The Plot Thickens

My idea for a comic book/graphic novel superhero who promotes historical literacy gained some serious traction today with this suggestion featured on The Daily Dish:

"A totally crazy Saturday-morning thought: Wouldn't George W. Bush make an awesome high-school government teacher? Wouldn't it be something if his post-presidential life would up being that kind of post-service service? How's that for a model? Who needs Harvard visiting chairs and high-end lectures? How about Crawford High? (Or wherever?) Reach out and touch the young before they are jaded, or break them of the cynicism pop culture and possibly their parents have passed down to them. Whatever you think of President Bush, he's a likable guy in love with his country with some history and experience to share," - Kathryn-Jean Lopez, NRO.

Until now the concept had been fairly hazy in my mind, but now a legitimate (and terrifying) nemesis is materializing. Once I storyboard my origin narrative, I'm golden.

I hope everyone is having a great weekend. I've been biking, playing tennis, and conducting an imprecise archaeological excavation of my parents' basement. The first truckload (of many) went to the dump today. Not quite as dashing as Henry Jones, Jr., of course, and much less groundbreaking than Heinrich Schliemann, but also much more humane than Giovanni Belzoni, and hopefully less ill-fated than Howard Carter.

For those who are curious, my total mileage to date is 46.59.

Happy 4th!

May your Independence Day be drenched in the blood of tyrants. Or a good potato salad.

E-Day Plus One: Murphy's Law

View Larger Map

Well, I had my money on a flat inner tube stymieing my progress within the first few days: a cynicism that was bred into me last summer when a staple fragment gave me five flats in a week and a half.

But, on just the second day of car-free month, the culprit is a broken pedal. As I headed back from the Lock 7 stop on the bike path, I encountered an incline that proved to be my pedal's Boot Hill:


View Larger Map

Not a debilitating malfunction, of course, but an uncomfortable one. I'll be biking - slowly - over to Plaine's in the morning to see about a quickie replacement.

Today's tally: 10.78 miles.

The Dog Days

To my eye, nearly everything during this election has been accelerated. The tremendous energy and hot air expended during the primaries has left something of a vacuum. People are worn out. There'll be a second wind, a late season push, but we are now in "the Dog Days," and that's a little ahead of schedule.

I'm very familiar with the Dog Days. Not because I live in upstate New York where, like my brethren at similar latitudes, we experience the meteorological schizophrenia of a climate that can go from ten below to a hundred degrees and humid within five months. No, I'm familiar with the Dog Days because I'm a Mets fan. And, unfortunately, one of the main announcers on SNY - the Mets channel - is Keith "I Was on 'Seinfeld'" Hernandez. Keith is an egomaniac and, worse yet, Keith is repetitive. So if you ever want to hear a not-ready-for-the-Hall-of-Fame player get all misty-eyed talking about how much better he is than today's major leaguers, tune in to Channel 66.

In his defense, Hernandez also likes to repeat certain phrases. Carlos Beltran, the Mets' centerfielder, can't move his legs without Keith saying "Oh, just look at that. Such beautiful strides." Thankfully, his producers have toned down his macho act. This is the guy who chided a member of the San Diego Padres' staff for being in the dugout. Because she was a woman:

The former MVP first baseman said women "don't belong in the dugout" when he spotted 33-year-old Kelly Calabrese, the Padres' full-time massage therapist, high-fiving Mike Piazza in the dugout after he hit a home run during New York's 8-1 victory Saturday in San Diego.

After Hernandez found out later in the broadcast that Calabrese was with the Padres training staff, he repeated that she shouldn't have been there. "I won't say that women belong in the kitchen, but they don't belong in the dugout," he said.

Hernandez, a former Mets star, then laughed and said: "You know I am only teasing. I love you gals out there -- always have."

Maybe that turn on Seinfeld wasn't so far-fetched. Can you be typecast if your only two credits are one episode of a sitcom and mustache-dye commercials?

But one of Keith's favorite hobby horses is talking about the Dog Days. Every lackluster play from late July through August will be attributed to the oppressive heat of summer.

Dog Days, Dog Days, Dog Days.

This is why I turn the volume down when I watch.

Right now Americans are a little bit overwhelmed by the unwieldy coverage of the election. We are in the political Dog Days, where the average person has reached her capacity to follow and - frankly - to care about the candidates.

