Instapundit "Indeed." Challenge: Bets are closed

Guesses for the Instapundit "Indeed." Challenge are in!

I'm not eligible for the prize, but for the sake of competing, I'm going with 441.

I"I"C Tote Board
TARGET DATE: Nov. 2, 2004, 11:59 PM EST

---------> current count: 321
Pup: 352
Rebel Dad: 366
Andrew: 375
Pinz: 397
LiAps: 424
James: 441
Lee Katz: 450
Kimberly: 481
Isabel: 536
Ko: 601

Who will win the fabulous mystery prize? Stay tuned.

Suicide Bomber Barbie

You'd probably have a tough time finding that one at Wal-Mart.

Rising to new challenges

The Grand Furdell Las Vegas Trip, Mark VIII or so, is fast approaching. Friends and family will converge on the Luxor Casino and Hotel in August for a full long weekend of debauchery, eating, drinking, and, of course, games of chance.

Speaking of games of chance... I've promised a friend of the family (and lady LAW-YHERR) that I would review our blackjack plan of attack. That's coming soon, as soon as a reporter from the Las Vegas Sun replies to my e-mail about the single-deck situation downtown. Really! The word on the street... "Internet Boulevard"... is that the single-deck game is, sadly, rapidly deteriorating.

But more on that later. In the meantime, we Furdells and our friends need to take up the challenge of new gambling frontiers. We must move past the ingrained familiarity of our blackjack, our craps, our poker, and into the uncharted terrority. We must pick up the gauntlet and rush face-first into a game known as...

Pai Gow Poker.

That's right, I said it. Pai Gow Poker, bitches.

Really, it's not as incomprehensible as you might think. Don't confuse this with the dominoes version of the game Pai Gow, which is, indeed, completely indecipherable to non-Asians (and, I'm sure, to many for-real Asians as well). The poker version of the game is actually fairly easy to learn, and since many hands result in a push, chances are you can play it for a while without busting out.

You can peep the rules at The Wizard of Odds, a must-read website if you're interested in the mathematics behind any gambling game. It's always good to know what you're up against.

Basically, each player is given seven cards, with which to make two poker hands: one five-card hand and one two-card hand. The usual poker rankings apply to the five-card hand, with the exception that the "bicycle" straight (A2345) is the second-highest straight. The two-card hand can either be a pair or two individual cards. There is one Joker included in the deck, which can either act as an ace, or complete a straight or a flush. One important caveat: the two-card hand may not be stronger than the five-card hand; otherwise it's a "foul" and you automatically lose.

After the player arranges the cards, the banker draws seven cards and arranges them according to a predetermined "house way," and compares those hands to the player's. In case of a tie, which is not too likely, the banker wins. But if the player wins, there's also a 5 percent commission on the win; so, you're betting $20 to win $19.

There's one feature to this game that allows a player to occasionally act as banker, if he can cover all the other players' potential winning bets. This is advantageous to the player, even though the house still gets 5 percent on winnings. I'm not sure whether this is in effect at Luxor, but I don't remember seeing it happen while I was watching. Clearly, more field research must be done on the matter.

So who's with me? Anyone?

Hello?

It didn't work for Dean and Sammy

And it's not going to work for this guy:

A drunken man being forced to the ground after crashing his car and punching a cop in the head Thursday pleaded for leniency by claiming to be a Catholic priest, authorities said.

Don't make my lawyer angry; you wouldn't like her when she's angry

People who know me know that I fulfill two of the three international standard requirements for being a complete and total geek.

1. Into computers
2. Collects comic books
3. Plays role-playing games

You'll never take me alive, role-playing games!

Ahem. Anyway, I feel the need to plug my new favorite comic, She-Hulk before it gets cancelled, which, seeing as how I like it, will happen by the time I finish this... sentence... dammit!

Marvel Comics originally created She-Hulk as a copyright stopgap measure in 1980, simply to reserve the name. In the original series, Jennifer Walters, a mild-mannered LAW-YHERRR, receives an emergency blood transfusion from her cousin Bruce Banner, a.k.a. the Hulk, thus turning her into a straightforward, female version of the Hulk, and causing her to tangle with such classic villains as "Man-Elephant."

Really.

Creatively, a second series in the early '90s changed the focus by adopting a cheesecake-and-comedy theme, breaking down the so-called "fourth wall" by addressing the reader.

The newest series builds on that comic mischievousness by placing Jen in the position of practicing "superhuman law" in the Marvel comic-book universe. Sort of like "Ally McBeal meets superheroes," but much, much better. Some of writer Dan Slott's ideas on the subject are utterly brilliant:

That's from issue #2, and it may be one of my favorite comic ideas of all time: Marvel comics, which years ago had been established as existing in the Marvel universe, can be used as evidence in court cases.

Ingenious. I like to envision this as the kind of law that all my disgruntled lawyer friends would rather be practicing.

Other favorite plot points so far:

In issue #3, Jen successfully argues that returns from the grave are possible by calling to the stand recently deceased Fantastic Four hero The Thing. She also references the Infinity War crossover of the early '90s, in which half of the Marvel Universe died and was subsequently resurrected.

In issue #4, Slott handles the obligatory Spider-Man crossover by giving the wall-crawler a chance to sue his journalistic nemesis, Daily Bugle editor J. Jonah Jameson, for libel. Sadly, Spidey is forced to drop the charges when he realizes that Peter Parker's faked photograph of Spidey-as-Electro (from Amazing Spider-Man #9) might make him equally liable. (That poor Spider-Man; he's such a hard-luck Charlie.)

Anyway, the new She-Hulk series is clever and funny, and since I like it, you should check it out before it gets utterly and vehemently cancelled. I believe Vegas has set the over/under at 4.5 more issues before that happens.

You've got jail

Jason Smathers, a 24-year-old software engineer working for America On-Line, was arrested earlier today for selling 92 million AOL e-mail addresses to a 21-year-old Las Vegas man, Sean Dunaway. Dunaway, who was also arrested, spammed the addresses with e-mails for penis enlargement pills.

Sadly for Mr. Smathers, late of Harpers Ferry, W. Va., he operates a web page bearing his name, much like we do. And on that page is a discussion forum that is open to everyone. Which is now filling up with angry messages, such as this one:

Dear Jason,

We hate you and hope you die.

