In which Aimee Mann doesn't hate my suggestion

I read today on Facebook - rapidly, and sadly, becoming my go-to source for Important News of the World - that Tom Petty has a bone to pick with Michele Bachmann.

It seems that yesterday in Iowa, as Bachmann closed the kickoff speech for her soon-to-be-failed presidential bid, her staff played Petty's 1977 song "American Girl." Makes sense, what with her nationality and gender being properly reflected right there in the title. Of course, this didn't go over too well with Mr. Petty, whose political tastes run a little more toward the mentally capable. (Here's the L.A. Times recap of the incident.)

So I wondered: What would be a better - and somewhat more recent - pop song that would just as accurately summarize Ms. Bachmann's campaign and carry an equal measure of musical credibility? Two and a half seconds later, I had it.

Or, actually, Aimee Mann had it, in a song from her 1995 album, I'm With Stupid:

Thanks to lightdarkens in the UK for letting me link to your YouTube video.

I thought this was a pretty good idea. So I thought I'd tweet the idea and see if Ms. Mann - of whom I've long been a fan - would see it.

Sure enough, a few minutes later, my BlackBerry buzzed. The highlight of my week, for sure.

Aimee Mann had responded:

(Thanks, Aimee!)

Now, how do I get the Bachmann campaign on board?

My kind of town

What a weekend. What a city.

Several great meals, including a magnificent dinner at one of the best restaurants anywhere followed by an unexpected bonus: a tour of the kitchen (including a quick hello and thank-you to the executive chef) provided by an unbelievably gracious waiter. A lot of walking and public-transportation-riding. (Kinda forgotten how to do that in L.A.) A solo late-night photo expedition. A completely-worth-it 90-minute wait to get into the one-and-only Hot Doug's. A picture-perfect day for Cubs baseball at Wrigley Field, which, as my wife pointed out, "smells amazing." Reunions with a couple of very special friends. First encounters with, seemingly, dozens of new high-rises that have sprung up since I left just a few years ago, including the stunning Aqua (bottom photo). And, a return to the exact spot where my wife and I first met, five years ago. 

Going to have to get back for another visit soon. If I'm lucky, I'll get a few more sights like these:

I'll take "No shot in hell" for $400, Alex

I just took the online test to try qualifying for a Jeopardy audition. How'd I do?

Well, let's just say you probably won't see me standing behind a video-monitor-equipped podium, with a signaling device in hand, asking Alex Trebek questions like, "What is the Venus de Milo?" (er, actually, I mean this one) or, "Where is Lake Titicaca?" anytime in 2010.

I think I acquitted myself fairly well, but in the immediate aftermath of the 50-question test (15 seconds to answer each one), the only thing I'm confident of is that I've got almost no chance to make it to the next round. I'd guess I got about two-thirds correct, but I can think of too many I flubbed. For better or worse, the website doesn't recap which ones you got right or wrong, or even give a score, and I don't even know if there's a preset minimum number of correct responses to qualify for the next round, but... eh.

A few quick highlights and lowlights from the test:

