Exhibit 2.10

Standings

Cleveland -
Detroit 4.5
Minnesota 8.5
Kansas City 15.5
Chicago 18.5

Now, I'm not here to say "You're next Minnesota" or anything like that, but let me just say that I don't care if there is only a month left in the season, You are so next Minnesota.

Exhibit 2.9

Poetry Reading

I haven't, you know, read any yet, but my first two books of poetry are going to be:

Anne Carson Autobiography of Red
Christian Hawkey Citizen Of

Thanks to everyone who suggested a book. By which I mean Heather and Chris.

Just the moment I read these two I'll post some thoughts up here.

Exhibit 2.8

Stock Photography Review

First, go here. (Ed note: see update). Because we're going to be talking about this photo:


Ah, Reuters (which, until I read Tony Kushner's directions in Homebody/Kabul, I always pronounced Root-ers. I love that this was a big enough problem that it was one of two pronunciations he felt the need to point out [ed note: the other was Wodehouse]). Apparently when this story about reproduction slid across the editor's desk the conversation was:

Editor: Great. Do we have any pictures?
Reporter: Of what?
Editor: The production of these so-called "kids."
Reporter: You mean, the sex?
Editor: Yes, get me some 'the sex!'
Reporter: We can't publish that, sir.
Editor: Well, get me something that suggests as much in the most obvious way possible.

Hence a small child and rockets. Look at the father's slack-jawed awe at the sight of these explosive (and in no way suggestive) shafts. And the child who despite being identified as a boy is wearing a very effeminate pair of pink pants. Geez, I wonder if Dad picked those out...

Why not have another fake conversation?

Man with son on shoulders: So this picture isn't going to be used in any kind of sexually suggestive way, right?
Photographer: Nope, we're just going to use it for today's event.
Man: Good. I'd hate for anything to ruin our day at this year's Phallus Expo.

Then the photo wasn't used and here it is as a file photo the first time someone needed to fill space in a story about procreation. This isn't stock photography per se. (In fact, it works in the exact opposite way of stock photography on the viewer, leading to enforced, ill-fitting specificity while stock photography is about creating unnatural anonymity). The idea of using people as furniture is the same, however, so I think it counts.

UPDATE: They changed the photo! So I posted this and went to get some pepper coffee before deciding I should check the link, and they'd changed it to two people's mouths. Rest assured, this was the photo this morning.

Exhibit 2.7

Not to pile on or engage in partisan political hackery or anything, but it's been another banner week for Republicans complete with ineptitude, hypocrisy, and, of course, the rearming of a terrorist organization.

A few thoughts here:

• Nobody has worked this hard to figure out someone's very obvious sexuality since George Michael left the world confused for the better part of the decade. (That article is a must read).
• Like George Michael, it might be time for Senator Craig to just admit that when innuendo and rumors cross the line to creepy bathroom stall arrest, it's probably best to just come out.
• Because, I mean, there are plenty of excuses for a lot of those things taken individually, but when added up, just saying "I have a wide stance." doesn't really undo twenty years worth of gossip coming to a head. So to speak.
• Obviously killing Shredder wasn't enough.
• I'm adding "Jiminy God" to my internal list of exclamations right between "Jesus Christ on a cracker" and "Khhhhhhhaaaaaan!"
• The next time you scare me I'll probably yell "Jiminy God!"
• Or possibly "Jesus Christ on a cracker!" or maybe "Khhhhhhhaaaaaan!"
• Shouldn't we have all suspected this Sen. Craig thing after his last gay sex scandal ended with him marrying a woman six months later? I think her maiden name was Beardra Beardson.
• Who would have thought the new TMNT movie would be legitimately good? Sure, they neutered Leonardo a little bit--just as they did with Cyclops in the X-Men movies, I have a theory about this--but my buddy Ryan and I couldn't have been more surprised.
• On second thought, maybe Senator Craig is just really bad at selecting men's rooms. Could happen to anyone.

And I've got nothing to add about our former Attorney General who I'm sure is a lovely man who has never personally listened to a person's phone call without a warrant and even if he had, cannot recollect it.

