97 each, or 67% off. That's a pretty damn good deal for the two best seasons of what was, at the time, the best show on TV.

Among the top 10 forecasts from The Futurist in its Outlook 2005 was this strange one: "Worm shortage ahead. Increasing worldwide demand for fish is creating a shortage of worms to supply anglers and fish farmers." That's right, a worm shortage. You heard it there first.

The James Randi Educational Foundation offers a 1 million dollar prize to anyone who can show, under proper conditions, evidence of paranormal or supernatural powers. No one has ever passed the preliminary tests. I can make one of every pair of my socks disappear gradually over time. I wonder if that qualifies. [from TMN]


Not on the bandwagon, or maybe I am


Jason Lee always seems to play a cantankerous sidekick in the movies, which is why his good-natured simpleton in My Name is Earl is such a pleasant surprise. Funny show.


I'm not one of those Cubs fans who wants the White Sox to lose. It's not a zero sum game fore baseball in Chicago, despite how many fans on both sides behave. I'd love to see Chicago with a national champion in its midst again. That's not to say a White Sox World Series victory will mean a fraction of what a Cubs World Series win would mean to me.


I love the version of the Jarhead trailer that is set to Kanye West's "Jesus Walks". It may be just a case of the music carrying the moving images, but when Jamie Foxx says "I...love...this...job" in cadence to the music, that's a beautiful thing. I've been editing army footage in class, and this trailer is driving me nuts because I'm overwhelmed by an inclination to set the footage to Kanye West.


Lincoln Burrows does escape from prison. I was walking back from class last week and he walked past me on the sidewalk. I couldn't place him except as the guy who had to escape from prison on that television show on Fox. How many degrees from fame are you when people recognize you from commercials for a show they've never seen because Fox blitzes all its programs with in-house promos?


Matthew Barney's Cremaster 3 is rearing its head again in NYC.


To absolutely no one's surprise, some of the first content available for the video iPod is adult.


I'm not even sure exactly what Apple's new software Aperture does, and it costs $499, but already I want it. Apple seems to release something I want every other week now. I surrender, just take my Visa.


Life's so hectic right now, and I'm exhausted, so this is all you get, just a few brief thoughts and rabbit droppings.


The new iPod plays video


Video playback capability in the iPod has been rumored for years, and now it's finally a reality. At the same price as the previous generation of iPods, the new models, available in black and white, arrive just a short while after the Nano so as to allow Nano enough time to sell a gazillion units. You can check it the latest iPod in its new television ad featuring U2. I can't imagine watching an entire television show on such a tiny screen, but music videos? Perhaps. If you put the iPod in the dock, you can control it via the new Apple remote control, and the dock allows you to output composite video and RCA audio to a television/receiver/monitor.


You can purchase television shows from iTunes to sync to your iPod, or you can use Quicktime 7 Pro to export your own video content to iTunes for transfer to the iPod. I can see carrying around some footage of my nephews.


More interesting to me was to see what the pricing for video content would be. iTunes is offering music videos and individual episodes of TV shows like Lost for $1.99. The Lost Season 1 DVD, which contains 24 episodes, costs $38.99 from Amazon.com, or about $1.60 an episode. So the Apple TV show pricing feels about right, with a slight premium to the volume pricing of the DVD. You can't burn the shows to DVD or CD. You have to watch them on your computer or an iPod.


The episodes of Lost being offered are the three most recent ones, and future episodes will appear in iTunes a day after they're aired. Is there a window after which these won't be for sale, or will they be available in perpetuity? Also, how much does ABC keep of every $1.99 sale?


Meanwhile, DVR manufacturers are talking about a day not so far in the future when hard drive space is so cheap that DVRs will just tape every hour of TV so you can watch any show on demand, without programming the device. Enterprising geeks already trade television shows through their computer using Bittorrent. Someday soon, all media, from music to movies to television shows, will be available on demand. If the networks and studios band together, they might be the ones collecting on this traffic, but as slow as they move, it seems unlikely. With just five television shows offered in this latest rev of iTunes (Desperate Housewives and Night Stalker are the other two ABC offerings), ABC/Disney is the only studio testing these waters, and they're just dipping their toes in with caution. This meager offering is most certainly the choice of the networks, not of Apple.


Lost, indeed

Lost is really annoying me. Ever since the first episode, the show has relied on the mystery after mystery. But to date, it's proven to be all hook, no payoff.

The show is starting to feel like an exercise in stretching a taut story out even further, to the point where it either loses all elasticity or it just snaps back with a bang. The advertisements for the last episode of season one promised some answers, but all we got was a peek down a dark hatch, which is barely more than what had been shown the previous episode. The advertisements for the second episode of this season promised, "The fate of everyone on the island becomes clear." I must have missed something, because my magic 8-ball of a television set showed me an episode that felt a lot like "Reply hazy, please watch again next week to keep our ratings and advertising revenues sky high."

Stories fail to progress much from one episode to another. We're back in Locke's past in the latest episode, and we don't learn a whole lot more. I was beginning to think that the entire season would go by with Desmond still holding a gun to Locke's head while Jack and Desmond shouting at each other in that hallway.

Jack: "Put the gun down!"

Desmond: "No, you put the gun down, brother!"

Jack: "I said put the gun down!"

Desmond: "You first, brother!"

Jack: "Aaaaaaa! Put the damn gun down! Now!"

Desmond: "I will shoot this bald man in the head, brother! Brother! Brother! Brother!"

Few loose ends are ever tied up, except as they relate to minor details in the back stories of a few characters. The island remains a riddle. Every new character that promises an answer turns out to be another mystery; Desmond was no different, and Jack and John just let him run off. Ethan got shot. It's becoming predictable that every potential solution will be DOA; of course we knew Jack would hit the Enter key in the latest episode instead of seeing what would happen if the 108 minute timer ran out. Lost is a universe that's still expanding, with no signs of stopping to settle before contracting towards a finale. I've been down this disappointing road with shows like The X-Files before, and I'm not falling for it again.

Last season, show creators admitted that they had no idea where the story was going and that they were writing it as they went, altering the story based on which characters the audience responded to. That was a disastrous admission, because if the show's creators had no idea what all these mysteries tied up to, they probably didn't tie up to anything at all. All the time fans were devoting to every easter egg could be wasted time, and if someone did solve the mystery, the writers might just change the solution to maintain the element of surprise.

The show creators have changed their tune this year and have stuck to the party line: a master plan exists to tie it all together. With every new mystery, that seems more and more unlikely. Lost is like a juggler who keeps tossing balls high into the sky. At some point, the audience expects them to fall. If the juggler misses a few on the way down, or if only a few of them reappear again, the performance will be a letdown. Obsessive fans who analyze every detail and clue like forensic scientists are the among the toughest to please, and this show is cultivating a whole lot of them.

The other problem is that the more time spent with these characters, the more annoying they become. They're almost all hysterical, one drama queen after another. In episode 2 of this season, I felt trapped on that raft with Michael and Sawyer screaming at each other like punks on the playground. If I had been there, I would've jumped into the water and let the shark take me, or I would've grabbed the gun and shot them both.

If by the end of this season, more is left unanswered than answered, I'm not going to waste my time on another season. If you follow the incentives, things don't look hopeful. ABC wants the show to keep running as long as ratings are high. Besides the ad revenues, a show that lasts for three seasons or more can earn a mint in syndication (you need enough episodes to air a show in syndication 5 days a week). All the actors want the show to continue because it provides a steady paycheck that is only likely to rise with continued success. I don't know what J.J. Abrams wants, but I assume he is in no hurry to wrap things up.

