In Search of Al

When you have a little blog like this, one thing the software includes is data on people coming to the site. Not real detailed data, but enough to be fun. On Typepad I can see referrals, the link someone hit to get here. If someone arrives via a Web search, you can hit the link back to the search page and see the term they were searching on. For instance, just now somebody came to the page by way of a search on the words “al trautwig sucks.” Must be a fan club. Anyway, the latest Trautwiggery, by way of my friend Pete, is this priceless bit, produced during coverage of the Olympic women’s triathlon last night:

“Now they’re getting out of the water and will have to get their sea legs out of their heads.”

This guy’s angling for his own version of the Phil Rizzuto-as-poetry book.

This Egg Is Your Egg …

… And it’s all over your face.

Wired News has a good followup story on the “This Land” copyright caper. A while back, a couple of brothers posted an animated parody of Bush and Kerry using Woody Guthrie’s “This Land is Your Land.” Great. Except that a publishing company came out of the woodwork to declare it owned the copyright and to demand that the bros take their song down. But it turns out that the putative copyright owners, in addition to not getting what Woody Guthrie was about, may not own the song after all. Whatever the details of ownership, the faux owners have decided not to press the case any further.

Crazy Horse

The New York Times has a nice story — or actually, an online photo/sketch essay — on the Crazy Horse monument in South Dakota. My dad and I visited in 1989, on our way west to see the Little Big Horn battlefield, and while the excavation was impressive, it was still a work of imagination. Now the chief’s features have started to emerge from the mountain. Don’t know if we’ll ever get to see if finished; the project’s proceeding at medieval cathedral pace, which means its sort of a generation-to-generation act of faith.

Team USA

My all-time Olympic hero has got to be Paul Hamm, our accidental gymnastics champion. It’s not his fault that the Olympic judges screwed up and mis-scored an opponent’s routine and apparently awarded the wrong guy the all-around gold medal. And just like no one has any real obligation to correct a cashier’s mistake when they’re handed an extra 20 bucks in change, Hamm’s under no compulsion to take matters into his own hands and correct the situation. What’s hard to stomach, though, is the bleating — his own and others’ — that he won fair and square and should be allowed to enjoy his Olympic moment without all the negative attention.

That’s fine, but: Just imagine how Hamm and all the American commentators would be behaving now if it was the Korean who’d benefited from the officials’ failure. Actually, you don’t have to imagine. This would be an injustice for the ages, just like the Soviet Union’s basketball victory over the United States in 1972. The Yanks were convinced the officials manufactured an opportunity for the Soviets to win the gold, and they refused their silver medals (which are reportedly still in a bank vault in Switzerland). That’s 32 years of grudge and counting.

This is the way Team USA (all 293 million of us) looks to the rest of the world: When we win, it’s all about our hard work and perseverance. When we lose, like as not the fix is in. And if we win by mistake: Tough — that’s your problem. No wonder everyone loves Team USA.

Isaac Newton and Me

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It may sound immodest, but I think I’ve discovered I’m an organizational genius. I had to find this out through an act of less-than-genius, though: starting our coffeemaker the other morning with no carafe to catch the cascading brew. After the hot coffee spread across the counter, it dripped into our “spice drawer” — the drawer where we keep spices and also things that aren’t spices, like batteries, herbal health preparations and kitchen-related curios. In the process of cleaning up the mess, I had a flash of insight — perhaps the equivalent of Newton’s apple — that if I lay the spice jars on their sides, instead of standing them endwise, that I’d be able to read their labels without doing a jar-by-jar search, as I’ve become accustomed to doing over the years. E=mc something! E pluribus unum!

So that’s what I did. And if that’s not organizational genius, I don’t know what it is.

The Agony of Victory

A handful of great moments from NBC’s Olympics announcers:

“Oh, the air came out of the balloon and with those mighty lungs from America’s Midwest, Paul Hamm filled it up and gave himself belief that this was possible, and it was. And it is.”Al Trautwig, on Paul Hamm’s comeback in the gymnastics all-around.

“Despite the beauty of the marathon, some unfortunate continuing squalor elsewhere.” Jim Lampley juxtaposes the sublime with the nefarious, commenting on Olympic doping cases.“For them, the Olympics have been an up and down rollercoaster ride.”Ted Robinson, on the up and down rollercoaster that is men’s beach volleyball.“This is one of those overwhelming moments of sheer participation.”— Marathon commentator as last of women runners neared the finish line.

“The Japanese men will climb to the podium and hear the national anthem of their nation.”Trautwig on which national anthem is the national anthem of Japan.

“It almost defies believability to think that when Blaine Wilson crashed to the mat at Madison Square Garden in New York in late February with a torn bicep that he would be in this position for his team in these Olympics.”Trautwig defies logic to underline a gymnast’s drama.

Get Thee Behind Me, Wal-Mart

A good long story in The New York Times Magazine today (registration required, etc., and it goes into archives in a week, so read it free while you can) on Rev. Billy Talen and his Church of Stop Shopping:

“In the Church of Stop Shopping we believe that buying is not nearly as interesting as not-buying. When you back away from the purchase, the product may look up at you with wanton eyes but the product dies quickly back onto the shelf and sits there, trying to get a life. The product needs you worse than you need it, remember that.”

The guy’s a righteous pain in the ass (here’s the S.F. Chronicle’s version of his story), which I mean as a compliment. It is odd to read about him though, in the midst of all the mag’s Ralph Lauren, Chanel, Armani, and other fashion and financial services porn.

(Disclosure: I am one of the fallen: I actively seek out Starbucks for solace whenever I’m outside the realm of Peet’s.)

Pigeon Welfare Notes

In the Chronicle today:
Probe at plant finds no proof of pigeon abuse:

An internal investigation at Contra Costa’s largest sewage treatment plant found no evidence to support a whistle-blower’s allegation that employees killed pigeons by driving nails through the birds’ chests, officials said Thursday.

I don’t know. The sewage plant. The whistleblower. The nails. The investigation. What more could you want in a news story? News, maybe, I guess.

Carnage ‘in Poor Taste”

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The Minneapolis Star-Tribune has decided that an ad that adds up the cost of the Iraq war in coldly quantitative terms — number of killed, number of orphans created, quarts of blood shed, and on and on — is in poor taste and not fit for its apparently easily upset readers. Well, the ad is confrontational and disturbing. But more disturbing is the apparent need of major media to filter views of the conflict that get to the horrible essence of the violence unleashed there.

By way of Austin Mayor.