A Vote and a Smile

(originally posted 8/29/08)

Holy crap, it’s dusty in here.

As you may or may not have noticed, YAB has been on a sabbatical since, well, May. I’d like to say that it was because something awesome was going on in my life that prevented me from writing on a regular basis here in Blogspotville – but it’s just not the case. Work has been busy, despite every auto industry-related newspaper article would lead you to believe. But to come back now – on an idle Friday just before Labor Day – would give you reason to believe that I’m ready to return to entertaining family and friends on the nuances of married/parental/homeownered life. Any return to the scene probably means I’ve got something big to write about that warrants immediate publication.

Wrong.

You know as well as I do that I don’t write about politics much. I live in a region so saturated with Capitol Hillbillies that my neighbors in traffic do the work for me. But it’s an election year, and therefore, let’s consider this my quadrennial piece of punditry.

This week, the Democratic National Convention has been the story, what with their successful invasion of Denver and their subsequent displacement of up to three professional sports teams. (Meanwhile, the Rockies are bunkered up in their dugout, poised to take a Louisville Slugger to the knees of anyone who comes near them with a five-foot tall placard with their state’s name on them. I support political conventions.

It gives Jon Stewart all the material he needs.

But as the DNC has drawn to a close, the Republicans have taken the nation’s focus with the news that candidate John McCain has selected his running mate. Good for him. And while it appears that he’s in no hurry to reveal the identity of said running mate, rumors are that his chosen one has their mail delivered in the crucial swing state of Alaska.

Probably like you, I’m not one who just clicks through news links that are sent to me in e-mail. Therefore, I know not the name of the GOP’s appointed second fiddle. And like I said, I’m busy at work these days. So rather than do my due diligence – we’re just going to assume what everyone’s ready to assume.

The Republican VP candidate is a Polar Bear.

Like I said, there are probably several logical reasons why the above statement isn’t a valid one. Polar Bears may not actually live in Alaska. The life span of polar bears may be below 35 years. With migratory patterns between Alaska and Siberia or gasp, Canada, the US of A may not be their place of citizenship. But my fellow Americans, I assure you this:

This would guarantee the Presidency for John McCain.

Hell yes, I’ve got reasons.

1. Polar Bears are Bears, and thereby, score high in Adorability. Coca-Cola makes a point to remind us of this every holiday season. And just because a baby polar bear can't muster the dexterity in his paws to open a tiny glass bottle of cola, does NOT mean he can't step in the Commander-in-Chief role should something happen to his running mate.
2. Polar Bears can also be MEAN. There's something at the negotiation table about mauling that gets policy done. Polar bears are tough on crime, tough on foreign policy, tough on illegal fishing. Toughness is a good characteristic for a VP to have.
3. Soft and furry coat takes focus of whiteness off McCain's dome.
4. As good as a selection Joe Biden is, I don't like him in the Vice Presidential debate against a Polar Bear.
5. Polar Bears who are forced to wear a suit and tie, are by definition, hilarious.
6. PB and J - how's that for a campaign banner?

Hate Mail from Garden Gnomes

(Originally posted: 5/29/08)

One of the things you have to do when you switch from one job to another is make sure you leave nothing behind. Part of this is obvious, and actual. When you close the door to that old office for the last time, make sure you have taken every last personal item with you. What if I had accidentally left my diploma from GW sitting on the shelf? The next person to fill the position may accidentally assume they have gotten their MBA and start managing things they are far from qualified for. Won’t you be sorry when you here your old office building has been trampled by a fleet of angry zoo animals because some lackey in your old job signed a spend approval above his pay grade?

Note: That would be the best spend approval EVER.

But not only are your personal belongings things you can load into a box and throw in the back of your car, you also have to deal with the virtual belongings. After 5 years, do you realize how many things can be tied to your e-mail address? Answer: Eleventy billion. Just think about all the automated bill statements you have. If you lose visibility into this e-mail address, you better count on bankruptcy court. Because you will never be able to pay another bill ever in the history of forever. Period.

(Yes, I know this seems like an ideal scenario. But so is running water and electricity.)

In order make sure this didn’t happen, I wrote an e-mail to just about every address of friend and family I could think of, to ensure that our interwebbian communication will not cease on account of me decided to work for a different firm with a blue logo. It follows…(wait for it)…now.

Dear Everybody I've Ever Met,

I am writing to let you know that after today, you will no longer be receiving e-mail from me at this address. After all, today is my last day at SAIC. I've accepted a new position with the corporate office of Volkswagen-Audi, which from their web site, seems to be a small German firm that manufactures road vehicles. I've always had an entrepreneurial spirit, and I look forward to contributing at a small enterprising start-up. I start Monday. My German needs work.

From this desk, I've written (briefly counts "Sent Items") eleventy billion e-mails in the last 5+ years. And if you're receiving this, you've probably been on the receiving end of at least one of them. Well, if you receive an e-mail from this address after today, it's not from me. Barring the unlikely possibility that this company hires someone with my exact name over the weekend, it probably won't happen anyway. But if it does, beware.

That e-mail would be from a Chris Condon imposter.

Chris Condon imposters can't be treated lightly. For one, they're shorter than me more times than not. If there's anything I learned in life, you don't trust short people. (I already have a list of 7 people in my head who will no doubt be e-mailing me to argue.)

AND SCENE!

And judging from the overwhelming response, I lowballed that one. Try 14 people. If their ringleader, whose name is an anagram for “MINI SHORT CATS” ever gets them organized, we could have one serious pint-sized rebellion on our hands.

Das Question?

(Originally posted: 5/7/08)

I realize that yesterday’s introduction to working at VW left a lot of questions, considering it’s kind of major news that was casually slipped into a sporadically-written comedy blog. So in the spirit of full disclosure, here is a question and answer session that was recently held sometime recently somewhere inside my brain.(Note: This method of information was perfected by Rob Thompson back in our One Accord days. If you’re reading this, consider it a homage, rather than an obvious swipe of a brilliant idea.)

Were you looking for a new job?
Answer: Yes, I was, albeit passively. Forget soccer, the most grueling test of endurance in the world is coming home from one job and spending your evening on a computer looking for a different job. For the past two years since I had completed my MBA, this ultimately was always the plan. But as I described in my interviews, Life happened. We had a baby. We bought a townhouse. We painted a townhouse (We did not paint a baby.) So two years removed from grad school, I’m finally moving on.

Are you moving to Michigan? The Lions kinda suck.
Point taken. No, it appears that they’ve decided to come to me. Obviously, Detroit is the automotive capital of our country. Not only does it serve as home to the Big 3 (Ford, GM, Chrysler), their tiny German neighbor, Volkswagen, was nestled in the confines of Auburn Hills. (Note: not actually hills, nor the color auburn.) No longer wanting to be in their shadow, VW decided on a move. And because of this area’s surplus of tall, left-handed hockey fans, they decided to move to Herndon, Virginia. That’s where I come in.

Was this a promotion for you?
In terms of level or promotion, and in reference to my old position, I’m now my former supervisor’s supervisor. I jumped two levels, in essence. From my experience, I find that this is rather difficult to accomplish. Take Super Mario Brothers for instance. When you are little midget Mario (LMM), you can jump and barely land atop that low level row of mysteriously floating bricks. If you are fortunate enough to get a mushroom, you grow to be twice your size. That aforementioned jump just got a lot easier. But sometimes, if you’re lucky, Mario acid trips on a bouncing star and your athletic abilities heighten to the point where you can leap tall building in a single bound. That’s what an MBA can get you. It’s the Acid Trip Star of the Job Market.

Wow, that’s an unusual analogy.
Wow, that’s not actually a question.

Sorry. So what do you do now?
My official title is Financial Consultant for Corporate Group Functions. So I consult. Consulting is a magical term that features all the expertise with none of the chopping block. You provide the best financial analysis, reporting, and planning skills you can to the managers to which you are responsible, and then, disappear in a cloud of smoke. Of course, I’m still in training, so I haven’t had time to order a carton of Smoke Clouds from the Office Depot catalog. As for the Corporate Group Functions part, just assume it’s a set of a budgets of departments that are required to have a business. You know, like Marketing, and IT, and Pyrotechnics.