One thing that might help is if some of the actors become antsy and engage the network in a premature salary showdown. Unwilling to bow to their demands, the network might force Abrams to start killing them off, tying up their storylines.

I love brain teasers of movies or television shows, and no one wants it all to tie together in a clever and coherent way more than I do. As we studied in editing class, one of the great things about The Sixth Sense was that in the climactic scene, when Bruce Willis's ring hits the floor, the movie actually flashes back to key scenes from earlier in the movie, just to show you they didn't cheat you, that you could have figured it out if you'd been paying attention. I'd love for Lost to work out so neatly, but the show has yet to earn that trust.

Everyone I know is a huge fan, so I'm in the minority here. Lost is losing me. Maybe this is all a huge meta joke, and the people being tested are not the people on the island but the viewers of the show. The finale, several years from now, will reveal that all the show's mysteries really didn't add up to any solution, that it was all an elaborate hoax to see how long we'd keep coming back before we lost interest.


Late afternoon with Conan O'Brien


Joannie was in town last week through Thursday for a conference. She got out Thursday afternoon, just in time to join me for lunch at Burger Joint and then a live taping of Late Night with Conan O'Brien.


Burger Joint, in contrast to the fancy surroundings of Le Parker Meridien hotel lobby, is a greasy joint, a literal hole in the wall that seats about 25 people at the most. I'd eaten brunch at Norma's, just across the lobby, and never suspected Burger Joint was there, ensconced behind a curtain, the only indication of its presence being a neon burger sign. The decor consists of a couple random movie posters hung on faux-wood paneling. The place is as simple as its webpage/menu.


I've read that the lines at lunch can be brutal, as at my current favorite burger joint, Shake Shack. Joannie and I were there at about 1:30 in the afternoon and had to wait about fifteen minutes for our burgers and fries. The burger, a bit bigger than a single burger at Shake Shack, is straightforward and quite satisfying. Worth the wait. The fries, which come in a brown paper bag, were not. I'm still partial to the Double Shack Burger at Shake Shack, with its combination of sirloin and brisket, but Burger Joint is a worthy player in the mid-priced burger scene.


The old cliche is true: the camera adds ten pounds. In Conan's case, that's a good thing, because in person he's, in Joannie's words, "weird-looking." On television, the extra ten pounds add a bit of softness to an otherwise angular face. He's also as pale as an albino. On this day, he'd cut himself shaving just before going on air, so he wore a band-aid under his lips the entire show. A good comedian relishes the unanticipated, and in this case the band-aid provided a few minutes worth of jokes that Conan interspersed between pre-planned material.


The camera also adds about ten yards, apparently. It's shocking how cramped the studio (located at 30 Rockefeller Plaza) is in person. It seats about 200 people and consists of two halves. On the left is the curtain from which Conan and guests pop out, in front of which Conan does his monologue. At the near left corner sits the band, the Max Weinberg 7. The right half of the stage is Conan's desk, where he does most of the show. Use some really wide-angle lenses and shoot up close, and a tiny space can look enormous on television. If New Yorkers could only experience their closet-sized apartments through just such a lens, they wouldn't feel so cooped up.


The camera does not make you funnier, but that's not a problem for Conan. He's funny on TV, he's funny in person, and he's funny even when the cameras aren't rolling. After the warm-up comedian did his schtick and just before the taping began at 5:30pm, Conan popped out for a quick routine of his own. He speaks fast, and if and when a joke crashes, he recovers quickly, usually by admitting the joke is bad and using his honesty to draw a laugh, and then moves on before you can dwell on the moment.


His deft comic touch carried this show as the routines were of middling quality. The guests were Kim Cattrall, pushing her new book Kim Cattrall Sexual Intelligence, Seth Meyers of Saturday Night Live, and David Rakoff, author of Don't Get Too Comfortable and sometimes a contributor to This American Life on NPR.


Tomorrow's technology today: fusion and nanotechnology, in consumable goods form


Banana Nutrament has an MP3 of David Bowie and Arcade Fire singing "Wake Up" together. Bowie vocals on one of my favorite songs of the last year...cool. I'm going to see Arcade Fire on Central Park Summerstage Thursday evening. It will be my first Central Park concert.


How efficient is the Red Cross? Is there a better charity to donate to when crises like Hurricane Katrina strike? It's the most linked to charity for donating to the Hurricane Katrina relief effort, but someone expressed reservations about how efficiently the Red Cross channeled those funds to aiding victims. I don't know the answer, but I found this evaluation in which the Red Cross online earned a four star rating (out of four). Not sure how objective or accurate this evaluation is, though I was hoping more knowledgeable folks had already done the legwork on this. The president and CEO, Marsha Evans, does indeed make a really generous salary ($450K a year, according to this site), though overall program expenses seem reasonable at around 5.6% of revenues.


The new iPod Nano is cool (the ROKR is not), most people agree, but while I love my iPod(s), I really hope the quality control on this new edition is better than that on previous editions. I don't know anyone who's purchased an iPod who hasn't had to bring it in for repairs at some point. Ironically, my most reliable is my first one, the first generation iPod. My other iPod, the Shuffle, is temperamental, like a crazy girlfriend.


Stream the new Sigur Ros CD Takk


Yet another Godfather novel on tap for next year. Sounds like this one weaves the Corleone saga with the Kennedy assassination.


Xbox 360 has a launch date: Nov. 22


Gillette unveils yet another razor, the successor to the Mach 3: Fusion. This baby has an enhanced indicator lubristrip, 5 blades, and a precision trimmer blade for side burns and shaping your goatee.


Heather Havrilesky rates the fall television comedies. Those that rate well on her scale are Ricky Gervais's HBO series "Extras," Chris Rock's UPN series "Everybody Hates Chris," and, to a lesser degree, NBC's "My Name is Earl" and Fox's "Kitchen Confidential." "Extras" premieres Sunday, Sept 25, at 10:30pm. That's the one I'll be tuning into for sure, along with every other fanatical devotee of "The Office."


Red Sox outfielder Gape Kapler ruptures his Achilles tendon running around second base after a teammate hit a home run


Canon jumps into the HDV camcorder fray this week with the XL H1. It will cost $8999 and ship in November. Cool looking camcorder, but surprisingly, Canon won't offer 24P or 720P recording, only 1080i in HDV mode. Whether or not they believe 24P is useful or not, it's clear many users do, and the user is king. Panasonic will offer that in their HVX200, and they'll take market share because of it.


March of the lemmings

Wolfram Tones: Create music based on Stephen Wolfram's A New Kind of Science. Download them as ring tones if you like. Many of them do sound like ring tones, actually. It reminds me of GarageBand with a random music generator. Not stuff I'd listen to all the time, but it's interesting to click on the various music genre buttons to see how much it resembles what you think of as country or r&b or classical. Someday perhaps there will be a Computer Idol competition. On a somewhat related note, the ideas in A New Kind of Science (NKS) seem to have relevance to the current evolution vs. intelligent design debate. NKS is online, so you can read, for example, this chapter: "Intelligence in the Universe."

The UCI, cycling's governing body, exonerates Lance Armstrong of doping charges and criticizes the accusers. L'Equipe to respond saturday. One thing is certain; this whole bitter fight is no help to the sport, as doping has once again, as in 1998.

