Innocent Bystander

The essence of summer...

Welcome to the first weekend of summer! Although meteorologists will argue the point (the summer solstice isn't until June 21, over three weeks away), Memorial Day weekend has become the de facto start of the summer season. And while it's not quite time to stop the mail, lock up the house, and throw the family in the car to head for the beach, that feeling is certainly in the air. Well...it's always in the air here in San Diego, where it's summer all year long and the beach is just a few miles to the left.

Yesterday I took another in my series of walks, this time all the way to Hillcrest and back (about 4.8 miles). As I was walking down Park Boulevard (and for you non-San Diegans, yes...it's as lovely as it sounds), I passed a group of children playing near Balboa Park. They all had tie-dyed shirts on, so they were part of some bigger group doing some kind of Saturday morning outing. Most of the kids were grouped together, listening to the adult chaperones, but there was one little girl--about 6 or 7, I'd guess--who was wearing a koala bear backpack and holding a stuffed elephant. And she was flying around the periphery of the group, trying her best to make that elephant fly. She was definitely marching--or running--to the beat of a different drummer. And I envied her freedom.

And that--to me at least--is the essence of summer: Being a kid and letting it all hang out. Running barefoot through the park, ignoring everyone else, lost in your own world of flying stuffed elephants and koala bears on your back. I'm sure she was eventually reined in. I'm sure she'll grow up and become like the rest of us, where summer--for the most part--is just another three months on the calendar. But for that brief moment, she was a kid doing her thing and grabbing the freedom that summer gives you, especially at that age: No more pencils, no more books, no more teacher's dirty looks.

Forget it, Jake...it's Costco...

Last evening I made my way to Costco to get myself a big chicken. I love Costco's big chickens. They're a rotisserie chicken, but they're so much bigger and better than supermarket chickens. And cheaper, too. There's not much else I buy at Costco besides the big chicken. Anything else would require a U-Haul and a forklift to take it home.

So while I was there, utilizing my Costco card that I bought last September for 50 bucks to buy a $5.43 chicken (yeah, I need to work on my math skills), I also happened to peruse the DVD section and came across this startling conversation. A young man--mid 20s or so--was talking to his girlfriend about To Kill A Mockingbird, which was a DVD on display. It had Gregory Peck on the cover and was--obviously--the classic 1962 film about a lawyer and his two children in the South in the 1930s, based on the best-selling novel. And then he said this to his companion:

"Have you ever seen the new version? It's with Sandra Bullock and Matthew McConaughey. It's good...better than this one. It's more about the boys and the trial."

I was too busy having a giant WTF moment, but I almost piped up and said "What the f*ck are you talking about?!" And then I thought a better course of action would be to tell the young woman to drop this loser ASAP and go lose herself in IKEA across the parking lot. Because if he thought Bullock and McConaughey starred in a "modern" version of To Kill A Mockingbird--and PREFERRED it to the original--he was severely brain-damaged. (For the record, he obviously thought that A Time to Kill--based on a John Grisham novel--was somehow a remake of TKAM. I don't even want to know how he arrived at this decision or what short bus he rode to get there.)

Everyone is an expert on everything, especially at Costco. And that's what I needed to remember: forget it, Gary...it's Costco...

 

Friday Foto #182...

I left my heart...(part 3)

To see more of my photos, Friday or otherwise, click here!

San Diego City Council and Police Chief waste time filming a movie parody...

I have yet to live in a city where the City Council has even a remote clue about how they look to the general public. San Diego is no different.

Each city I've lived in has had city councils which seemed to be largely made up of equal parts Three Stooges and Keystone Cops. The current council in San Diego is dealing with the largest fiscal crisis the city has ever faced (a deficit of $130 million). They seem to have no clue on how to solve this, while at the same time spending massive amounts of money on bullshit projects such as the conversion of the west end of G Street to be a one way street, something that was approved in 2007, but that they're just getting around to NOW.