Where you workin’, homeslice?
Don’t get sassy with me, Inner Monologue. I now work in Herndon, VA, right on the Dulles Toll Road (not to be taken literally, I’m not in an insurance commercial with Dennis Haysbert.) It’s an easy drive in to the city from here, and it’s a better commute than to Tyson’s Corner. Besides, I was growing tired of Tyson’s complacency. Dude, Tyson, when are you going to get off your butt and try and annex more of a geometric shape? Corners are for slacker. I want to see you push yourself and annex a whole side. Oh, I love your chicken, too.

Condons Wanted.

(Actual post: 5/5/08)

You see what I did there? I used the grammatical gift of parenthesis to let you know when I actually wrote this. That way, I can re-initiate my pipe dream of destroying the back dating whilst giving you all a timely reminder of when the below happenings were actually scribed. It’s the best of both worlds.

Anyways, this is more of an update posting than anything. Many things have changed around here since I last wrote. First off, the very nature of “here” has been, in the words of one William Smith, “all turned, flipped upside-down.”

Surely your remember the four-letter acronym contractor (that is, they are an acronym, they do not contract acronyms) that employed me for the past five and quarter years? As it turns out, I do not work there anymore. For I have moved on to my next position, which probably has a lot to do with the embedded graphic I’ve used.

Yes, I am now working at a new acronym, this time only two letters. And the current two letter and the former four letter are mutually exclusive, meaning I’ve now been employed by six of the twenty-six letters in the alphabet (how’s that for a career aspiration?) In full, my new place of employment is Volkswagen Group of America. From my research, it seems to be a small German firm that manufactures road vehicles. I’ve always had an entrepreneurial spirit, and I look forward to contributing at a small enterprising start-up. I started a fortnight ago. My German needs work.

Aside from talking Beetles, we’ve got other cars to. Some fast facts:

• Audi: Audi is the official car sponsor of your current box office champion, Iron Man. You think Robert Downey Jr. is impressive? Go see this movie and tell me that the Audi Q7 (the SUV) isn’t unstoppable. Your mother’s SUV has 11 cup holders, how quaint. My company’s SUV RUNS OVER SUPERHEROES. I win.


• Bentley: I figured by now I would have met P. Diddy. With all the free pub he gives this small English branch of our company, he’s got to have an office around here somewhere. Speaking of our office, the company is in the process of moving HQ from Michigan to Virginia. It’s still pretty empty here. Mo’ cubicles, mo’ problems.


• Bugatti: Our annual sales target for this brand is 30 cars. That’s right. Thirty. When each car costs eleventy billion, it makes for a keen profit margin.


• Lamborgini: The other night, I had to stop at 7-11 to pick up some drinks for a dinner party we were hosting. As I was about to leave, a candy red Lambo pulled into the parking lot. Something inside me questioned the need of a Lamborghini target market member to shop at 7-11. But I guess Slurpees have no need for class wars.
  

So, like I said, it’s been two weeks in, and I’m loving the new job. I’m out in Herndon now, which makes for a nice home commute but a trickier softball commute. That’s okay, though. The latter one allows me to swing an aluminum bat at other stupid drivers. I'm back, baby.

My Morning Prayer

Dear God,

Much like a box of cereal insists, I wanted to let you know, Lord, that I have both a question and a comment this morning. First off, I want to thank You for allowing me to make it all the way to Clara’s day care this morning in the HOV-2 lane without the Virginia State Police pulling me over to do a passenger count. You have no idea how often this happens. (Oh wait. Omniscience. I forgot. You know exactly how often this happens.) Secondly, I would like you to mess with Susan Gibbs of the Archdiocese of Washington this morning. Can you make this happen? Nothing major, far from a smiting. You know, just something hilarious. How about when she’s in a staff meeting this morning and stops to take a sip of coffee, you’ve turned that coffee into mayonnaise. That sounds about right. Anyway, keep up the good work, what with all the management of the Universe and such.

In Your Name I humbly blog,
Chris

As I’ve no doubt touched on before, one of the central tenets of my belief structure about God involves Him having an incredible sense of humor. Not to reiterate, but there’s too much that happens in a coincidental uproarious way in life to think the contrary. He can appreciate a good joke/prank/rambling blog with a Detroit Lions color scheme. And what’s more? God likes Himself some good Capitalism. After all, if he decided to give humankind the Achilles’ Heel of Free Will, you better believe He’d subscribe to an economic system where man inherently is designed to act in his own best self-interest.

You know what an off-shoot of capitalism is? Marketing.

So when the worlds of comedy and capitalism collide, you know you’ve got a winner in God’s eyes. And a winner we had in the DC Metro (WMATA)’s commercial to encourage people to take public transportation to the Papal Mass that will be held in Nationals Park in a few weeks. Considering the parking situation over there, it’s a good idea, and if you’re going, you should probably adhere.

Check out the video….here.

The attention to detail in this 107-second only for the Internet's ad is truly excellent. The Car and Pontiff mag our first metro rider is reading is expertly crafted, the Latin chanting of all dialogue is nearly perfect, and even the appearance of the Arlington Catholic Herald in the background is a nice touch. Aside from the fact that the Metro is 238% less crowded than usual, it’s a spot-on pre-enactment.

(DELETED SCENE: Pope using divine intervention to solve the Sudoku in the Post Express paper.)

Now, the ads have been pulled, thanks to our villain Susan Gibbs. From the Post:

"Our concern is that this was a bad bobblehead," said Susan Gibbs, a spokeswoman for the Archdiocese of Washington. "You had unauthorized merchandise, and you had a misdressed pope."

To my knowledge, bobbleheads are incapable of sin. So what’s so bad about them? Ok, so apparently Popes don’t wear red skull caps, and their choice of cape color may also be misguided. But seriously?

Anyways, it shall live on in YouTube infamy, and more people will see it now then before BECAUSE of the controversy, so it appears God intends to have the last laugh. (Psstt…MAYONAISE IN THE COFFEE.)

In the meantime, be careful how you treat your Bobblehead Pope. Just because he can’t say no doesn’t mean you can ask for all the plenary indulgences you wish.

Where's your Gold Star?

The following is a step-by-step instruction list on “How to Brag About Your Kid.”

1. Have a kid.
   
2. Make sure she’s awesome.
3. Brag.

See, with only three steps, you can be one of those people who always can proudly enter unrelated social conversations and somehow steer the dialogue towards the excellence of your offspring. The only problem? The market’s flooded with charlatans and other lying types. Not everybody’s kid is awesome. If everybody’s kid was awesome, that would mean that twenty years from now, all adults would be awesome. We would live in a world without problems, disease, depression, paparazzi, and crappy relief pitching. But we know this not to be true. In fact, this world is far from it. I can say this, despite being an optimist. So where does the formula not compute?

Most parents are liars.

If you’re going to tour your kid as awesome, you better have proof. Just like any court of opinion, hard evidence is required in order to substantiate your claim of youthful grandeur. Now me? I wouldn’t come to a knife fight without a knife, so the mere action of introducing this as a blog topic means I’ve got the dagger to back it up. That’s right, you Interweb skeptics.

My kid is awesome. And I have proof.

Every now and then, Katie and I need to rely on a back-up daycare program that my company provides. In case your regular day care option in unavailable, I can take Clara to Bright Horizons, a center designed for sporadic use. All you have to do is 1) provide a child, 2) give them feeding and sleeping instructions, and 3) pray to God that you don’t get a phone call during the day because she ate a crayon. All in all, we’ve used them about 6 or 7 times this year and we’re very pleased with the service. And what’s more, they’ve given us the proof that Clara is awesome. How?

She gets a report card.

That’s right, I’ve got awesome documented. Ok, sure, it’s for informational purposes mainly – listing feeding times, food choices, sleep schedule and all – and this is helpful as parents. But down in the “From my teacher” section, it’s an open-ended insight into the awesomeness of Clara. I’ll translate for you.