Derek and Ken were in town for Labor Day Weekend. I always learn something when I spend time with those guys. One of my learnings this past weekend was that lemmings do not commit mass suicide. It's a myth perpetuated by a Disney documentary in which the filmmakers ran lemmings off of the side of a cliff to create the myth of their suicidal tendencies. Looks like that Disney documentary is available from Amazon.com on VHS. I'm not sure how the lemming myth took hold of me, but I suspect it was Gary Larson and his Far Side comics. I remember one depicted a whole flock of lemmings headed for the edge of a cliff to jump into the ocean, but one is shown wearing an inner tube with a sly grin. Another showed a family of lemmings in a car, headed off on vacation. The mother and father lemming sit in the front seat while two lemming children are in back. The mother is shown shouting at the kids, "Hey! I told you kids to knock it off back there!... or so help me I'll just take this car and drive it off the first cliff I come to!" I miss The Far Side. Larson went out on top.

Meet the F**kers (Windows Media), a Daily Show video clip that provides some satiric catharsis for any anger you might feel towards the Bush administration for their slow reactions to Hurricane Katrina. I hadn't seen the footage of Mike Myers' reaction to Kanye West's outburst until watching this clip, or Michael Brown's disastrous interviews, or the Larry King interview with Celine Dion. Memorable.

Colin Powell regrets his statements to the United Nations in February of 2003. I was aboard a ferry from the north island of New Zealand to the south island when he gave his testimony, and I watched it on CNN. Little did I know it would be downhill from there for someone who seemingly everyone thought would make a perfect presidential candidate.

I'm going to join Bill Simmons on the Bears bandwagon. Really good young defense, and if Kyle Orton surprises (and sometimes new starting QBs do) then perhaps they can win a bunch of low-scoring rumbles. It all depends on what that offense looks like after they take off the bandages.

Vincent Cerf is the new "Chief Internet evangelist" at Google. I look forward to hearing about this Internet thing. It sounds cool. As an aside, based on my years of working in the Internet biz, anyone who has "evangelist" in their job title has a cushy job.

The Nokia 8800 is one gorgeous cell phone. Though China isn't listed as one of the countries where you can buy one, I saw them in several stores in Beijing and Shanghai. The slider resistance is firm but silky smooth. I held it, fondled it, drooled over it, but left my credit card sheathed. $800, which is roughly what they were charging, is a lot to pay for technological sex appeal.


Takk


New album by Sigur Ros releases September 13th. Love them. This one's sung in actual Icelandic, instead of the made-up Hopelandic.


Peeved by the attacks by L'Equipe, Lance hints that he might come back and kick some butt in the Tour again next year. If so, he needs to make up his mind soon.


I've watched Felix Hernandez pitch a few times now. Awesome. Wicked stuff, especially that movement on his mid-90's heater. In 51 innings he's struck out 50 batters and walked only 10, giving up only 31 hits. Lefties are batting .129 against him. I hope he stays healthy and drug-free for many years.


Okay, so most of the last season of Six Feet Under left me cold. But the last few episodes, after you-know-who dies, were quite good. The last montage of scenes in the last episode moved me.


What happened to summer?


James and Angela and I ate at Angelica's Kitchen, an organic vegan restaurant, on Monday night, and we sat next to Morgan Spurlock and his girlfriend (wife?), both of Super Size Me fame. I guess he hasn't relapsed since his McDonald's days. In a way, perhaps it's healthy that he just gorged himself for a month on that stuff. He'll probably never have a hankering to eat a burger at McDonald's again. The best dish was Angela's tofu sandwich.


I like Google News, but I thought they were going to weight their news sources with a bias to more reputable, big-name sources. The biggest problem with Google News and Google News Alerts is all the random stories from small town papers, many being repeats of the AP Wire story. That problem still exists.


Oh dear lord do I miss DirecTV. This season they added an optional NFL Ticket SuperFan add-on package that includes over 100 games in HD, a Red Zone channel that switches automatically to any game where a team enters the opponent's red zone, a Game Mix channel where 8 games are broadcast on one screen, and a Short Cuts feature showing commercial-free replays of games in 30 minutes or less. It's like crack for a fantasy football player, and it's not available to me b/c I can't get line of sight to the DirecTV satellite from my apartment in Manhattan. When I was a DirecTV subscriber in Seattle, I didn't mind that DirecTV had basically a monopoly on showing all the NFL games, but now I'm ready to break into the roof of the nearest skyscraper to set up a satellite with a mile long run of cable to run through my front window. Time Warner Cable stinks.


More than 400 million watched the finale of "Super Girl", an American Idol-esque Chinese reality tv show. That's about the same number of people as live in the United States and Britain combined. The winner was Li Yu Chun, a tomboyish Sichuan native (a video clip of her final performance can be found here). The show only allowed female singers, and the official show title was "Mongolian Cow Sour Yogurt Super Girl Contest." The show was touted among Chinese youth as a triumph of democratic voting, as anyone could pay 1RMB (about $0.12) to vote via text message.


$ > time

Hurricane Katrina rips hole in Superdome roof
It sounds like something out of The Day After Tomorrow.

Money is more valuable than time
This according to a paper presented at the 2005 World Congress of the Econometric Society. The researchers found that people were much more generous with their time than their money.

A transcript of Lance Armstrong's appearance on Larry King Live
I still haven't read an account of what happened that makes it clear exactly what was tested, how it was verified, etc. All this medical testing jargon is just confusing. It's shocking how eager Tour director Jean-Marie Leblanc is to sully the image of his event's most famous and most recent champion. Can you imagine David Stern leaping at the opportunity to publicly lambaste one of the NBA's star players? The Tour was already going to need a lift next year with Lance gone, and this is hardly the best way for Leblanc or L'Equipe to promote next year's race.

More and more couples are streaming music from iPods instead of hiring DJs for their weddings
One couple is cited as saying that they didn't think the DJ would have music from their favorite bands, like the Postal Service and the Shins. They then note that neither they nor their wedding guests are big dancers, which explains a lot.


Marat Safin drops out of the U.S. Open with a knee injury
Thus removing one of the few players with enough game to beat Federer. Safin is replaced by Bjorn Phau of Germany, who is not among those aforementioned players. Actually, on hard courts, maybe Safin is the only guy who could have stopped Federer.

An interview with Cameron Crowe about Elizabethtown
I am intensely curious about the already famous telephone conversation from this movie. Crowe mentions that Kirsten Dunst's character makes Orlando Bloom's character a "mixmap" - a map with musical cues. Very cool, like amateur museum podcasts, in a way. I can see posting a musical mixmap as a podcast to someone in another city. More from Crowe on Dunst:

And she's a huge music fan. I play music during takes and she's the first person I've worked with who'll go, "Um, I don't like that song." The camera will be rollin' and I'll play "Trouble Man" by Marvin Gaye, and she'll go, "Turn that Marvin Gaye music off! Put on some Rilo Kiley."

She stays up all night and downloads music from LimeWire. She needs to be arrested.

During the summer TV lull, I set my PVR to tape Six Feet Under so I could finally see what the hubbub was about. From what I'd read, I'd be catching the show after it had jumped the shark, and that might explain my cool reaction. Watching the first half of this last season was like listening to one's parents arguing; really shrill and overwrought. The show also relies too heavily on confrontations with ghosts and spirits, something The Sopranos deals in occasionally as well. That's always felt like a dramatic crutch to me, a way to cover ideas that can't otherwise be conveyed by acting and dialogue between real people. I can understand how fans of the show would stick it out through every last episode, though. I was the same way with The X-Files, a show that lurched on for several seasons after it had careened off the tracks.

