Dribbling Thursday

Today’s top name: Randy Parent, (class of ’77) chair of the California Alumni Association.

That smell: From the BBC, by way of jb:

“An American Airlines plane made an emergency landing in Nashville after passengers reported the smell of sulphur from burning matches. The matches were found on the seat of a woman who had attempted to conceal the odour of flatulence with the matches, Nashville airport authorities said. …

“… The woman was questioned by the FBI but released without charge and allowed to board another American Airlines flight. ‘It was determined that she was trying to conceal body odour,’ said Lynne Lowrance of the Nashville Airport Authority. ”

Woods Lovely, Dark, and Deep: Stay the Hell Out

[Update 12/7/06: According to various media reports (for instance, one today in the San Francisco Chronicle), the Oregon State Police now say that the story recounted below about the family getting the map at the Wilsonville Chamber of Commerce is false. I called the Wilsonville Chamber of Commerce to hear what they have to say; they’re standing by their story that the Kims were there; I’ll write more about that later.]

More on the search for James Kim, the CNET editor lost in the mountains of southwestern Oregon (his wife and two daughters were rescued Monday). Today’s drama is around items of clothing (and pieces of a map) that he might have left as “breadcrumbs”–either to aid searchers or (a possibility I haven’t heard raised) to find his way back along the route he took. Without dwelling on what might have befallen him did befall him (tragically, he was found dead earlier today), here’s a telling passage from CNET’s story today:

“The Kims were warned that the Bear Camp Road was dangerous this time of year when they stopped into the Wilsonville Chamber of Commerce about 20 miles south of Portland, Ore., on November 25 around 1:30 p.m. PST, Mark Ottenad, executive director of the Wilsonville Chamber of Commerce, said Wednesday.

“The employee working that day gave the Kims a copy of the Oregon State Department of Transportation highway map, Ottenad said.

“James Kim ‘asked what would be scenic road and she highlighted the Agness-Galice Road, but cautioned against trying to travel on that road this time of year,’ Ottenad said. ‘Instead, she recommended staying to the main roads–Highway 38 or Highway 42,’ especially as it was late in the day and it would be dark soon. ”

I suppose you have to make allowances for people at the Wilsonville Chamber of Commerce trying to cover their asses (what if they really said: “It’s a beautiful road! You’ll enjoy it!”?). With James Kim still lost, people are keeping their hope for alive by talking about how resourceful he is. If he ignored a warning like the once described in the CNET story, I can think of some less flattering descriptions of him.

(And also: Talk about taking advantage of an advertising opportunity, here are some links at the bottom of the CNET story:

Cnetlinks

Of course, these are supposed to be “smart ads” in the sense that they’re related to keywords in the Kim story and automatically generated. Also remarkable: The mix of blame and backbiting in the reader discussion attached to the CNET story.)

The Daily Hair-Split

Franticfranticmarked by fast and nervous, disordered, or anxiety-driven activity … wild or out of control especially with fear and anxiety. …”

–Merriam-Webster Unabridged Dictionary

Frantic (from the San Francisco Chronicle’s SFGate.com, regarding the San Francisco family lost (and partially found) in Oregon. Great headline word, and totally wrong here. Yes, someone somewhere is frantic over this guy’s whereabouts and condition. His friends and family, for sure. The searchers? If I were among the frantic ones, I’d hope they were determined, meticulous, thorough and fast; anything, in fact, but frantic.

Sunday Dribbling

Proposed Music Group: I just decided that if I ever start a band, it will be called the Scoffing Fudds. Not sure of the genre, though something cross and crabby would be appropriate. As to instrumentation, I have dibs on tambourine, triangle, and kazoo.

‘Smoking with Barack’: An interesting blog discussion (yeah, I left a comment) on whether it matters that Barack Obama smokes.

Saturday Night’s Alright for Dribbling

Why Do You Call It MAY-Hee-Koh? Lydell points out a query posed to the Chicago Tribune’s lingo expert:

Q. Why do Americans pronounce Chicago with a “sh” sound at the beginning (as in “she”), instead of a “ch” (as in “chick”)? You might have noticed that Spanish speakers, even bilingual speakers (such as myself) make a very clear distinction between the CH sound and the SH sound. My lips refuse to conform to anything but a “Chick-ah-go” pronunciation.

— Stephanie Pringhipakis Guijarro, Chicago



To his possible credit, the Tribune guy ignores the multicultural preciousness behind the question and answers it seriously. I would have been tempted to respond. “Dear Stephanie: Where the heck did those people down in México come up with that voiceless velar fricative pronunciation for the X: MAY-hee-koh? What’s with that strange-o accent and wild vowels? You may have noticed Americans (such as myself) say “MeKSiko.” My Midwestern lips (actually, the back of my tongue and my soft palate) absolutely refuse to pronounce X as anything but the most excellent consonant cluster “ks” (except in all the many exceptional cases, such as the “gz” in “exit”). P.S. What’s a ‘Pringhipakis’?”



Doubts Answered:
By way of Steve Downey, fellow cyclist and connoisseur of notable sports names, we encounter Lucious Pusey, a linebacker with Eastern Illinois University. Maybe I should say former linebacker, because Pusey reportedly changed his name and the EIU roster now shows him as Lucious Seymour. Mr. Seymour-Pusey’s name has been the subject of frequent blog-based chortling; I join in the chorus only for the most noble of reasons: because I told someone this story and they dared to doubt me.

Blogger Embed: There’s lots of talk about bloggers being the future of journalism, but it’s rare at this point to find bloggers trying to tackle real reporting. An exception: Bill Roggio, a blogger who has embedded with U.S. military units in the past and has just gone back to Iraq to do it again. He’s unattached to any news organization, and his trip is funded by readers. I kicked in 25 bucks despite the fact I’m not in love with his hawkish take on the war. But I think it’s worth supporting anyone willing to put themselves on the line to report independently (or as independently as possible in a situation where staying alive means staying with the troops).

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Sax Guy

Berkeley Marina Sax Guy

This guy–where the heck he comes from I don’t know. He rides his bike out to the park on the old garbage dump by the marina, and he blows and blows on his tenor saxophone. You can hear him a half mile away, and Scout (a.k.a. The Dog) pricks up his ears whenever he hears the squalling blasts coming across the landfill’s little ridges and hills. The guy was out there playing today; puts me in mind of–who was it? Sonny Rollins?–who used to go out and practice on the Brooklyn Bridge (or maybe the Williamsburg Bridge). Scout wasn’t shy at all. Just walked up and lay down right next to where the guy was playing. Soon after we showed up, he realized I was there and not just moving along, and he stopped playing. I told him he sounded like Ian Underwood, who played with Frank Zappa; no response. He said, “I’m working.” I asked whether it was OK with him if I took some pictures. Eventually he said, “I really don’t think I take any pictures today.” I had been shooting a low-res video of him, but after he said that, we moved on.

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