Meter Mail, Volume 1

A common feature of many well-read blogs is the reader mailbag. This features the editor, most likely out of original ideas and grasping for a new way to further incorporate his readership into a heightened level of interactivity, taking questions and answering them in an informative and helpful manner. Bill Simmons at ESPN is by far the best at said practice, and normally I’d link you to one of his columns doing just that, but he still hasn’t answered any of MY e-mails, including the following:

Bill,
What the hell happens if Tiki Barber retires and ends up on 20/20 waiting for Kornheiser to die so he can take his place along Tirico and Theisman? Does he fade into obscurity since no one watches 20/20? Or does he trying really hard to score interviews with Bush, the Pope, Brangelina, and Jesus only to have the managing editor take him out and have Brandon Jacobs conduct them?
Chris, VA

However, YAB isn’t as well-read as Simmons, and none of you people e-mail me questions (with the exception of Caro – I’m going to get to that soon, btw), so one would think it would be pretty hard to use the Reader Mail as a recurring feature for the blog. And since making up questions seems a little narcissistic (which I can’t believe I spelled right on the first try), we have to go to another source – the Site Meter.

If you ever scrolled down to the bottom of YAB, you’d see that since December-something 2004, there’s been a little monkey that’s been keep count of how many people visit YAB. And as we’ve mentioned in The Adventure of Links, it also reveals how some wayward surfers have searched for and ended up with something on our site. As of late, it seems that searches have often been typed in the form of a question, so even though at the time we weren’t much help, a column should help now in our new segment, Meter Mail.

(all questions are actual wrong turns to our website)

“Can someone please explain the movie Danika to me?”
- Columbia, South Carolina

Well, Columbia, I can’t say I’ve seen this 2006 movie starring Marissa Tomei, so there’s probably not a whole lot I can say. But I do know that her husband it the guy Russell Crowe pummels in Cinderella Man, and since Mr. Crowe and I are best buds, here’s a few bonus thoughts concerning Danika. First off, Marissa Tomei’s best performance is no doubt the one for which she won an Oscar, in My Cousing Vinny. But after that? Hands down – her cameo as Marissa Tomei on Seinfeld. Secondly, you probably noticed we’ve linked twice to IMDB in this very response. Does anyone remember what we did prior to IMDB, or a time when there wasn’t an IMDB? I remember sophomore year casting my Shawnee friends as the Kevin Smith universe, and I couldn’t remember Joey Lauren Adams’ character in Chasing Amy. I was forced to call the role “JLA” on the list. Was IMDB not around in 1999? Moving on…

“What was the oop d oop trick play from Varsity Blues movie?”
- Thousand Oaks, California

Wow! That’s a lot of oaks! Anyways, I can actually answer this question, rather than just reference the play in last year’s post on the NFL Coaching Carousel. The oop-tee-oop, a masterful passing play introduced by VanderBeek, featured 5 receivers – one split out on the left side, while the other four lined up right side, in the shape of a 2 x 2 box. The play is designed to isolate the solo receiver, one on one, against a corner, while the complete chaos of four received running slants and outs on the right demand the rest of the secondary’s attention. I have a question in return, T-Oaks. Does this movie make James Caan “Mr. Tweeder.”?

“Explain when you dive for a coin at the bottom of a pool, it's not where you think it is.”
- Minneapolis, Minnesota

Apparently, there aren’t banks in Minnesota.

Things that Make You Go Boom

Well congratulations, Nancy Pelosi. Much to Colbert’s despair, you’ve managed to be elected the first female Speaker of the House. This entitles you wield power, wield influence, wield majority opinions, and most importantly, wield a big honkin’ hammer.

I give thee: GAVEL!

Yes, aside from the whole two steps from the Presidency, there’s not that much to get excited about when it comes to the Speakership other than your new tool. You don’t actually speak that often, what with the rotating moderation for debates and all. And there’s more procedural and administrative tasks that one realizes they’ve signed up for. But you do get underlings – and damn, if they weren’t some seriously cool underlings at that. There’s the Clerk, who isn’t even supposed to be here today. There’s the Sergeant-at-Arms, who we envision being a cross between this guy and this guy. Also, there’s the CAO (not Awesome, but Administrative – dagger.), and the Chaplain. At any time, Pelosi my dismiss any of these people, save the chaplain. Only God can dismiss a chaplain, and our guess is if that happens, they’ll never work in this town (or any town) again. Damn the icy scythe of Death.

But let’s get back to the reason Nancy Pelosi wanted this job. Her new gavel.

Right now, she’s in one of four professions that allow her to literally strike her desk as hard as she can with an implement of distinguished force without “Human Resources” bringing you a “jacket” so that you can go “on a vacation” and never come back. The others?