Former Washington Post pop music critic David Segal laments the the loss of spontaneity in modern rock concerts

James Surowiecki weighs in on tipping in light of Thomas Keller's decision to abolish tipping at Per Se, replacing it with a fixed service charge


Needles in haystacks


Back from Washington, DC, arriving to a snowstorm-sized pile of links in my newsreader...


The World Series of Poker's main event is down to just 12 players

Just one pro remains, Mike "The Mouth" Matusow, in 8th place (profile of Matusow in the NYTimes). Phil Ivey, one of the last big names, finished in 20th place, while last year's champ, Greg Raymer, finished 25th. Kate Hudson's brother Oliver earned the dubious honor of being the first player to be knocked out of the tourney, and on his very first hand. He had a pair of 10's, raised pre-flop, and Sam Farha called. The flop came A-A-10, and both guys found all their money in the center of the table. Farha had A-10 and left Hudson almost famous, befitting Kate's brother.


Esquire Magazine's Sexiest Woman Alive will be revealed in the November issue, but the clues give it away: Jessica Biel


Matthew Barney and Björk collaborate on a film which debuts at a museum in Japan

From the article, a summary of the movie titled Drawing Restraint 9: "Björk and Barney arrive as guests on board the ship. During a storm, they marry each other in a mysterious ceremony, morph into whales and then swim off towards the Antarctic. In this dream-like story, nothing is really narrated." Yep, that sounds like a Barney/Björk movie. Björk also revealed that "she and Barney plan to sell their New York home and live on a houseboat." That also sounds like something they'd do.



UCLA grad student plays Russian roulette as performance art, terrifying his classmates

Huge hubbub ensues, including possible legal action and the retirement of two professors known for controversial performance art of their own, but in the end all returned to normal and the student received an A-minus for the course.



Simpsons-Family Guy feud

This is sure to end with Homer gunned down in front of Kwik-E-Mart by Stewie Griffin.



Mansquito! Attack of the Sabretooth! Dog Soldiers!



At the Tour de France, Bobby Julich is riding elliptically-shaped chainrings

These chainrings change the effective gear ratio as you pedal. In this case, Julich's O.Symetric Harmonic chainrings maximize the gear ratio when pedals are horizontal, when you can theoretically apply the most effective perpendicular force to the pedals. Then the gear ratio decreases for the bringing the pedal across the top and bottom of the pedal stroke. Shimano once made a similar pedal but abandoned it because it's so tricky to integrate with the front derailleur (the chain is moving up and down through the derailleur cage).


Morgan Freeman buys a pop-a-shot machine

Since Freeman narrates every other movie out there these days, this is timely. And funny.


Countdown of features in the upcoming Movable Type 3.2


The bizarre and sometimes disturbing world of bioart



Everything, and I mean everything, you ever wanted to know about the male hug

Mine is a hug-happy family.


Trump tries on some bad idea jeans


We got ourselves a bike race


Thrilling stage in the Tour de France today. The finishing climb was a category 2, but only because it was near the finish of the stage. It wasn't that steep, maybe 4% or 5%, but it was long, and finishing climbs like that, especially early in the Tour de France, can make for exciting finishes because more riders can hang around than on the Alpine or Pyrenean climbs that can kick up into the 10-12% slope range (that's not to say I'm not amazed that professionals can turn a big chainring and crank up a mountain like the Col de la Schlucht at around 25 mph; that's just sick).


Everyone knew Vino would attack, but few expected the following:


  • Team Discovery Channel didn't have anyone strong enough to hang with the late attacks, leaving Armstrong isolated with his chief rivals on the final climb. Lance was clearly disappointed in his team after the stage, though he tried to be respectful, saying perhaps his team had been worked too hard. But Brunyeel and Armstrong aren't going to sleep as easy tonight, and no one will feel worse than Lance's teammates about not being there for him at the end. I don't think Brunyeel or Armstrong will chew the team out tonight. Everyone saw what happened and knows what they have to do. Still, all the confidence and psychological advantage Team Discovery earned in the prologue and team trial evaporated on the Col de la Schlucht today.

  • Andreas Kloden, who'd had a very disappointing early race season, looked super strong in finishing second, and that was a finish that even a photo couldn't clarify.

  • Pieter Weening wins the stage with after attacking on the last third of the stage. His winning attack was particularly impressive given how high the pace has been and how many A-listers were attacking on that final climb. Great day for Rabobank, with Rasmussen donning the polkadot jersey. Somewhere, the Dutch crazies were partying on some mountaintop. They may not have been seeing their self-composed can-can tune "Boogerd is the Best," but Weening has two syllables and fits in nicely. "Weening iiiiiiiiiis, the best-he-is-the-best. Weening iiiiiiiiis the best-he-is-the-best. Wee ning is the best-he-is-the-best. Wee-ning is the best-he-is-the-best." I'm not kidding, those are the lyrics. It's much more exciting when you're dancing in your bike cleats and singing it with several hundred Dutch youths dressed in cow suits on the side of the road on Alpe D'Huez.


I can only imagine what Brunyeel was shouting into the team 2-way radio on the final climb when Salvodelli became the last team member to drop off, leaving Lance alone.


"C'mon boys, we can't leave Lance ah-lone. Dis ees vuh-ry baaad. C'mon Paolo! C'mon Popo! Venga venga venga! C'mon guys! We can't leave Lance like this. Get up to the front, boys!"


If Kloden really is regaining his from from last year, then they can launch him, Vino, and Ullrich against Armstrong in alternating waves, as they did today. As soon as Lance covered Vino's second attack, he didn't have a chance to catch his breath before Kloden launched off the front. If Armstrong gets isolated again, things could get ugly. Toss in Landis, Leipheimer, and Basso, and Armstrong may not have one restful day in the mountains. Also, we have yet to hear from Heras and Mayo, and I'm anticipating some attacks from them in the Alps and Pyrenees. If Lance has any chinks in his form, he's unlikely to be able to hide them on a stage. Brunyeel will have to be in the team car doing lots of calculations to decide which attacks Lance should cover; depending on who has opened up which gaps, and depending on how much time he and Lance think he'll take from them on the final individual time trial, Lance can decide when to accelerate and when to sit tight. Ooh it's going to be a doozy of a Tour.


Armstrong's face looks particularly gaunt this year. Today he wasn't particularly strong, but at the end of the day he lost no time to any serious GC contenders, and that's with T-Mobile burning their three top guys pretty hard on a stage that wasn't decisive. Lance wasn't as explosive relative to the other riders as he usually is, in part because the slope was so gentle, but he still covered all the key attacks and finished with the same time as every rider that mattered.


Team Discovery Channel is more suited for staying around Lance on steeper climbs, and I suspect they'll bounce back when the roads rise up more quickly. It's been an interesting Tour thus far, with fortunes changing dramatically from one day to the next. One day Zabriskie is in yellow jersey, then a few days later he's almost dead last. One day Team Discovery Channel looks like they'll dominate, then the next day they seem to be the most vulnerable of the major teams. Early in the Tour, Boonen seemed like the next Petacchi, then a crash and a few more stages later, Robbie McEwen seems like the sprinter to beat.


A riders fortunes can change in one day on the mountains. Eddy Mercx, the greatest cyclist ever, seemed destined to win his sixth Tour. Then, on the ride up to the mountaintop finish at Pra-Loup, he cracked, and just like that it was over for him. The pace has been unbelievably high in the Tour this year. It's the fastest Tour in history thus far, and so I expect some riders to crack suddenly over the next two weeks. It's always difficult to predict who those will be, but it will happen.


