Thumbs Anyone?

Thumbs up: Sarah Palin. She gave her big speech in Hong Kong this week. I don't know what she was blathering on about. I'm sure she sounded very smart. But she managed to give the entire speech without saying "death panel" once. I feel like this is her first step, albeit a very, very small one, towards respectability. But it probably isn't.

Thumbs down: The Ukraine. They won't let Elton John and his partner adopt an HIV-positive baby. That's fucked up. If we, as a global community, will let Nadya Suleman have eight kids, we can't not let Elton John have at least one.

Thumbs Up: Motherfuckin' football season is here! As a Mets fan, this football season feels like the first time they served beer after Prohibition ended. And it seems like it's going to be a pretty good season, too, what with all the last second finishes and shittiness of the Cowboys.
Thumbs down: The Yankees being back in the playoffs. How awesome was it last year when the Yankees weren't in the playoffs? Weren't we all happier, even for just a few days? Well now that's over. And worse yet - - the Yankees are really fuckin' good this year.

Thumbs Up: New Thursday night TV. The Office has always been outstanding. New comers Parks and Recreation (recently featuring Amy Poehler rapping 'Parents Just Don't Understand') and Community (simultaneously funny and insulting to each and every student pursuing their Associate's) are solid. Add 30 Rock's triumphant return this week and cap it all off with a little It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia and there's really no reason to leave the couch or associate with actual people on Thursday.

Thumbs Down: Commuting during the school year. It now takes me 15 minutes to drive through a neighborhood that should logically take less than one. The weird thing is, I don't even see that many buses on the road. It's the cops who have nothing better to do than guard our crosswalks and stay at home parents who won't wait an extra hour before running errands that kill me. Nothing rips the soul out through your eye sockets quite like sitting through the same traffic light three times.

PROGRAM ALERT!

At 10pm exactly, in typical do-you-know-where-your-children-are fashion, ESPN informed me of a program alert: "Sportscenter will be coming on next. Sportscenter will be coming on next. Sportscenter will be coming on next."

Can't fault a company for telling its audience that it's moneymaker is about to hit the booty-do, but let's look at this a little more critically, shall we?

This wasn't just 10pm on a Monday, this was 10pm during the Border War basketball match-up that was tied with about 45 seconds remaining. If some sports fan turned on ESPN at that point in search of our beloved and beleaguered Sportscenter (in other words, highlights and news about sport and great sports games), I don't think they would have been distressed to find a great sports game happening in its stead.

And if they were, two things would have happened. One, they could have clicked off for a second to see what was coming on Nick-at-Nite, and then switch back 5 minutes later (if they really were interested in getting their highlight fix).

Or two, they would remember that this airing of Sportscenter would be exactly like the one airing at 6pm and marginally, if not unnoticeably, different than every Sportscenter for the last 2 days and for seemingly the next 5 weeks - - A-Rod, A-Roid, A-Fraud, and A-Hole. On and on, ad infinitum. What were you really updating me on? "The same thing will be continuing shortly. The same thing will be continuing shortly. The same thing will be continuing shortly."

Donovan "already looking for a profession I'm better at" McNabb

So McNabb is a commentator for Super Bowl week. I guess he just really wanted to be near another Super Bowl without all that puke-inducing anxiety.

The Shwam: Great at middle names, really awful with first names

In general, Chris Berman needs to go away, and it's for failed efforts such as this:

During Monday NFL Countdown, Berman tries to make a witty observation that next weekend's AFC East games will involve "Bills" all over the place with playoff implications. (Not that any of these will be any newer in Week 17 than they were in Week 1, but let's let the schmuck have some fun). This will be decently interesting if he can pull it off. Let's see:

The Buffalo Bills. Check. Playing against Bill Belichick, head coach of the Patriots. Check.
Bill Parcells, current Executive Vice President of the Miami Dolphins. Check. Playing against Eric Mangini, head coach of the Jets. What's that, Big Guy? Not seeing a Bill there.

Could have gone with Bill Calahan, Offensive Line Coach and Assistant Head Coach for the Jets, but that's kind of a stretch. Unfortunately, there are no other Bills associated with the Jets. Not a one. What should Berman do?

Is it:
A) Find another name that all 4 organizations share
B) Stop trying to be kitschy and just report the fucking sports news like you're paid to do
or C) Turn the linkage into a very clumsy allegory to the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit of Christian fame compared to the Parcells coaching tree that has taken root in the AFC East?

Of course, Berman chose C. (If you couldn't tell, I was pulling for B).

Institutional deaf-ism

I was just watching TV on mute while I was on the phone, which automatically kicks on the Closed Captioning. When the NBA on ESPN commercial came on, there was nothing written in CC except two music notes. Now that's just mean.

"Hey deaf guy, there's some sweet music playing right now. What's that? You can't hear it? Ok, let me tell you about it. Oh, you don't know anything about music because you have no basis for comparison since you've been deaf since birth? And you can't hear what I'm saying right now? Hmmm...do you know what music notes look like? Bingo."

Sex-linked traits

School got canceled due to an overnight storm of freezing rain. I was under the impression that my sordid and unbalanced relationship with snow days would relent after having received a college degree, but last night I employed every superstitious trick I'm aware of to try and will this snow day. It was probably my 1/64 Blackfoot heritage that allowed my inside-out underwear slumbering snow dance to succeed.

But, long story short, I'm home for the day with very little to do and no one to make bad decisions with. So I'm watching Comedy Central. And I'm upset for women everywhere because I still haven't come across a female comic that I find remotely as funny as her male peers. Never. Not ever. And if I did chuckle at a joke from a comedienne, I was grading on a curve.

I like to think that I keep my misogyny quiet, but I can't explain this one away. Amidst my ennui, though, I think I can somewhat rationalize this. As far as I'm aware, all female comics who find their way on to a network comedy special are over or near the age of 35 and either never married or recently divorced. The only other group of people that are this homogeneous are illiterate West Virginians.

It's pretty remarkable when you think about it. And herein lies why my TV is currently muted. There is a quiet desperation in every joke, as if even the time it took to tell the joke was a precious waste of her depleting estrogen and deteriorating ova; a self-effacing humor that more often elicits the sort of uncomfortable laugh you might produce if a man without a left arm repeatedly made jokes about being "all right."

But then again it might just be that men are smarter. That's always a possibility.