Exhibit 2.6

So I might have had another fantasy football draft last night. You know, I could be reading poetry if anyone would recommend a book, but instead I'm getting pulled deeper into the depravity and moral decay that is fantasy football. This, my second and final team, came off about as well as my last:

If Mandy Patinkin Was a Fantasy Football Team

First Round - Frank Gore, RB, San Francisco. Why Frank Gore dropped to the ninth pick, I'll never know. Ecstatic doesn't begin to describe how I felt about it. I didn't even let myself believe he might drop to me, I just waited out pick after pick until the guy before me took Rudi Johnson (Rudi Johnson!). I meekly said Gore's name, expecting someone to tell me that Gore had been in a car accident or was attacked by Joey Porter's dogs. As far as I know, he's still alive. Now Rudi Johnson on the other hand...

Second Round - Willis McGahee, RB, Baltimore. Who cares if I hated him on my team last year, he's in Baltimore now and if Jamal Lewis and his ankle bracelet can rush for 1,000 yards there than surely Willis can get 1,200. Good value at 16 too.

Third Round - Reggie Wayne, WR, Indianapolis. I don't care what anyone says, he's going to be better than Marvin Harrison one of these years. Here's hoping it's this one.

Fourth Round - Antonio Gates, TE, San Diego. I've never had him on my team before, and though there were higher guys on my board, they were all RBs and QBs that I didn't have any faith in (like, say, Matt Hasselbeck). Another good value pick. It's always nice to lock up the class of a position, and I'm essentially considering him a 4th WR.

Fifth Round - Randy Moss, WR, New England. A boom or bust pick, but another great value in my opinion. I mean, Chris Chambers was taken ahead of him. I love Chris, but I'll take my chances with my man, Randy, thanks.

Sixth Round - Jamal Lewis, RB, Cleveland. Never mind that I just made a joke about him. He had no business being available at this pick considering he starts on a team without any other RBs to steal carries from him. Sure, he pretty much runs with a limp, has a bad attitude, and I hated him on my team last year, but I'll take him as a backup over some of the scrubs that were getting selected before him.

Seventh Round - Jerious Norwood, RB, Atlanta. And here's where the draft goes downhill for awhile. I tried to pick a QB here, but somehow forgot to cross Jay Cutler off my sheet, leading to me selecting him after he was gone (a total faux pas). In my panic, I just grabbed the highest guy left on my board, Mr. Norwood, who I later learned has some kind of mysterious stomach ailment. As my 4th RB, it's no big deal, but I probably should have gone WR or QB here rather than take value. For good and bad, the next best QB on my list was still available the next round...

Eighth Round - Eli Manning, QB, NYG. Did you know Eli has thrown for 24 touchdown passes the past two years? Did you know the Giants have a new offensive coordinator and will pass more without Tiki? Did you know Manning has looked great in the preseason? Um, yeah, it doesn't matter. Totally the weak link on my team, even if he does end up in the top 10 QBs (which he probably will).

Ninth Round - Santonio Holmes, WR, Pittsburgh. I'm predicting big things this year. Another boom or bust guy, but the WRs on my bench behind him are possession guys, so if he falters I'll at least have some consistency to plug in. Maybe.

Tenth Round - Ladell Betts, RB, Washington. Ah, me and LaDell Betts. Good times. I'm glad we're back together. (By the way, someone took Clinton Portis--who starts ahead of LaDell--early in the second round and then refused to take LaDell for some reason, which is where I stepped in to end his freefall. Instead the owner went with guys like Brandon Marshall and Anthony Thomas. Um, LaDell Betts is going to end the season with more points than Portis. He just is. We all know it. Even if not, why wouldn't you take him ahead of Anthony Thomas who is the backup RB on a different team?)

Rounds 11-15 - Ronald Curry, WR; Marty Booker, WR; Jaguars D; Jason Campbell, QB; Josh Brown, K.