“Clara loves the stacking cups, balls, and shape pieces. (There isn’t a single geometric shape that Clara doesn’t dominate.) She explored all the toys in the room. (It’s a shame she wasn’t born 500 years ago, Africa would have been discovered by Vasco da Clara.) She played Peek-a-Boo through the tunnel on the crawler. (you know, after destroying all the teachers in a game of Risk where she managed dominate despite having to start in Europe. And by Peek-A-Boo, we mean “Strategic Recon”, a game she plays that her Uncle Mark taught her.) She also played hide and seek around the tunnel. (That’s right. Hide AND Seek. Not Hide and Take a Nap in your Hiding Place. Versatility, baby.) We read books and sang songs. (Simultaneously! That’s how she rolls. She also wrote a mini-musical featuring her stuffed bunny, and it was about man’s longing for social acceptance but at the expense of ethical decisions. She ran out of time, so it’s only two acts. But hey, if your kid drew some lines on a paper, that’s art, too.)”

I hope Timmy Eats Them

Nice try, Visa. I’m onto you.

A few months back, I took your rival, Citi, to task on your egregious logic drain in your commercial by which a couple of wayward Swedes had to check a book of Norwegian genealogy to find out they were in fact, Swedish. I know that you’re behind the marketing 8-ball, considering MasterCard will long be remembered as THE ad campaign to end all credit card ad campaigns. As second fiddle, just trying to keep up, okay?

Now prior to MasterCard’s “Priceless” commercials took over, Visa’s “For everything else, there’s Visa” was considered the toast of the Madison Avenue credit division. They had people traveling the world, comfortable that they could always count on their little blue card to get them out of a financial jam. And since Visa’s omnipresence (more so than American Express and MC) remains true, there’s no reason to move from this campaign.

Life Takes Visa?

Ok, that’s decent enough. However, if you’re going to take your production values up a notch, let’s make sure you avoid the logic errors that botched Citi’s tour of Scandinavia.

I give you the Visa Cinema Card spot.

From a conceptual standpoint, it’s damn clever. Getting into a movie in time to see the previews is an oft-admired goal; however, the slowness of lines and idiocy of theatre workers often prevent you from achieving it. Therefore, the premise that paying with cash takes too much damn time, and a Visa card could prevent such a slowdown is clever. Throw in an action-adventure theme and original score, and you’re commercial should be a home run.

Should be…

There are two things I choose to highlight. One of them will be humorous. The other will be damning.

1 – The Humorous – As our heroic couple looks up to the clock shortly after purchasing their tickets, we get notice one of the names of the film this Futuristic Movieplex (FUTUREPLEX) is currently offering. I’m not saying that it’s their film of choice, but I give you – TIMMY THE GRIZZLY. Now, I’ve never had to name a grizzly bear in my current line of work, but I have to think “Timmy” isn’t on the top of my list. Are you afraid of a grizzly named Timmy? What, are you afraid he may do a little dance and make you a sandwich?

2 – The Damning – There’s one minute to go once our esteemed couple buys their tickets. However, since Mr. Cheapskate must have not taken his ladyfriend to dinner, they are destined to hit up the refreshment stand. Where must they go? Of course. UPSTAIRS. The Futureplex has 38 screens, multiple floors, and somehow, the only place to buy some Twizzlers is up a flight of stairs. I find this hard to believe. But hey, maybe there were budget cutbacks since the theatre builders spent half the budget on a life-size bronze bust of Timmy the Grizzly in the lobby.

HOWEVER…

I would like you to check out the background of the shot at two the shot at 24 seconds. As Captain Popcorn (who I might add, ends up with different food between leaving the concession stand and the balcony) swings from the rafters with snacks and girlfriend in hand, he lands on the ground. And for a split second, when the camera remains wide, there APPEARS TO BE A CONCESSION STAND ON THE FIRST FLOOR. Now, the evidence may be inconclusive, but I believe in the back right of the shot would be a perfect place to have purchased some snacks.

But hey, adventure’s fun, too.

Baby Einstein on the Beach

Two posts ago, I mentioned that we, with Clara as a part of our Nielsen rating demographic, are a Baby Einstein family. For those unfamiliar with the product line of educational DVDs, let me clear up something that I wouldn’t had known had I not become a member of their frequent viewing audience.

Firstly, Baby Einstein does not feature smaller, miniature versions of history’s great minds and artists. It’s not like Muppet Babies, where you can throw on a diaper and dock some height so that we can all enjoy a smaller version of an established cadre of great characters. There isn’t a baby Albert Einstein running around saying adorable things with a German accent and trying to explain relativity to a puppy named Patches. It’s probably best that the designers decided to go in a different direction. After all, Einstein is known for his trademark wild, gray hair and mustache.

That would make for one creepy baby.

As for the content, for those unfamiliar with their work, Baby Einstein has a subject matter aimed to teach small children important words. You know, things like colors. Shapes. Numbers. It makes sense to start with these basic building blocks of our language. When I took Spanish I in high school, the fifth chapter of our books was about the environment. Apparently, once I had school supplies, places, colors, and family members down, it was time to protect our world. I kid you not – one of el vocabulario redacta was the Spanish words for “nuclear winter.”

Apparently, the outlook from one textbook publishing company for the next century’s a bit bleak.

But back to the programming. By method of repetition, and a combination of photography and puppetry, Clara is now reading on an 8th grade level. She found “A Separate Peace” overrated, longs to read other Shakespeare besides Julius Caesar, and can actually understand many of the articles in Financial Times. Who knew all it would take is a couple of hippo hand puppets teaching the horse hand puppets that if you have two of something, you can share.

And man, these things are addictive. I would rather watch Baby Noah teach me about the animals of the world than watch Everybody Loves Raymond. Do you know what they teach babies in Baby Noah? They teach you “wombat.” Yes, in the Outback chapter, you learn to identify kangaroos, koalas, geckos, and yes, WOMBATS.

This kid is going to know wombats at 13 months? I’ll clear some shelf space for her Fields Medal now.

One of the fun perks of working for Baby Einstein is crediting various historical figures as tops in their respective fields by naming their expertise after them, when it comes to children’s DVDs. To date, it appears that Einstein, Beethoven, Mozart, Wordsworth, McDonald, Noah, Monet, da Vinci, and many others. I’d like to take the opportunity to honor some other people with their own videos here.

Baby Nordberg: Learning Cartography
Baby Mellor: Learning Fantasy Sports
Baby Caro: Learning Colonial History
Baby Reif: Learning Automotives
Baby Harford: Learning Relationships
Baby Jester: Learning Cinema

And …

Baby Yelito: Learning Journey

Karen Yelito is Awesome! (For Now)

You remember last year when I spoke of the glory of Lacey Smith concerning her exemplary prognosticating in the first two rounds of the NCAA tournament? No? Fine, here’s a hyperlink. After 500 words of explaining her excellence, she went on to…well…NOT WIN You’re a Bracket II. That honor was bestowed upon Mike Nordberg, who managed to get the LEAST amount of games correct, and then hit the overall winner, Florida in the final. His pick of the Gators gave him 32 points, which he miraculously used to overcome the 31-point deficit he faced. Amazing.

(Apparently, this was Mike’s One Shining Moment, as he chose to “ride on a fancy submarine” over “defend his title.” He is noticeably absent from this year’s festivities.)

So all I'm saying, is that just because you're in the lead for the time being, it doesn't automatically confirm that you will be crowned the You're a Bracket III champion. And of course, we would like to feature the excellence of those in the driver's seat, so we'll do it. Just keep in mind that this is far from a coronation.

I give you Karen "The Coffee Machine" Yelito!!!

With only the Final Four standing in her way, Karen has amassed an impressive 101 points to date. If she goes perfect in the last three games, she could end up with 165 out of 193, easily a record for the YAB tourneys of the last three years. Her secret? It's all in the method.

