John Denver Rambo

In the Rite Aid parking lot, Breanne and I were laughing at her behaviour earlier in the day when she thought someone had swiped our havahart trap. She thought it was missing from the back of the garden and took off into the bamboo thicket, spade in hand, with some harebrained intention of catching a thief. After coming up with several possible, though not plausible, possibilities, I looked in the back of the PT Cruiser and saw the trap sitting on the blue tarp, right where I'd left it.

Back at Rite Aid, we were laughing as Breanne backed up the CRV and mocked herself running into the bamboo, "I was like John Denver!"
I didn't understand the analogy. "What?"
"Wait, I meant Rambo."

That's probably the strangest slip of the tongue I've ever heard.

Kung Fu Kotzwarraism

David Carradine died two days ago. He was 72.
Carradine was famous for his role of Kwai Chang Caine on the 70s TV show Kung Fu, though most people probably recognize him from the Kill Bill movies and numerous under-produced TV karate episodes.
When his death was first announced two days ago, Bangkok papers did not release the cause of death out of respect for his family. So I figured he either killed himself or had a heart attack while sodomizing a 10-year-old Chinese boy.
Today, Thai papers released a report that Carradine was found naked hanging in a closet of a luxury suite at a swanky hotel. He had a rope tied around his neck and a rope around his genitals.
Though it's painfully obvious, Thai police and reporters are ignoring the fact that he died performing autoerotic asphyxiation, or kotzwarraism in the Far East. Authorities claim that the official cause of death won't be known for a few weeks until the autopsy is done, because everything "is still unclear." Yeah, sure.
Even Carradine's family and friends are coming out and saying they know David would never kill himself. For one, that's a stupid thing to say. Anyone is capable of killing themselves and I'm confident a vast majority of septuagenarians have considered it at one time in their 70+ years. But since they're eliminating the possibility of suicide, we're left with two options: "scarfing" or a freaky murder by some sexual avant garde artist/killer. I guess the latter is possible.
If indeed he did die of autoerotic asphyxiation, I feel bad for the guy. I think people should be able to perform whatever odd and fetishist sexual acts they want as long as they're not hurting others. The few articles I read lead me to believe he wasn't suicidal, but that's a moot hypothesis.
The manager of the Swissotel Nai Lert Park Hotel, where Carradine's body was found, said that the night before he was found he had played piano for guests in the lobby and even a flute solo. Suicides don't play the flute. He was also working on several movie projects at the time, one of which the director said "he was very excited to be working on."
He's not the first celebrity to die this way. The last one I can recall was Michael Hutchence, lead singer of INXS. In the case if Hutchence's death, it was ultimately ruled a suicide, but I don't believe that. He was found naked too, and as is often the case, someone probably "sanitized" the scene. That's the official term when friends or family members remove sex toys or drug paraphernalia before police/reporters arrive.


ADDED NOTE: Associated Press writer Michael Casey just released an article suggesting that Carradine may have died from autoerotic asphyxiation. For the record, his announcement comes 10 hours after mine.

Dazed and Confused

Just finished watching Dazed and Confused for the first time. I'm not sure what took me so long. It's likely the only movie from the famous "favorites" section at Lebanon Videostop that I hadn't seen.
I laughed. It was definitely entertaining and there were some great lines, like:
"That's what I love about these high school girls, man. I get older, they stay the same age."
I'd heard people say that before but never knew what they were quoting. It's a disgusting thing to say but very funny. Parker Posey was great as the bitchy vengeful senior, as was the kid who played the pothead- Ron Slater. I usually hate pot jokes, references, or characters but he was a spot on pothead.
But my reason for writing about the movie is that I noticed something extremely odd about it. Nothing really happened. There was no rising action, conflict, resolution- nothing. When the movie ended I couldn't believe it. I honestly am blown away that the movie has such a high rating on IMDB (Internet Movie Database). Which is not to say I didn't like it. I definitely give it a thumbs up as I was drawn in the whole time to the characters and conversations and was happy to let my mind drift back to my days in high school- but still, nobody changed. Mitch Kramer, the freshman who tags along to the senior party at Moon Tower, I suppose he goes through some type of metamorphosis, though it's hard to say because we don't really know him at all till he's cruising around with Randy Pink and buying booze for the one black guy in the film (who incidentally can't dance or act). Then this got me thinking, maybe that was the point. Perhaps writer/director Richard Linklater is just trying to give us a glimpse of the average dazed and confused and pointless night of some high school students during the mid-70s. And though we meet them and hear them and watch them, it's all from afar, nothing too specific, just something to watch, in an act of voyeurism, the unfolding of a regular summer night for seniors. Maybe the whole decision whether to play football or not (which is never even decided!) is supposed to be the conflict.
OR maybe, he was so high he forgot to include a plot.