Have a rat sandwich. Signed,
the internet.

That crazy Internet, always holding a grudge. Anyway, check out Smathers' site before it goes away.

The dark side of the Internet

Sometimes the internal monologues of people you come across on the Internet can get skin-crawlingly repulsive. My co-worker Andy brought today's example to my attention: pro-anorexia online communities.

As the name implies, pro-anorexia (or "pro-ana") people are anorexics who feel that starving themselves into double-digit weights is not so much a "disease" as a "lifestyle choice."

A scary, frightening lifestyle choice.

The pro-anas gather in groups to support each other in fasting, exercising too much, and obsessing over their body images, rather than encouraging each other to, you know, maintain a healthy body weight, nutrional diet, and non-insane exercise program. It's all one big, happy family of enablers.

Here are some choice examples of pro-ana dialogue:

Ok girls i am having some major difficulties here. you all probably know how i feel right now. I'm like sobbing...it's so frustrating. Now to refresh, i've been ana for like 7 years, but for the past few months i've binged like crazy out of depression. a couple weeks ago i started a restrictive diet...and i HAVEN'T LOST ANY WEIGHT.

like for instance, today i had:

2 pickles - 0 cals
1 small bag popcorn - 100 cals

100 cals, right?

And i've started taking hydroxycut today.

but...i'm STILL AT THE SAME WEIGHT. I mean i've tried EVERYTHING. I really need some help. It's making me so frustrated i don't know what to do.

- tear_ducts

More:

So, I lost about 15 pounds...good right? wrong. I was looking in the mirror and I noticed stretch marks. Probably from going up and down on my weight..does anyone eles have this problem? Is there some creams to make them go away? Im fasting for 3 days so if anyone wants to be fasting buddies let me know.

-sexii_darling

I'm still at 115.

I've been eating quite a bit lately.. or, at least, the past two days. I'm not even gonna try to list how much I've eaten.

But, some nice esteem-boosting happened last night... my friends and I had to break into my friend's car because he locked his keys in. After thinking for about 30 minutes and trying various different things, the guys decided they would pull the top of the door back to try to get something in there to unlock it. They decided my arm would be the best choice. "Who needs a wire hanger when you have Sarah?" That made me feel a bit better... as did being hit on at the bar about an hour later, but that's a whoooole 'nother story.

-painful blue

hey girls, I haven't written in such a long time... i miss you all! i just got back from visiting my gramma, who reads tabloids. She has last week's Star issue (i think it was last week's) with Mary-Kate Olsen's bony back on the cover. she told me if i kept not eating, my back would look like hers. i told her, good. she made me go to the bathroom and show her my back so she could compare the two and i was hoping for her to say, "oh my god, it looks the same!" but unfortunately she said, "well you're not there yet but you will be if you keep starving yourself." so that's what i'll keep doing. since i've gotten back she keeps calling with diets (she's a nutritionist) which is cool, but they're all like 1100 calories a day, which is a lot for me. she says that girls our age shouldn't go more than 2-4 weeks on less than that or we'll be "about six weeks from death" but i just want to be thinner! ergh.. oh well. of course, i say all that and then i go and eat M&Ms, a Dean & DeLuca chocolate bar, AND a grilled cheese sandwich - ALL IN ONE DAY. Plus a bowl of cereal. well, like they say, tomorrow's a new day

- dirtysymbolic

Yick. And those are just from the Livejournal pro-ana community. There are other discussion boards and the like out there:

i feel that in a perfect world, exercise and dieting in moderation would be the best way to shrink HOWEVER we are not in that perfect world so....for me......simply--no food. common sense. no food goes in. i remember after a really long fast (needed to look good for a wedding) - i stood brushing my teeth and really looked at myself in the mirror and i kid you not, it was the best feeling in this galaxy. nothing is worse than being FAT. nothing. here is a weird question, but i have friends/coworkers that are huge and they never seem to care that they are huge. i mean, they outwardly seem happy. what is that all about???? does anyone notice this or am i nuts? i see a lot of fat people and they appear happy and in bliss...in the supermarket....in the mall etc...it is like they find looking horrible acceptable and they are at peace with themselves. how can that be???.....just a thought.....
peace to all,
~C~

This brings us to The Most Disturbing Thing I've Read on the Internet. And I've read some disturbing, repugnant things on the Internet. But this may take the cake (no pun intended). This lady will surely haunt my nightmares forever. (This Livejournal post has since taken down but is mirrored here.)

This may sound weird. I just need some feedback/ advise?

ok so i work in a daycare (as some of you know) .... For children aged from birth to 5 years. The children bring their own food from home and it is my job to make sure they eat it, are able to eat it (may need to be fed if they are babies) and are able to open their food/ containers whatever? We also feed the babies their bottles of formula. I got given the job of lunch/ snack times because I show such an avid interest in it. I love getting the lunches out and setting them down on the table.. feeding the children and watching them eat. I also love controlling them.. this sounds sick but. I water the babies milk bottles down so the calories are cut, if a child has the choice of a fruit bun or carrot sticks I make them eat the carrot sticks. I give them water not juice. And if the child has any junkfood of any sort I take it away from them. When it comes to babies food the mums usually give a choice.. if there is say, custard or veges, I give them vegies. what the hell. Am I just so frigan weird? I'm like obsessed over meal times at the daycare. Im psyco. I take the crust off their sanwiches, and if im feeding the babies I never allow them to finish an entire bottle or dish of food. Even if they scream. If a kid tells me "I'm hungry" I ignore them and get them outside and do running games / exercise.

Is this child abuse? I really become another weird person at daycare mealtimes. ps- i never eat at work. ever.

is this another control game?

The writer was, appropriately, eviscerated by those who replied. But still, this is so very scary if it's true. It really gives you a sense of how truly insane people are.

So, thanks, Internet! Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go sit in the dark, curl up in the fetal position, and eat some cookies.

The most disturbing quote you'll read all year

From "Slate reads My Life so you don't have to:"

Page 742: Strom Thurmond, 94, tells Chelsea [Clinton], "If I were 70 years younger, I'd court you!"

EWWWW.

"Gandhi's anti-violence; not anti-comedy"

Leave it to MTV to screw up Clone High. The hilarious cartoon featuring clones of famous historical figures at a special high school was unjustly booted from the network when some very humorless people apparently complained about the satirical treatment of Mahatma Gandhi's clone as a fun-loving party animal.