1. Sit down with an empty bracket.
2. Crank some Journey.
3. Let the music be your guide.

I have no doubt that the silky voice of one Steve Perry is what has propelled Yelito into our top spot. She never Stopped Believin' in Xavier. She welcomed Louisville into the Elite 8 with Open Arms. She rooted for Davidson Faithfully (at least for a round). Any Way You Want It, Karen Yelito had it this year. And with 3 of the 4 Final Four teams (sorry, Texas), she's got the right to brag.

Or does she?

With four teams, three games, and one championship left, there are 8 different scenarios that can play out next weekend. And while she may feel invincible, (what with her picks she made like 3 minutes before leaving for work that day), it's worth mention that Karen will be crowned thy champion in only ONE SCENARIO. For those of you scoring at home, here's how next week may unfurl.

If the final game is:

• North Carolina over UCLA: The Coffee Machine is your winner
• North Carolina over Memphis: David 'I Don't Want Your' Reif is your winner
• Kansas over UCLA: Kelly "The Darkhorse" Liggett is your winner
• Kansas over Memphis: Liggett's got the Jayhawk lockdown again
• UCLA over North Carolina: Why, that would be CHRIS CONDON!!!
• UCLA over Kansas: Tim "From 15th to 1st" Fischer comes out of nowhere.
• Memphis over North Carolina: Greg "Just Winsky, Baby" is your man
• Memphis over Kansas: Winsky gets the square.

It's far from over, kids.

3 Rites of Bachelordom

Hello? Anybody here?

Of course, I knew the answer to that question. Since the women of my household were driven by yours truly to Dulles International Airport at the crack of dawn Saturday, there better well be no one in my house answering back to my rhetorical query. You see, as parents, we are aiming to instill our child with very important lessons that will help her grow and develop. You know, things like colors, shapes, numbers, going on spring break –

Yeah. You heard me.

So while Katie and Clara are livin’ la vida Pensacola for the next few days, I’m alone in the townhouse for the first time, well, ever. And while it’s big and empty, I need to make the most of it and do the 3 things that I’ve always wanted to do in our new residence and have yet to have the opportunity.

1. Take a nap.

You see, we set aside some money in our new house budget to partially outfit the place with some select pieces of new furniture. Now ever since I graduated GW, Katie had always said that she’s like to get me a comfortable chair. And after much deliberation, I found a leather recliner that worked perfectly. It came the day before Clara’s birthday – a day I spent painting the stairwell in both fast and furious ways. In fact, at day’s end, I informed Katie that I’m taking the next 11 minutes to “sit in my chair.” And while much sitting has happened, I had yet to take a nap on purpose in my vaunted throne du Chris. Sure, there have been plenty of “Condonaps” – those which go unplanned in every way. But never had I lied down with full intention of taking the next 40 minutes to an hour to rest. Well guess what? After a early gym session on the way back from Dulles, I grabbed a blanket and did exactly that. OBJECTIVE COMPLETE.

2. Take a bath.

Another nice feature about our place is the larger-than-expected master bath. In addition to having a double sink and a shower stall, it’s got a large bath tub. Now, I’m not exactly a tub guy – showers serve their function nicely, thank you very much. But perhaps I favor the shower just because I haven’t crossed paths with a appropriately-sized one since I was 9. But this tub is large, and there’s more than enough room to just lie back and relax. Now I’m not advocating the bubble bath – what with all the scented candles and such – but I am advocating the water nap. Endorsed by my own daughter who fell asleep the first time we took her in a swimming pool, the motion of water is enough to cure an insomniac. And since attempting such an endeavor in an ocean or deep end often ends with, well, drowning, a bath would be a perfect opportunity. OBJECTIVE COMPLETE.

Despite my disclaimer, Nordberg I’m sure will call me out as a woman for the last one. To counter that effect, I submit the third thing:

3. Watch Band of Brothers

Short of hanging drywall, I can think of no more manly activity than watching a mini-series about World War II. Since I’ve never had HBO, I miss out on great events such as this, and with Tom Hanks’ new John Adams feature out, it reminded me of my interest in seeing Band of Brothers. Now I am only halfway through, but it’s been absolutely fantastic so far. Even though I know how it ends (America wins, Nazis lose), I can’t wait to polish off the last five episodes.

Otherwise, I’m just going to have to imagine wartime dialogue whilst watching Baby Einstein.

Tip of the Hat, Wag of the Finger

You see? That’s just not fair.

About a month ago, our company made a long-overdue strategic decision that kicked our existing maintenance vendor to the curb. Their contract had run out of options, and frankly, even if there were more, we probably would have said, “thanks, but no thanks” and given them the Heisman. In came a new firm, ready to take the torch of HVAC maintenance, landscaping of grounds, and janitorial duties. (Actual torch, however, was frowned upon. All three tasks probably involve some highly flammable material.)

The new guys are very different from the old guys. The subscribe to completely different values – ideals such as “competency, timeliness, and know-how.” It’s a refreshing change, to say the least, knowing that there’s a new sherriff in town – one that knows his way around an electrical outlet installation. The old guard has been run out of town, and while I do my best to clean up their A/R report, it’s unlikely I’ll invite them back for one more drink at the Corporate Real Estate Saloon. Over the last five years, there have been plenty of bullets flying back and forth, and it’s nice to see that the cavalry has finally arrived.

You may have notices a plethora of Old West analogies in the last ‘graph. Why would I do such a thing? Oh, that’s right. To provide an excellent segue to the point of this post altogether.

THE NEW GUYS WEAR COWBOY HATS.

Ok, not all of them. Just the one in charge of this building. But true to form, he walks around the property in a company issued windbreaker, workpants, and YES, a suede brown cowboy hat. Now the way I see it, there aren’t a whole lot of professions that you can get away with donning a ten gallon at work, but apparently being the one blue collar guy in a building full of white collars gives you that authority.

Am I saying I want to wear a cowboy hat? Of course not. That would look ridiculous with even the most casual of business casual dress. But it does bring up a greater point that I would like to address here now.

We need to bring hats back.

Look at movies from the 50’s, like The Apartment (okay, 1960). All the men went to and from work, in complete respectable suits. If it was cold, they were overcoats. If it was warm, they wore blazed. But no matter what, they wore HATS. Yes, hats that matched the suit, and kept their heads from getting wet. They were high-fashion AND high-function. So seriously, what happened?

BRING BACK THE FEDORA.

I would love to make this part of Corporate America’s required attire once again. Remember back in middle school when the teachers would arbitrarily declare one day a year “Hat Day.” Those days were awesome. It gave people personality. It gave them life. Now all we’ve got for that are ties. And half the time and those are a hassle you’d prefer not to wear anyway.

But a fedora? A fedora is cool. Custom-fit, one for each suit – that’s what we need to return to. Who’s with me? Who will wear a fedora?

Sure beats a cowboy hat.

October Madness!

As you may have noticed, we didn’t get around to previewing half of the NCAA Men’s Basketball bracket last week. You see, once Siena knocked down Vandy, we got ecstatic with our chances that this just might be the year that we win it all. Any additional analysis went out yon window, leaving YAB Nation with only 50% of a preview, of which about 12% wasn’t completely fabricated in every way.

In order to make it up to you, we’re going to turn that Preview into a Review, by simply screwing with the space-time continuum further, and kicking the letter P to the curb. (Sorry, P. Maybe Sesame Street will throw you a bone and let you sponsor an extra episode someday soon.)

NCAA South Bracket Review

First Round

(1) Memphis 87, (16) UT-Arlington 63 – Why did it happen? Because God has made it clear to all 16 seeds that they’re not allowed to ever win a game. If they were allowed, they’d be called 16-4 seeds, as to give them the illusion of being dangerous 12 seeds. Plus, the Tigers have Chris Douglas-Roberts. Never trust a man with three first names.

(8) Mississippi St 76, (9) Oregon 69 – Why did it happen? Because Oregon spent too much time in the Nike “What Not to Wear Lab” and missed the pre-game shootaround.

(5) Michigan St 72, (12) Temple 61 – Why did it happen? Temple has a game named Dionte Christmas, arguably their best player. He didn’t score a damn point in the first half, completely my 3-team Philly screw up teaser (0-3 is not good). Somebody ruined…himself.