So my team is:

QB - Eli Manning
RB - Frank Gore

RB - Willis McGahee

WR - Reggie Wayne

WR - Randy Moss

WR - Santonio Holmes

TE - Antonio Gates

K - Josh Brown

Def - Jacksonville

BN - Jamal Lewis, Jerious Norwood, Ladell Betts, Ronald Curry, Marty Booker, and Jason Campbell.

My QBs are the weak link, and no matter how many things I read about Eli Manning actually being underrated for fantasy, I still don't feel good about it. Even though personalities don't matter here, I still can't help but think his wooden smirk is going to derail my team somehow.

Still, 'If Mandy Patinkin Was a Fantasy Football Team' actually turned out pretty great. I don't think my team is the presumptive favorite, but it's definitely playoff caliber. Hopefully I can trade Ladell Betts for a heart to give Eli Manning.

Exhibit 2.5

One of my front car speakers sounds like it's blown (or whatever speakers do), and so I've faded the music all the way to the back so I don't have to listen to the crackling. It makes every song sound like someone whispering in my ear.

Exhibit 2.4

So in a conversation with a poet and a fiction writer last night, it became embarrassingly clear that the fiction writers--or at least this one--haven't read nearly as much poetry as the poets have fiction. There are a lot of explanations for this, but that doesn't mean it's right. So I've decided I'm going to try to read one book of poetry a week for awhile. I suppose I'll give my ill-informed thoughts about them right here as it will give me something to write about and keep me from hating this blog more than I already do.

(Seriously, this blog is awful. Are they all like this? Does everyone write about their fantasy football teams and candy bars or are those just the topics my sad mind drifts towards when given a blank canvas? Sigh. At least someone offered me nude pictures of Richard Tyson. That never happened before the blog. [Ed note: I predict many hits now from the phrase "nude pictures of Richard Tyson"]).

So this is where you come in. By you I mean Heather, but also any other people who read this blog and want to suggest a book of poetry. Just leave a comment with one or two books I should read, and I'll read them. Contemporary or modern or Romantic or whatever, it doesn't matter. Chapbooks are cool too.

It's like a contest everyone wins.

Exhibit 2.3

I watched Zodiac last night and for some reason was all prepared to hate it but came away loving it. I wish I even had a good reason to love it, but rather than having one overriding reason I mostly just liked a million little things about it. It's a phenomenally well-made movie. Everything just looks so perfect and flows so smoothly that it's absurd runtime (2 hours and 38 minutes) goes by like a flash.

In a lot of ways it's two movies in one. In the first, it's a police drama of the Law and Order variety, but, like, the best Law and Order ever. In the second, somewhat brighter half it's a story of intrepid journalism ala All the President's Men. If that makes it sound fractured, it's really not as the expansive cast of characters all hover around the story but find their roles shifting as the investigation goes from urgent public crisis to yesterday's news to seething lament. Such a large stretch of time passes--each jump carefully labelled to the point where 20 years seems like 50--that in a movie where the characters are so driven by one event, it would be easy to think they are less people than crime solving automatons (apparently malfunctioning). But Fincher uses the pervasiveness of the threat (and then its lingering hole in those closest to it) and a surprising amount of humor to humanizes each character. I don't even know what else to say. It was really gripping, and when I immediately ran to my computer to read everything I could about the Zodiac Killer, I found that there really wasn't anything else to know which is maybe the highest compliment a person can give a movie so carefully constructed.

(Ed note: I can't remember why I thought the movie was going to be awful. Partially seeing the runtime got me down, but I mostly remember thinking how it would probably be like The Black Dahlia which is very similar to this movie except for the fact that I thought Zodiac was one of the best movies I've seen in years while I thought The Black Dahlia one of the worst).

The movie did have some interesting casting choices. Anthony Edwards (Goose!) was positively Jeff Daniels-esque as Mark Ruffalo's partner. I like Anthony Edwards. He has a nice reassuring quality to him, even in odd roles like Northfork. Where has he been? This is only his fourth movie since E.R. ended. Maybe he's been dating Helen Hunt and that's why neither of them act any more.

There were a fair amount of famous people in minor roles: Philip Baker Hall, Chloe Sevigny, Dermot Mulroney (either wearing some belly padding or, um, not), Adam Goldberg, and the always great Brian Cox.