• Judge: The man behind the bench works in an office where at least one the other people in the room very well be a criminal. Yeah, I’d carry a hammer for protection, too.
• Auctioneer: He uses his gavel to ruin people’s lives. Everyone is in good spirits prior to the final big bang, but once he lays the gavel down, he’s not only sold you this nice yacht, he’s thrown in the bonus prize of “buyer’s remorse.” Good luck explaining that purchase to your wife, Mr. Richpants.
• And the third? The less-celebrated but equally powerful “youth sports association commissioner.” Pay attention to him, or he’ll make sure your kid ends up playing little league for the team sponsored by Rita’s Beauty Salon or some crap like that.

Now it’s a good thing that previous Gavelbangers like Gingrich and Hastert don’t get to keep their special toy at the end of their run, since judging from the fledgling gavel industry, there’s not many cool replacements for the House of Representatives to purchase (with your tax dollars.) (Fun note by the way, Rep. Sam Rayburn served as Speaker of the House for a record 17 different years. Now, he plays football.)

Regardless, Madam Speaker, if you would like it, YAB wouldn’t mind going into the petty cash and purchasing you this way cool crystal gavel and base.

(WE promise that Christina Toms will erase the name from the sample and put yours on it, okay? Sound good, Toms?)

Tubers from Heaven

If one chose to travel from my hometown to the New Jersey Township of Freehold by car, you could expect to be on the road for slightly under 50 miles, slightly over an hour, heading slightly NNE, and pass approximately 9 Wawas. You would also get to spend some quality time on the New Jersey Turnpike, while migrating from the nice, forest-loving South Jersey into the ambiguous, non-quite-sure-what-to-define-it-as Central Jersey. This is how you would do it, if you decided to travel by car.

However, if you choose to travel by moon rock, the route is a little more direct. All you have to do is get in your moon rock, descend from the sky by the powers of gravity, reach a terminal velocity, and with all the collision insurance you can buy, crash through the roof of a house in Freehold and lodge thyself into a wall.

(It’s a more direct route, but there’s way fewer Wawas via this method.)

Yes, much to the surprise of the Freehold Township branch of NASA (read: old crazy guy with a telescope), some sort of metal-based rock came crashing to earth Tuesday night. Authorities are calling it golf-ball sized, which by viewing this photo of the thing, we have two questions. First, has anyone thought to rent the 1996 Rian Johnson flick, “Evil Demon Golfball from Hell!!!”, as to make sure that this wasn’t a present from Satan that came from below? (And also to be the first to ever rent said flick?) Secondly, look at this picture of the rock. Now think of how big a golf ball is.

What kind of jumbo golf do the good people of Freehold play? What do they use for golf tees? Umbrella stands?

Moving past the littlest of details, we’re really glad that Detective R. Gelber was so quick to offer his ruler for the official measurement. How do we know it was old Gelby? He has a freakin’ label on his ruler. I can understand laying claim to something more valuable, like a stapler, by putting one’s personal sticker on it, but a ruler? Is Freehold a crime bastion for measurement tool theft?

Anyways, after the Feds ruled out that it did not come from an airplane (thank God, by the way – I’d be rethinking air travel if plane parts look like that.), it was left to the police force of Freehold to determine its origins. You know, investigate chemical compounds, weigh, feel, observe, calculate, matter studies – stuff that could be helpful.

OR! We could just put it in this tube? Yeah, that’ll solve the mighty mystery.

(Apropos of nothing, an anagram for Freehold Township is Tenfold Horsewhip. Warrants mentioning.)

You wonder why completely ridiculous things happen to good people sometimes. There’s no way anyone could have predicted ye old ball of space foil would crash through their roof, forcing them to make the weirdest call to their insurance provider ever. But these people should consider themselves lucky. After all, remember that woman who was struck by the lamppost that fell courtesy of the Cat in the Hat during the Macy’s parade? Yeah, her. She’s also the resident of the apartment that Cory Lidle’s plane crashed into on the Upper East Side. Just wow.

What’s YAB’s take on this “moon rock” from outer space? Simple.

God didn’t like his baked potato.

Accentuate the Positive

Having grown up in South Jersey, I really can’t say I have an accent that has followed me up and down the coast. There are some local buzzwords that have some homegrown variation to them, I suppose, (water, crayons, hoagie), but for the most part, it’s Americanized as you can get. (And I’m pretty sure that only non-NJians refer to it as “Joysey.”) Now some words come out strangely Canadian (out, about, Simon Gagne), but like I said, no one’s going to know where I came from because of my diction and speech.

As a non-accented American, I stand envious of many people that do have the fortunate burden of bringing an accent with them. Boston, Fargo, Brooklyn – all of them come off as pretty cool. And even more so, there are foreign accents that totally rock, and it is the opinion of Monrovia Top 5 that “Scottish” would be the king of said rock. I’m kind of partial to English, personally – perhaps because there are so many variations. There’s Liverpool and Cockney, The Queen’s English, and my personal favorite – Russell Crowe Mumbling. From Gladiator to Master and Commander to Beautiful Mind, the Aussie always sounds like he’s doing his best Beatles impression under his breath. (See this week’s tagline for an example.)