(4) Pittsburgh 82, (13) Oral Roberts 63 – Why did this happen? Because I mocked them openly over on MYFO. Sorry, guys. At least you have salvation still going for you.

(6) Marquette 74, (11) Kentucky 66 – Why did this happen? Because of brand name confusion. I blame KFC. For years, they were known as Kentucky Fried Chicken. In order to allay concerns from health fanatics, they dropped the unhealthy word (fried) from their moniker, hoping people would be fooled. Of course, no one expects the other side effects. In doing so, KFC lost its statehood altogether. The Wildcats have no fast food chain to call their own. Wandering from Arby’s to Taco Bell in the middle of the night, they are value meal nomads. That wears on the old treads, and makes it impossible to generate a surprising upset. The loss is on your watch, Colonel.

(3) Stanford 77, (14) Cornell 53 – Why did this happen? I have no clue. However, the media didn’t have a single shred of basketball analysis to add to this game, other than the combined SAT score would kill any other matchup. Real brilliant, guys. For the record, other tourney schools in the US News Top 20? Duke, Vandy, Notre Dame. Apparently, being smart isn’t a requirement to make the Sweet 16.

(7) Miami 78, (10) St. Mary’s CA 64 – Why did this happen? Because every year, one major conference team who has no business not getting upset holds form and beats a trendy underdog. Plus, Little Rock is so much more like South Florida than California.

(2) Texas 74, (15) Austin Peay 52 – Why did this happen? Because I dropped P from Preview. Sorry, Austin.

Second Round

Memphis over Mississippi State – Damn you, alphabetical order! You win every time!

Michigan State over Pittsburgh – Because the Big East hates me. Bane of my existence this year. I just can’t figure them out. It’s kind of like Eli Stone. For those who turn their TVs off immediately after Lost, you’ve been missing a highly entertaining law dramedy starring Johnny Lee Miller (Hackers!) and Natasha Henstridge. It’s a great show, but at some point, ABC’s going to decide it’s not their next hit and start screwing with the timeslot. It’s already been confirmed Lost is taking in April 24, so what becomes of it then? Oh, and Drew Neitzel was a rebounding machine.

Stanford over Marquette – Just because your name begins with M, it doesn’t mean you’re automatically in the Sweet 16.

Texas over Miami – Matthew McConaughey is a notable Longhorn alum. Humberto Reboredo aptly represents the Hurricanes. This game was decided by “Number of Movies Each Has Done with Kate Hudson.” Sorry, man.

You're a McBlog

It’s time to check in with our good friends at McDonalds. Since I assume from their surname that they call the Emerald Isle home, it’s always nice to honor my fellow countrymen, countrywomen, and countryfryguys with a little bit of blog publicity.

(I don’t know what it is about fast food that makes it such a frequent topic here on YAB. It’s not like I eat it all that often. But probably when you are looking for a topic in the morning and you pass 37 chain restaurants on the way to work, they have a way of seeping into the comedic subconscious. But I digress.)

First things first, we send our best to the family of Herb Peterson, as he will be remembered in history as the man who invented the Egg McMuffin back in 1972. He passed away Wednesday. He was 89. While there appears to be no signs of foul play (HE WAS 89.), the Hamburglar has been taken in for precautionary questioning.

Wow, the Egg McMuffin. This guy invented it. For decades of fast food, no one had even imagined the notion of placing a conveniently circular cooked egg patty between the two ends of an English Muffin. THANK GOD FOR HERB PETERSON. Without him, you breakfast value meal today could consist of an English Muffin placed between two egg patties. What a mess.

And somehow, I’m sure the guy who invented the McRib Sandwich is continuing to live in anonymity, despite his crimes against humanity.

Once thing is clear about McDonalds – they sure know how to brand. No matter what, for the rest of all eternity, anytime somebody affixes a “Mc-“ to the beginning of any word, you’re going to assume that it has to be associated with the Golden Arches. McMansion? Yep. McPaper? Why not. McDegree? Yep, complete with grease-stained diplomas. While they may be no more than clever literary devices for less-than-clever journalists, they have permeated our vernacular to the point of exacerbation.

(That last sentence brought to you by SAT Verbal flash cards, no doubt.)

But if the trend is to exist, count on Mickey D’s to take advantage of it. Let’s say you’re sitting at a red light, enjoying the McDonald’s Snack Wrap you purchased at their drive-thru moments ago? In fact, you love its combination of ranch dressing and minimal prep time so much that you would like to work for an establishment clever enough to combine the two. How can you get more information about working at McDonalds? Look at your receipt, stupid.

www.mcvirginia.com

Look at that! They’ve localized their job openings by state, and went so far as to affix their trademark prefix to the state’s name and register it as a domain name on the world wide web! But hang on, maybe they just did it for VA. Let’s try another.

www.mcmaryland.com

www.mcnewjersey.com

Oh my gosh! That’s some serious forethought. Maybe they overlooked state where there aren’t actual people, just meandering water buffalo…

www.mcwyoming.com

NO WAY! These guys are McRelentless (TM!)! Ok, it turns out, that by going to www.mcstate.com, it clearly shows that they’ve gone ahead and registered all the dotcoms of state names with their M-C in front. So for all you aspiring rappers who have a strong affinity of geography and would like your own website, you’re out of luck. Enjoy being relegated to MySpace.

What’s this?

The only exception to the rule comes to us from Hawaii. The website for burger flipping positions in Maui is actually www.mchawaii.net, rather than .com. Why? Because it appears the Management Consultants of Hawaii has beaten a certain fast food behemoth to the punch.

Grimace is not going to stand for this.

Previewing the Midwest

Last year, the NCAA committee decided to no longer name each quadrant of the bracket after the host city in which their regional final would be played. After a longstanding tradition where we used directions to define where the Sweet 16 and Elite 8 matchups were held, for some reason we wanted to make four cities in particular more famous by naming a whole bracket piece after them.

This, of course, is the opposite of what the NHL did years ago, where they scrapped less helpful designations of divisions, named after important hockey people of the past, for the directional identities the conferences hold today. So if you were wondering on your last trip to the Wachovia Center what was the Patrick Division championships that the Flyers won on those banners, now you know.

As to why they haven't won anything in a while, I can't help you.

So, as I was saying, we're back to the mighty directionals of the compass: EAST! WEST!! SOUTH!!!

MIDWEST?!?!?

As long as I can remember, North has gotten shafted. Apparently there aren't enough decent hosting venues in North Dakota and Maine. Eh, can't blame them. The games would draw too many Canadians.

MIDWEST BRACKET CAPSULES

• Kansas has a famous saying, "Rock Chalk Jayhawk." It comes from a 19th century Chem professor of theirs who thought "Ra, Ra" was too hard to remember because it didn't rhyme with Jayhawk. Note to Coach Bill Self: if your team forgets what they're playing today, remind them that it sounds like "masketball." Works every time.
• .2% of people registered at CBS Sportsline have picked Portland State to knock off Kansas. I'm glad that all of the players' parents are internet savvy.
• When I was a kid, I played rec league basketball and my dad was the coach. As coach, one of the things you get to do is name the team. We were the Runnin' Rebels, no doubt named after the powerhouse of the early 90's, UNLV. Hey Dad, did our team have recruiting violations, too?
• Kent State would like to win just one game on the national scene where dumb sportswriters don't use "massacre" in the headline. Sincerely, the Golden Flashes.
• I have a photo hanging in my bedroom at my parents' house of me playing the French Horn in the All-SJ Jr. High Band. There's a trumpet player in it wearing an awesome St. Louis Blues jersey. I'm wearing a boring Clemson sweatshirt. I'm pretty sure I had no idea where Clemson was at the time. Hey, Brett Hull, wanna trade?
• Malik Allen, a forward for my high school at my time to attendance, went to Villanova. Now, he's showing how clever he can be with the Dallas Mavericks.
• David Reif went to Vanderbilt. And was good enough to play on the scout team.
• Siena is a college best served burnt.
• USC features a player who was simultaneously named after a breakfast juice AND a condiment! I give you O.J. Mayo! Awesome.
• Kansas State wishes more people would watch New Amsterdam, but will ultimately credit Fox with its wild schedule moves for the clever show's inevitable cancellation.
• No one will be rooting for the Wisconsin Badgers in Wisconsin this weekend. Especially if Brett Favre fails to be resurrected this Easter Sunday.
• Computer Science Fullerton? Dork.
• Gonzaga can't wait for tonight's episode of Lost. Something to remember - it may have been a season and a half since we last saw Michael, but on the island, it's closer to like three weeks. That's a lot less explaining to do. Number of times he says "my son" in this episode: eleventy billion.
• Davidson almost beat Maryland last year in the tourney. Failing to do so is their greatest regret.
• Georgetown's Roy Hibbert is a Level 5 vegan. He doesn't eat anything that casts a shadow.
• UMBC? I love acronyms. How about University of Mind-Bending Cattle? Seriously. Cows with mind control. UNSTOPPABLE.
  

