Resolutions

Yahoo ran a story the other day with a bunch of celebrities' New Year's resolutions. Brittney wants to stop biting her nails, some rapper wants "ten bitches with money", and Cameron Diaz says she thinks she should start wearing a bra.

I don't care about Brittney's nails, any woman who hooks up with a chap who refers to her as one of his bitches deserves what she gets, and Cameron Diaz, braless or not, is rarely relevant to my existence or my entertainment world.

The list brought up two thoughts. The first is that my highly intelligent, young, professional daughter recently confided in mi esposa that she is a Brittney Spears fan. Not just a fan, but a "huge fan". It is amazing, the things that kids say, even adult kids whom you think you know. I would have been less surprised had she said that she is a closet Trekkie or that she is being treated for an addiction to cole slaw. Brittney? Isn't being a Brittney fan like looking up to the trailer park gang from My Name is Earl?

The second reflection is a further bit of consternation, this one as to why Cameron Diaz would want to remind the world that she demurs when it comes to selecting underwear. Cameron has always seemed to me to be quite charismatic, and she has taken modest thespian skills a long way. She is also pleasantly attractive, though not overly endowed in the hooter department. Cameron also seems to always accomodate with a knockercentric photo pose. I am, therefore, casting my vote that Cameron Diaz, no, she should not start wearing a bra in 2009.

As for my own New Year's resolutions, I don't make any. I make resolutions along the way, throughout the year, each time I find some issue worth resolving about. For example, every few months I resolve to cut back on the number of f-bombs that I drop, cutting back to maybe a couple of hundred a day. Likewise, I frequently resolve to avoid things and people that annoy me, and by acting on those things in real time instead of waiting for a new year, I keep my pissed-off quotient manageable, most of the time. Some of the time, anyway.

I frequently resolve to try to enjoy life's moments more frequently, and I have success with this in spurts. This resolution leads to surrounding oneself with people that make life enjoyable, and likewise accepting that some folks are simply assholes and deserve whatever misery is their current lot.

That's it. Brittney, bitches and boobs. Just another happy day.

Spaceship Earth

I have been hearing for most of my life a few terms about our planet that make no sense to me, probably because I paid no attention when someone tried to teach me . I am referring to Equinox and Solstice, the planetary behaviors, not the names of the teachers to whom I paid no attention. I have a vague recollection that Disney, too, may have tried to teach me this as I rode thru spaceship earth in Epcot, but I was much more interested in hollering "wooooo-hoooo, this is awesome" than in paying attention to the disembodied voice that was trying to educate me.

As I have recently remedied my ignorance (only in this specific area), I would like to share what I have learned…before I forget it, which will likely occur very soon.

First, equinox. If we grab the “equi” part, which is derived from "equs", “equal”, it’s easy to remember the meaning. Twice a year, during the earth’s trip around the sun, the tilt of the Earth’s axis will be neither toward nor away from the sun. At this point, we have equal amounts of daylight and darkness. One time is in the spring, and one time is in the fall. The spring is the vernal equinox, the fall is the (duh) autumnal equinox. Vernal, by the way, comes from the latin "ver", spring. How 'bout that...
Solstices are the other extremes from the equinoxes. During the solstices, the relative tilt of the earth’s axis is at its extremes. The result is that at the summer solstice, we have the greatest amount of daylight and at the winter solstice we have the least amount of daylight.

At this time, those of you who are versed in astronomy are rightfully incensed that I have skipped about 99% of the science that explains all this. You are correct. I have elected not to attempt explaining that science because it made my brain hurt. I will, however, throw in some cocktail party factoids that I encountered along the way.

The earth rotates on an imaginary axis that is tilted at 23.44 degrees.
The tilt varies between 22.1 and 24.5 degrees.
The tilt is why we have seasons.
These solstices and equinoxes are instantaneous, fleeting points in time.
The earth rotates on its axis. The earth revolves around the sun.
The orbit of the earth (revolution) is elliptical.
The earth is moving through space at 67,000 miles per hour.
The orbit takes 365.26 days. That .26 necessitates the leap year adjustment.
We just had the winter solstice on December 21.

In 2009, the vernal equinox will occur March 20, and summer solstice will occur June 20th, at one minute to midnight.

My brain is starting to hurt again, so it is time to stop.

Fuddy Duddy, and Spouse

I have attempted, along with my spouse, to age, as they say, gracefully.

Make a note. It is official. We have failed.

On New Year's Day I gave a call early in the evening to Grandpa and Grandma to wish them well for the new year. I had avoided making one of those midnight phone calls the night before, figuring they might have turned in early.

When they answered the phone--both of them, as they frequently do, which is somewhat disarming, the two hellos, like a delay--their voices sounded fatigued. I pumped up the enthusiasm and tossed out a Happy New Year, hoping they'd perk up.

"What did you do last night?," I enquired with some reluctance.

"We were at a New Year's party at some country club in Niles," replied Grandpa. "The Ampol Aires played. Good food, you know, open bar, good music. Then, when that party ended, we headed over to the Stardust, they were having another band, so we went over there and stayed there 'till, I don't know, 3:30 or 4, and hell, we didn't get home and get to bed 'till, I dunno, around 5. It was tough for Grandma, ha-ha, she can't handle it so good anymore."