Can't wait for tomorrow's stage, and in about half an hour, correction, in about half a minute, I guess it will be on television. Might as well stay up at this point and catch the first half, though I'll be on a bus headed to DC during the stage conclusion. I'll have to catch the replay in the evening.


Tidbits


Cory Doctorow to virtually sign a virtual edition of his latest novel in Second Life


Download some live tracks by The Flaming Lips for free


***


In the Tour de France, you often hear how the Discovery Channel Team and Lance don't mind if another team takes the yellow jersey because then that other team will have to defend the jersey. What that means is that the team which has the yellow jersey rider will drive the peloton to chase down breakaways in order to keep their man in the yellow jersey for as many days as possible, even if that man has no chance of winning the Tour. This is one of the odd things about the Tour, where just being a leader for part of the race is worth fighting for. Each stage of the Tour is a mini race in itself. I don't believe you make any money for winning a stage, but the economic incentive often cited as the reason for contending for these intermediate goals is to garner more exposure for your sponsor, whether on the podium accepting the yellow jersey or in newspaper articles or on television in a breakaway. I'm skeptical that the math works out--team sponsors seem to go bankrupt every few years in cycling, but it does create dozens of stories within the overall drama that is race to win the Tour.


***


Speaking of cycling, Vinokourov went high risk-high reward today and attacked late on rain-slicked roads to take second place and make up 19 seconds on Armstrong with a 7 second gap and the 12 second time bonus. Vino has to be seen as Armstrong's chief competitor, chiefly because he's not intimidated by anyone and he's always attacking, something that can't be said of Ullrich or Beloki in years past. Vino will likely lose at least a minute to Armstrong in the last individual time trial so you know he'll be attacking in the mountains. Two alpha dogs butting heads will make for some exciting stages, especially if Ullrich becomes Vino's sidekick. Some have faulted Vino for taking too great a risk for such a short time gain, but I believe Vino recognizes he has to take risks to even have a chance to topple Armstrong. You can't sit back and wait for Armstrong to crack; the odds of that are as slim as the new Lindsay Lohan.


***


Say what you will about Tom Cruise, and many people have called him crazy, but he is acting with the passion of a true believer. That is, if he really does believe that Brooke Shields is hurting herself with whatever drugs she's taking, and if he really does believe that Scientology offers a better way out for her and others sharing her condition, then his behavior is consistent with those beliefs. Few are the people who tout their beliefs and act on them with equal ardor. That's not to say he's necessarily right, and I'm no expert on the topic, but he's at least consistent. And his interview with Matt Lauer was a refreshing change from the usual ass-kissing puff pieces that are celebrity interviews.


***


I was reading Chuck Klosterman's new novel Killing Yourself to Live : 85% of a True Story yesterday, and in it he opines that Radiohead's Kid A feels as if it predicted 9/11 in a way. He goes on to describe what he thinks each track signifies. Curious, I popped the CD in. Exhausted, I dozed in and out for most of the album. The next morning, my clock alarm radio woke me not with music but with the absence of music. Two serious voices gave updates on a developing situation in London, and the variance from the usual music caught the attention of my subconscious. It was that same divergence from my clock radio's usual morning music alarm that woke me the morning of 9/11.


I had a class in SoHo this aftenoon and took the subway. I wasn't sure if it was the London attack that had scared people off, but only one other person was in my subway car on the ride down.


***


The kickball team I'm on won its sixth game yesterday when the other team failed to show on a rainy day while the bare minimum eight of us trekked all the way up to Riverside Park in the storm. It's the second or third game we've won via forfeit. Our chief skill is attendance.


***


Boxing fans who missed it the first time around will want to set their TiVo for Showtime on Aug. 6 when they televise a replay of the epic Diego Corrales-Jose Castillo slugfest before the Jeff Lacy Robin Reid fight. They put their heads together from the opening bell and just pounded on each other from close quarters for 10 rounds. Nothing seemed to slow either of them down. By the eighth round, Corrales' left eye was a slit and Castillo's left eye was streaming blood. Each fighter was so possessed that even several low blows seemed to have no effect. In the eighth round, Castillo hit Corrales so hard that Corrales's mouthpiece flew out, but he kept fighting and landed a left that wobbled Castillo. Both fighters seemed indefatigable, throwing punches as if they were attached to button-mashing videogame players.


Then, in round 10, Castillo knocked out Corrales with a massive left hook to the chin. Corrales got back up but looked dazed, and Castillo proceeded to knock him down again with another left hook. Corrales stood up just on the ten count and said he was okay, but the ref fined him a point for excessive spitting out of his mouthpiece (a delaying tactic). He looked done, but then he proceeded to rise from the dead in one of the most amazing comebacks I've ever seen, pinning Castillo against the ropes and pounding his head like a pinata. Only the ropes seemed to be holding Castillo upright and the ref stepped in and stopped the fight.


Just a magnificent, brutal fight, as close to a modern day gladiator battle as I've ever seen. I may need to subscribe to Showtime again; all the best fights this year were on Showtime, not HBO, and a rematch is tentatively scheduled for Oct. 8 though nothing's been signed yet.


It's Tour time, baby!


Ever since 1999, July has meant one thing in my mind: Lance in France. The 2005 Tour de France kicks off Saturday morning, and I'm all geeked up. One thing, though, does have me down. I'm not headed over to watch the Tour in person for the first time in four years. The cost proved prohibitive this time around, and I'm going to ache as much as if I had to work through the Christmas holiday season. There's nothing like being in France and watching the Tour in person. It's the type of vacation I could do every year for the rest of my life, and for a while I thought I just might. Everyone should try it at least once.


I'll miss riding through the beautiful sun-drenched French countryside, hundreds of thousands sunflowers swaying in the wind; suffering up the gorgeous but soaring Alps as if climbing into the azure skies; inching up the steep and unforgiving Pyrenees in sweet agony; eliciting a few cheers of my own from spectators from all over the world, camped out on the roadside waiting for the Tour to pass by; burning so many calories that no amount of delicious French food can keep me from dropping a few pounds; struggling to make sense of sweat-drenched paper maps and unmarked backcountry roads; French cheese and bread; the thrumming bass of helicopter blades from further on down the mountain, portending the arrival of the head of the peloton; the sound of several hundred thousand fans, worked up to a frenzy; partying with crazy Dutch contingent on a mountaintop finish (so generous the past two years with their satellite television, their beer, their music); the invigorating chaos; feeling the breeze from these god-like cyclists screaming by at 35 mph just a foot or two from my face; les femmes françaises; discussing cycling with people who've followed the sport nearly all their lives, who know cycling like few people in the American public do; Paris.


I wish I could be there to watch Lance's last Tour. As those of you close to me know, I feel a particular kinship with Armstrong. I lost my mother and grandmother to cancer in 1998, the year Armstrong came back from cancer to prepare for the Tour. My left knee exploded (just about) that same year, that awful year, and after surgery my physical therapist prescribed cycling, a low-impact way to regain mobility in my knee and strength in my legs. In 1999, when Lance Armstrong shocked the cycling world by winning his first Tour de France, I purchased a road bike and became a cycling junkie. In 2000 I completed the Seattle to Portland (STP) one-day ride with a group of friends. In 2001 I got a taste of what it means to suffer in the mountains during the Ride Around Mount Rainier in One Day (RAMROD).