September Madness!

Welcome to YAB. Don't mind the date - we've misplaced our calendar.

Regardless of the month it says it is, you are obligated as an American to reduce your productivity this upcoming Thursday and Friday and pay attention to likely meaningless games between colleges you never considered attending. And sure, it's one thing to root for the sake of rooting, but wouldn't it be a little more fun if you had some skin in the game?

Who the hell came up with that phrase, anyway?

(Ok, apparently it was Warren Buffet. That man is everywhere!)

Actually, I'll tell you what. At YAB, we ask not for your own skin, but offer the promise of a wicked sweet prize. (And just because Mike Nordberg has yet to receive last year's T-shirt doesn't mean that said promise will be unfulfilled.) Welcome to You're a Bracket III.

All you have to do is go to the following (outdated) url:

http://yab07.mayhem.sportsline.com/e

The password? Why that would be "condon."

In the coming 24 hours, expect some bracket capsules to help with your selections, although I should warn you.

I intend to make everything up.

Let's start with the East, shall we?

• North Carolina comes in as the top seed. I recently watched them fight off Duke in Durham at a sports bar, accompanied by Nordberg. Unfortunately, my last shirt was a Tar Heel blue polo. How can you wear a UNC-colored shirt to a bar and claim you aren't supporting the team? Answer: by buying Nordberg enough beer to keep him quiet.
• Mount St.Mary's, the 16 seed, had to defeat Coppin State for the right to be slaughtered by the Heels. On top of that, they made them go to OHIO to play said game. What prayer didn't St. Mary answer from the NCAA committee to warrant such abuse?
• Indiana's season has gone to hell ever since former Head Coach Kelvin Sampson was fired for texting his BFF, Jill.
• Arkansas has a senior guard named Sonny Weems. I did not make this up.
• Notre Dame promises, at no point in this tournament, that they won't even mention college football. That includes references to Rudy.
• George Mason beat William and Mary to win the Colonial. Their mascot, the Dreamcrusher, will be making the trip to the Big Dance.
• Washington State has had it with the Pearl Jam and coffee references, thankyouverymuch.
• Winthrop cried at the end of Atonement.
• Oklahoma can't get over the face that all of the hybrid vehicles are so damn ugly. What do you mean the Honda Element is not a hybrid?
• St. Joe's has a mascot who refuses to stop flapping his wings. Ever. That'll come in helpful should the gym bleachers catch on fire.
• Louisville is in Kentucky. Better luck next university founding.
• Boise State has developed a space age wood that shall be installed on their home court for next season. It's Smurf blue.
• Butler has banned the game Clue from all road trip activities.
• South Alabama has been granted a home game of sorts, getting to player Butler in Birmingham. It's near Greenbow.
• Tennessee's head coach Bruce Pearl has appeared at women's games shirtless and painted orange.
• American has seen the tape and should be in therapy shortly.
  

Just No Rob Schneider, Alright?

EW.com, the web version of Entertainment Weekly, provides plenty of online content to keep yourself enthralled while listening to boring conference calls whilst on mute. Sure, they’ve got breaking entertainment news and the latest on casting decisions for the summer blockbusters, but the real time wasters are the photo gallery montages of Hollywood’s best. Often, it’s stuff like “The Roles of Will Ferrell” or “Greatest Football Movies.” That’s fine. But every once in a while, they do something about things you, the reader, isn’t familiar with.

This is why I was excited to flip through today’s: 20 Movies We Can’t Wait to See.

By using a still from “Leatherheads,” I was hooked into flipping through the album of 20. After all, Clooney’s directing, it’s got Jim from the Office, and it has a screwball comedy vibe that’s admirable when proper actors take these sorts of projects. I have to agree, Leatherheads is marked on my calendar, and I hope to see it when it comes out on April 4. But what of the rest?

Sure, there are some that are definitely worth a watch. Drillbit Taylor and Forgetting Sarah Marshall are Judd Apatow comedies, so likely will be entertaining. And I’d be remised if I didn’t mention Harold and Kumar 2 for the sake of Jon and Jasen. And on a more serious note, it may be good to remember that Funny Games rolls out on March 14. But then there are others on the list, which seems to only be movies from March and April, that aren’t quite as promising. The Ruins? A Lohan flick? What is this?

Then I thought to compare the list to the major releases on the calendar for the next two months.

March 7:
College Road Trip
10,000 B.C. – ON THE LIST
Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day – ON THE LIST
Married Life – ON THE LIST
The Bank Job

March 14:
Doomsday
Horton Hears a Who! – ON THE LIST
Funny Games – ON THE LIST

March 21:
Drillbit Taylor – ON THE LIST
Meet the Browns

March 28:
21 – ON THE LIST
Stop Loss – ON THE LIST
Run, Fatboy, Run
Superhero Movie (you’re kidding, right?)

April 4:
Leatherheads – ON THE LIST
Shine a Light – ON THE LIST
Nim’s Island – ON THE LIST
The Ruins – ON THE LIST
My Blueberry Nights – ON THE LIST

April 11:
Prom Night
Smart People – ON THE LIST
The Brothers Bloom

April 18:
88 Minutes
Forgetting Sarah Marshall – ON THE LIST

April 25:
Harold and Kumar 2 – ON THE LIST
The List – ON THE LIST (AND REDUNDANT!)
Baby Mama – ON THE LIST
Deception – ON THE LIST
Big Stan – Rob Schneider is in this. That’s all you need to know.


Apparently, EW can’t wait to see over 70% of all movies ever. Doesn’t that seem, I don’t know, a bit high? For March and April?

They could have had an 8-movie list of “8 Movies We Think You Should Not See.” Seems more efficient.

The Honduran Post Paradox

I call this current lack of blogging the Honduran Post Paradox.

Shortly after college, when my classmates and I were scattered by the winds of future employment (if CareerBuilder.com wants to trademark that, I demand a cut), we entered into it confidently that we’d all keep in touch. After all, thanks to the Internets, we had it EASY. There wouldn’t be letter writing, there wouldn’t be outrageous long distance phone charges, and for the love of all things postal, there wouldn’t be hand cramps from the writing of lengthy tomes. Our parents may have had to struggle with such hardships, but not us. No, sir. We are living in the age of the Computer, and the Computer remembers where everyone is FOR you. Good computer.

Everyone went their own directions and acquired new e-mail addresses. Some included domain names for impressive-sounding companies. Others had migrated to a new .edu address. And yes, some chose to rock this fledgling new startup called “gmail.” Regardless, if you got two people stuck in front of a computer during the day, with not a whole lot to do, you could exchanged upwards of 30 “letters.” Postage-free.

And then Jasen moves to Honduras.

As you may recall, one Jasen Andersen decided to spend his first two years of post-graduate life helping the people of Honduras via the Peace Corps. He probably spent 24 long months making Survivor references that nobody would get. The people of Honduras were eternally grateful for Yaz’s contributions, considering he had to leave all his family and friends back in the States.