• The first question was about a Dr. Seuss character - child's play! was my first thought - who has some thing or other to do with trees. Argh! Pretty sure that ruled out The Cat, Horton and Sam He Is, and for the life of me, I couldn't think of The Lorax.
• My mom always used to tell me I should read more books, and although I usually do alright on trivia questions about novels, even when I haven't read them, tests like this are pain-in-the-ass reminders that my mom was probably right. One question referred to a Faulkner novel with a title that repeats the same word twice. As time ran out, "Absalom, Absalom" came to mind, but literally only because it was the one two-repeated-words title I could think of. Except that I was completely sure it wasn't a Faulkner work, so I left that one blank. Um, oops.
• I always like ending on a high note, so I was glad that the last question was about a pro tennis player born in Basel in 1981. A cinch for an incurable sports fan.
• My wildest guess that actually worked came on a question about a Supreme Court justice who, from 1801 to 1804, wrote a biography of George Washington. Thought process: "Marshall sounds like an early 19th century judge kind of a name.... There was another Marshall besides Thurgood, right?... Oh, whatever, I'll go with Marshall."
• ZenMom is going to absolutely murderize me for missing the question that sought the name of the TV show whose theme song includes the line "Our whole universe was in a hot dense state" and is performed by the Barenaked Ladies. I knew it was "that show with three science dorks and a cute chick that I watched once and swore never to watch again," but I think the judges were probably looking for The Big Bang Theory.
• I did, however, guess right on another pop culture question, figuring that it was Penelope Cruz who played "neither Vicky nor Cristina, but Maria Elena in Vicky Cristina Barcelona."
• I got the one about Ben Franklin's 1784 invention that was probably a result of his advancing age and increasing trouble reading - bifocals - and I dug back into the recesses of my 11th grade chemistry knowledge and remembered that the chemical symbol for potassium was K. (Fist bump!)
• The one that really fried my brain was a geography question having something to with Albania and a large lake and some peninsula. (Possibly they were going for the Balkan Peninsula - I don't know.) I couldn't even discern the question what the question was asking because as I was reading it, all I could hear was a hilarious scene from a 1985 Cheers episode, with Coach and Sam studying for Sam's GED exam by singing, "Albania, Albania. You border on the Adriatic."

Go figure. Normally, my vast knowledge of Cheers dialogue comes in handy in everyday situations, but this time it was merely a distraction. Maybe if I had been reading Faulkner in 1985 instead of watching Cheers, I would have gotten two more questions correct. Well, at least my mom can say she told me so.

Today's main course? Inspiration

It's going to be very difficult for me to post a feel-good, sunshine-and-happiness kind of story without making some kind of snarky comment, but I'm determined to try.

Because I can tell: You could use a pick-me-up today.

So here's a big ol' heart-warmer, courtesy of that newspaper in Chicago (where, as I write this, it's 19 degrees with flurries, but I'm not gloating). It's about a woman who's been blind since infancy being offered a job as a chef at a world-class restaurant in the Windy City.

The whole story is impressive enough on its face, but to help put it in perspective, here's a sample menu for the restaurant where she'll be working. N.B.: You get to eat everything on the menu for dinner.

Ah, damn. Five minutes ago, I was feeling very inspired. But after looking at that menu, now I'm mostly just hungry.

Grill burger

As I wrote in my very first blog post - two years and two days ago - a major reason that I started SFTC was that I was constantly posting comments on World's Best Burger, a blog authored by the witty and creative duo of Loree and Laura. So fervent was my commenting that I started to feel like a moderately deranged fan/stalker, and I was pretty sure that if I didn't just get my own damn blog, they were going to banish me from theirs forever.

So you can imagine my great joy when - after letting WBB lie dormant for most of 2009 - L&L announced plans to revive WBB. And then it got better. They invited me to be a WBB contributor! It was like being a kid who grew up watching the Orioles (which I did) and getting an invitation to play catch with Cal Ripken (which I haven't). In other words: Big time.

So I hope you'll go check out my very first post on World's Best Burger, the blog that got me into this whole blogging mess in the first place. It'll be worth your while - I'm offering up tips for saving big bucks on a propane grill.

Know when to fold 'em

On the way home from family Thanksgiving festivities, our flight stopped for about an hour at scenic Las Vegas McCarran International Airport. And by "scenic," I mean "dark, depressing and filled with people trying to gamble away every last nickel before boarding their flights back to the Midwest."

(If you haven't had the pleasure of dropping by McCarran yourself, the terminals are lousy with slot machines, and the slot machines are constantly busy.)

So, obviously, I was inspired to give Lady Luck a whirl and waste a few minutes on the 25-cent slots. Here's where I was smart about it: I didn't want to get too deep into a hole, so I set a limit: One dollar.

Big player that I am, though, I was going to go for it and bet the full 25 cents per spin. First spin: nothing. Second spin: zilch. Third spin: Nope.

Aw, man, I thought. I've lost 75 cents. How am I going to explain this to my super-amazing wife?

