Let's go, Oakland! Dun, dun, dun dun dun!
Repeat that as necessary until the Amazin' A's win their fifth World Series. Which since the A's will beat the Mariners in the LCS and dismantle whoever the NL champ is in five games, will be on or about November 1. Get on the band wagon now or regret it. ...
The A's looked unbeatable in their 2-0 victory over the Yanks last night. Tim Hudson threw 8 scoreless innings and Jason Isringhausen came in for a nailbiting 9th, but the A's shut out the Yankees. In Yankee Stadium. In the playoffs. And now just have to win one of the next three games to advance. I think Yankees manager Joe Torre said it best when he said, "... they're certainly making us eat some dust right now."
Yep. I reckon that pretty much sums it up. Even Michele agrees. So much for her proposed war of words. Guess we'll have to settle for that other, realer war for now. Oh, and go A's!
Note to self:
Ian, next time you are invited to any company-sponsored social event, especially if it involves bowling, run. Run like hell.
The company outing to Yerba Buena bowling center yesterday afternoon was so surreal that it can only be described in motion picture terms. Remember in Animal House, when Kent and Lonnie pledged the cool-guy frat house? Remember when they were escorted over to the reject area, with the blind guy, the Muslim, and the other losers? Well, if those guys went to work for Initech from Office Space and then they all went bowling at the Kingpin bowling alley on Hawaiian Shirt Day, that might begin to describe the event.
Words like "disaster," "catastrophe," and "clusterfuck" come to mind. My god we're a boring, ugly company. All the good-looking fun people have been laid off or have left this rapidly sinking ship, and while I don't hold this against them, it sure makes company functions seem interminable. I bowled one game in my consistently inconsistent fashion — strike, gutter ball, spare, 2, 8, 3 — and got the hell outta there as quickly and quietly as I could. Home by 5. Unprecedented. Life is good. Except for the bowling parts. ßßß
Is it on? Oh yeah. It's on.
So the lovely and talented Michele Catalano of a fire inside/a small victory called me out. Apparently she wants a war of words, weblogger vs. weblogger, re. our respective hometown American League teams, i.e., the New York Yankees and the Oakland Athletics, who are playing one another in the AL Divisional Series. Well, ask and ye shall receive, honey.
Now any regular reader of this weblog knows I'm a Giants fan, but you may not know that when I moved to Oakland a dozen years ago, I was a huge A's fan. These were the days of the Tony LaRussa and the Bash Brothers, when the A's were in contention every year. Went to lots of games, and fun was had by all. But then the A's ownership group dismantled the team, and about that time I realized I was a baseball fan (read National League) and not a beer-league softball fan (i.e., American League). It was actually listening to Jon Miller calling Giants games on KNBR that started my love affair with the Giants. Miller is hands-down the best baseball commentator in the business, and I will fight anyone who tries to say otherwise.
Aww hell, who am I kidding? Yeah, I'm a complete bandwagon jumper. And what a bright, shiny bandwagon it is. Especially after the A's beat up on the mighty Yankees last night. In their crib. Against their ace. Yep, make room for me on that bandwagon.
The A's rocked the Rocket, who was looking awful rickety and actually left in the 5th inning with a tight hammy. But Yankee fans can't blame the Rocket's troubles for the pounding the A's delivered: reliever Sterling Hitchcock gave up solo homers to Jason Giambi and Terence Long, Long's second of the night. And maybe best of all for the A's fortunes, they went deep into the Yankees bullpen. Yeah, I'm thinkin' an A's/Cardinals World Series. Whaddya think?
Y'see, Michele failed to recognize a few things before she brought this on herself: 1. that Roger Clemens is old and washed up and was clearly running out of gas toward the end of the regular season; B. that the A's starting rotation is young, strong, and too dumb to be intimidated; and iii. the A's are from Oakland, goddammit. Blue-collar and proud of it. We will not be moved.
Now if only I'd been smart enough to lay a wager on this. Next time, perhaps. ßßß
Memos to People Who Will Never Read Them
Dear BART: Feel free to tell people about changes in the train schedules. Maybe then people won't have to sacrifice precious sleep to get up 15 minutes earlier to rush to the station to catch a train that no longer comes. Thanks a bunch.
Dear Coworker Across the Office: Try turning off your really awful club-mix disco bullshit music when you leave at night. Then I won't have to hear it first thing in the morning when I come in having had too little sleep. Seriously.
Dear Girl at the Gym with the Fat Ass: The sweatshirt tied around your waist isn't fooling anyone. In fact, it just makes your ass look even bigger. Be proud of it. Let it breathe. If you've got it, flaunt it. Or something.
Dear Young Able-Bodied Men on BART Last Night: I didn't give up my seat on the train for my health, or so you could sit there instead of me. Did you not see the frail old woman who had to stand for the entire train ride because you took the seat I gave up? You guys are complete fucking tools, and I hope you and everyone you care about die slow and painful deaths.