But none of that matters, because in the middle of all of this, the city council of San Diego had the time to film a parody of the movie The Hangover for an upcoming business meeting. Council member Carl DeMaio--who just appeared on Fox 5 News this morning--proudly talked about the film and how it took a whole day to film. (Evidently taking a whole day away from city council business is okay in San Diego. Your tax dollars at work.) One of the scenes they showed was San Diego Police Chief William Lansdowne tasering DeMaio in the testicles. Keep in mind that the San Diego Police Department has been rocked by scandals in the past few months, with at least 8 policemen up on charges that (separately) involve accusations of rape, stalking, drunk driving, and demanding sexual favors at traffic stops.

So it's great to have this video of the police chief tasering a city council member in the nuts. It's probably something all of us have wanted to do at some point. It also shows Chief Lansdowne doesn't have a clue as to how this looks to the public.

DeMaio himself said, "You have to be able to poke fun at yourself. It put things in perspective, and I think this video puts things in perspective." Yep, it sure does. The perspective I get from it is none of you belong in office, and in particular Mr. DeMaio shouldn't run for mayor, something he's obviously gearing up for. If I was running against you, I'd use the video of the police chief tasering you in all my ads.

My very own city council member, Kevin Faulconer said, "I had a lot of fun, but when you do these things you're always worried about it. You're like, 'Oh man, did I just do that?'"

Yes, councilman, you did. And we'll remember that you did.

 

It's the socks, stupid...

I have a bad problem with blisters on my feet. When I walk a lot, I get them. Hence, I don't walk a lot. At least not unless I have to.

Well, that's all changed lately. I have to. I walk a lot now, at least 3 times a week, and in the past week I've walked over 8 miles in 3 separate walks. Most of this sudden influx of exercise (yeah...I call it that) is due to my new way of living (yeah...I call it that) due to a more aggressive form of diabetes that's started to hang out with me. But part of it also is to get in shape for that July marathon some people call Comic-Con. I call it "that July marathon."

Because I almost always come out of it with blisters. Two years ago, they were so bad I almost couldn't walk for a week. Last year I got them in San Francisco, too, and then the pain I was in when I went on vacation in New York immediately after the SF work trip ruined my trip for me. Well, that and the crappy hotel room I had. The blisters hit me right where the toes join the bottom of the foot, and they come in big and painful, kinda like tax time each April.

But I've learned some things since then, and the most important lesson is SOCKS. I've been wearing socks that are two thick for my shoes, and that don't allow my feet to breathe. Consequently, moisture builds up. I've bought these "Wright Socks" off Amazon.com, the maker of which trumpets their product as blister-free. And you know what? They work. (There are different styles than just the one I linked to...look around). I'm not getting any money for this product endorsement (unlike my lucrative deals with Acura, American Express, and Trojan Condoms), so I have nothing to gain here (except a few pennies if you click on the link and order them). But these lightweight, polyester (yes, I know...I hate polyester, too, but it's not like it's a lime-green leisure suit), two-layered socks really feel more airy and keep your feet moisture-free and consequently, blister-free, too. I'm ordering more for my July--and August--walking season. And they're amazingly light for having two separate layers.

Shoes of course help, too. It doesn't seem to matter to me what kind of shoes I wear--expensive or not--blisters still happen. But I found a cheap pair of lace-up black shoes--sneaker-like ones--at Target that really seem to work for me. So my walks--which take me all over downtown and up to Balboa Park and back (a jaunt all the way to Hillcrest and back is on the boards for this weekend)--have become much more fun and less painful without the sheer agony of blisters. I actually LIKE walking again. And that's a good thing.

"Ask the Doctor" makes me queasy...

Ever wake up in the morning and the first thing you see on the teevee brings back a rush of unpleasant memories so forcefully that you think you might want to hurl? That happened to me today...