Down to my last 25 cents, I hit the Bet button one more time: A blue 7, a red 7 and a white 7! Jackpot! I had won $1.25! Oh, the feeling! I hit the Cash Out button and carried my ticket up to the redemption window. "Buck twenty-five, please," I proudly said to the cashier. "I'll take it in paper and silver."*

I found my wife in line at the airport shop, where she was about to buy a bottle of water, and I told her about my good fortune. "I guess that means you should probably pay for this," she said.

What I learned from the whole joyous experience was far more valuable than my 25 cent winnings. (Which, now that I think about it, isn't saying that much.) What I took away was an affirmation that it's important to know when to walk away - a lesson that I wish I could have shared a few years ago with Terrance Watanabe.

Who's Terrance, you might ask? He's the guy who did this.

* I didn't really say this. But I was thinking it.

Looking the gift card in the mouth

It's more than two weeks until my birthday* and I've already gotten two cumpleanos cards.

One arrived yesterday, and it was from my local Hallmark Gold Crown store. Happily for me, it included a coupon for $5 off a $20 purchase at their shop, which is awesome because one thing I want to do for my birthday is buy approximately eight birthday cards for other people.

Following a tradition that continues to impress me and yet makes me feel like they could do better, the other card came from Southwest Airlines. The card now arrives so early every year that I'm beginning to wonder whether they even know when my actual birthday is anymore, or they just know that it's some time after National Deviled Eggs Day. Seriously, they must have dropped this one in the mailbox a full month ahead of time. If I lived in a remote mountain village in Nepal (is there any other kind?), it would have still arrived well in advance of my birthday.

Maybe they're sending it that far in advance because they think I'm getting so old that the chances I'll actually live long enough to see my next birthday keep shrinking, and therefore they'd better get those sincere laser-printed greetings to me as early as possible.

But if that's the case, what a waste of postage, because if I had only two weeks to live, let's be honest, I'd probably book some first class seats on Qatar Airways, take advantage of the on-board Jacuzzi (because what could be more hygienic than a hot tub on an airplane?) and the feather duvet, and fly wherever the hell it is that Qatar Airways flies.***

I realize I might sound somewhat ungrateful, but I really am happy that corporate America loves me so much.

* If this seems like a subtle hint, it's not.**
** Not subtle, I mean.
*** I'm guessing Qatar is one possibility.

I'm a winner

And now, I would just like to brag that I won a shirt.

By "won," I mean that I responded to an email offer by sending my name, mailing address and shirt size to register for a promotion in which the company was going to send shirts to most people who submitted a valid name, mailing address and shirt size.

But, still. I'll take it.

There's a strong chance that the shirt, conveniently pictured below, is probably a little too fashion-forward for me. I'm not exactly sure where I'd go where black epaulets on a short-sleeve button-down would be situation-appropriate. (Maybe a screening of This is It?)


As worn by a model. A model standing in front of hay. (And, yes, the right breast pocket flap does fold down, in case you're worried.)

Still, I have to say it's a pretty nice garment. And, actually, it probably would meet the dress code for just about anywhere in L.A. It fits great, it feels well constructed and it's made of stretchy fabric, which for some reason I always think is a nice selling point in a shirt.

Thank-yous to the generous and trendy fellas at Cash Crop Clothing for bestowing the freebie, and to Thrillist for holding the contest. Which I won.

Unquestionably worth it

This hasn't been the best week ever, but lucky for me, it's getting worse right now because it's 9:30 on a Friday night and (1) I'm blogging, which is plenty lame, and (2) the jerkwad who lives upstairs from me thought this would be an awesome time to do some home improvement. Sounds like there's some electric drilling*, some sanding, and - probably just to mess with me - a little bit of hammering. Just awesome.

But please: Don't despair. Because I found something you could buy me to cheer me up. Two nights in Pennsylvania. Well, more specifically two nights at Fallingwater - perhaps the coolest private home ever designed. (Photos here, here and here - thanks, Flickrerers.) I'm a big Frank Lloyd Wright fan, and because I lucked out when it came to getting great parents, I actually got to take a tour of the place when I was in high school.