There will still be overblown news stories, like Wesley Clark's prompted gaffe, which El Ranchero dispatches handily here. And there will most definitely still be overblown non-news stories like this:

WASHINGTON (AP) — People would rather barbecue burgers with Barack than munch meats with McCain.

While many are still deciding which should be president, by 52 percent to 45 percent they would prefer having Barack Obama than John McCain to their summer cookout, according to an Associated Press-Yahoo! News poll released Wednesday.

Well, I'm glad that's settled. Though I heard having a beer with Bush isn't nearly as cool as all those fellas thought back in 2004.

E-Day: The Reckoning

I opted for a post title wholly at odds with what actually took place.

E-Day felt like any other day.

I woke up a little later than usual, having gone to bed a bit later.

Did a lot of work around the house, which prevented me from going out much.

Played tennis at the Lishakill Pocket Park, which was my main physical activity for the day.


View Larger Map

And I did a fair amount of grocery shopping yesterday, in anticipation of how much less convenient my life would be over the course of the next four weeks.

So not much biking. Too bad because today was gorgeous.

Just 6.82 miles to be exact. I'll keep a running tally. Maybe there's some cool Google widget I can find to add to my blog.

On the plus side, I didn't overdo it the first day, which will make me all the more likely to bike it up tomorrow.

E-Day Minus One: The Rules

Tomorrow I begin my Herculean - or, some might say, Sisyphean - task of eschewing personal car travel for a month.

Here are the rules I'm setting out for myself:

1. bike as much as possible, not just out of necessity, but for exercise and fun, too. Like on the Mohawk-Hudson Bikeway or over to The Crossings of Colonie.
2. riding in a car is permitted in special circumstances (e.g. attending Matt & Judi's wedding in my tux)
3. driving a car is permitted in emergency circumstances (e.g. medical crises; hauling junk from my parents' basement to the town dump in Dave's truck...if you're wondering how the second example constitutes an emergency then you have clearly never seen my parents' basement)

That's about it. Haven't worked out all the kinks. Still need a poncho, for instance. And I don't have any saddlebags (they militate against the "cool/rugged mountain biker" look I'm going for*), so grocery shopping will be hit & run, but I think that's a good thing.

Wish me luck.

I'll leave you with some words of wisdom from "Bicycle Race," lyrics by Freddie Mercury. It's got it all: drugs, patriotic symbols, photo ops, French elitism, religion, Nixon, McGovern, and bicycles. So poignant in an election year...

You say "coke," I say "caine"
You say "John," I say "Wayne"
"Hot dog" - I say "Cool it, man -
I don't wanna be the President of America."
You say "Smile," I say "Cheese!"
"Cartier" - I say "Please!"
"Income tax," I say "Jesus -
I don't wanna be a candidate
For Vietnam or Watergate!"
'Cuz all I want to do is ...

Bicycle bicycle bicycle
I want to ride my bicycle bicycle bicycle
I want to ride my bicycle
I want to ride my bike
I want to ride my bicycle
I want to ride it where I like

* also militating against the "rugged/cool mountain biker" look is the silly helmet that sits atop my gargantuan cranium.

How Could I?

Months ago, I wrote a mammoth post on the worst movies of all time. In it I singled out Con Air and Battlefield Earth for special derision.

But just now, watching a 60 Minutes report on Will Smith, I realized that any discussion of terrible films must include a mention of Wild Wild West. Nine years on, Kenneth Branagh should still be ashamed of himself.

Friday night I watched Be Kind Rewind, which I liked, yet it called to mind Envy. Its small budget is the only thing saving it from supreme crapitude.

E-Day Minus Two

July 1st is "E-Day" for me, the opening salvo in my light-hearted skirmish against petroleum-based transportation.

I had considered other names. "D-Day," though appealing to a history teacher, smacks of hyperbole. "B-Day" (for "Bike Day") might prompt confusion and unsolicited singing in restaurants. "G-Day" (for "Green Day") would conjure up either Australian folksiness in its abbreviated form or over-produced punk rock in its extended version.

So "E-Day" it is. "E" for "Energy." And, since I'll be blogging about the experience, "E" for "Electronic."

Today's forecast is thunderstorms. I'm preparing for a wet month.