As friends of Jasen, all we could do to support his cause was the keep him abreast of the goings-on in our lives as well as the news here in the States. Many of our friends rose to the challenge, including some who even went and visited him in his tiny jungle hamlet. I’d like to say that I was one of these friends – a trip where Grimm and I were to invade the ‘duras in the summer of ’03 nearly happened, if it weren’t for some last minute work obligations. (Or Grimm had to drop a couple grand on the Grimm Prix – can’t remember.) Alas, it did not happen.

Of course, I could always write the lad. After all, I had free time on my hands looking for a job and making sure the walls of my apartment didn’t fall down. But here’s where the rub lies. The longer I took to write him, the more monumental (in my head) the correspondence had to be. What started as a simple note to say hey steamrolled into a full letter, and then a chapter, and then a book, and then a parody, and then a play, and then a full journal. That’s the Honduran Post Paradox. The more you want to write, the more you get crushed by heightened inner expectations. Ultimately, I never wrote him, and as they say in Slapshot –

“You go to the box, and you feel shame.”

Some would say that we’ve gotten to the point on YAB with the backdating that it’s time to write a full journal in order to get back on track. It’s not that nothing has happened in the last couple of months. It’s just that energy to kick things off once again that has prevented me from writing. Yeah, I’ve been busy, but no busier than July 04-now, during which the blog has flourished. Well, instead of trying to write something epic to get back on track, let’s just start with a post. A simple post, like this one. ell, consider this a return.

It’s not grand yet, but it will be.

Welcome back, YAB. Welcome back.

Cond-nominations 2008

This time last year, I was on an excellent movie-watching pace. Because of the impending child, Katie and I saw lots of movies. Call it a last gasp of cinematic freedom; I felt well prepared to beat my previous best 0f 36 out of 40. Hell, I even saw Letters from Iwo Jima? Did you? DID YOU?

No, but it didn't matter much.

Because of my hollow faith in Dreamgirls, I took last year on the chin and moved on to watch my partner-in-Academy-crime become the Oscar Party 4 champ. So what could my chances possibly be this time around? I haven't seen much, read even less, and as I sit here stomaching my way through Hairspray, things aren't looking too good.

Before I get to the picks, a lot of you have asked me, "Will there even be an Oscars?" I'll take the time here to answer that, considering what will follow is probably going to be more false than true. The answer? YES. While I don't believe that the WGA Strike will have concluded, it is in the best interest for the writers to sign a waiver to write for the show and allow their guild-alliances, such as SAG, to have their day to shine. After all, their biggest bargaining chip is the clout of a supportive acting branch. Cancelling the actors' big night will likely wash away any sympathy they've got. So, I look forward to a written Oscars.

(Hairspray note: Seriously, is Travolta trying to ruin this? It sounds like he's been doing a Dr. Evil impression for the last ninety minutes.)

Best Picture
Atonement
Juno
Michael Clayton
No Country for Old Men
There Will Be Blood

Best Actor
George Clooney, Michael Clayton
Daniel Day Lewis, There Will Be Blood
Johnny Depp, Sweeney Todd
James McAvoy, Atonement
Viggo Mortenson, Eastern Promises

Best Actress
Julie Christie, Away from Her
Marian Cotillard, La Vie en Rose
Angelina Jolie, A Mighty Heart
Keira Knightley, Atonement
Ellen Page, Juno

Best Supporting Actor
Casey Affleck, Assassination of Jesse James
Javier Bardem, No Country for Old Men
Phillip Seymour Hoffman, Charlie Wilson's War
Hal Holbrook, Into the Wild
Tom Wilkinson, Michael Clayton

Best Supporting Actress
Cate Blanchett, I'm Not There
Ruby Dee, American Gangster
Laura Linney, The Savages
Amy Ryan, Gone Baby Gone
Tilda Swinton, Michael Clayton

Best Director
Paul Thomas Anderson, There Will Be Blood
The Coens, No Country for Old Men
Tony Gilroy, Michael Clayton
Julian Schnabel, Diving Bell and the Butterfly
Joe Wright, Atonement

Best Original Screenplay
American Gangster
Juno
Michael Clayton
Ratatouille
The Savages

Best Adapted Screenplay
Charlie Wilson's War
Diving Bell and the Butterfly
Into the Wild
No Country for Old Men
There Will Be Blood

Ok, let's see if I can get at least 31.

The Cutting Return of YABNews

It’s been a while since we’ve contacted the YABNews Desk for a lead on a story. All this time, we’ve been getting memos from them as to how they support the Writer’s Strike and refuse to produce any material. Then we realized that the royal “we” is a fictional writing device, and since I’m not part of the WGA, then neither are they. Hey, I don’t member authorizing the purchase of a foosball table for their break room.

You see, YABNews doesn’t know how to cover the big issues that consume today’s press. Primary elections? Not interested. Israeli-Palestinian peace talks? No thanks. The Writers Strike? Ok, maybe. No, over the years YABNews has focused on the truly unique in breaking media coverage.

If it should break residential architecture in the process, so be it.

Today we bring you the story of a hunting enthusiast in the great state of Michigan. I can’t say I’ve ever felt the real need to hunt. It’s not the primal longing that so many people claim it to be. Of course, I may have been turned off to the practice when I was young. I remember as a young lad attempting to snipe water fowl as they flew diagonally across my range of vision. If I missed, a neighborhood dog would inexplicably arise from the weeds to mock me. Stupid dog.

So while I can’t speak from experience, I have to assume that hunting supplies are expensive. Why? Because it can be considered a niche sport or game, and all supplies for niche sports and games are expensive. For some reason, those who enjoy their athletics on the fringe have more cash to burn. They buy things like snow skis and road bikes and rifles to fill that need. Of course, one has to wonder why so few people get into these sports. Maybe it’s because as kids we don’t have the kind of allowances to skeet shoot or ice climb. And because of this, these sports lay on the fringe. Like I said, it’s a vicious cycle.

Back to our YABNews report. According to the article:

A man who hid hunting knives in his pants to try to steal them from a western Michigan store tripped while fleeing and stabbed himself in the abdomen, police say… The man had put about $300 worth of hunting knives in his waistband, police told WZZM-TV. Police say he tried to leave the store, but Meijer employees confronted him and a scuffle
followed. The man then fell and was stabbed by the knives he had
hidden in his clothing, police said. They said it happened about 5:40
p.m.

Ok, I have a few thoughts about this real man of genius. And in honor of our hunting theme, you’re going to get them…IN BULLET FORM!!!

• Now while I haven’t had to price them lately, I really have no idea how much a hunting knife costs. Did the guy steal 1 $300 knife? Or maybe 25 $12 knives? We just don’t know. Regardless, a waistband isn’t exactly my first choice for knife concealment. Hey, buddy, ever heard of pockets?
• I take that back. My flag football league requires that all shorts or pants worn cannot have pockets. It prevents people from reaching for a flag and dislocating a finger on an errant stab. I’m cool with that. You know, except for the fact that every single pair of pants in Dick’s Sporting Goods now comes with pockets. I find it hard to imagine that our Knife Thief managed to shop around and find a pair that came pocket free.
• The fact that you are stealing knives gives us a good idea of where your morals rest. That said, why didn’t you steal some blankets or pillows, too? Hell, this is a camping store. They’ve probably got marshmallows in the back you could have ganked.
• If you have knives in your waistband and you’re going to trip or fall, you should probably do everything you can to not land in a position so that they may stab you. This is called the Kyle Williams Postulate. It’s named after a famous hurdler that in warmups tripped over a hurdle. Rather than further injure his thumb – which was in a cast from football season – Williams went into the track favoring his hand. Instead? Collarbone first. Had the Knife Thief listened to Kyle, he’d have a broken collarbone, but non-lacerated abs.

Dethronified!

Longest dramatic pause. Ever.

I give you the FINAL RESULTS OF YAB’S DETHRONE THE KING ’07!

Wow, what a season. The nice thing about running a pool such as this one is the fact that even if first place is out of reach, mediocre beat writers keep everyone in striking distance of glory. And this year has been no exception, as Peter King failed to deliver accurate predictions on a weekly basis and proved me right yet again. Can a casual football fan outpick a man whose job it is to analyze and dissect the great fame of football?