So, if you'd like to pony up the $1,200 for the two-night stay, I'll promise to send you a post card. Seems totally worth it - even if I'd only get to hang out and eat in the main house (sleeping accommodations are in a neighboring guest house rather than in Fallingwater itself). Yep, sign me up.

Oh, actually, one other thing that really cheered me up this week was that for the first time in months, I sold one of my t-shirts - my homage to Tulsa, Oklahoma. It's probably the most un-PC shirt I've designed, but it was also the first one I posted to my Zazzle page, almost a year ago. I was shocked** that nobody had bought one until now - seemed like the kind of thing that would really catch on.

Get yours today - it's the perfect Yom Kippur gift.

* No, not a euphemism.
** No, not really.

A decade away

For no apparent reason, I read this article in today's Times that includes the prediction that the job of statistician will be H-O-T, hot, hot, hot in 2020.

I've always thought that if you're going to publicize some crazy-ass predicition* that you've made, you might as well (1) publicize it in the New York Times; and (2) make your prediction about something 10 years in the future.

Why, you ask?

Because on the off chance you're right, whoever is filling the role of CNN reporter-moron in 2020 will find the New York Times article and interview you about it repeatedly throughout the year, so your consulting firm will get lots of great exposure.

And if you're wrong, who the hell is going to go back through 10-year-old New York Times articles looking for idiots who made wildly off-base predictions about the employability of stasticians in 2020? (Hint: The answer is "almost nobody.")

Which is why I can tell you that I feel very close to certain that a decade hence, SFTC will be the crown jewel of a $10 billion-a-year media empire and I will be the NBA's first-ever 47-year-old all-star shooting guard.

* Yes, I do realize that it's incredibly stupid of me to make fun of this idea because there's a good chance that Google's chief economist, who made this particular prediction, knows much, much, much more about the subject than I do, even though I read almost all of the New York Times article in which he was quoted.**

** I still would argue that this post is a good guide to use if you do in fact want to make wildly off-base predictions while speaking to news reporters.

Octopus is still the new black

If you've been paying attention, you know that SFTC has proclaimed this the Decade of the Octopus. Those crazy coleoids are getting all the headlines lately.

It's clear that people are taking my proclamation to heart. Now comes further evidence in the form of a new restaurant here in L.A. that takes its name from the suddenly very trendy eight-armed creature.

SFTC: The source you can rely on for the latest in octopus news.

Biting the mail... update added

Just posted a quick update to the Wolferman's English muffins saga. See the end of the previous post, below.

Thanks for all the interest!

Catching on

If you're even remotely paying attention, you've seen that there are a few ads on this rather handsome blog page. Google puts them up there, in exchange for offering me the remote hope that at some point - and at the current pace, that point would be in 2014 - I'll get a check for my first 100 bucks of ad revenue.

I already know what I'm going to buy with it: A soy chai latte. Think I'll be able to get a grande for under $100 in five years?

I'm not sure that I read my "agreement" with Google (like, if I'd actually read the agreement, I might have tried to negotiate a few of the finer points with them), but I think it says I'm not allowed to overtly encourage you to click on any of the ads. But you're smart, you can see where I'm going with that train of thought, right? Also, I don't think I'm allowed to click on any of the ads myself, because I'd be lining my own pockets with Google's hard-earned cash, and that would obviously be unfair to them, because they've worked so hard on writing and publicizing my blog.

In any case, I noticed today that one of the ads - when I was looking, it was about halfway down on the right side - is a bright, colorful graphic that reads, "WhatIsTheNewBlack.TV."

To which I had two responses:
1) I'm glad to see that the title of my recent post about the Octopus Decade is catching on in such a big way. Savvy online marketers are obviously tapping into the hype, and it's clear that SFTC was ground zero for this wave of hackneyed "the new black" metaphors.

2) I'm curious as heck about what kind of fascinating content must be on the web site that's advertised in that colorful ad. And yet, I don't want to click on it myself (for fear of disrupting my close personal partnership with Google), and I wouldn't encourage you to do so (at least not overtly). But if you do, leave me the info in the comments below, alright?