No no-no

Beckett had a no-no going through 6 2/3 and Curtis "Party Pooper" Granderson had to hit a single off him. What a bitch that Granderson is.

Trivia at Jimmy's

We finally won trivia at Jimmy the Greeks. Took us long enough. After joining forces with Jesse's team 4 or 5 or 6 or 7 weeks ago- who can say for sure- I thought we'd be rolling into first place every Monday. Not the case. We had a rough stretch, often not even finishing in the top 3. Well this week was different.

It began in unique fashion. Coming straight from practice, we arrived around 6:50, 10 minutes before trivia begins. Tim was the only one there, and he'd been there for 20 minutes without being served. The place was packed and heavy with customers, particularly little kids, all of whom seemed to be under and on tables. Not your typical quiet night at Jimmy's. Tim said that Mrs. Maine was standing behind me and I turned to see a heavily made up 35 yr old trying to look 20. I guess she was alright but I wouldn't have assumed she won any type of pageant. I thought it would be witty to call our team (as we change the name most every time we don't win) Mr. Maine that night, both suggestive and immature. We went with it.
We had a couple of problems fitting two teams at our table, but after moving a section from another table, we were all set. Jesse, his brother Joe, and David arrived a little after 7.
The early rounds were typical, missed a few here and there, someone always says the answer at some point but you go with something else, same old, same old. The major difference between this Monday night and most was Breanne taking charge. She normally will whisper an answer or two in my ear or sheepishly render an answer, but not this Monday. She announced several answers with authority, disagreed with the answers of others and even laid out anecdotes to back up her answers. It was all very impressive. There were a few occasions, when we didn't end up going with her answer, that she was right just the same.
It was her night.
Going into the final question, which allows you to bet all your points if you feel so bold, we were in fourth or fifth place, 30 points or so behind the leaders. The question was something along the lines of: What do bartenders say is the most common complaint they hear from patrons at the bar? Wasn't worded like that exactly, but that's the gist. And most importantly, this "poll" was taken in 2008, not 2009. We threw out all sorts of ideas: marriage, jobs, money, politics, sports, cost of beer, etc. After much debate, we went with "jobs," as regardless of the year, state of the economy, anything; people always complain about their jobs. David was adamantly behind politics being the answer, and I believe it was Joe who wanted marriage. Breanne was on fire that night so we went with her answer. Jesse had scrawled the points race down on a napkin and calculated how much we should wager. We weren't terribly confident with our answer so we bet 10 points- not enough to bury us if we were wrong.
Caleb, the trivia MC, suspensefully read off several wrong answers and climactically announced the final two: it was either Politics or Jobs. We held our breaths and bugged out our eyes and Caleb announced: "All of you who said Politics, you were...... WRONG. The final answer was Jobs." We joined in with a reserved cheer, knowing we weren't the only teams to answer correctly. There were several groans and "ah fuck it" gesticulations around the bar, but everyone waited for the final scores.
First, he announced third place, which lifted our spirits when we heard a total score that we lower than our calculated total, and then the name of the 3rd place team. Then, he announced second place and we cheered to not hear him utter our own name. We had won.
It's the first time I'd ever won trivia in a bar. I'd come in 2nd countless times at numerous bars but had never finished first. It felt good. We had our choice of first place prizes:

$40 gift card to split between the 6 of us (not even 7 bucks a person)
or
4 tickets to the Portland Sea Dogs.

Had there been four of us, I would have argued all night to keep the baseball tickets. But, everyone seemed to want the gift card and I didn't really care. For me, the biggest prize was finally finishing first at Jimmy the Greeks.

Puny like a Rose

Before I start crying about bad luck and fantasy baseball stuff that doesn't matter in the slightest bit yet exudes pathos, take a look at how awesome, on paper, my fantasy baseball team is. Keep in mind this is an AL only league with 12 teams. I didn't include everyone, just the "big" stars. After the pictures, the griping.

