Month: November 2001

Landed fine in Boston. (Although the flight was the scariest I’ve been on. It’s good to know the seat belts work. As the turbulence hit its height, after the meal service was cancelled and things started really shaking, the thought crossed my mind: How lame would it be to die while watching Legally Blonde? [Quick crabwalk.com review: Not bad, although I’m amazed at any movie that can turn an obscenely wealthy, beautiful, pampered blonde into a victim of discrimination and turn a bunch of nerdy academics into evil social excluders. Not how I remember college.)

I’ve gotten enough of a response to make me think the CD Mix of the Month idea might work. So here’s how it’ll work.
Once a month, I make a mix CD of music I like. Doesn’t have to be new music or have any theme, although it might. If you want I’ll give you a copy of this mix. In exchange, you make a mix CD of music you like and give me a copy. Everybody gets new rockin’ tunes, everybody’s happy. (Ideally, if we get, say, eight people making mixes, everybody could get a copy of everyone else’s mix. In other words, you burn eight copies of your mix and get eight different mixes in return. But that might be down the line.)
If you live outside the DFW area, we’ll trade by mail. If you’re local, we could either mail ’em or figure out a way to swap in person. (Or through a clandestine network of operatives specially trained in the art of polycarbonate disc exchanges. Whatever.) Lemme know if you’re interested. At d.saint‘s suggestion, let’s set an informal goal of having mixes done by Dec. 7.

I am pleased to announce the birth a new baby blog, Stupid McNupid, the creation of my friend Kelly. If I had any cigars handy, I’d be handing them out tearfully right now.

Damn! I hate the difference between Mac and PC monitors. The above photo doesn’t look so painfully dark on my Mac at home. Sorry ’bout that. Anyway, as one might guess from above, I’m off to Boston in a few hours. I’m going to the Nieman Narrative Journalism Conference at hated Hahvahd. There are some amazing, amazing journalists scheduled: my man Ira Glass (of This American Life), Gay Talese, Nora Ephron, Jon Franklin, Tom French, and more. Should be a blast. And I get to see my friend Fiona and my newly engaged college roommate Bob. Woo hoo!

No Comment Necessary Dept.: MADRID — Sevilla’s Francisco Gallardo is totally surprised that the Spanish Football Federation has opened an investigation into his bizarre goal celebration during his team’s 4-0 victory over Valladolid last weekend. Gallardo was caught on camera bending down and biting teammate Jose Antonio Reyes’ genitals in celebration of the striker’s goal early in the second half of the match. “I don’t think what I did was very noteworthy,” Gallardo was quoted as saying by Spanish media Wednesday.
“I just felt a slight pinch. I didn’t realize what had really happened until I saw the footage on television,” Reyes was quoted as saying by the French Press Agency. “Gallardo hasn’t heard the end of this. The worst thing now is the stick I’m getting from the other players,” he added.
Goal celebrations have been the cause of previous controversies. Former Valencia player Leandro once imitated a urinating dog at the edge of the field, and Liverpool’s Robbie Fowler drew criticism for crawling at a field marking and pretending to snort cocaine.
UPDATE: A photo of the offending privates-nibble.

Some of the finer search terms people like you used to find this site in November: “falwell water park ride photo,” “swedish freshman initiation,” “carrottop biography,” “where can i buy turducken,” “bono gets in debt,” “chewy and leia f—ing photo” (ewww), “old coins value indian head pennies,” “my tetris natalie portman edition,” “funny osama turkey,” “dallas debutantes,” “marlon brando personal email,” “sloan chris murphy girlfriend,” “charo+humanitarian,” “ricki and swing,” “osama’s desktop theme,” “how to ace bandage the wrist,” “kobe racing leather,” “download booty shaking contest,” “determination of benzoic acid in soy sauce,” “most frequented indian site porn,” “franklin planner daily scripture reading lds,” “12 most brilliant 3 on 3 football plays,” “pennsylvania chattanooga blog,” and my all-time favorite: “john stamos+socks.”

I had to go look over some documents at DISD headquarters this morning, and in the room where I was sitting, The Price is Right was on. I hadn’t seen the show in many years, but I was quietly pleased they’ve kept all the garish ancient sets, the ’70s typography on all the signs, and the technicolor-dream-coat back curtain behind the audience. (I was disappointed that they’re evidently requiring implants for the female “presenters” now; I see that two of the three of them are Playboy alums. Not that their predecessors were hired for their ability to deconstruct Sartre, but still.)
Needless to say, the Internet is home to at least one certifiable Price is Right obsessive.

Maybe it’s for the best that my dreams of covering America’s New War didn’t work out. After all, the number of Western journalists killed is beating the number of Western soldiers killed, 8 to 1.

As you brace yourself for the brutal winter tumult tomorrow — or at least for what passes for “brutal winter tumult” in Texas — comfort yourself with one little reminder: it’s not as cold as it used to be. I’m not talking global warming; the National Weather Service has changed the way it calculates the wind chill factor. The original calculations were, kid you not, “based on measurements of heat flowing through a beaker of water in experiments in Antarctica in the 1940’s.” (Like so much in today’s society.) The new calculations take into account things like the heat-generation abilities of humans. The result is that things will look warmer than they used to. (AccuWeather has been pushing something called the RealFeel Temperature as a repaired wind chill for some time, despite its slightly pornographic name.)
(The other way to look at it is that our ancestors were a bunch of reverse braggarts who exaggerated how tough they had it. Those old stories about walking uphill both ways to school through a blinding blizzard can now be neatly answered: “But Grandpa, wasn’t it actually about ten degrees warmer than you claimed at the time?”)
This is retroactive. For Cowboys fans, the infamous Ice Bowl game against Green Bay wasn’t played in 46-below wind chill, as was reported at the time. Now, it’s just a downright balmy minus-35.

Meet Paul Morgan. “Prepare yourself for an adventure like you have never before experienced,” says his web site. “In an unprecedented event… LIVE via webcam access… you can watch me amputate my legs with a homemade guillotine on November 30th!” (You may have seen this story before; we ran it in the DMN some months ago.)
Morgan has no feeling in his feet as a result of a childhood accident. And he can’t afford prosthetic feet. So he’s offering to chop them off — live and uncut! — if it’ll raise money for his surgery. (It’ll cost $20 to watch; while his web site hasn’t been updated, he’s postponed the event to Jan. 5.)
Favorite lines from his web page: “Now you may be wondering what kind of demented website you have found. People read the words AMPUTATE and GUILLOTINE and automatically freak. What I am doing may be a little untraditional but that doesn’t mean this is some kind of freak show.” Um, okay.