Dear Everyone Else in the World: Let's get something straight. The difference between me and you is simple but profound. While I hate you, I at least have regard for you. You, on the other hand, seem to be going through life oblivious to your impact on the world around you. I loathe you and don't think I should have to breathe the same air as you, but at least I'll move over on the sidewalk if I see you coming. I detest you and everything you stand for, but I'll still hold the door open for you as I go through it, and I'm prepared to thank you if you do the same for me. Which you won't. Because you suck and are so self-absorbed that you don't even consider that there might be someone on this planet other than you.
Thanks. I feel much better now.
Housekeeping Items
So I finally took the Giants stats out of the left bar. It was just too painful. It was a great season, what with the playoff stretch run, the still-newish ballpark, and Barry's successful home-run chase, but it was ultimately unfulfilling 'cuz they didn't make it to the postseason. Such is life.
You may have noticed what appears to be a new link in the right bar: a small victory. The domain is new, but it's just old Michele Catalano's a fire inside weblog in a fancy new wrapper. I don't read many weblogs, and I link to even fewer, but Michele's blend of angst and humor is not to be missed. So don't miss it.
Blawg Radio is still jacked up. If anyone knows of a way to get free or cheap bandwidth to host streaming mp3 stuff, please let me know.
I think that's all. If I think of anything else, I'll let you know. Thank you, drive through. ßßß
All things must come to an end ...
... especially the good ones. Par example, the formerly free Macromedia shuttle bus. It used to take employees (and non-employees alike) from 8th and Market to 7th and Townsend. On the mornings that I didn't work out, it saved me from walking the mile from BART to work (the Macromedia complex is directly across the street from our decidedly downmarket offices), and it saved me from having to mingle with the dregs of humanity on the 19 Polk bus. Not to mention that it was free. Until now.
So as I prepared to stow away on the shuttle this morning, doing my best Macromedian impersonation (yep, that's really what they call themselves), the shuttle driver stops a woman trying to board and asks her for her employee badge. It's immediately apparent that she possesses no such badge, and after some hemming and hawing, disembarks. Lucky for me I see all this go down, so it's not me that's busted. Of course I had a speech all planned — it's in my other pants, I'm new, my dog ate it — but still, better her than me. Always. So, no more free ride.
But Macromedia, in their infinite wisdom and magnanimity, is offering nonemployees the opportunity to purchase a shuttle pass for $25 a month. It's either that or become an employee. Or take the 19 Polk. I'm actually considering the shuttle pass, even though a MUNI transit pass is only $30 for the whole month. Seeing as I'd rather crawl to work through broken glass than resort to taking the 19, it may be my best bet.
My only remaining vice:
Spending all my discretionary income on CDs. I know I have a problem, and I know I can't quit anytime. And I have no interest in doing so. A very special someone got me a gift certicate to Amoeba for a special occasion, and was even kind enough to take me record shopping last night. She is awfully special. ...
Here are last night's procurements:
So if you're ever wondering to get me for Christmas, my birthday, Hannukah, Easter, Kwanzaa, or Arbor Day, know that an Amoeba gift certificate is always a good bet. ßßß
This war brought to you by PropeciaTM
So I don't recall giving my permission for air strikes, but apparently that doesn't matter. We blew some shit up, CNN aired some grainy green video that looked like Missile Command, and Dick Cheney was hustled off to a top-secret location somewhere. George W. Bush, meanwhile, was asked to wear a T-shirt with a large target on it and told to stroll around the South Lawn of the White House.
73!
But everybody knows the real news this weekend was the end of the baseball season. Apparently there are some "playoffs" still to be played, but I couldn't care less. My Giants didn't exactly fade down the stretch, but they didn't rise to meet the challenge either.
Unless you were living in an al Qaeda terror camp over the weekend, you know that Barry Bonds set a new record for home runs in a single season: 73. And you'll no doubt recall that this particular baseball genius predicted that he'd end the season with 73 home runs. So yeah, give me and Barry our propers. That's a dozen more home runs than Roger Maris hit in his record year, a record that stood for 37 years, until Mark McGwire shattered it in 1998. Amazing. Now Barry's a free agent. My bold prediction: he will make a lot of money next year, playing for some team other than the Giants. Sad but true ...
Best Overheard Conversation of the Week
At our rehearsal space, two musician cats.
First cat: Columbus Day tomorrow.
Second cat: Man, that's Indigenous People's Day. Fuck Columbus. He was a drunk that got lost trying to go to India.
First cat: Word.
Second cat: He didn't discover shit. How are you gonna discover something that's already there? That's like me going to Stockton and saying I discovered it.
There mighta been more, but I was laughing too hard to hear it. ßßß
Don't miss last week's brilliant insight.