The rest of the main characters were similarly portrayed in terms of high school TV show stereotypes. Abe Lincoln is our awkward, clueless hero; Joan of Arc is a Goth girl; JFK is a womanizing jock; Cleopatra is stuck-up and opportunistic. The evil Principal Scudworth lords over Clone High with the help of his robotic butler/assistant, Mr. Bultertron, who suspiciously looks a lot like Mr. Belvedere and calls everyone "Wesley."

Only about half of the 13 episodes aired in the U.S., as no other network ever picked up the fledgling show, which certainly deserved a wider audience. Hopefully it will make it to DVD one day (heck, they're releasing Punky Brewster on DVD, they should certainly release this).

In the meantime, here are my five favorite moments from Clone High.

5) "It Takes a Hero." Abe's entry into the film festival is about a football-playing giraffe. We're treated to a clip of the ending, when the giraffe attempts the winning field goal. The ball comes to rest on the crossbar, and teeters perilously back and forth. Everyone is silent, until a girl in the stands watching the giraffe whispers, "I love you."

That causes the ball to fall through for the winning score, and as a UFO beams the giraffe aboard, a fan in the stands delivers the awkward line "He's going. Home." Which prompts the girl to yell: "I have your baby in me, giraffe!" The End.

After presenting his film to awkward applause, Abe cries a single tear.

4) Gandhi the rapper. After rhyming a word with itself, Gandhi decides to become a famous rapper: G-Spot. His debut song is a big hit:

G-Spot rocks the G-Spot!
G-Spot rocks the G-Spot!

What's my name?
The G-Spot

What do I rock?
The G-Spot!

3) X-Stream Blu commercial. My top 3 are all from "Episode 2: Election Blu-galoo." Abe gets campaign money from the totally "sick, wicked, cyber-awesome" X-Stream Blu sports drink people. But has to include the product in his advertising.

The resulting TV spot features Abe climbing Mount Everest to meet bikini-clad supermodels at the top. "I'll never make it," laments Abe.

Suddenly, the computer-generated bottle-shaped mascot with the shrill voice, Blushi, shows up.

BLUSHI: "Maybe I can help, slice-dawg!"

ABE: "Blushi! But I'm no match for that gang of snow sharks!" (Earmuff-wearing sharks shown riding up mountain on snowmobiles.)

After Blushi helps Abe meet up with the supermodels, he proffers the following suggestion:

"Let's go surf tha Internet!"

Good marketing. That is what the kids are into these days.

2) Marilyn Manson: nutritionist. X-Stream Blu claims to fortified with essential ingredaments, nutrimites, vitaminos and health acids, but it's really pancake batter mixed with blue housepaint.

Gandhi drinks too much and becomes sick, which prompts Marilyn Manson to sing us a Schoolhouse Rock-esque lesson about the food pyramid.

When you eat your sweets,
be sure you try
to limit your servings
or you'll DIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!

This clip is still available on Clone High's website. (The way he sings "yogurt, milk and cheese" cracks me up every time.)

1) Best line ever. Principal Scudworth takes endorsement money from X-Stream Blu. Mr. Bultertron, who has been gold-plated and lowered, asks Scudworth if it's a good idea to spend all the money.

Don't get all up in my business, my hydraulically-outfitted friend.

Why, I watched the first two-thirds of the MC Hammer Behind the Music, and if there's one thing I learned about money, it's that it never runs out.

Utterly. Brilliant.

Instapundit "Indeed." Counter

If you've ever surfed around looking at political blogs, you've probably come across Instapundit at some point. Its creator, a law professor at the University of Tennessee, has been unfailingly pro-Iraq war since the beginning, and in fact is probably the foremost of the "hawk" bloggers.

Which is why it's so much fun trying to watch him squeeze around the increasingly bad news surrounding the war. No mention, for example, of the Ashcroft "torture is OK" memo, or newfound revelations regarding favorable treatment of Halliburton. While other on-line conservative pundits who actually are capable of introspection have discussed their dissatisfaction with the Bush administration lately, Insta has been chronically unable to admit that the war on terror maybe isn't in the best of hands.

But most hilarious are Insta's little tics. Sometimes, he'll post a link and say, "read the whole thing". More often, and this is my favorite, he'll post an excerpt, and give his trademark, one-word response:

"Indeed."

That's it. Indeed, period. That's often the limit to the good professor's commentary: nothing else needs to be said on the topic. Here's an example post of his on the Plame scandal:

Who were the Adminstration leakers but, more importantly, who in the CIA authorized Wilson's strange, off-budget, journey to Niger and why? Why is this more important? Because it could show people in our own intelligence agencies working against the wishes of our government, not just standard-issue partisan battling that goes on every day inside the Beltway.

Indeed.

Yeah, indeed. Indeed, indeed. Whatever.

Anyway, I thought it would be fun to count up the number of times Instapundit has used the word "Indeed." just like that. What I didn't realize is that it would require a Herculean effort on my part. Instapundit.com alone has been around since 2001, and a search earlier today on his site reveals that the word "Indeed." was used in an incredible 309 posts.

So, I thought I would set up a fun graphical counter here at the Department of Homeland Furdellity. The rules are:

- Each time Instapundit posts or updates a post with the infamous one-word sentence, the Instapundit "Indeed." Counter (IIC) is incremented by one.

- Posts that contain or eventually contain the sentence more than once still only count as one.

- "indeed" and "Indeed," and other variations don't count. It has to be a standalone, one-word sentence.

- In the comments section for this post, give us the number you think the counter will show at midnight Eastern time on the night of the 2004 presidential elections (November 2). One entry per person (leave your e-mail address or URL with the comment), and once a number has been guessed, that person has dibs and it can't be guessed again. The winner is whoever's closest; he or she gets a prize to be determined, at my whim. In case of a tie, it's whoever's closest without going over, in the spirit of The Price is Right. Entries close on June 30th.

Without further ado, here's the counter. Oh wait... grrrr, it's gone up by two since I started writing this. This is going to be hard work.

Voila. Enjoy!

UPDATE: Ha ha, nothing to update. Just playin'.

Redneck movie explosion

Do I hate myself?