"Ah, it was the food. The food didn't agree with me, I ate too much," chimed in Grandma. "So I had to take it easy today, that's all. What did you guys do?"

My turn.

"Ummm...we went out for dinner...around 6:30...in town...and, ummm, we, uh, that was about it."

The picture above is the Ampol Aires, the entertainment of the early portion of Grandma and Grandpa's evening. The picture is from 1965. While most--not all--of the band members have changed over the years, they are still playing, and Grandma and Grandpa are still out there partying.

And we are not.

We have been passed on the party scale by Grandma and Grandpa and the Ampol Aires and an army of polka dancing senior citizens who certainly don't want to hear anything about aging gracefully.

That is all.

Marketing Classic

On New Year's Eve in Las Vegas, some motorcycle jumping guy shot his machine nearly ten stories into the night sky and landed atop the Arc de Triomphe at the Paris Hotel. He drove the bike around the top of the Arc a few times and then drove it off the edge, hit the ramp properly and stuck a successful and safe landing. The good citizens of Paris, France, were unavailable for comment, but they may want to look into this new and novel use for local landmarks Chicago, not to be outdone, saved its spectacle for New Year's Day.

The newly revived Chicago Blackhawks Hockey Club, Inc., played the perennial powerhouse Detroit Red Wings yesterday at the world's largest saloon, Wiggley Field. The game was OK, 41,000 people showed up to party, the most successful operation in Detroit prevailed and the marketers accomplished exactly what they had hoped for.

What a dopey event.

I had hoped that this space would be poplulated today by a noted non-fan of hockey, Amy, who was in attendance at yesterday's chilly New Year's party, but apparently all the revelry was too much for her. Through a phone call about an hour before the game, we first learned that Amy had been pressed into service as a Blackhawk Standby when her significant other's pal was taken ill. Whether the illness was revelry-related was not disclosed.

The last two contacts from Amy, text messages, informed us first that she had lost the feeling in her extremities and then that she had fled the outdoor saloon and found comfort at an indoor watering hole. Papa didn't raise no fool.

Unable to overcome my curiousity, I watched parts of the Winter Classic from the comfort of the recliner while also watching yet another of my bowl wagers go up in smoke in a substantially warmer setting, warmer for me and at the bowl game, too. Back in Chicago, the hockey game was the most aggressive advertising campaign that I can remember ever seeing, simply amazing.

The bankrupt Tribune company, which spent $1.5 million last spring to have the notoriously horrendous Wiggley playing surface rebuilt (by Roger Bossard of the White Sox), had no qualms about renting out their playpen for a hockey game. I cannot be convinced that this will not have a negative impact on the ground the Wiggleys hold sacred.

Next, the pricey tickets for contest did not assure that you could actually see what was occurring on the ice. By my guesstimate, the seats nearest to the rink were close to a hundred feet away. Those seats were also obstructed view, as the side boards of a hockey rink are about three and a half feet high, so most of the lower deck seats were unlikely to see much of the actual ice surface. Another round here, beertender.

Some of the hockey heroes of my youth were dragged out to create a more festive mood for the show. Bobby Hull, once the most venerated athlete in town, looked right at home at the world's largest saloon. He joined good old #21, Stan Mikita and Wiggley favorite Ryne Sandberg in a bizarre rendition of Take Me Out to the Hockey Game. They all appeared to enjoy singing away as the home team was getting pounded. Upon reflection, that was consistent with a hundred years of summer behavior at Wiggley.

The money shot for this game didn't land in the net. It's the shot that appears above, the throwback jerseys with the decrepit Wiggley scoreboard in the background. The uniforms are for sale right now on NHL.com, and the photos, framed and with commemorative plaque affixed, should be available shortly for your purchasing and reminiscing pleasure.

What the hell...it's better than a picture of the motorcycle guy in Vegas.

The Granddaddy of Them All

The first post season college football game was held in 1902 as an added attraction to Pasadena’s Tournament of Roses festival. The University of Michigan came out to the west coast and beat home state favorite Stanford 49-0 in three quarters of play. After the third quarter, Stanford was getting schmeered, so they quit and left.

The first Tournament of Roses had nothing to do with football. Twelve years prior to Stanford's hissy fit, the good people of Pasadena decided to show off their paradise to the Easterners and Midwesterners who were buried in frigid winter, so they put together a festival. During the first few years, the events at the festival included ostrich races, bronco busting demonstrations and a race between a camel and an elephant (the elephant won).

That 1902 football massacre caused the committee to avoid football the next year…actually for the next 13 years. In 1903 there polo matches and the crowds stayed away in droves. The replacement was chariot races, held from 1904 to 1915 In 1916, football was back, and Washington State beat Brown in front of 14,000 people.

The contemporary festival features the world famous Rose Parade, and this year is the 120th edition. The Rose Parade will be broadcast on ABC, NBC, Univision, HGTV, Travel Channel, RFD-TV as well as KWHY and KTLA in the Los Angeles area. The Parade is also seen in more than 200 international territories. The photo above is from the 1920 parade. Looks like a major party time...not.

This year's Rose Bowl features Penn State & USC, which provides an excuse to run a picture of the USC cheerleaders.

So get a good seat in front of the big screen today and enjoy a unique American spectacle. Happy New Year!