In 2002 I really learned what it meant to suffer in the mountains during a Tour de France cycling camp led by Lance Armstrong's coach, Chris Carmichael. Tom Simpson died on Mont Ventoux in 1967, and under a scorching French sun I thought I might join him. In 2003, on my second tour of duty in the south of France, Lance survived all sorts of calamities to tie the record of five Tour victories. And last year, my most recent trip to France, Lance broke that record.


Though American television has carried very little of Lance's race season, I've followed his performances online. He looked strong in the Dauphiné Libéré, and he looks to be peaking at just the right time. Meanwhile, Jan Ullrich looks just a bit heavy and slow, as if he'll have to ride himself into shape during the Tour yet again. Some things never change.


I don't see any reason why Lance shouldn't be favored to win again. He has Tour preparation and his team dynamics down to a science. Despite living at the eye of a hurricane of publicity and fame, he has an iron grip on every variable in his control.


The team he's bringing to the Tour de France is, on paper, the best cycling stage team ever. The new ICU rules requiring teams to enter all the Grand Tours actually consolidated power with the top teams, and Discovery Channel Cycling is now the strongest team in the world. Among those shepherding Lance around the outside of France:


  • Jose Azevedo, sixth in the Tour in 2002 and fifth in the Tour last year.

  • Manuel Beltran, three time top-10 finisher in the Vuelta.

  • George Hincapie, Lance's faithful lieutenant, someone who's evolved into the ultimate domestique. Also the guy who's lived every male cyclist's dream by hooking up with one of the Tour de France podium girls.

  • Yaroslav Popovych, perhaps the best of the rising young stars in the cycling world and Lance's future successor as Discovery Channel team leader.

  • Jose Luis Rubiera, four time top-10 finisher at the Vuelta and Giro.

  • Paolo Savoldelli, winner of the Giro in 2002 and this year!


If they stay healthy, they'll be a juggernaut.


At this stage in his career Lance would not ride the Tour de France unless he felt he could and would win. The athlete Lance reminds me of most is Michael Jordan, and not just because they both have their own buildings at Nike HQ. Both are hyper competitive, brash and magnificently arrogant, and both maximize their freakish genetic athletic gifts with an unmatched work ethic. Both say the right things to the press, managing their public images with meticulous care, yet ask any of their opponents and they'll tell you that Lance and Michael are vicious, ruthless killers. I remember reading an article by Jason Williams (the one who shot someone on his estate) in which Williams described Michael as a "hard, hard man," that if you crossed Mike on the court he'd track you down and utter, "I'll f***ing break you" in what I can only imagine was a voice from hell. Mike even cracked many a teammate in practice, before they'd even made it into an actual game. One of the images of Michael I'll always remember is his face-off with Xavier McDaniel in the 1992 Eastern Finals. The Knicks had been beating up on the Bulls all series, and the X-Man had finally crossed a line. Michael locked foreheads with McDaniel, shooting him a look of raw fury and uttering what I doubt was the Lord's prayer. Then Jordan went out and led the Bulls to a Game 7 rout.


Various stories of how Lance and Mike gain a psychological edge on their chief competitors circulate among followers of the sport like myths. Lance calling his competitors during the offseason from mountainside climbs and asking them if they knew where he was. Michael trash-talking opponents like Charles Barkley during offseason rounds of golf, probing for any sense of doubt or weakness. Jeff Van Gundy called Michael out on it one season in the press, and the next time the Bulls played the Knicks, a game I was at, Jordan dropped 51 on the Knicks and then cussed Van Gundy out from the court after points 50 and 51 dropped through the net.


They both also demand absolute loyalty from those around them. Slip up once and you'll go from the inner circle to the doghouse just like that, and that doghouse is like a max security prison. Pippen was the perfect teammate for Jordan because he didn't want to be the alpha dog. Hincapie is the perfect sidekick for Lance because for three weeks each July he has no thought other than to put and keep Lance in yellow. Lance's teammates who've left for other teams--Kevin Livingston, Roberto Heras, Floyd Landis--well, let's just say Michael Corleone telling Fredo, "You're dead to me now" comes to mind. One can't shake the sense that even those loyal to Michael or Lance are scared of them. Tiger Woods is the same way, as his former caddy will attest. At this year's Tour of Georgia, when Lance Armstrong helped lead out teammate Tom Danielson to the overall race lead over ex-teammate Floyd Landis on the brutal Brasstown Bald climb, Lance pointed at Landis and then the race clock as they crossed the finish, as if to point out that Floyd could have had the race lead if he'd just stayed by Lance's side.


Even if they didn't have enemies, I suspect Lance and Michael would conjure some up. Both athletes have origin stories for their greatness, almost like comic book heroes. Peter Parker became Spiderman when bitten by a radioactive spider and when his neglect of a criminal led to his Uncle Ben's death. Michael Jordan set out to prove the world wrong when cut from his high school basketball team. Lance Armstrong carries an eternal chip on his shoulder because his father abandoned he and his mother to grow up in a rough neighborhood in Dallas. Later, the cancer that nearly killed him actually transformed him into a champion. Mentally, he had cheated death, and no human competitor could ever intimidate him. He'd live life to the fullest because he had been given a second chance. Physically, it didn't sap his power but did shave some ten or fifteen pounds off his frame, turning him into a that rare combination: a cyclist who could climb and time trial. Who knows if these events have any significance at all? The stories may be passed around more for the rest of us than for Lance or Michael.


Both elevated their sports in unique ways. Jordan, as documented in Playing for Keeps by David Halberstam, Jordan was a once in a lifetime player on the court and off the court, transcending his country, sport, and race to become an international mega celebrity. The NBA is still searching for Jordan's successor as its international mega-ambassador. Armstrong's first Tour win came a year after international cycling seemed ready to collapse under a series of drug scandals. Though cycling still has the drug-use sword of Damocles hanging over it, Armstrong has stayed clean and remained the sport's top story. Having beat cancer, Armstrong is more than just a cyclist; he's an living miracle, an all-purpose motivational speaker, and a deity in the cancer survivor community. Though not everyone loves to see one person dominate a sport year after year, having a single lightning rod for the fan's adoration and attention or hatred allows mythologies and legends to sprout. The NBA hasn't been the same draw since Jordan retired from the Bulls, and I highly doubt the Tour de France will see the same number of American spectators in 2006 that it did in 2004.


Lance's toughest competitors in the 2005 Tour? Himself and bad luck. He's definitely older, not quite as dominant in the time trials on mountains as he once was. For a professional cyclist he's an old man at 34. In a three week stage race, when only minutes or seconds separate the top several riders after over 90 hours on the road, any number of mishaps can cost a rider the race. A crash, an injury, one bad day on a mountain, food poisoning, an overzealous fan, a political protester, mechanical failure.


After that, his toughest competitors, as named by Johan Brunyeel, will be Jan Ullrich, Alexandre Vinokourov, Ivan Basso. Ullrich is a great time trialist but isn't explosive on climbs, and he's like Patrick Ewing or Karl Malone to Armstrong's Michael Jordan: perhaps just not vicious or cold-blooded enough to deliver the winning blow. Vino is a brave, aggressive rider, but not a great time trialist, and he'll be marked the whole race through this time around. Basso hung with Armstrong on two mountaintop finishes last year, but his time trialing isn't in that topmost echelon. Levi Leipheimer, and old teammate of Armstrong's, is also a strong time trialist and climber, but his team may not be strong enough to carry him through. None of Armstrong's former teammates has ever really damaged Lance in the Tour, and there may be a psychological barrier at play there.