You could make an argument for yes, since I occasionally watch some of the worst movies ever made. I could win a Nobel prize with the potential material I could write about gems such as Cool As Ice and Disco Godfather, and, um... Cool As Ice 2: Cooler Than Ice.

But there are still many bad movies out there I haven't seen, which is why I recently sat down for a viewing of the DVD of Hal Needham's 1981 classic The Cannonball Run.

Needham's movies seem to have their own oeuvre. Or niche. Whatever. Needham actually got his start as Burt Reynolds' stunt double on Gunsmoke in the '60s, but was suddenly thrust into unlikely directoral stardom with 1977's Smokey and the Bandit, a giddy chase movie with likeable performances by everyone and a great country soundtrack by Jerry Reed.

Needham brings a silly but energized sensibility to the production and an action man's need to see things moving. But he also has a distinctive feeling for relationships, and he's good with a joke. Put all that together, and Smokey is, at the very least (and unlike its sequels), a simple and original pleasure.

--Tom Keogh, super70s.com

Needham's debut was a huge hit, finishing second at the box office for the year to Star Wars. Studio bosses had a resounding answer to the oft-asked question, "Will it play in Peoria?" and were eager for more films from Needham partnered with Reynolds.

Sadly, that's when the two started to kind of phone things in. However, Hooper, featuring Reynolds as a stuntman, and Smokey and the Bandit II, a lackluster sequel that sadly gave us the first screen comedy partnership between Burt Reynolds, Dom DeLuise, and a pregnant elephant, apparently did well enough for somebody to green-light Cannonball.

And what a star-studded affair it would be. Even today the cast list is amazing. Besides the questionable comedy team of Reynolds and DeLuise, you had:

Roger Moore
Farrah Fawcett
Farrah Fawcett's nipples
Dean Martin
Sammy Davis Jr.
Jack Elam
Terry Bradshaw
Jackie Chan
Peter Fonda
Jimmy "The Greek" Snyder
Bert Convy
Jamie Farr

OK, granted, it's starting to look like the guest stars list for an episode of The Love Boat or Match Game '78 towards the end there, but that's still an impressive list, especially if you add the (by now inexplicable) box-office draw of Reynolds.

With that kind of star power, and with Needham directing, you might be able to forgive people for thinking that maybe Cannonball would be able to recapture the all-out action and light-hearted charm of the original Bandit. Or perhaps they were sucked in by the classic Drew Struzan poster artwork:

How thrilled and/or terrified they must have been, to sit in that dark theater in 1981 and hear the opening tones of the opening theme song, a bizarre mix of country, disco and synthesizer, and sung by Ray Stevens, the musical auteur who blessed us with such novelty hits as "Ahab the Arab" and "The Streak."

Following that, we learn that we're here to witness a cross-country race where the only rule is... wait for it... waaaaait for it... you guessed it, there are no rules. Then, we take an eternity of screen time to meet our contestants.

Burt Reynolds is a mechanic with the somewhat politically incorrect idea of racing in an ambulance, thus avoiding being pulled over. He also likes to, inexplicably, fly his airplane onto the main street of a small town in order to pick up some product-placed Budweiser. Power lines be damned!

Reynolds' favorite hobby is smacking around Dom DeLuise, his mentally disturbed sidekick who, in times of trouble, manifests a second personality known as "Captain Chaos," a superhero in a cape and mask who throws his oppressors through flimsy plate-glass windows. Oh, how I wish I was kidding.

Roger Moore shows up in surely his most bizarre role ever. He plays a man who is deluded into thinking he's... Roger Moore. But his name is really... Seymour Goldfarb? WTF?! Honestly, my brain imploded halfway through the scene in which Seymour explains to his mother why he pretends to be Roger Moore, so I really can't give you the full story. Every scene involving Moore includes a sound-alike James Bond-ish theme, and a quasi-"Bond girl" voiced by Rocky the Squirrel, and Moore activating some kind of spy-device on his car. Apparently the Goldfarb story element was designed to prevent Albert "Cubby" Broccoli, the Bond movie patriarch, from suing. (A lesser man would here include a joke about steamed Broccoli. Make up your own.)

Farrah Fawcett is thrown in sort of as an afterthought, playing a dippy environmental activist (ha ha, isn't the environment stupid?) who's easily tricked into aiding Burt and Dom's cause. The scene where she tries to hold a flirty conversation with Burt, while a sappy "love theme" plays in the background, will make you want to vomit up your internal organs. At least she had the decency to not wear a bra.

Dean Martin and Sammy Davis Jr. make an appearance, and it's the kind of appearance that makes you wonder why they were ever famous in the first place. It's not evident here, as their perpetually drunk (and driving) characters dress up as Catholic priests in an attempt to evade arrest. They later lament not dressing up as Presbyterians so they could hit on women. Don't worry guys, you can always pick up some altar boys along the way.

Terry Bradshaw. The former Steelers quarterback and current Most Annoying Man on Television was apparently a favorite of Needham. He really had to stretch his acting ability here in order to play a big, dumb guy.

Chinese martial arts star Jackie Chan made his American film debut in Cannonball alongside Chinese comedy star Michael Hui. Sadly, they're playing Japanese characters here. More sadly, the intended audience probably doesn't know the difference. At least Chan does get to squeeze in a fight scene towards the end.

Bert Convy shows up as the race's defending champion. His character spends the entire movie riding cross-country on a motorcycle, and stuck in a perpetual wheelie because his back-seat passenger is so fat. (The password is "pointless.")

Jamie Farr pays homage to his Lebanese heritage by portraying a super-rich sheik. Tell me if this line would make it into a movie today:

The Sheik: My driving is rivaled only by the lightning bolts from the heavens!

Sheik's Sister: So you still intend to enter the race with the infidel Americans?

The Sheik: My dear sister, the Cannonball shall fall to the forces of Islam! I swear it!

Yeah, I kinda doubt it too.

Anyway, there are some other minor annoying characters as well. Everybody races from New Jersey to California. The racers start at staggered times and use punch cards to later on determine order of finish. This is, of course, all forgotten at the end, when they're all in a rush to get to the punch card machine, and the first one who reaches it is declared the winner. Even though the first finisher's time might have been slower than someone else's time, who had started later, and never mind, I'm thinking wayyyyy too hard for this kind of movie.

