BovicOpera

For Your Listening Pleasure

Some songs are so emotionally evocative that they are less music and more of an experience.  Debussy’s Clair de Lune is one of those songs.

Ne Plus Ultra +1

I have to put in a post about Michael Phelps.  What he has accomplished is just incredible.   Ted Williams, Don Larsen, Tiger, Marino can’t compare. Even Mark Spitz raced against markedly lower caliber swimmers (though he did it in Rico Suave style).

I will go out on a limb and say that his eight gold medals and seven world records is the single greatest achievement in sports history.  I can’t think of anything that approaches the Olympian heights of Mr. Phelps & Co.

In honor of their achievement, I will periodically offer some other feats of American one-upmanship.

1. The Hamburger

We start with that most American of foods stolen from the Germans.  Simple, filling, and offering endless opportunities for outdoor social interaction, it’s a perfect food.  All that it lacks are the two most American of ingredients—fanatical competitiveness and the possibility of a diabetic coma.

Burger King fired the first salvo with the “Stackers.”  Intuitively, they come in two, three, and four (!) pattie stacks.  While McDonalds was opting for healthier options—like salads drenched in ranch dressing in a paper cup—the King seemed to say “no leaf shall mar the palettes of my subjects” and ordered some bacon added on.  At around 1000 calories, I’d say it was a respectable start.

Don’t forget your onion rings.

Not to be outdone by a foreign potentate, Minor League Baseball replied.  “How can we make baseball more appealing to gluttons while also creating something truly disgusting?” they wondered.  Of course!  Turn the hamburger into breakfast food!

The Krispy Kreme burger, introduced by the Sauget, Illinois Gateway Grizzlies, is a monument to one-upmanship and an incredible boon to HMOs.  Georgians, who lust for ground-beef induced death par excellence (see below), went one step further and created the Luther Burger.  No solomonic (read: pansy-ass) donut splitting for namesake Luther Vandross; each bun half is an entire Krispy Kreme. Note: Luther can be seen before eating the burger here, and after here.

This is what he meant when he sang “Never Too Much”

Finally, after many an angioplasty, the Michael Phelps of Hamburgia rose out of the depths of Dixie.  Actually, it was a biker bar/grille outside of Atlanta, but the point remains.  I’m not even going to wax poetic about this thing.   The Double-Bypass Coronary Burger has two large patties, four slices of cheese, four strips of bacon, a fried egg, mayo, and it sits on two entire grilled cheeses.  This, my friends, is why we fought at Guadalcanal:

“And I’m proud to be an American…”

It Looks Just Like Me!

It’s a pretty busy week, hence the lack of posting. By way of apology, I provide you with a classic piece of Irish folklore.

Begorrah!  They’re after me grits!

Forbes=Best Magazine (Evarr).

End the tyranny of US News & World Report. These Forbes fellas seem to know what they’re talking about.

Finally, fair and balanced rankings.

Note: I realize that Nerd Wars (UofC v. NU ranks) are of little interest to anyone, and that it is pathetic and infantile to gloat.

Nevertheless, this one’s for you, Chicago. You’re my boy, Maroon!

Under New Management

The good folks over at Pinstripe Alley have made it clear that Brian Cashman will probably be the Yankees’ GM “long into the future.” I suppose this makes some sense—I’ll give Marte and Nady the benefit of the doubt. But when it comes to pitching, we seem to have had the benefit of a good farm system of late—Chacon, Small, Wang, IPK, Hughes, Joba, and Melancon are not the result of good trading. While all of these guys are as injury prone as a juiced-up racehorse, they still have serious talent.

For this, we should give Cashman markedly less credit. He’s got a spotty record when it comes to offensive production: Melky is usually a Mendoza line hitter, Abreu is good for 8-pitch at bats and a single. Obviously, the insane amount of runners stranded is hurting us, but so is an average age approaching AARP-benefits.

Rather than Cashman, we need a new face. I propose Ra’s al Ghul. I think the Batman Begins villain has the right idea about clearing out the detritus of poor decisionmaking in the past. We’ve become so old and bloated that we hobble along, much like a pre-Batman Gotham. The rotation and the bullpen need to be cleaned out.

In football, you’d call it “blowing up the team,” (though that particular phrase might have a different meaning for Ra’s). This seems drastic, but only because it’s the Yankees and not any other team. The Marlins purge like this once every five years (or whenever Wayne Huizenga wanted some quick cash) but they tend to come back stronger (1997, 2003). When Yanks fans think Xavier Nady will add a much needed offensive boost, it’s obvious that things have reached a new low. Yet we assume that every year is a World Series year, and that we’re almost there.

It isn’t and we aren’t.

So we keep Joba, Wang, IPK and maybe Hughes and Moose. Move heaven and earth for one of Sabathia, Kazmir, or Halladay. Put Melancon in the bullpen and cut absolutely everyone else. My only request for offense is that we avoid making the Manny Mistake. I’ve had enough of poaching other teams’ overweight, overhyped post-prime players—it feels like we’re shooting the sequel to The Rookie. Come to think of it, maybe Dennis Quaid is available…

“Give me Sabathia, or I remove my hemp jacket and get serious.”

Uh oh.

I wonder if it’s a bad omen to think that your day started with a bad omen. Is that just an excuse to turn the day into a self-fulfilling prophecy? Or maybe I’m just clairvoyant?

I recognize the irony of beginning the blogging beguine with ill portents, but Janice, the nice lady from the Tumblr welcome screen, suggested I write about “what happened in your day.” Given that I am up unreasonably early, beginnings were on my mind.

Also on my mind: what is going on with the US women in swimming? We’re losing to Aussies and the comyaniss’ like it’s our job out there. If it is our job, can we at least outsource it to the Chinese so that they do our losing for us? Seriously, I would rather have a pro show some real emotion than have to look at Katie Hoff make this face for a seventh time:

Maybe she just got off to a bad start.