Then there were just enough random people to keep it fun:

John Ennis - The guy from Mr. Show. This one was really strange. If I had to guess a Mr. Show cast member to have been in this beforehand I totally would have gone with Brian Posehn.

Elias Koteas - Who played Casey Jones in the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle movies.

Clea Duvall - Who was in The Faculty among other late '90s flicks which, for some reason, means I know her name.

Donal Logue - Where's he been? Possibly hiding out with Helen Hunt, Anthony Edwards, and the 'D' from his first name.

John Carroll Lynch - Who I know from the Drew Carey Show despite being pretty sure I've never actually seen an episode of that show. It's not giving anything away to say that he plays the main suspect and will hopefully never work in comedy again as his appearance will cause me to breakdown weeping.

Zach Grenier - Whose name I didn't know, but who has been in every television show ever made for at least one episode. This is actually in the SAG contract. If you're reading this--and for the third time, you're not--and making a television show, he's probably standing behind you.

I mean, the guy who played Casey Jones (not to mention the asshole brother in Look Who's Talking Too) and Donal Logue? Um, yeah, I'll see that.

Anyway, don't let my name dropping take away from the main point here: It's a very, very good movie. I'd even say a great one. I'm not kidding about it being one of the best of the past few years--and probably this decade. I'm trying hard to think of anything I was so thoroughly impressed with recently. I'm sure there's something...

Exhibit 2.2

Our office gets ground coffee from Starbucks, and the one I am drinking this morning is, in all seriousness, described as "peppery."

Unfortunately, it's described accurately.

Exhibit 2.1

I swear to god my next post is going to be on Günter Grass, but I just have to do this:

My Fantasy Football Team (by which I mean the first of two and possibly three fantasy football teams).

I'm trying to decide how embarrassing it is to have a fantasy football team and for the moment I've decide upon 'Not Very.' I'm willing to reconsider. So I'll write about it as no one reads this blog except for people who already know I play fantasy football. These are people who I often find myself yelling at while drinking about the difference between a 3-4 and a 4-3. People who have heard me say things like, "I just don't know if it's worth it to keep Devery Henderson on my team." People who often stare at me with blank eyes.

The thing with fantasy football--and it is the only "fantasy" sport I play for this reasons--is that I get obsessed with it. Having an office job where I have hours a day to be on the Internet has only made it worse. I'm to the point where I look up where everyone on my team has gone to college. I try to find scouting reports from their draft year. I make notes on trades I intend to propose in week 7 a month before the season even starts. It's no good.

Here's my team from this past Sunday. They're called The Lincoln Hawks which may just be my favorite fantasy football team name of all time. If you don't know why, click here. It works on so many levels my head might explode. Here's the team:

QB - Philip Rivers. Probably took him a round too early, but I was panicking due to what had been a recent run on QBs and the fact that I didn't have another pick coming up for a while (I drafted second and the draft snakes so my picks went 2, 23, 26, 47, 50...) Faced with the prospect of having to take someone like J.P. Losman, I grabbed Rivers who I think is at worst solid and at best poised for a breakout year.

RB - Steven Jackson. My first pick who will continue to drive the dynamic St. Louis offense.

RB - Marshawn Lynch. He's a rookie playing behind a line that Buffalo spent a lot of money upgrading in the offseason. I got him after a lot of other guys with no upside were taken and felt lucky.

WR - Steve Smith. Took him with my first second round pick and didn't feel good about it. Not that he won't be great--he will be--but fantasy football is all about the RBs and all of the good ones were gone. Then I took:

WR - Chad Johnson. Again, he'll be great. I have who I consider to be the top two WRs in football, but it came at the expense of getting a running back or quarterback. That said, as my other options at the time were to reach for a Tom Brady or take a guy I hate like Edgerrin James, I feel okay about it.

TE - Randy McMichael. I hate this pick. Don't ask.