The final insult: at the end, when Burt is complaining about Dom's alter ego for the millionth time, Dom says, that's OK, I always wanted to be... Captain USA! And, all of a sudden he's dressed like Captain America. And everybody laughs. Aaaaand... that's the end.

The moral of the story is, it all makes very little sense. This isn't so much a movie as a random collection of actors having a much better time goofing off than I am watching them. I can't wait for Cannonball Run II.

(Oh wait, they made that already. Never mind.)

Happy birthday, Dad

I have little to add

Marvel at the music of Wing.

The best available selection is clearly Dream Lover.

Bow down before the awesomeness of our vacation

Presenting the story of James and Kimberly's Awesome European Vacation, Featuring London and Paris. It may indeed be the Best Vacation Ever; the Good Vacation Luck Gods were smiling upon us the entire time, as well they should.

FYI, the details are long and boring and of little or no appeal to the general public. This is primarily a service to our friends, so that we don't have to bore them in person with endless details about what we did (we can bore them on the Internet instead). Don't click on the jump if you're not interested in the gory details.

First of all, props to my homies in the W12. (Translation: big thanks to Mom and Theo for letting us crash their flat while they were in London doing research. Without them providing lodging, we wouldn't have been able to stay in Europe as long as we did.)

Thursday 13 May

We arrived in London's Heathrow Airport on Thursday morning after an overnight flight. (Note: British Airways? Best airline ever. Great food, free alcohol, and they even provide you with a toothbrush. Utterly brilliant!)

I mention to the passport guy that it would be hard to get Arsenal (soccer) tickets. He says he prefers a sport with some proper violence (rugby). He then said "jolly good" and stamped us through. For the next two weeks, we said "jolly good" after roughly every third sentence.

We ate some toast, drank some tea, and slept for five hours after finding the Shepherd's Bush flat. Once we recovered from that, we took the double-decker bus to Piccadilly Circus, on the top level of course. We walked around a bit, then found a pub in Leicester Square called the Brewmaster and had some fish and chips. From this day forward, I would like to be known as the Brewmaster. Our dinner came with the ubiquitous British peas (Kimberly's favorite), as well as the mystery known only as... "brown sauce." (What the hell is brown sauce? I should have also asked for purple stuff.)

After that, we did a little window shopping up Regent Street, while eating some delicious gelato. Hamleys, the best toy store ever, rocked our faces, and included a giant rendering of Harry Potter in Lego form.

Friday 14 May

This day was especially busy. We started at the British Museum, which includes all the relics from nations that were at some point conquered by England: the Rosetta Stone, pieces of the Parthenon, giant sculptures of pharohs, etc. It's a museum to end all museums, and sits in a large space, with a circular reading room in the center. And, it turns out, it also has a good cafe for lunch. I had the salmon. Yum.

We then hopped a bus down to Parliament. After getting the requisite pictures of Big Ben and the Parliament building, we spur-of-the-moment got in line to get into the House of Commons. After about 10 minutes they let us in. The inside of Parliament is even more amazing than the outside; very ornate, with beautiful art along the walls. We caught the very end of a boring speech until 3 p.m., and which point they prompty adjourned, in mid-sentence. That's the way to do it.

Westminster Abbey was across the street. Another beautiful, ornate buliding. Lots of dead kings and queens inside. Poets as well, in Poets Corner. We took a break in a pub and had a pint before meeting Mom and Theo at the Painted Heron, an Indian restaurant on the Thames. Delicious food, and we were stuffed afterwards, so I hailed us a cab home.

Saturday 15 May

Portobello Road! After Kimberly stopped singing the Bedknobs and Broomsticks song, we checked out this miles-long street market. All kinds of antiques, baubles, and, dare I say it, tchotchkes, at one end; a flea market at the other end; and a produce/farmer's market in the middle. Kimberly made the first purchase of the day: a toast stand that spells TOAST! We thumbed through tons of silver, books, and jewelry. Kimberly bought a purple purse on the flea market end for ?6, haggled down from ?7 by yours truly, thank you very much. In the farmer's market we bought some big raspberries and a loaf of bread for making French toast later. Finally, I bought three small, wooden, custom-made pub signs for hanging in the kitchen or something.

Whew... time to relax. If only there were a place in London to relax, sit down, have a cold beer, and watch some footy... A-HA WAIT A MINUTE! Turns out there are thousands of such places, called "pubs." We chose one called The Green, adjacent to Shepherd's Bush Green, and watched Arsenal beat Leicester City to become the first team to go through the 38-game Premier League schedule without ever losing a match. (I had been tempted earlier to place a fiver on a draw result at 11-1, but wound up chickening out, so I was glad when Vieira put Arsenal ahead for good.) During the match a big group of college students came by halfway through their pub crawl.

In the evening, we went back down to the West End and ate at the Soho Pizzeria on Beak Street, near Carnaby Street. A relaxing dinner with cheap chianti and tasty pizza, and the servers were delighted that I brought the American concept of 15-percent tipping to the U.K.

Sunday 16 May

Kimberly cooked up some delicious French toast from the ingredients acquired the previous day. Then we went to Speakers Corner in Hyde Park, where any crazy person can get up on a soapbox and start talking about whatever their crazy heart desires. Plenty of good insane people about today: crazy monarchy guy, crazy cowboy hat guy, and crazy proper English lady in flowery dress touting Christianity.

After that we walked all around Hyde Park, down to the Serpentine, up to the Italian fountains, back down to the Peter Pan statue, and across all the way to Kensington Palace.

Late in the afternoon, I gave Kimberly a bit of the James Reality Tour by showing her the Maida Vale flat where Mom, Andrew and I lived for six months in 1987. We checked out Little Venice, and took in a couple pints at a fine local drinking establishment. At night, we went back to Soho and had dinner in Chinatown for some set menu deliciousness. We walked around Chinatown, and bought a bag of what looked sort of like Rice Krispies, but was really a dessert made of crunched-up fortune cookie dough. Yum.

Monday 17 May

Best day ever? Perhaps. We started in the morning by trying to get day tickets to a play, Tom Stoppard's new adaptation of Luigi Pirandello's Henry IV at the Donmar Warehouse theater. The theater sells 10 tickets on the day of each sold-out show; it didn't look like we were going to get any, until Tube troubles forced the box office to delay opening for half an hour. Some people gave up waiting and left; we didn't, and managed to snag the last of the day tickets at 11 a.m.