This isn't even remotely related, but I also decided I'm going to stop saying "No worries" as a substitute for "It's alright" or "No problem." The phrase seemed sort of cool in an appealingly laid-back kind of way the first time I started hearing it regularly, back around 2000. But I've had enough.

Feels like the first time

Here's a macabre hypothetical situation for you: Let's say your fabulously wealthy great aunt dies (seriously, it's hypothetical - I'm sure your great aunt is in perfect health) and leaves tons of dough to you and your 20 cousins.

Are you going to have a contest with your other cousins to see who can spend their inheritance first? If I know you, dear reader, at all, I know you'd think to yourself it would be difficult to spend the money quickly enough to win the contest because there's probably a very long waiting list for the Bugatti Veyron that you've had your eye on. And then, you'd quickly say, "No, of course not! That would be tasteless."

Which is sort of what I thought when I read in the New York Times that city and state governments are basically competing for the apparently glamorous title of First To Spend Federal Stimulus Money.

I know my analogy is a little bit off in the sense that, unlike your hypothetical great aunt, our hypothetically great nation hasn't passed away. But I find it a little strange that even one elected official thought it would be worthwhile to lay claim to "first to spend" status, let alone that men and women in government offices all over the country apparently had the same exact idea.

Like, in 30 years, are tourists going to be flocking to Missouri to see the formerly dilapidated bridge that was (maybe) the first public works project funded by the Great Stimulus of 2009? I don't think so either. How much of the stimulus money do you figure is being wasted on paying people to research and publicize this nonsense?

Awkward transition: Another organization that likes to claim superlatives is Hammacher Schlemmer, the catalog/site that purports to sell products that are "the best, the only and the unexpected." (I know "unexpected" isn't really a superlative, but whatever.)

I mention HS because I just won a $50 gift certificate from them! Wahoo!

I earned the prize through a drawing for people who respond to the company's occasional online surveys about products they're considering selling - recent surveys have been about stuff like paper shredders and dehumidifiers, but Hammacher has lots of stuff that's more exciting than that. So really, I earned it.

Back in the Chicago days, I went to their testing site a few times to be a part of consumer panels that reviewed gizmos like insulated coffee mugs and mini stereo speakers, and I got $25 gift certificates each time. I don't think I ever spent any of them, because all of the cool stuff cost way more, and I never really had much of a need for the cheaper stuff.

But now, I'm determined to put my 50 Hammacher bucks to good use. It's your vote, America. Should I get this, these or this?

CCL

Forgive the self-congratulatory nature of what you're about to read. But as I've written before, it's my blog, so pthththth.

Just wanted to let it be known, in case you're not keeping track, that this little slice of brilliance that I posted yesterday was my 250th post. I think at least six of them have been worth reading, but either way, 250 is a pretty impressive tally, if you ask me. (Or, in this case, if I ask me.)

I'm surprised I've stuck with it this long.

I'm probably forcing a connection here, but the element of surprise reminds me of the funniest thing a waiter said to me last year. (Ten points if you saw that segue coming.) My talented and beautiful wife and I were eating dinner at one of those places that's a half-decent-cafe-inside-a-swanky-movie-theater.

Part way through the meal, our server comes over to ask how we're enjoying the food.

Me: "It's really great!"

Waiter: "Wow! I'm as surprised as you are."

Exeunt

The kid stays in the picture

I'm not sure why being sick all week prevented me from sharing some more of the entertaining-yet-educational homespun wisdom you've come to expect from SFTC. But it did. So here it is: My first post of February.

What caught my eye today was a New York Times article about a Metropolitan Museum exhibit of Walker Evans photographs. You're a pretty enlightened bunch, so even if black-and-white 20th century photos don't make your world go round, I'm hoping you'll find the article worth reading - I did. If not, I admit I'm mostly posting the link for the benefit of Bugs, who actually owns one (or two?) Walker Evans photos. Which I think is very cool.