RB/WR - Jamal Lewis. This is a flex spot where I can play either a wide receiver or a running back. If your league has a flex spot like this and you are playing a WR in it, your team probably isn't very good. I don't like Jamal Lewis much this year, but it's hard to see how he could be worse than last year when he was serviceable. He's all depth and no upside. Plus, it's always nice to have a guy who's spent time in a federal prison for arranging a coke deal.

WR/TE - Isaac Bruce. So too, if your league has a flex spot like this and you have a TE here, you're team is probably awful. It just is. Speaking of awful, Isaac Bruce! He's actually okay, but I'd much rather have him as a backup and will probably make a trade to make that happen.

Bench - DeShaun Foster, Michael Turner, Brandon Jackson, and Chris Henry (the RB, not the alcoholic, suspended Bengal). All RBs, all upside. Henry I plan on cutting soon to pick up my defense, and Turner I hope to trade to the team with LaDanian Tomlinson (Turner is his backup). I really like Foster and Jackson as guys who other teams were over looking for some reason.

A common thing to do in this league is to not draft a kicker or defense and then pick one up after dropping some guys before Week 1 (which is what I did), hence guys like Henry and Turner who don't really have a place on the team but who I have on the off chance someone tears a knee ligament or pulls a Brian Griese and hurts himself while drunk.

I'm crossing my fingers.

Overall, I'd give the team a B-. I think it was maybe my worst draft, but The Lincoln Hawks will be okay. The Lincoln Hawks will always be okay. Plus:

UPDATE: Because you care so much, I'll let you know I just completed a trade with my brother. I sent Chad Johnson, Jamal Lewis, and Brandon Jackson for Willie Parker, Santana Moss, and Tatum Bell. Making my roster:

QB - Philip Rivers

RB - Steven Jackson

RB - Willie Parker

WR - Steve Smith

WR - Santana Moss

TE - Randy McMichael

RB/WR - Marshawn Lynch

WR/TE - Isaac Bruce

BN - DeShaun Foster, Tatum Bell, and Michael Turner.

That's a very solid team all of a sudden. I like it. I hated giving up a guy who's been in a federal prison like Jamal Lewis, but there's always Mike Vick...

Exhibit 1.27

So, someone posted The Cupboard to metafilter (which was nice. Thanks, anonymous stranger) and suddenly the page is being swarmed with hits and a few emails have started to come in about the "misspelling" of 'alterior' in our cover text. What is strange about this is that no one ever said anything before. Did people get that it was a pun? Are our readers bad spellers or just really in tune with our aesthetic? I should ask all four of them.

In any case, the pun was a bad idea for innumerable reasons and will probably be the last one to appear on the cover. At least after next month's one about leafing home for the fall and our special Halloween volume on wherewolves. You know, like wolves that are lost.

Exhibit 1.26

Candy Bar Review: Pearson's Salted Nut Roll





I don't really want to review candy bars. Or anything for that matter, but at this point I feel like I need the warm hug of criticism to prevent myself from realizing I am essentially writing something that might better be called Candy Bar Musings. Pretending that I am doing the arduous work of the critic prevents me from realizing that I am slowing turning into a character from Cathy.

But I am happy to be writing about this particular candy bar, a classic that has been newly added to the Johnston Girls Memorial Candy Bar Basket (who, in case you are curious, are either still seeking expensive medical treatment or raising funds for a Girl Scout camp, it's unclear). The Pearson's Salted Nut Roll is a staple of my childhood, but it's all somewhat ephemeral as I can't really connect it to any one person or place. I vaguely remember my grandfather liking them, though I can't be sure if I'm not just confusing what is the candy bar's inherent grandfatherly nature with my grandfather's inherent grandfatherly nature.

It's a simply executed concept with only three elements: salted peanuts, caramel, and a white substance that could be anything but is most likely some kind of glue stick. Despite it's depression-era simplicity, the Salted Nut Roll is a pretty great snack.

Oh, and according to its wrapper, it's a good source of protein (and presumably salt and bone meal).

