The Most-Watched NBC telecast?

ALMOST as popular as Michael Phelps. . .

So, congrats to Michael Phelps on his eight gold-medals at the Olympics. Now, quick, Mike, have your agent make you as much money as possible, cause i'd guess the shelf-life of marketing promotion for an Olympic athlete is quite short.

Right now, everyone knows who Michael Phelps is. Hey, the NBC broadcast last Saturday night when he won #8 was the most-watched Saturday night program on NBC in something like nearly 20 years. We're not a nation of Saturday-night television viewers, I guess, because the Phelps Olympic broadcast bumped a "very special" 1990 episode of Empty Nest (a "Golden Girls" spinoff) from the No. 1 spot. I guess the nation was pretty gaa-ga about Kristie McNichol and Richard Mulligan back then. Thankfully, neither one was wearing a speedo during that broadcast.

Bunch of Bits. .

Nothing specific here, just a few things bouncing around inside my noggin. . . . .

• We Ain't Got No Stinkin' Tickets: So, the true sports fans who have scrimped and saved their pennies to attend the Olympic games in Bejing get over there to find. . . ticket prices through the roof! Olympic organizers have been saying that there are no tickets available and that the venues are sold out. Hmm. Seems like a lot of empty seats from what I can see on my television (or have the Chinese just digitally altered the background to make it appear so). Who's to blame? The organizers, I suppose, who invited those bastard "ticket brokers" (defined as legalized scalpers) to set up shop, purchase most of the available tickets at face value, then resell 'em at ridiculously inflated prices. So, blame the brokers at well (Stubhub, go to hell). And a mighty single-finger salute to the corporate "partners" who've also secured their fair share of tickets, only to not use them. Meanwhile, the organizers are scrambling up locals--school children, stragglers on the streets, anyone--to come and fill up the seats to make it look like the events are being well-attended. Meanwhile, the dedicated fans are left scrounging for overpriced tickets.
• Lip-synching Chinese kid: Where did all the outrage about this come from, anyway? Where's this false indignity coming from? It's not like anyone is up in arms about China's use of essentially slave-labor to build the Olympic venues, their mixing of cute kids and goose-stepping soldiers in the opening spectacle, or their squashing of basic human rights and press freedoms. Hey, that's just the price of doing bidness, eh? These Olympics are less about the athletic competition and more about showing the world that China is more than cheap imported goods and rice paddies, Chairman Mao, and the Cultural Revolition. Oh, the Cultural Revolution? Must've missed that during the sanitize Chinese history lesson during the opening ceremonies. . .
• Michael Phelps? Sure, nice kid. Sure, great athlete. GREATEST ATHLETE EVER? I'd doubt it. Maybe greatest swimmer. But I'm already tired about his quest for Olympic immortality. Pluheeze. So this whole thing will be a failure if he doesn't win every event and set a world record in each one? Whatever.
• Fort Worth gas drilling: ah, now that those homeowners lucky enough to have mineral rights (we aren't among 'em) have negotiated a big bonus check and royalty deal with the evil natural gas companies, their conscience is kicking in as they drive through their neighborhoods and are beginning to see drilling rigs, high-pressure odorless gas lines, and compressor stations being built. Oh, and let's not forget the dozens of homes that are being torn down to accomodate the pipeline alignments. And the threat of eminent domain if you don't deal with them! Hey, homeowners with the new big-screen teevees--you've made your deal with the Devil and Mike Moncreif. . .too late to cry for some sort of comprehensive Fort Worth drilling plan now! This is one of my bookmarked favorite blogs on all that's happening in Fort Worth.
• Carrot Top: When did he go from being just a goofy prop-comic to a scary-looking, roided-up, plastic-surgery-and-tatooed-eyebrow muscle-bound horror? Jesus Christ. Check out this great you tube clip of the amazing Henry Rollins riffing on the "new, improved" Mr. Top. "Non-specific, transgender. . .man, What The Fuck?" indeed!
• Russia vs. Georgia. Ol' Dubya got lucky. It wasn't his spineless-threats that caused Vlad and the boys to back down. Rather, Russia didn't want too much more egg on their face internationally. And, really, what were we going to do about it? Send troops? From. . .where? Let this be a wake-up call to Americans that if some other superpower (we aren't the only one, ya know) decides to do a little territorial expansion, we're in no position to do anything about it. . .at least until we get the hell out of Iraq (where, by the way, the national treasury has banked billions of $$ while we continue to pay for their reconstruction. . what was that about the war that was going to pay for itself?)
• McCain/Georgia: Is he senile, or just has no short-term memory?
• John Edwards: never trusted him. Didn't anyone else just think he was nothing but a smooth-talking lawyer without a bone of sincerity in his body? Well, it'd be tough for anyone to trust him again. But it really wasn't THAT bad--her cancer was in remission at the time. And he didn't father that child--he'd be happy, just overjoyed to take that paternity test. Honestly. Really, now, did Elizabeth truly think that no one would find out about this after she encouraged him to run for President again? She's been labeled an "ambition enabler."
• John McCain: you notice he's keeping quiet about the whole Edwards thing. He's in no position to talk--and indeed, where is the media giving him and his peccadillos equal time? While he was a Vietnam POW, his wife and mother to his children was involved in a serious automobile accident that disfigured her. What did Johnny boy do when he was spring from the Tiger Cages? Came home, dumped the now-ugly wife, and immediately married a younger, blonder, and much richer woman. Now, there's ambition for you!
• Credit: Explain to me how I could be denied a loan at a low interest rate due to my credit score, but the same creditor would gladly offer me the same amount of money at a MUCH higher interest rate? Shit, if I wasn't good to pay it back with a lower monthly payment, how could they expect me to be more comfortable with a higher interest rate and subsequently higher monthly bill? I know it's all about risk, but it makes no sense to me. . .
• D-I-V-O-R-C-E: Okay, so we've got friends who are getting divorced. I really feel for them, and especially their kids. Love changes over time. That's part of life. Careers and children are all a part of that change. Dumping your partner to get more excitement into your life isn't the answer. Deal with it. Think of the kids. And, no, it isn't a better deal for everyone involved. Your kids might not admit to it now, but eventually, it'll mess 'em up.