One of the local TV stations here in San Diego has started doing "Ask the..." segments on the morning news. I'm not sure who the audience is for advice at 7:00am from doctors, attorneys, and the like--you know, more expensive professionals who normally get more than a stale bagel and a cup o' joe for their time. And while the whole "Ask the..." format isn't new to TV news--it's where a panel of professionals--medical, legal, contractors, whatever--answer phone-in questions and dispense free advice--the station I used to work at in Pittsburgh brought it to a whole new level in the 1990s.

That's because we had a general manager at the time--who shall remain nameless for obvious legal reasons--who was the cheapest man alive. The "Ask the" days became an excuse to have free food in the studio, food which would--inevitably--either be consumed or taken home by the GM. The "Ask the" days started with the obvious ones: "Ask the Doctor," "Ask the Attorney," "Ask the Accountant," and morphed into other areas. (I swear to God at one point we either discussed or actually did "Ask the Lactation Specialist"...but I'm not sure if that one actually made it on-air). And each "Ask the" day came with an all-important sponsor, and part of the sponsorship deal was that they paid for the food so the poor doctors, lawyers, and other assorted people had something to munch on while they worked the phones, usually starting at 11am or so and continuing until 7:00pm.

Don't get me wrong: the food spread in studio B was a welcome addition for us all. You know, you had to go over and make sure everything was running smoothly and hey, let's just make a plate while we're here, because it's 7:00pm and all this food would go to waste otherwise. But it wouldn't. The GM would descend like a vulture and take it home or scarf it up while he was there and woe to the poor station employee who graze off the food tables. It became almost a challenge to slip in and out right at the proper moment to avoid getting caught and still be able to eat.

I'm not sure what the whole "Ask the" thing adds to TV news. I guess it can be categorized as some kind of local outreach, helping the community. If it's done right, it's an added little "KA-CHING!" for the station, though, and that's the bottom line, of course. But turning on the TV this morning and seeing that--however slight--phone bank of doctors on a local station certainly made my head spin. And it also made me Google the name of that former GM from the Pittsburgh station, just to make sure he hadn't made a comeback in television in my current city. THAT would have made me call the doctors on my TV to ask them how do you get rid of a dull, throbbing headache caused by the proximity of a jerk. I'm sure they get a lot of calls like that.

End of the world postponed due to rain...

Today's end of the world was postponed due to some rain showers in various local vicinities. Supposedly scheduled to start at 6:00pm your time (depending where your "YOUR" happens to be), the end of the world did not stop the Smooth Jazz Festival from tying up traffic here in downtown San Diego, nor keep kids coming to the Hard Rock Cafe for prom night, nor the Padres from inevitably losing tonight (like the prognosticators who predicted the end of the world, I can least predict that small piece of doom and gloom). I was hoping the world would end before Oprah did, because quite frankly, that's the only piece of news that could possibly kick her off my TV. Oprah's end is bigger than the first or second coming of Jesus.

So life goes on, in it's own quiet little way. Kids still go to prom, some fools will go to the Padres/Brewers game, traffic jams up beneath my window on this busy, busy night when the world was supposed to go not so quietly into oblivion. Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining. I'm glad they--and you know who THEY are--were wrong. The only thing that scares me is maybe it was just a math error. Maybe they just forgot to figure in daylight savings time.

Oops.

Friday Foto #181...

I left my heart...(part 2)

To see more of my photos, Friday or otherwise, click here!

So...are you doing anything special for the end of the world this Saturday?

I keep waiting for Kohls to announce their semi-annual "End of the World Sale*" for this weekend, but I guess I'm being overly optimistic.

Some people do believe that the world will end on Saturday, probably in a timeframe not designed to allow us to sleep in. This guy explains it far better than I could--or would care to--if you're interested in the thought process behind it all. Me? I'm more concerned if it'll end with a bang or a whimper, with fire or ice, and if it's fire will there will be a barbecue or with ice will there will be free drinks. Because even though I don't drink, I'm thinking the end of the world is a fine time to start.