That left plenty of time to hotfoot it back down to Westminster Pier and catch a Thames river boat to Kew Gardens. It was a beautiful, sunny day, and we got to hear Big Ben strike noon as we set sail. We sat on the deck and watched the river sights go by.

An hour later we arrived at Kew. Acres of grounds stretch out in every direction, planted with different types of trees and flowers from all over the world. Kimberly liked the Palm House, with tropical plants and a pond with huge goldfish. There were large flower beds filled with tulips outside the Palm House, and statues representing different parts of Britain, like a greyhound and a griffin.

After hours of walking around gawking at the flowers, we headed for an afternoon tea at the gardens' Orangery. Hot tea, tasty sandwiches, some scones and cake to finish up... it was all very British.

We tubed back to our flat and got ready for our play. The theater turned out to be tiny, with a capacity for fewer than 200 people. We were upstairs, but right on top of the actors and very close. Ian McDiarmid, a.k.a. Emperor Palpatine, did an incredible job playing a man deluded into thinking he's medieval German king Henry IV. Perfect mindbending material for Stoppard to work with. We finished the night with a late dinner at Fuel Bar, which served us some tasty pasta outside in the warm evening dusk. Perfect day!

Tuesday 18 May

Time for the much-anticipated side trip to Paris. We boarded the high-speed Chunnel train at Waterloo station and arrived at Paris' Gare du Nord two and a half hours later. After successfully avoiding pickpockets, we bought a carnet of Metro tickets and worked our way over to where our hotel was, near Cardinal Lemoine station.

It was a hot 85 degrees in Paris as we made our way up the hill towards the Pantheon. Our hotel was called the Hotel des Grand Hommes, which we found with no problem. The man who checked us in gave us a nice surprise: upgrade to the top-floor suite, baby!

Yes, it was that incredible. And yes, we had breakfast on the balcony.

We walked around and grabbed some delicious crepes at a creperie near the hotel. Kimberly's was chocolaty and coconutty; mine was boozy and aflame. Then we walked through the Jardin du Luxembourg, a beautiful and popular park. On the way back we stopped at a French comic book store, where I bought a French-language of version of Superman. Gotta find some way to bridge that language gap... although the more French I read and spoke while there, the easier it got. I took several years of French in high school, and was a little nervous about communicating, but it started to come back to me the more we immsersed ourselves in it.

After returning to the hotel chilling for a while (and watching French quiz shows), we set out and made our way toward the Champs-Elysees. We walked up the famous road, flanked by shops and such, and stopped by a fast-food sandwich place. Perhaps predictably, the baguette sandwich I had from this fast-food stand was better than the food I've had in most American chain sit-down restuarants.

We made our way up to the solemn Arc de Triomphe and marvelled at its architecture. Then we jumped on the Metro again and headed for the Eiffel Tower, which was lit up and beautiful at dusk. At sunset, it lit up with sparkly lights, which several people gathered on the nearby green were waiting to see.

Getting back was tricky, as after we walked past L'Ecole Militaire, the Metro station we had been shooting for was unexpectedly closed. But we found and open one and made our way back to the hotel for some well-deserved sleep.

Wednesday 19 May

Another hot and sunny day. We headed out for some sightseeing after hitting a nearby cafe for deux omelettes avec jambon et fromage (at this point I was starting to think in French, too... scary). We headed for the middle of Paris, to the island known as Ile de la Cite, which holds the Notre Dame cathedral. After nosing around inside and getting some pictures, we took a picturesque walk up the bank of the Seine to the Musee d'Orsay, perhaps my favorite art museum in the world. They have a great Impressionism collection, and the architecture of the building, a former train station, is fantastic. In fact, every building was a sight to look at; most featured gargoyles, clocks, and other ornate decorations. The museum also provided a great view of the Right Bank from its top floor.

We were tired and had museum legs after that, so we hopped the train back to the hotel and napped for a couple hours before dinner. Then came the moment of truth: I had to hail a cab and tell the driver where we were going, en francais. Which proved to be difficult because the little Frommer's Paris book I picked up had the wrong address for the restaurant. In fact, the address they had didn't exist on that street, which the cabbie told me in French (and I just managed to understand). He took us to the road and I eventually just told him to stop on the street so that we could walk around and find it, which we did after just another block.

Then came the next test: ordering food at the restaurant. I had managed to make reservations earlier in the week from London, but had had to do it in English after an abortive attempt at French. So I was a bit apprehentious apprehensive about trying to read the menu. Fortunately, I had bought a little English-Francais dictionary earlier in the day, which helped to translate the words I didn't recognize.

The restuarant was just incredible. I've been telling everyone since that France's food is on a whole 'nother level... they're the major leagues, and we're just Double-A. Kimberly hadn't wanted to to the traditional heavily-sauced French food, so I found a restuarant in our neighborhood that featured food from the Seychelles Islands in the Indian Ocean, a place where many French people go on vacation. Coco de Mer featured several seafood dishes done with a French bent. To start, we were adventuresome: Kimberly had tuna tartare, and I ordered an octopus au gratin dish, which was incredible. For entrees I had swordfish in a fruity salsa. Finally, we finished with incredible desserts: one chocolate covered brownie and one mango mousse. I even was able to order pre-dinner drinks and wine with little problem (there was no wine list, so I just had to pick the first wine I recognized off the list the waitress rattled off). This dinner is definitely going in my Top 5 Dinners list.

After finishing with an espresso I was a little wound up, so I wandered down to an Internet cafe and caught up on the world. As I walked back to the room, the Eiffel Tower was sparkly and lit up once again. I sat on our balcony and listed to dance music on the radio (AWESOME), watching the partied-out students below stumble home in the cool night.

Thursday 20 May

On our last day in Paris we took breakfast on the balcony. We had a few hours to kill until our return train to London, so we squeezed in a little more sightseeing. We ambled through the incredible Rodin Museum, which features a near-complete set of the famous sculptor's work, with some of the more famous pieces (including The Thinker) sitting outisde of the museum in a lovely garden. We spent a good amount of time there before wandering across the street to the Hotel des Invalides, a hospital for veterans that includes the ridiculously ornate Tomb of Napoleon, but also houses a great and solemn new exhibit in the Museum commemorating WWII.

