- LeBron James may or may not go down as the greatest player even in professional basketball, but what is truly remarkable to witness (sorry for the pun) right now is how differently the Cavaliers are perceived as a franchise right now, especially by people in Northeast Ohio. To hear people talking about having a group of friends over to watch a midweek regular season game is amazing, considering where the Cavs were just five or six years ago. Cavs games are must-see TV, and even people who aren't diehard hoop heads are interested in what LeBron and his team are doing. I can still remember a playoff game in the early 90s when TV commentator Mike Fratello (who would later coach the Cavs) saw a shot of the area outside of the Richfield Coliseum that showed sheep grazing in a field very near the arena and he openly mused, “Where the heck are we?” Now, the Cavs are in a very modern arena in downtown Cleveland, people follow their every move and make sure they are in front of the TV for nearly every game. All because of one player: Bron.
- Bob Barker is retiring, which you have probably heard. A lot of people are sad and hailing it as a great loss for television. Instead, “I’m asking: what the hell is the big deal?” Seriously, can we not find someone else to read the price of dish soap, watch the “Plink-O” chips slide down the board, sexually harass the models/assistants for the host (allegedly) and remind us to spay and neuter our pets? And yes, I did say sexually harass the assistants, because if you remember, Barker was accused of that by one of the women who used to work on the show. It was all swept under the rug fairly quickly, but the point is that I just don’t get the fascination with someone who was competent at doing what had to be one of the easier and more enjoyable jobs in television, a man whose sidekick/announcer on the show wore sparkly sequined vests. Enjoy retirement Bob, I’m sure it will be a major, major ordeal trying to find a replacement…….
- Working in and around college athletics for some time, you pick up some interesting tidbits and perceptions, the funniest of which, at least to me right now, revolves around the music that players pick for warm-up CDs. That a lot of the song selections suck isn't the big surprise; what is funny is that so many of the songs are rap and hip hop, yet those choosing them are often white chicks from upper class suburban neighborhoods who couldn’t be any whither if they bathed in bleach every night. Let me get this straight: you grew up in a neighborhood where the average house costs $200,000, you went to a private school and yet you’re gangsta enough to rock out to Young Joc, T.I., Eminem and Mystikal? Riiiiiiiiiiiggggghhhht. Not saying you have to pick Britney and Christina (God, I hope you don’t), but you’re not hard, you’re not ghetto, so don’t pick music to try and make us think you are.
- I wrote a few days ago about the announcement that R.E.M. was going to be one of this year’s inductees into the Rock n’ Roll Hall of Fame. Going back and listening to The Best of R.E.M.: In time 1988-2003, I couldn’t help but be struck by how many of these songs are truly entrenched in pop culture and still appear in commercials, TV shows, etc. It’s not on the level of the Beatles or Stones, whose music is still overpoweringly relevant thirty or forty years after its release, but it’s still significant. Everybody Hurts is still an anthem for tough times, to the point that Michael Stipe declares in the liner notes that the song no longer belongs to the band but to all who have derived solace from it during their own life struggles. Man on the Moon is definitely a quintessential R.E.M. song, and it was used in the Andy Kaufmann movie that Jim Carey did a couple years ago. Stipe’s distinctive voice still grips you any time you hear it, and you know instantaneously who you’re listening to. What’s the Frequency, Kenneth? is another song you can't help but listen to. R.E.M. may not rock out so hard your ears bleed, and often times they may follow a similarly melodic path as the somber Radiohead, but when people think about music in the 80s and 90s, R.E.M. has to be one of the first bands mentioned.
- Tennessee Titans cornerback Adam “Pacman” Jones has been suspended by the team for this Sunday’s game after an incident where he spit on a woman in a night club. While spitting on a woman is about the least among many despicable ways to assault a woman, it’s still a troubling sign that this overpaid, over-hyped, under-performing Neanderthal just doesn’t get it. He’s been in fights with teammates, said idiotic things and been a general nuisance to his team and society in general ever since he was drafted, but despite suspensions, fines, warnings, etc., this tool refuses to stop acting like he’s auditioning for a slot on the new reality series, “Who Wants to be the World’s Biggest A-hole?” We’re not asking that much, Pacman, just don’t assault women or teammates, don’t get arrested, play football and enjoy being a millionaire without ending up on the police blotter. Think you can do that, paco?
- Quick hit thoughts on the season premiere of The O.C. without rehashing it all. Definitely a different feel in the first episode, new characters, new vibe, some things worked, some didn’t. It was way too corny that a simple slide show presentation of comic book panels detailing Ryan’s history with the Cohen’s won him over and made him move back home. Chris Pratt was hilarious as a Rastafarian hippie-type guy, yet another reminder of what a disgrace it is that Everwood was cancelled. Overall, it looks like people who felt that losing Mischa Barton would sink the show were wrong, this season seems like it will have a chance to be just as good as the previous three.
- Get your seafood while you can - assuming you like seafood. I personally don’t care for slimy things with scales and gills that come from the water, but if you do like such things, then a report from a group of ecologists and economists in Halifax, Nova Scotia (what, no entomologists or environmentalists) claims that due to pollution and over-fishing, the supply of nearly all seafood creatures could collapse by 2048. This, of course, portends disaster for the Gorton’s fisherman, the Star-Kist tuna and Mrs. Paul, who will have to find ways to creative some sort of artificial fish stick substitute. What’s not great about a prophecy of doom, like the melting of the polar ice caps, the death of seafood, et al? No surer way to get people’s attention than a doomsday proclamation. But maybe humans aren't the best people to share this discovery with, the seafood creatures themselves might want to know this sort of thing, so get on that one, team of ecologists and economists in Nova Scotia.
No comments:
Post a Comment