The Five Day Forecast: Hell on Earth. . .

A Birthday Party Bitch and Moan. . .

I. blows out the candle. Four kids, fourth birthday.

Yesterday, we celebrated I.'s fourth birthday with a little backyard party. (His actual birthday was the 14th, but we held off a week or so with a party for his friends so we could invite them over on a Saturday afternoon.)

M. did a great job, as usual, planning the event: she created some cool invitations, worked tirelessly getting the house all spiffed up, ran here and there getting a cake made, crepe paper hung, and selected just the right party favors for I.'s baseball-themed party. A dozen invitations went out: RSVP, they all said, and included a phone number. That seems pretty easy to figure out.

But I guess RSVP is an abbreviation lost on the young parents of today (so, look it up in your Wikipedia: ""Répondez s'il vous plaît", a French phrase that translates to "reply, please." or literally "reply, if it pleases you". It is with this meaning that invitation cards and similar documents are often marked with "R.S.V.P." It is standard practice to reply to an RSVP request whether confirming attendance or declining. " )

M.--and myself--were brought up with enough manners to be considerate enough that if someone thinks enough of you to invite you to a party, you let the person know if you'll be there or not. I guess that isn't the way things are done anymore--M. recieved no response at all from the invites. . .and that makes it a bit difficult to figure out how many kids to plan for. It wasn't the first time: the same thing happened back in January for E.'s birthday party at a rental bounce-house place. The invitations went out. . .and then, mostly. . .nothing. Oh, three parents did bother to call and say they'd bring their kid. . but two of those didn't bother showing up, nor call later to apologize. It really chafed my ass to spend hard-earned money on renting a place for the kids to have a good time, and then their parents don't even bother letting us know if they'll be there or not.

Saturday, anyway, I. had a great time, despite having only two friends come by. P., our neighbor infant from across the street, tottled over with her parents; and one of I.'s "girlfriends" from school came by as well (her mother lost the invitation, but made the effort to look up on line where we live). We all ate pizza and cake. I. and his brother E. and the two little guests splashed in a kiddie pool, zipped along a slip-and-slide, and played a little baseball. I doubt they missed the kids that didn't make it. To them, it wasn't a slight on anyone's part.

But M. and I wonder if these parties are even worth it. Especially when parents don't show much consideration in how to respond to an invitation. Call it sour grapes, or call it bitching and moanin'. But, please, call us--one way or another.



Getting a jump on puberty. . .

See, our son is IS half-Hispanic!

M. picked up some cheap costume moustaches from the party store the other day. While E. would have nothing to do with trying one on (he's SO serious lately!), I. was, of course, eager to jump in. I think he's more Ramon Vasquez than Jason Giambi. . .

You May Be a Cubs Fan If. . .

. .you decide to have your ashes interred in a Cubs-theme cemetery. Yep, your ashes will rest in eternal repose inside a replica of the ivy-covered walls of Wrigley Field, complete with a bronze "baseball card" describing your life. Oh, and speakers broadcasting Cubs games so the mourners can get into the mood.

I shit you not.


Too Good to Pass up. . .
is Fappingfun's flickr site. Beware: there's quite a few photographs not safe for youngsters or the office. Or your wife, if she catches you looking at them. But, beyond the photos of young women with large breasts, there's some funny-ass shit in here. Mind if I rip the guy off and post a couple of em? Thought you wouldn't mind.



Self-explanatory.



I'm a fan of obscene Family Circus spoofs. There's a whole bunch of them here.



Again, no explanation needed.




Guys will relate to this one.



"Our BBQ will make U go OMGWTF!"

Flicker is an amazing place to waste time. Incredible what people post. Truly. Amazing. And they aren't shy, either. But enough about that.