Yes. 13 times over.

13 of you ably bested the King in our 256 game Pickdown. Some did it by the narrowest of margins, like Mattias Caro – who rode a 12-4 final week to overtake Pedro Rex. And some did it by DESTROYING ALL LOGIC WHATSOEVER. Katie Condon outlasted King by 17 games. That’s right. If this had been a competition between just the two of them. She could have rested all her picks in Week 17 and still clinched with ease. In fact, in the SI.com competition, where there are over 50,000 entries, Katie would have finished in a tie for 8th.

Even I can't make that up.

Peter King ended the season at 162-84, good enough for a 14th place tie in a 26 person pool. My, that’s average. And considering we lost four valiant Shawnee Groupers over the waning weeks, that makes his efforts far less impressive. That said, I award the SAV ROCCA BETTER LUCK NEXT YEAR AWARD to those who punted – Karen Yelito, David Kull, Rob Harford, and Joseph Brescia.

To our champ, Katie Condon, goes the YON MIGHTY THRONE AWARD. She has won herself first place, a wicked sweet NFL prize (TBD), and folklore. Lots and lots of folklore. (Clara, when you were very little, Mommy should have gone to Vegas a lot more. She didn’t, which is why you’re stuck in your room writing college scholarship essays.) (179-77)

Second place goes to Josh Stock, as well as the HACK THE PLANET AWARD. Stock, came on very late in the year to break up the ladies’ tea party on the podium. Of course it should be noted that his two best weeks occurred when technology failed him. A returned e-mail and a Blackberry botch coincided with two weeks totaling 29-1. To avoid skepticism next year, Josh, get some training on these newfangled gadgets. We hear great things on the radio about Computer Learning Center. (175-81)

Third place and the MIGHTY PARADOX AWARD goes to Kristen Morea. Not only were her picks worthy of a mainstay locale on the Podium, they often were sent to me with an e-mail that said something like, “I’m totally going to suck this week” or “Man, these were hard ones!.” Liar. (170-86)

In a tie for fourth place, we have Kristen Fischer and, yes, Me. Let’s see, what do we have in common? We don’t hold spousal superiority, since I got housed by mine. Hey, we like musicals! Yeah, that’s it. So Kristen, join me in accepting this HOW WE GONNA PAY LAST YEAR’S RENT award. Cash prizes rarely fall off the podium, and that’s precisely we’re we’ve landed. (167-89)

Who likes a sixth place tie? Jeff Collins and Liz Arsenault. Liz gets the PERFECT 10 Award – which isn’t necessarily good. It just points out that she got exactly 10 games right in a week 7 times. Collins gets the SNEAKY FAST Award, for distancing himself from the Ocean City contingent in a matter of weeks without anyone realizing it. (166-90)

All alone in 8th place is Stewart Robinette. Somebody give him a hug. And a symbolic award. (165-91)

A three-way tie for ninth finds Eric Goldman, Jasen Andersen, and Mike Nordberg huddled together, two games ahead of Peter King. Goldman wins the RETURN TO SENDER Award, for emailing me his picks within 40 seconds of the email going out, Andersen gets the HAIL TO THE REDSKINS Award, as he boldly went where no one else dared – Washington over New England – and Mike Nordberg gets MOST IMPROVED. He rebounded from dead last early on to dethrone the King. Mike, can you please get your slacker brother in on this action next year? (164-92)

12th place – the DOUBLE CUTTING IT CLOSE Award – goes to the aforementioned Mattias Caro, as well as Christina Toms. Along with Jon Rogers, Toms made compiling the picks highly enjoyable, as she provided insights and vignettes on every single game. (163-93)

And finally, in 13th – the TIE GOES TO THE FISCHER Award is bestowed upon Tim Fischer, who picked up a game on PK in Week 16 and hung on in 17 to maintain pace. (If it helps, Tim, it was the Eagles over the Saints that got you caught up.) Because of your worthy effort and homerism, we will count you as a winner. While you may not have dethroned him, you probably were the one who hired the court jester to annoy him from here to the Pro Bowl.

For those who fell short, my condolences. There will be next year, and Peter King will be fatter. The full standings are posted in the side bar, and will be there until March Madness. Thank you all for participating, and we will see you next year! For those who did in fact Dethrone the King, I’ll e-mail concerning your slightly less wicked sweet prize.

One Last Cup of Joe

Joe Gibbs is retiring this afternoon.

I’m no Redskins fan, so you may be surprised to find me writing a post that eugoogilizes the career of a rival head coach. However, as a sports fan who has recently purchased real estate in the heart of Redskins Nation, I feel qualified enough to write a quick post about Coach Gibbs and what he’s accomplished in his second stint in Washington. Hey, if nothing else, I’ll probably piss off Mattias enough into getting a comment, right?

And before I begin, let me assuage the tension and inevitable comparisons to my team, the Eagles. The Eagles are not without their problems, and this off-season in particular could have a enormous impact on the next five years. (My thoughts? Keep Donovan McNabb, pay Westbrook for what he’s done, eat the cap space and cut Kearse or Howard, let L.J. Smith walk, sign a FB in free agency, pick a DB with your 1st rounder, and OT with your second, and replace the word “Lewis” with “Machine” on all of #83’s jerseys.) But enough about the Birds. Onto the ‘Skins.

Joe Gibbs’ second tour of Washington lasted four seasons. He inherited a team that had gone 5-11 under Steve Spurrier, and had approximately 37 University of Florida Gators on the roster. And we’re not just talking quarterbacks and speedy D-linemen – I swear they had 4 white wide receivers on that team (remember Chris Doerring?) From that last Spurrier team, only Ethan Albright, Randy Thomas, Chris Samuels, Jon Jansen, Rock Cartwright, and Ladell Betts remain. All are worthy, even if Ethan Albright is the worst player in the NFL. Aside, from some stalwart linemen, the team you’ve been enjoying under Gibbs for the last four years has been Gibbs’ team.

Or at least the one Dan Snyder got him for Christmas.

Regardless of what Gibbs was capable of on the field, his return to D.C. is a reflection of the players that owner Dan Snyder insisted on overpaying. Take this analogy. All Joe Gibbs wants for Christmas is a necktie. He got a mustard stain on his last necktie, and he needs to replace it in the rotation. Dan Snyder asked him what he wanted, and he asked for a necktie. It’s not asking for much – it’s a practical, sensible, respected gift.

“Hey, Joe! I hope you like this shiny Segway! Merry Christmas!”

The Redskins have never really had a chance to compete during Gibbs’ second tenure because of the terrible personnel moves that they have made. Insistent on making a splash, Snyder has thrown major cash and some players who have become decent (Springs, Carter, Randle El) and some disasters (Lloyd, Archuleta, and yes, Brunell.) They’ve had no regard for the importance of the draft, which is a shame. Because when they DO draft, they actually do a nice job (Campbell, McIntosh). But because of poor team management, draft picks are squandered. This team has no middle class. Because of Snyder’s ways, you’ve got a bunch of marquee stars and undrafted free agents. When you pay the big guys the big bucks, there isn’t much money left for, I don’t know, RESERVES. Under this plan, the Redskins will never go deep because of a lack of depth. It’s like the Sixers with Iverson. Until Snyder goes, they’re not going anywhere.

But what of Joe 2.0? 31-36 isn’t nearly the 140-65 of the good old days. I feel he never really figured out the new NFL. It’s a different game than in the 80’s – a game that Gibbs owned – and I don’t think his coaching style fit. That’s why so many new rookie coaches are finding success – they grew up watching and playing the new-style NFL. This team’s inability to hold a halftime lead haunted Gibbs, who got overly conservative when he was up a few. Sometimes he threw challenge flags because he liked to see them fly through the air. And man, are timeouts fun! In succession. Inducing 15-yard penalties. To lose a game.

Dagger.

Goodbye, Joe Gibbs. We’ll see you at the next Bee Gees reunion tour. A moving truck will be by your office shortly to haul of Al Saunders’ freaking play book.