There was one sentence in the article that seemed particularly encouraging to me:
"Born in St. Louis in 1903 and reared in Chicago, Evans started collecting postcards in grade school, years before he failed at his initial goal of being a writer and took up a camera." [italics mine]

Made me think: Maybe there's hope that I'll make something of myself yet.

Although if the lesson here is that the first step to great artistic success is collecting postcards, that could be difficult. That might mean I'd have to clear out room among my Sports Illustrateds, Wheaties boxes, baseball cards, commemorative state quarters, ticket stubs, and I'll stop there lest you get the impression that I have a problem.

But I do like to pretend once in a while that I can take good pictures. Want to see one? OK, good. Here's a shot from last month in Malibu. I'm sure it'll be in a retrospective somewhere in a few decades. Behold:

All we are saying

... is give piece a chance.

Introducing the brand new T that will take the nation by storm, just as soon as lots of people start wearing them all over the place, talking about them all the time and ... ah, who am I kidding?

Seriously, wouldn't you feel good about starting that kind of national movement just by buying your very own Piece t-shirt from S and J Market? My sister called it "funny." My superfantastic wife said it was "cute."

And, I'm not kidding: They know t-shirts. What more motivation do you need? Get your own today.

What a site

January 20, 2009. The opening screen on whitehouse.gov. Just: Wow. Wow.

Don't walk... run!

... to get yourself the hot new T-shirt from S and J Market.

The latest design is a tribute to the bustling metropolis of Norwalk, Conn., which is where the company I used to work for is based. (That sentence is phrased awkwardly partly because I didn't actually work there - I worked from home and just visited when they had Christmas parties and summer barbecues, which came out to roughly twice a year - and partly because I don't have the juice right now to figure out a better way to write it.)

As my former colleagues could attest (that's you, LDog!), I talked frequently, probably way too much, about my brilliant idea for a Norwalk t-shirt. Now, that idea has become a very wearable reality.

This S and J exclusive is sure to be the must-have clothing item for a very small number of trendy fashionistas for 2009! (And fashionistos, too. Since you're wondering, Yes, it's available in men's sizes.)

Take a look...



... and then click on over!

In other, less self-promotional news, Andrew Bird and his new CD have been getting almost Britney-size media coverage lately! Some of the hype started before I wrote my blog post about the new album, so I'm not taking all of the credit, but I will take a little.

If you're interested, which you should be, the New York Times ran this nice profile. But even cooler is Bird's latest entry in a sometimes fascinating New York Times blog that's written by a handful of songwriters - the neatest part is the audio clips of one new song as it evolved from demo to album. And on this page on NPR's web site, there's a link that'll let you listen to the entire new disc for free! Which is a pretty good deal.

Resolved

We're leaving in the morning for a quick trip up the coast, so in all likelihood, this is it for 2008. My 218th and final post of the year.

Now, I'm not one for new year's resolutions. If I'm making any for 2009, I'll never tell, and I'm not admitting to having made any in 2008. But if I had, today's post would represent me having stuck to a resolution for (close enough to) a full year.

In the scheme of new year's resolutions, writing a few lines of nonsense every couple of days might not seem like much. Check that: isn't much. Still, I'm pleased with myself for sticking to it, for getting something, anything, up here on a regular-enough basis. I think these 218 posts - well, most of them, anyway - were much-needed reminders to myself that writing can be pretty easy when it's fun, and it can be fun when it's so easy. Once in a while they even made me laugh, which probably wasn't the point. But, as my beautiful and observant wife has often observed (beautifully, I might add), I'm pretty good at cracking myself up.

Plus, it was a handy way for me to remind you about all of the awesome t-shirts for sale at S and J Market, which could really use your business during these difficult economic times. One of our satisfied t-shirt customers is Bugs, who has this one and is about to get this one, once I can get to a mailbox. I also mention Bugs because she deserves a special thanks for reading every single post and commenting - in some cases many, many times - on most of them.

To the other six or seven of you who have checked in on me so often this year, I thank you very much, for keeping the escalator going. What do ya' say we do it again next year?