Exhibit 1.25

Watched a Humphrey Bogart movie over the weekend. It's probably idiotic to say it as he's arguably the most famous American actor of all time, but he's good. Real good. In a Lonely Place is a pretty typical noir about murder, dames, and all the rest, but it would be half the movie without Bogart slouching around looking to punch somebody. He spends a fair portion of the movie with his elbows against his chest with one arm bent up to take his cigarette from his mouth while the other holds a drink somewhere by his navel. Coiled up like that, he slithers through a crowd, but when pushed he strikes out and suddenly he's all arms and wild eyes.

It's a great performance, and I'm not sure the movie is quite as good though it's certainly worthy of being called a classic. Bogart is Dixon Steele, a screenwriter with a reputation for violence who finds himself the target of a murder investigation after a girl he (somewhat) innocently took home winds up dead. His story is corroborated at the police station by a beautiful neighbor (Gloria Grahame), and the two fall madly in love until his violent outbursts and the police pressure cause her suspicions that he actually committed the murder to come between them. The lesson here is that it's probably not a good idea to date someone you met while serving as an alibi for them in a murder investigation.

All of the posters and the film's trailer make prominent mention of the film's "Surprise Finish," and maybe it's just my post Usual Suspects/Fight Club/The Sixth Sense blues that has me thankful the ending is actually predictable, devastating, and entirely perfect for the movie. Had we gotten some kind of post-modern twist ending those taglines led me to suspect, I would have been pretty disappointed. Top ending possibilities if this movie had come out in 1998:

1. It is all a screenplay Humphrey is writing and/or he finds his actions predicted by the book he's adapting.


2. Gloria Grahame is somehow have been the neighbor and the murdered girl, but Humphrey Bogart is the only one who knows it and no one else believes him.


3. Humphrey Bogart is actually the one murdered but he doesn't know it. Or he's Keyzer Soze. Or actually there is no neighbor and it's only his imagination. Or whatever the hell.


4. While punching someone, Humphrey Bogart realizes he isn't a screenwriter, but is actually a man named Humphrey Bogart. He goes to the mall and buys a t-shirt with his picture on it and the collection of his greatest movies. The film ends with him watching the ending of the film.

Really makes you think. Doesn't it? No? You're right, it doesn't because those endings are dumb and dishonest upon reflection.

In any case, the real ending of the movie is great though IMDb leads me to believe there was actually a darker ending in mind which would have been great too. They are actually the same ending for all it matters which is why it's such a good ending. (Bizarrely, the trailer actually features an entirely different ending which you would only know after seeing the movie. That ending is awful but apparently makes for good trailer filler).

All and all a great movie experience. I'd be curious to read the reportedly very different book the movie was based on which is reissued by a feminist series for a university press (the author was a woman and apparently it is a somewhat unusual book for the time). The book is apparently a proto-Mr. Ripley wherein Humphrey Bogart's character is a first person narrator who kills someone and takes their identity. This, um, isn't what the movie is about.

Exhibit 1.24

The Royals moved into sole possession of fourth place in the AL Central over the weekend, and are making a run at their third consecutive winning month. For the record, they haven't done that since 1994. Here's hoping.

The man pictured above took fourth place in some kind of pinball competition in the U.K. I like to think of him and the Royals as kindred spirits, always competing against those with more money but smaller souls. With greater talent but lesser will. With larger, more reactive paddles, like really expensive ones with lights and all but with slower fingers. Or something.

Exhibit 1.23

Heather and I watched about half of this version of the Beowulf story which seems to follow the poem pretty closely except in this one there is a witch for some reason. Oh, and Stellan Skarsgård hits himself in the head with a rock a lot. Plus, Grendel is just some hairy guy who has a kid. Oh, and he has a father who was murdered by the Danes so he has a reason to be pissed. Also, for some reason people spend half the movie talking in grunts.

Literally the first ten minutes of the movie is:

Grendel's Dad (Let's call him Dave): Urgh.
Grendel: Warlllll!
Dave: Unh, unh, arrrrr!
Stellan Skarsgård: Garrrl! (Kills Dave. Hits self with a rock a few times).
Sarah Polley: I'm a witch. Raaaaarg!

Otherwise it's exactly like the poem.