I don't quite know how we went down this road, but I have noticed that the billboard's around San Diego that first revealed this "revelation" to me have all but disappeared. There may be a lingering Spanish-language one or two of them still standing (so maybe this only affects Spanish-speaking people, which is really going to piss of Arnold Schwarzenegger...I mean why couldn't it have happened a week earlier?), but I think the genius behind this whole end-of-the-world-billboard ad buy planned things out so he wouldn't have any of them standing near the actual date. Why waste the money?

Boy, won't my face be red if this actually comes true? Aw...screw it. You won't be around to leave a comment anyway.

*I may actually have it confused with their "End of Christmas Clearance Sale."

Chuck ends...again.

I almost feel sorry for the writers and producers of Chuck. It seems that every year NBC--Nothin' But Crap--hands them a wild card. They won't be back...they're back. It's 13 episodes...it's 22 episodes. Oh, can you add a couple more onto it?

Chuck has once again escaped the reaper and has been renewed for a fifth season. It's supposedly "the last" and only has 13 episodes. But Chuck has wrapped things up and "ended" more times than any series should. Tonight's season-ender--which could have just as easily been the series ender--once again wrapped up all the dangling plotlines into one tidy little bow, while adding a little extra something to cover their butts if the series was renewed for yet another season.

Unfortunately, that little extra something is the same little extra something Chuck has trotted out at the end of every season: The Intersect. Chuck has it. He doesn't have it. Chuck gets it back. Now it's version 2.0. Now someone else has it. On and on...

This season was a huge letdown from seasons 2 and 3. The Volkoff storyline pretty much ambled across every episode this year and was further compromised by horrible casting. Not for one second did I buy Linda Hamilton as Frost, Chuck's erstwhile mom, a supposedly super-spy who has been undercover in the Volkoff organization for decades. Yeah, she was Sara Conner, I know...but that was decades ago, too. Timothy Dalton as Volkoff didn't help matters. Charming as ever, Dalton is an extremely likable actor, especially when he plays a bad guy, but the show couldn't make up its mind about him: Super-villain, unwilling Intersect dupe, quiet Brit. None of it was very compelling, and consequently none of it was good television.

For all you Chuck/Sarah fans out there, I think we were all short-changed on their wedding. The producers already shot their wedding wad on Ellie's wedding with a season-ender that was one for the ages. We got less than 10 minutes of the Chuck and Sarah nuptials, and the whole thing seemed like a gigantic after-thought. This season was a mind-numbing 24 episodes, and not one of them clicked as memorable for me. The 3 Stooges of Buy-More--Jeff, Lester and Big Mike--are more annoying than enjoyable. The subplot with Ellie discovering the Intersect project on her late dad's computer went absolutely nowhere--it led to Volkoff, big surprise, ignoring the apparent Nerdgasm of having Ellie be "Agent X," delighting Star Wars fans everywhere with another "No...there is another" moment. There were a lot of missed opportunities in this season, including a half-baked Die Hard homage that seemed promising but also went nowhere. It's like the writers got tired...

And that, to me at least, is the underlying problem with the whole show this year: Everyone seemed tired. Chuck himself, Zachary Levi, phoned it in the entire season. Yvonne Strahovski seems to have her own little movie career going. Adam Baldwin's annoying right-wing Tweets bleed through to his right-wing Casey character on the show, an uncomfortable mix of life imitating "art" (this term always used loosely in reference to television on this blog).  The writers and producers have obviously run out of ideas because now Chuck and company are "freelance spys" and someone else has the Intersect (but the door is evidently open for ALL OF THEM to have it, since it appears there's an errant pair of sunglasses just waiting to be passed around). Executive producer Chris Fedak proclaims the game has changed again. But it hasn't. It's the same old show and that's not really good news for fans. NBC would have been better off pulling the plug and letting it just die. I used to look forward to watching this every Monday night. This year it seemed like an old girlfriend, the one you know you HAVE to break up with. Maybe when she--Chuck I mean--moves to Fridays in the fall, breaking up won't be so very hard to do.