Do to the image size, you may have to click on them to find out who they are. Actually, that won't tell you either unless you're a baseball fan. It's, from left to right: Miguel Cabrera, Ian Kinsler, Alex Rodriguez, David Ortiz, Josh Hamilton, Grady Sizemore, J.D. Drew, Francisco Liriano, Eric Bedard, Joakim Soria, Felix Hernandez, and Kevin Slowey. I could have included Orlando Cabrera but I'm mad at him.

So, the losing streak has reached a month now. For the fourth consecutive week, Mighty Like a Rose, my team of superstars in my fantasy baseball league, The Barnstorming Union, has lost. Few sane managers would argue against my team being the strongest, but at the moment I'm slumping listlessly in a tie for 2nd place in my four team division. That puts me at 5th overall.
This week, I'm playing my brother, Manchester Torants (Torants is short for Expectorants) but I'm not confident. On Sunday, Grady Sizemore, one of my star outfielders, went on the DL (disabled list) with elbow inflammation which could require arthroscopic surgery, which would put him out for at least 2 months. And Josh Hamilton, fantasy darling and rehabilitation poster boy, went on the DL last night with a strained abdomen, and the team is presently performing an MRI to determine whether he'll need surgery to correct it. And guess how long he'd be out if surgery is indeed required? Yep, two months. Two MONTHS! That's a third of the baseball season, of which 1/3 is already gone!
Yes, I have A-Rod, Miguel Cabrera, and Ian Kinsler. And my offense is still better than that of most teams, but my pitching has struggled and my offense, due to injuries and slumping, has not been there to pick up the slack. Felix Hernandez and Francisco Liriano have combined for 1 win in the last month! Joakim Soria hasn't pitched in the majors since Cinco de Mayo and he's my only closer! Chris Ray has done nothing to get himself promoted to a closer position. At least Kevin Slowey has been great. That Slowey and Kinsler trade is looking like it may win Bo Jackson 5 (Colin) the Cavalier Lavaliere, a medal that is awarded to the team that, in the eyes of the commissioner, made the worst trade of the season. It's a shoe in if Matt Holliday (the major component of my trade offer) gets shipped to the NL at the trade deadline.
But it's a long season and injuries heal and paint fades and chainsaws rattle with flesh and cattle, so it's too early to panic. For now.

Patents

Just found this article about the earliest sound recording

Edourd blah blah de Martinville was recording shit twenty years before The Wizard of Menlo Park and nobody has heard of the guy. He gave his invention a much cooler name to: the Phonoautograph. But it just goes to show you though that it's all about being the first to get the patent.

In the famous case of Elisha Gray and Alexander Graham Bell, Bell beat her to the patent office by a few hours, literally, and is now famously known as the inventor of the telephone. It's universally accepted now that he stole the idea from Gray, but history will probably always remember Bell as the father of the phone.

Same story with Gutenberg and his moveable print (that's Johannes not Steve). He probably didn't invent the printing press, rather stole it from his apprentice who had likely stolen it from his previous mentor. History uses a lot of white out though, and if you're on a quiz show or playing trivial pursuit, you're better off going with the likes of Bell and Gutenberg, respectively.

Another example is roller shoes- how many people came up with that idea before it surfaced 10 years ago or so? I'm talking about the mini wheels on kid's shoes, not roller blades. At least I invented "The Helping Hand," and no one can deny that.

Titanic Wig

The last survivor from the Titanic, Millvina Dean, died today. She was 400 years old.

I'm willing to be that there were a few survivors that they lost track of in the wreckage that may still be alive. As advertised, the Titanic was a huge ship, and the official number of passengers aboard has been debated.

I bet she doesn't even remember being on the boat. She was two when they slammed into the iceberg. I read an AP article and it doesn't really explain how she survived. Chances are, her parents were rich and they had a boat to themselves, with leg room and seat cushions, while Leonardo DiCaprio and the other bums sank into the icy blue water.