After all that we finally headed back to London. When we arrived back at the flat we were too tired to go out, so after perusing the delivery options availble to us in Shepherd's Bush, we of course went with the best option, Space Pizza. Mmm... pizza from space.

Friday 21 May

Thursday had seen the start of the latest international cricket test match between England and New Zealand. For those of you unfamiliar with the sport, which would be everyone, test matches are played by traditional cricket rules, and are allotted five days in which to complete them. Friday was Day 2 of the match, and I wasn't sure how likely it would be for us to get tickets to the day's action at Lord's Cricket Ground in northwest London. Somehow, I managed to convince Kimberly to tube with me out to St. John's Wood to find out.

Fortunately, a nice man with a bullhorn at the foot of the tube escalator let us know there were still tickets available at the gate. We walked the few blocks to Lord's and purchased a couple seats with no problem, although the day's action had already started about 30 minutes earlier (which means we didn't miss much at all).

People tend to boggle at the fact that a cricket lasts for days, and that they play all day. In the States we'll complain if a baseball game lasts more than three hours; watching a days-long cricket match would seem downright boring to most of us. In reality, it's a chance to spend all day outside enjoying the (admittedly schizophrenic) British weather, perhaps while enjoying a picnic and some alcoholic beverages while chatting with friends. There's no obligation to pay 100% close attention to all of the action; indeed, capturing a wicket (10 of which end an inning) is so rare that we only saw it happen twice during the five hours we were there, and only at the very beginning of the day to end New Zealand's first innings. Most of the time you're watching the same two players bat, and cheering if they manage to hit one all the way to the boundary for an automatic four runs, or straight into the stands for six.

Mostly, the spectators carried coolers with them filled with sandwiches and drinks. Of course, you could also nip out for some fish and chips from Vinegar Joe's, which we did, or some Pimm's or Guinness or Fosters. We were a little bit cold on the overcast and drizzly day, and sitting in the shade, so we required some frequent trips for coffee and tea while trying to stay warm.

During the lunch break, I bought a big floppy white sun hat, like they wear on the field. I am determined to make it my new trademark.

After New Zealand got out, England batted for the rest of the day. We got to see Andrew Strauss, in his first test match, have a great day by putting up 100 runs by himself before being put out, which is not a common feat. Eventually, around the tea-time break, we just got too cold and had to head home to watch the rest on the telly. All in all, a fun day. (And, in the end, England wound up winning on the very last day.)

In the evening, we took it easy and rested up for the next day's trip to Stratford-upon-Avon. Oh, and we made sandwiches for dinner. Public service announcement: English mustard is much, much hotter than our mustard. Much hotter.

Saturday 22 May

Before we left the States, I had purchased tickets for a matinee performance of Macbeth at the Royal Shakespeare Company in Straford-upon-Avon, Shakespeare's birthplace. To get there required taking a train from Paddington Station, which I expected to be quiet on a Saturday morning at 9 a.m.; little did I realize that fans of Millwall, the little-known middle-of-the-pack Division One soccer team that had surprised everyone by making the final of the FA Cup, would be gathered at Paddington for their charter train to the match in Cardiff, Wales. Millwall is apparently a team in South London, and their blue-clad die-hard supporters had gathered at Paddington early to chant, revel, and drink.

We jumped on our train, which afforded a lovely view of the English countryside once we got outside of London (past Slough, the Reston-like suburb where The Office is set). We arrived in the lovely little town of Stratford-upon-Avon about 11:30 and walked around. It was filled with people out and about enjoying the beautiful May afternoon. We walked along the river and eventually made our way to Lamb's restaurant on Sheep street, which Mom and Theo had recommended.

We had a tasty lunch and made our way over to the performance, which was great. Our seats were two rows from the stage, so we had a great view of all the lovely violence and gore. (Macbeth has long been my favorite Shakespeare play; it reminds me of films noirs like Double Indemnity, where the black cloak of murder hangs over the characters and infuses every scene with dread.) The actors were suitably creepy, especially Lady Macbeth; Kimberly said the scenes with the witches made her arm hairs stand on end.

Afterwards, we found a lovely local drinking establishment. Funnily enough, it was a UK suburban chain restaurant with a Chicago motif that was trying to be more like an American restuarant, a la T.G.I. Fridays. We had a pint and managed to catch the end of the footy match; sadly for our friends from earlier that day at Paddington, Millwall lost 3-0 to heavily favored Manchester United.

After returning to London, we stopped for dinner at Gioia Mia in Shepherd's Bush, a cute little neighborhood Italian restaurant that was actually quite good. Another utterly brilliant day! Jolly good!

Sunday 23 May

We spent the day doing some low-key sightseeing in London. Fortunately, two things we wanted to see had good Sunday opening hours.

First, we hit the British Library, the new home of all those amazing manuscripts I remembered seeing at the British Museum in 1997. The Treasures room is aptly named; it has Shakespeare's first folio, Jane Austen's writing desk, an early version of Alice in Wonderland handwritten by Lewis Carroll, original printings of each installment of David Copperfield, multiple copies of the Magna Carta, a Gutenberg bible, original poetry handwritten by Seamus Heaney and W.B. Yeats, original musical compositions written (and, in some cases, corrected) by Mozart and Beetoven, original scribblings by the Beatles... and that's not even half of it. Kimberly especially liked the preserved sound recordings, such as Florence Nightengale giving an address, Yeats reading one of his poems, and James Joyce reading from one of his confusing books in a suitably dense Irish brogue. Hearing Virginia Woolf reading in her deep, majestic voice was interesting.

Next we headed down to the Tate Modern gallery, a fairly new museum in South London built in an old abandoned factory. I agreed with Kimberly to skip any paintings that were just colored squares; fortunately, there were tons of other great pieces to look at. One room featured colorful communist propaganda from early Soviet Russia; another featured some Andy Warhol paintings, a first for me, which were really interesting. There were also works by Mir?, one of Kimberly's favorite authors, and Max Ernst, and of course a sprinkling of Picassos.