Two ways to get pumped for the Tour this week: read Lance Armstrong's War by Daniel Coyle and watch the Lance Week programming on the Discovery Channel family of cable networks. Sang first alerted me to Coyle's book (his cousin used to date Coyle), and then I spotted a few rave reviews in the press. I'm a sucker for any non-fiction Lance Armstrong and/or cycling-related book, and the details at the book's official website sealed the deal. In particular, don't miss the Q&A with Coyle about Lance. Coyle moved to Europe and followed Lance for the year of his sixth Tour de France win, living my dream life, and in doing so, Coyle appears to have captured a more intimate portrait of the man. Most people who've been around cycling for many years know that Lance can be brash in a Texas-sized way, and Coyle donned his wings for a flyby of the sun. This quote from a Velonews interview with Coyle is revealing: "he is a good hero for my 10-year old son, but I wouldn't necessarily want him to date my daughter." Sounds like Michael Jordan, no?


I just received my review copy of the book today, and it will be a miracle if I don't devour it in the next few days.


Tour coverage in the U.S. will be on OLNTV, as usual, live from 8:30 to 11:30am EST daily, with several replays on into the evening. In most years, the Prologue doesn't provide much separation among the race contenders. This year, however, the Tour begins with a medium length time trial rather than the more customary short prologue time trial. This will limit the top finishers to true time trialers, of which Lance and Ullrich are two of the best, and it might provide significant separation among the contenders right away. Santiago Botero and Michael Rogers are also excellent time trialists, and Lance's former teammates Leipheimer and Floyd Landis could be near the top as well.


Follow daily updates on the Tour online at Velonews. Find collections of links at the Tour de France blog, which I'll be checking out this year for the first time and through which I discovered this gorgeous infographic on Lance (PDF). Read commentary at The Paceline and Team Discovery Channel websites. And this year Sirius is offering a daily Lance in France podcast during the Tour; iTunes 4.9 makes it a cinch to subscribe.


And to ease the blogging load on myself so I can keep up with the Tour, I'll try to post bits from my personal journal from my first visit to the Tour de France in 2002.


@&*#!


How much cussing is there in Deadwood? A lot (audio, not for @#$%&*-ing sensitive ears).


Since Michael Lewis published Moneyball, have major league front offices corrected for the undervaluation of on base percentage (OBP)? These professors suggest they have, due in part to the ascent of some members of the Oakland A's front office to General Manager positions elsewhere. Valuation of OBP took a huge jump up in 2004, leaping above the valuation of slugging percentage (SLG) for the first time.


New York Metro profile of Jean-Georges


Upcoming videogames: The Warriors, and The Godfather

Videogames borrow from movies, movies borrow from videogames. Paramount is big on derivative stories: Aeon Flux, War of the Worlds, The Honeymooners, The Manchurian Candidate, The Bad News Bears. Related: an e-comic adaptation of H.G. Wells's The War of the Worlds (with art by D'Israeli).


Come out and get your whuppin, Charlie

New teaser trailer for the next Tony Jaa flick Tom-Yum-Goong
Part of a Thai food trilogy?


War of the Worlds tix available for pre-order (Movietickets.com, Fandango, AOL Moviefone)

Internet exclusive 5th trailer available at the official site if you log in


World Series of Pokerbots

Most of the competitors acknowledged testing their programs by running them on PartyPoker, against that site's rules. I don't see why a computer program can't someday soon be competitive at the World Series of Poker. A computer's inability to read his or her opponent can be offset by a massive amount of recall on opponents' previous hands, and a computer's playing speed can be varied with complete randomness. At the highest levels, most players say that opponents mask their tells very well, for the most part. Still, I do suspect that the best players have an intuition about his or her opponents that may be almost subconscious (or simply something they cannot verbalize), and a computer also can't easily tell when his or her opponent is getting flustered and how to press the advantage. I'd be interested in seeing an amateur like myself playing with a computer partner against a world-class player.


No. 1 on David Letterman's top 10 list of "Things Overheard During the Michael Jackson Verdict" last night: "Another case of a white guy getting preferential treatment."


Cutting Edge 2?!


Did anyone watch Evander Holyfield on Dancing with the Stars this week, dancing the Jive in a fluorescent yellow dress shirt? Oh, sweet mercy. He was awesomely bad, and he scored 13 out of 30, by far the lowest score of the night. I laughed and cried, and this is one of those times when that the simultaneity of those two acts made perfect sense. As the judges heaped harsh criticism upon him, I felt two things. One, pity. This poor former heavyweight boxer, despite competing against amateurs like Stacy's Mom (Rachel Hunter) and J. Peterman (that dude from Seinfeld, I have no idea what his real name is), was thoroughly outclassed. You take thousands of punches over the years and lose one earlobe to Mike Tyson's mouth and see how nimble you are on your feet. And, as Holyfield's face fell, that false smile fading into a grim and bitter stare of humiliation, I felt fear, for the judges, for his partner. At the end of the show, they just toss a couple out right then and there, unlike American Idol in which elimination is delayed by a day. It was too late for me to call in and register my vote to try and keep Evander on the show, and he was eliminated. He was the only reason I watched the show for the first time this week, and now they went and tossed him out, the best part of this show. To further push their luck, they actually forced the losing couple out onto the floor for a final dance. Evander was pissed, and he looked none too happy to have to prance around the floor one last time after his dismal evening. I expected him at any moment to toss his partner aside and go after the judges a la Ron Artest. "Come out and get your whupping, Charlie!" This was a great television moment cut too short. Really, does anyone care who the best dancing C-lister in show business is? Bring back Evander. I've always had a soft spot for Evander, even though he's fathered something like thirty children. The man got robbed in the Olympics in 84' and his just due tonight. It should have been the reverse.


Out of tune


Bo and Carrie don't quite have American Idol nerves yet, do they? Something must explain how out of tune they were singing in the final showdown. Yikes. The judges only called them on it once or twice (Randy refers to it as "pitchy" and while Simon blames their nerves).


I do think the right two made the final (even though neither's music really grabs me). I gave Bo the edge up until the final. Maybe Carrie was a bit less off in the final, so if late performance counts for more, she'll be the next Idol with a country rock album hitting stores sometime in the fall this year. In the studios, any pitchiness can be corrected by pushing a few knobs and sliders.


The show itself needs little tweaking to remain a ratings monster. They'll continue to let a few disasters through to Randy, Paula, and Simon to record a long bloopers reel. Add a dose each of Seacrest cheesiness, Randy's "yo dawgs" and double Spiderman webslinging hand signals, Paula's constant battle with lunacy, and Simon's honest and accurate feedback (always booed as mean-spirited by everyone else in the auditorium). Toss in a huge group of aspiring singers, most of whom sound like local karaoke champions, and ensure that one finalist has some skeleton in the closet. Lather, rinse, repeat.


The other big reality finale of the evening was The Contender. Why is the winner still called the contender? Shouldn't they be called the champion? Seeing the show live reveals just how much editing does for not just this show but reality TV in general. The audio production on this finale was just awful. Sound dropouts, murky dialogue, uneven sound levels...this was The Contender without makeup. I missed the subtitles during the closeups of each corner between rounds. The final interview with the winner, Sergio, was nearly drowned out by a loop of the Contender theme song by Hans Zimmer. It sounded like a record skipping. Al Trautwig was joined at the commentary table by Sly Stallone and Sugar Ray Leonard, both inexperienced color men, and it showed. They spent most of the fight pre-selling a rematch ("This is the fight of the year!" "We have to see a rematch!"). Those two were more entertaining when they were out in the audience, oohing and aahing and shadowboxing. Bring in the real boxing color men.