Last Weekend in May

Stayed over at Nick and Erin Viti's last night. I met them a few weeks ago at Jesse's wedding and they came to the wiffle ball party last week. Jesse Rowe and his wife, Sarah, were up visiting too and we all went over to the Viti house in South Portland and ate burritos, listened to music and played some beirut. They have a nice house- lots of unique pieces of art and framed photos, a fireplace, and lots of good pieces of furniture. Their kitchen was particularly cool with bench seats next to a slab of mica-looking table.
Breanne was there for dinner but had to work at 7 in the morning so didn't stay terribly late. The burritos had lots of veggies in them and also sweet potato, which I didn't imagine would taste good with burrito fillings but it did.
When beirut started, instead of switching partners, I played as if Breanne were there, throwing with my left hand for myself and my right hand for her. She actually may have had a better night than me, sinking several game clinching shots. I decided not to tell them that I'm slightly ambidextrous.
We played some Wi boxing, bowling and baseball, and I read some Calvin and Hobbes comics after everyone had drifted off to sleep. I slept on a futon and had some strange dreams about Manchester Elementary and a man with a jacket made of gardening gloves but I've lost the plot of the dream.
In the morning we ate breakfast at a place up the road then played some croquet and disc golf. The course was called "Boom Field" and it was on Boom Rd. The family running it were nice- sitting in the giant doorway of the lawn barbecuing with a little blond haired boy in a Varitek shirt running around. It was 5 dollars, flat fee, which is better than what was advertised online (4 for 1 round, 8 for the day). The course was OK, not terribly challenging, but we got a good deal of walking in and only Nick found a tic on himself. He slowly pulled it off completely. I shot -4, but I didn't play very well- it had been a while since I'd gone.
Nick and Erin are game for the next wiffle party, and it sounds like Jesse is, though I'm not sure whether Sarah can make it. I think it will be a good turnout again.

Weather Stick

So I was out there yesterday, in the pouring rain, pulling bamboo stalks from the garden and it got me thinking of the weather stick that Breanne's grandmother got for me. It's sometimes called a Maine weather stick, or a Vermont weather stick, but they're all the same. It's a small switch carved from a balsam fir branch and it is extremely sensitive to moisture. Some Native American tribe used the balsam branches to determine what the weather would be like, can't remember which tribe.
Well Breanne's parents brought us the stick a few weeks ago, and the first 6 days we had it were long days of endless rain. The weather stick, in predicting rainy and moist days, points almost directly to the ground like a skinny, flaccid penis. Preceding a warmer, rainless day, the stick will stand erect and curl up towards the sky. It's nailed to the front of the house with a tiny golden nail that came with a picture framing set.
As I mentioned, Breanne's grandmother bought it for me. I barely new the lady. I met her a few times but she seemed a bit senile and the family told me she was a heavy drinker. She let us borrow her car a few months ago because her doctor told her she was unfit to drive, and a couple weeks later, she was dead. So, Breanne's uncle put the car in Breanne's name and now it's ours. A PT cruiser. I remember the day she said we could use it, we were visiting her in the hospital in Houlton. Houlton Regional. We went up to her room and chatted with her quietly for 30 minutes or so. She talked about her garden, what Breanne was doing, local happenings. We talked about President Bush for a little while, and I mentioned that he was smug. She thought I said smart, and seemed taken aback that I would consider him so. It happened in a flash and I didn't have the chance to correct her and as I mentioned, I never did.
That's what makes it so strange that she bought me a weather stick. I'm told she wasn't a very generous person with her money, at least not concerning her family. She told Breanne's parent's she thought the stick was something I'd like, and she was right, I do think it's a cool ornament, whether it predicts weather or not.
I've tried to be as friendly and involved with Breanne's grandparents as I can because I regret not knowing my own better before they passed. I think I would have liked her Grandmother- she seemed to have a lot of moxie. Breanne still has her other set of Grandparents, her dad's parents, which she's always been closest with. Meme (ma-MAY) and Pepe (pa-PAY), old French catholics.

Anyway, it's raining again; 5 days in a row this time. And the garden looks like it might just float away, with moats between the rows of plants and some Burpee seedling clumps have had all the soil washed away from them and were just sitting atop the rows like shipwrecked vessels yesterday. I replanted them, a little deeper than I had originally but it's pouring again.

On a side note, I just found out Pepe was brought to the hospital with a fever of 103, and they determined that he had pneumonia, but I guess he's OK now. He saw a guy he knew in the waiting room and when the guy left he called him a "peckerhead", which is very uncharacteristic of him.