After taking an unscheduled detour through Elephant and Castle, which is not nearly as cool a neighborhood as it sounds, we headed for Piccadilly Circus and settled on an early dinner at Adam's Rib, which made a brave attempt at serving American food but couldn't quite hit the mark. But it did have a nice window overlooking the street and a row of theaters. After dinner, we took a walk and made an impromptu executive decision to check out a movie at the Leicester Square Odeon. We saw Bon Voyage, a French comedy-drama set during the German occupation of France. It was surprisingly good! Sadly, no one came by to sell us albatross during the interval. Pleased with our good fortune, we returned home to meet Mom and Theo and regale them with stories of our exploits.

Monday 24 May

We had to check out a castle while staying in London, and preferably one that, of course, has a hedge maze. We settled on Hampton Court, a popular sightseeing destional southwest of London that was once home to Henry VIII.

The interior was amazing; every floor, wall and ceiling was beautifully ornamented. The Great Hall was particularly stunning, with high arched ceilings. There were several student groups walking around, and some employees walking around in period costume, giving it a slight Disneyland feel but still fun nonetheless. The old kitchens were interesting, with a vast floorplan and an interesting array of cooking implements and gadgets for feeding a palace full of people.

The outside of the palace looks as you would expect a palace to; red brick with large ramparts and several courtyards, one of which had a large, beautiful clock that chimed the hour. The garden were very impressive and huge, with lovely flowers planted everywhere. A huge vine takes up a good bit of real estate in one part of the grounds. The maze was fun; we made it to the middle and back out again, and felt like little kids. The trees in the large garden at the rear of the castle were mercilessly pruned into wide cones, because nature must be NEAT and ORDERLY! We laughed at seeing that, as we had in Paris.

Another cool sight at the palace was the royal tennis court, and long indoor room where two men were actually playing the adjusted-rules tennis that seems to incorporate some of the rules and physics of racquetball. The ball could be played off any surface, and the players were using the old-style wooden racquets.

We got back to Waterloo station and split up for a couple hours. I sat at a pub and watched the final bit of the cricket test match, while Kimberly went to see a Salvador Dali exhibit nearby in the Royal County Hall, under the Saatchi Gallery. Kimberly admired over 500 pieces of Dali's work, including illustrations for Don Quixote and some of the Twelve Tribes of Israel. She liked his sculptures the best, especially the Femme Giraffe and the famous melting-clock-on-a-wooden-hanger. I admired a couple pints of ale and England's impressive down-to-the-wire win against the Kiwis.

At 5:30 we met Mom and Theo by the London Eye, basically a giant Ferris wheel that makes one revolution every 30 minutes and provides a panoramic view of all of London. We saw everything up there, and took copious pictures like tourists. After the Eye, we went to Soho to seek out a Hungarian restaurant that Mom recommended, called the Gay Hussar. It turned out to be great; the dining room was small and cheerful, which bright white linens and sparkling silver. Kimberly had delicious chilled wild cherry soup for a starter, which she loved. Most importantly, now we can say we've had Hungarian food.

Tuesday 25 May

This was our last full day in London. First we took a half-day trip to Oxford, where I spent Summer 1997 in the Emory study abroad program, for the final leg of James Reality Tour. We left from Paddington again, and this time I made sure to get Kimberly's photo with the Paddington Bear statue, now that now Millwall fanatics were in the way. Please look after this bear, thank you.

Oxford is beautiful, with all the campus buildings made from yellow Cotswold stone. It was an exam day, and we spotted some students coming out of theirs wearing traditional Oxford exam dress: caps and formal robes. Very scholarly. We walked down High Street and found where I had stayed and taken classes, University College. We managed to sneak in via the side entrance down Logic Lane, and I showed Kimberly all the old haunts. We had lunch at the Grand Cafe on High Street, which fed us some delicious sandwiches and coffee (it claims to be England's first coffee house). We had yummy white chocolate truffle cake for dessert to tide us over.

Later we did some shopping at an indoor market, and made our way up to the Eagle and Child pub, where J.R.R. Tolkein, C.S. Lewis and their friends ("The Inklings") once frequented, and downed a quick half-pint of lager. The Inklings used to sit in the Rabbit Room, so we did too, and checked out some of the literary mementos they had on display. (And we laughed at the American Hobbit-nerd who sat next to us with his mother, taking pictures of everything on the walls.)

After returning to London, I wanted to hit the West End one final time. We had one last big shopping spree, where we bought everything we might have had an eye on previously. First I stopped at Soccer Scene, and got Pup his Manchester United jersey he had requested. I also got a polo shirt with the logo of Queens Park Rangers, as it has "Loftus Road", where our flat was located, in the logo. (The team plays right behind where our flat was, at Loftus Road Stadium. Dig that fight song... "We'll stick the blug flag up your arse!")

I picked up another shirt at a Gap-type store called "Next" that featured a big stylized representation of the English flag (white with an off-center red cross), probably on sale in preparation for the Euro 2004 soccer tournament coming up. We walked from Carnaby Street, all the way down Oxford Street, until the stores started repeating.

Finally, we headed back for the flat and deposited our stuff. Late in the evening, we took our last meal at a Greek Restaurant on the Uxbridge road near our flat. It was a nice, leisurely cap-off to a great vacation. We decided that there's no way to see everything there is to see in London, so we resolved to catch up on those things we may have missed "next time."

TV saves lives

An L.A. man, Juan Catalan, who was accused of murder, insisted he was at a Dodgers game 20 miles away when the crime happened. Despite being able to show his ticket stub from the game, police insisted that witnesses placed him at the scene of the murder. Catalan's lawyer combed through video footage of Dodger Stadium, but was unable to make out his client in any of the tapes.

Suddenly, a sitcom came to his rescue.

Melnik later learned that HBO had been at the stadium the night of the killing to tape an episode of "Curb Your Enthusiasm," a self-deprecating comedy starring "Seinfeld" co-creator Larry David. The lawyer found what he was looking for in footage that had not made the final cut.

"I got to one of the scenes, and there is my client sitting in a corner of the frame eating a hot dog with his daughter," Melnik said. "I nearly jumped out of my chair and said, 'There he is!"'

Television: it saves lives.

(How many of our lawyer friends would kill for a case that was actually interesting and required some detective work? This one could have come out of the movies. It definitely beats re-re-insurance, or combing through 20,000 company e-mails.)

Mike Luckovich: Still the Man