Ya hadda be there (and we were, sort of. . . )

It's Roy Hobbs! (AP photo)

What an amazing finish to last night's Rangers-Anaheim Angels game in Arlington! All morning on ESPN the lead highlight clip has been Josh Hamilton's walk-off two-run home run to lead Texas to a 5-4 victory.

I hope folks are finally starting to believe in this ball club. I know I do. It took me several years past the debacle that was the A-Rod deal to get me to even want to watch a sports team owned by Tom Hicks. But things are starting to fall into place for the Rangers. . .they've got a little momentum now (playing 4-games above .500 for the first time in two years) going into the All-Star break. And while the pitching still isn't anywhere near where it should be--in fact, it's a horror show--the youth and resiliency and sense of team embodied in this year's Rangers squad should bring big dividends in the future. Maybe not this year, but certainly in 2009 and later. The club is loaded with young hitting and fielding talent, and there's a whole line of 'em coming up in the Rangers' minor league system, too. Hats off to Jon Daniels. And hats off to Nolan Ryan, too, for his leadership in the front office. Not much to hear from Mr. Hicks, which is fine with me.


The Temple at dusk. A magical place. And $1.00 hot dogs to boot.


Chris and son Jake along with the always-in-motion I. and E. Jake's got a borrowed Cubs cap on. By the end of the night, he was sporting a Rangers cap. Another convert!

Our family joined my co-worker Chris Palmieri and his son, Jake, at the game last night. I gave the Rangers no chance of winning last night going into it. It's not too promising when the team doesn't have a starter to put on the mound. Instead, they team opted to use relievers--Madrigal and Rupe to start things off--and to me it had a bruising written all over it.

But Madrigal and Rupe stepped up, pitching a combined six innings and allowing two runs, allowing the Rangers to tie the game at 2-2 by the 6th inning by forcing the Angels' Jared Weaver to walk runners, and having the luck of two fielding errors which set up the Rangers' first two runs.

Rangers reliever Frank Francisco allowed the Angels two more runs in the 6th, and there it stood, 4-2, until the 9th inning, when the Angels' dangerous closer, Francisco "K-Rod" Rodriguez, came on to close the Rangers out.

It wasn't to be.

Rodriguez walked Vasquez, struck out Kinsler, and Catalanatto grounded out, moving Vasquez to second. With 2 outs, Michael Young sent Vasquez home on a double, bringing Hamilton up to bat with the score 4-3 with two outs. After running the count to 3-1, Rodriguez elected to pitch to Hamilton rather than walk him, and Hamilton drove the pitch deep to right field.

Pandemonium ensued. The crowd went wild, etc. and the Rangers swarmed onto the field to welcome Hamilton on his first-ever walk-off home run. It was electric. I'm sure Josh Lewin's call will be remembered for a long time.


A family photo op. You can see I. is already fidgeting to get to the team store. . .

At least it appeared that way on television. Where were we? Hey, we've got two young boys, and they absolutely needed to visit the team store rather than watch the conclusion to this exciting game. So, off we went to the gift shop (Hey, Rangers were down 4-2 in the 7th inning? What are the chances they'd rally?) While M. and the boys shopped, I watched the game conclude on a television monitor above a display of Ranger's Caps.

"What happened? Is it over?" one shopper asked. "Awww, and we were shopping!" That about sums up the experience. What the hell. We'll catch it on SportsCenter later.

Still, an electrifying win, and the Rangers are now up 2-1 in the series against the Angels. And Hamilton is being hailed as "The Natural" on baseball blogs across the country. "How f-ing awesome can that be?" one writer asked, " to hit a home run in a stadium of cheering fans, fireworks exploding overhead, and the music from 'The Natural' playing? " How f-ing awesome, indeed!

This season is getting more interesting by the moment.


My view of the Hamilton game-winner. I won't let this happen again.

Where Have You Gone, Transistor Radio (a nation turns its lonely eyes to you. . .)

Before headed to the game, and running errands, I thought I'd just stop in a store and buy a small transistor radio to take to the game. Remember those? Back in the days, when World War II vets chomped cigars while watching games in the stands and baseball fields had names like Comiskey and Crosley--not Comerica or Pac-Bell--a transistor radio was an indispensable accessory in adding to enjoyment to a game.

How tough could it be to find one? Pretty tough, I guess. I made four stops and wasn't able to find such a contraption in short-order. Office Depot? I knew that would be pushing my luck, but since they sell Gummy Bears by the tub-full, I thought I'd take a chance. Wal-Mart? Target? No, no, and no. Radio Shack had a fancy model for $39.99 (!!!), and would be "happy to order" a cheap $14 model. No thanks. I can buy it on line cheaper and easier. I just found it strange that one can find all manner of readily-available mp3 players small enough that you could insert one in many body orifices, but the lowly transistor radio--what a personal electronic device was back in the days before "ear buds"--are nowhere to be seen.

Radio Shack. You have questions, we have blank stares.