In fact, there’s one line in the Catholic Mass that the Crowe voice is perfect for. “I am not worthy to receive You, but only say the word and I shall be healed.” Try it, and I guarantee not only will you get God laugh to Himself, as a bonus, your spouse will shake his/her head in disapproval.

But as a non-accented American, I have no other opportunity to try out other inflections in the real world. Most people I talk to on a daily basis already know what I sound like, and will call me out that my Jamaican accent, well, is less than authentic. If you would like to use accents in your daily life, you are left with two types of people: people who have never met you, and people you’ll only see briefly and they won’t remember you. I believe it was the great Tyler Durden who called them “single-serving friends.”

Where does one find single-serving friends on which to test out thy most remarkable accents? Most often, they will be located in various arenas of commerce. Mall employees, drive-thru attendants, retail cashiers – all of these people fit the bill. Not only do they not know you well enough to call out your best Irish brogue, they probably don’t care either. I once had an entire conversation about different-colored Saran wraps in the Williamsburg Target with my best Irish accent. (Of course, you must pick a store with many shifts to attempt such a feat – bank tellers will likely see you again, and you’ll be forced to go foreign-national every damn time you need some cash.

So that’s the latter group of the abovementioned duo. The former? People who have never met you. As far as I know, I only have one recurring relationship that requires me to use an accent each time – (my Canadian one, if you must know) – and that’s one of the vendors who calls my office every now and then. Remember when I talked about area codes? Yeah. This is a construction company’s A/R office located in Kansas City. And a long time ago, when they first bugged me, I think I may have said the word “out” with a tad too much “u.” She then asked if I was from Canada? And for reasons unknown, I responded “Manitoba.” Saw in the five phone calls over the last two years from her, I’ve been Canadian. Weird, huh?

The reason we write on accents today is of the utmost importance. After all, I have a meeting next month in which I will meet someone new that I will work very closely with for a long, long, long, LONG, long, long time. From an accent standpoint, this would be the Ultimate Challenge. Take an accent and run with it for the rest of your life. Of course, I’m trying to convince Katie to go along with it, as her cooperation would be crucial. So people, what do you say?

Should our baby girl go through life thinking her parents are British?

A Long Game, Polly

One of the nice features of Microsoft Outlook is its “Out of Office Assistant.” It’s a simple macro designed to automatically respond to your e-mails when you are unable to do so. Granted, it will only be able to respond with the message you have left for it, and can’t quite pull off sarcasm as well as you might hope, but it’s an unexpected bonus tool of the Microsoft Office Empire.

But if I wanted a parrot, I would have bought a parrot.

Over the past week, I wasn’t in the office much. I had a wedding in NYC, a surprise early arrival in the NJ, and a New Year’s party at the YAZ. So I made sure that if anyone e-mailed me, they would receive the following automated response in return, courtesy of my Out of Office Assistant, Polly:

“I will be out of the office and will return on January 2nd. I will be checking e-mail intermittently and will respond to urgent requests.”

And for the most part, what Polly sent to you people was true. I was out of the office, and I did return, as promised. Of course, intermittently meant, eh, twice and an urgent request would have had to have read,”Help me now. My couch is on fire, FedEx hasn’t delivered your Christmas present yet, the Eagles are thinking about signing Koy Detmer, and we’re out of string cheese.”

Translation: Nothing was that urgent.

So while the heads-up from Polly must have been nice, was it really all that helpful? Probably not. Was Polly just following orders from her direct supervisor? Yeah. Can she do anything else of real value, like file e-mails or format spreadsheets? Not really.

Why do I keep her on the payroll?

I don’t even have the funding in my budget for an In the Office Assistant. I understand that filling that position would be way more helpful – being able to dictate clerical tasks that I don’t feel like doing and dealing with people I don’t want to talk to would be a grand reducer of stress. But In the Office Assistants are too demanding. They want a place to sit. They want to be paid in something other than “electronic data.” Good God, they probably even want 401k and dental. And since I have all the funding that Robert Parrish was fit to wear, it doesn’t appear that I’m getting an In the Office Assistant anytime soon.

That leaves Polly. The poorly paid, oft-bored Polly.

There’s another problem with Polly – we don’t communicate well. In fact, we’ve never even spoken. When I need her to come in and work (since I do not plan to be there simultaneously), I let Outlook know that she needs to come in tomorrow. I leave a note telling her what I need her to tell people while I’m away. And just to test her, I’ll send her an email from my gmail account to see if she’s slacking off on the job.

She’s yet to slack off on the job.

But when I am scheduled to come back, and am actually sitting at my desk, Polly can’t quite take a hint. Here I am, typing and responding to people’s e-mails, and yet, she still insists on sending out the message I told her to while I was away. This thus confuses the recipient of both our e-mails to no end. It’s not until she sends something out to an undeliverable address that I realize she’s even working.

Look, Polly, I understand that the holidays are expensive and everyone could use the overtime, but this is the last straw (because I clearly make my executive decisions based on the multitude of bendy drinking devices I have remaining.) Polly, we’re going to have to let you go.

You’re fired.