The fight was shown in its entirety, but thankfully it was an action-packed punchfest so the lack of editing wasn't missed as much. I did yearn for the occasional slow-mo replay on key punches. If there is a season two, and I hope there is, these are things they can improve upon. They should also improve upon the challenges.


Editing 101

Reality television shows might not have any resemblance to reality, and their intellectual value is debatable, but one thing many of them have mastered is editing. The typical Mark Burnett reality show seems to be shot with multiple camcorders, following all the contestants from multiple angles, acquiring hundreds of hours of footage.
The magic happens in the editing room, when all that footage is condensed into forty minute episodes packed with drama and a storyline. I wouldn't be surprised if the shooting ratio is something like 20:1. Need a villain? Find a moment when one of the contestants lets his guard down and lets loose with a snide remark, then toss in a few angry responses from some of the other contestants.
Or highlight two rivals who don't particularly care for each other. Start with a few old clips where the two clashed. Interview each of them and ask pointed questions about how they feel about their rival, but don't show or reveal the questions. End the episode with a challenge pitting the two rivals against each other.
Days and days of footage are condensed into 40 minutes of non-stop action and conflict, set to a military soundtrack from Hans Zimmer. It's conflict concentrate, and one suspects that many minor conflicts are transformed into epic clashes in the editing bay. Whether you accept that or not, it is a model of efficient editing, straight out of the Michael Moore playbook.
This latest episode of The Contender was one of the better ones, pitting the easygoing good guy Jessie Brinkley against uptight, intense, cutthroat reality show contestant Anthony Bonsante, who lied about who he was going to call out in an earlier episode so he could challenge someone who wasn't prepared to fight. In Bonsante's defense, he's a single father of two who works as a K-Mart Overnight Production Supervisor, and he didn't break any contest rules.
The episode's fight build-up a confident, fit, and focused Bonsante, while Brinkley seemed mentally distracted, overweight, lazy, and a bit unsure of himself. Jessie had to lose eight or nine pounds of water weight in one day to make his fight day weight requirement of 161, going out for a jog in the sunshine in black, plastic sweats. Even then, he had to hop back on the treadmill in sweats again a few hours before the fight to drop an additional half pound. Brutal.
[As an aside, I was shocked to find out these guys weight just a few pounds more than I do. TV really does add 10 pounds and about six inches.]
The five round fights in The Contender are also examples of ruthless editing. You don't see much of the fighters circling each other. The edited footage of each round includes only flurries of punches, spliced together with reaction shots from the crowd: Sly and Sugar Ray tossing mock punches and cringing at big hits, the wives and mothers and children screaming bloody murder or gasping in horror, and occasionally a token celebrity guest like James Caan or Sharon Stone clapping and enjoying the life of leisure of a celebrity.
Bonsante won the first two rounds, Brinkley the third. Then Bonsante went into his frenzy mode in round four, throwing about five hundred punches in a row like Agent Smith pounding on Neo against the subway wall. Brinkley was down 3-1 with one round remaining, so he had to have a knockout. Bonsante came out in frenzy mode again even though he only needed to play defense to win the decision. For more than half the round, the aggression worked, and it looked hopeless for Brinkley. Then, suddenly, the camera went into slow motion, always a cue in The Contender that a momentous punch is on the way. Brinkley tossed a huge uppercut that had Bonsante spinning, and when the spinning stopped, Brinkley lined up another huge right uppercut that displaced Bonsante's head about a foot. The edited fight footage cut from a slow mo of the uppercut immediately to an overhead shot of Bonsante falling back onto the canvas with an audible thud, arms and legs sprawled in all directions like Wile E. Coyote running into a rock wall. A beauty of a cut.
Though Bonsante got back up, he was loopy, and Brinkley pounded him as Bonsante's daughter looked on with tears, screaming. Bonsante's mother ran to the ringside screaming "Stop the fight! Stop the fight!" I have no problem with boxing, and the violence is beautiful, almost lyrical, but one of the more uncomfortable aspects of The Contender is watching the fighters' really young children at ringside watching their fathers sustaining bloody beatings.
We need to sic the world's reality television show editors on the hundreds of thousands of hours of home videos around the country.
Footnote: Bonsante on Sly: "Sly's had three marriages and God knows he hasn't made the best movies, but he capitalizes on everything."

On set of The Sopranos


Wednesday I took a tour, led by Phil's sister Rebecca, of Silvercup Studios out in Long Island City. Its most famous tenants in recent years have been The Sopranos and Sex in the City. I strolled through the backroom of Bada Bing and sat in Tony's chair while admiring the voluminous collection of porno posters. We took a walk through the base level of Uncle Junior's house, gazed into Artie Bucco's Vesuvio's restaurant, and toured the inside of Tony's house. The exterior shots at Tony's house are shot somewhere else. For the view of the outside world as seen from inside Vesuvio's, the production designers use a long transparent curtain on which is painted a street scene. When backlit, the screen (its name eludes me) is indistinguishable from a real street scene backdrop.


I may soon be sleeping with the fishes in the Hudson River for publishing this photo, but I think millions of people are already familiar with Tony and Carmela's kitchen. I peeked in the refrigerator and was disappointed not to find any leftover ziti.




Sopranos fan eagerly awaiting the next and perhaps final season of the show shouldn't get too worked up. Filming on that season hasn't begun yet.


The Contender




Everytime I watch The Contender, I think, "The soundtrack sounds like imitation Hans Zimmer."


It turns out that the reason for that is that the music is composed by Hans Zimmer. The theme is bombastic and over the top, but it's appropriate for a Mark Burnett reality show. Download the theme song here. The MP3 is just an extract; if you want the whole intro theme song, take the movie into Quicktime Pro and then extract the sound to an AIFF or WAV file. Use your preferred MP3 player to convert it to MP3 if necessary. It will be playing on my iPod Shuffle the next time I'm working the heavy bag at the gym.


The Contender is entertaining, but the ratings haven't met expectations. The show has one massive problem in the ratings dept.: none of the contestants are women. Not much way around that. By itself, that doesn't have to be a death sentence with female viewers, but the show doesn't offer too much else for women viewers except for each episode's short montage that sketches each of the two fighter's family and roots. The fighters don't engage in the type of catty fighting you see on other reality shows. Instead, they engage in macho cockfighting centered around perceived slights and acts of disrespect. When rivalries converge in a five round match, the show is at its best. Sometimes they don't, and the editors have to manufacture a storyline, e.g. "boxer vs. fighter" or "youth vs. experience". Those episodes drag.


The amount of crying on reality shows astonishes me. It also provides limitless hilarity. Contestants on Survivor start blubbering when they received a postcard from home, as if they'll never see their loved ones again. They live on an island for, what, a month or two if they're lucky to survive that long? This is why I'd make a terrible reality show contestant. My postcard would be from my sister, and it would read: "Hey dorkbutt. I can't believe you're on a reality show. The entire family is embarrassed. Sorry, I have to go, someone just pinged me for a chat." In interviews, I'd bemoan my lack of access to the Internet, Cubs box scores, and movie theatres. Not much drama there.


Boxers on The Contender weep when interviewed about their wife and daughter. Their emotional breakdowns are a bit more understandable since most of them box for a living and will probably fade into obscurity, unable to make a living in the sport. Still, and I do feel bad about it, I can't help laughing everytime another tough boxer starts sniffling. And look at those goofy grins on Sugar Ray and Sly in the banner above! Okay, now I'm crying.