"I tried to change, but I changed my mind."
-Fountains of Wayne
(from "Mexican Wine")

While there have been many musical albums I've loved over the years, there are but a handful for which I've instantly fallen. The earliest one that comes to mind is Toad the Wet Sprocket's Dulcinea, which may have the most intuitively woven string of songs I've ever heard on a CD. Then there's Better Than Ezra's 1995 debut Deluxe, which was recommended to me by two separate friends who insisted it was my kind of music -- and right they were. The third (chronologically) that comes to mind is U2's most recent studio album All That You Can't Leave Behind, which is the only U2 album (though I love them all) that I took to before getting through it even once.

I guess it has something to do with the flow of the music, almost like an over-riding rhythmic theme that, as far I as I've heard, is stunningly rare in modern music making.

Anyway, I have a new addition to this short list of what I have dubbed "first-listen favorites." It started as an e-mail suggestion from my brother-in-law, who has a knack for never having offered a musical suggestion I haven't ended up enjoying. The new album on the list is Welcome Interstate Managers, from Fountains of Wayne. I don't think he suggested the album itself, but he did say he thought I'd be interested in the group. I'll give him the benefit of the doubt and assume he had the most current F.O.W. project in mind.

And again he was right. The first three examples of first-listen favorites are unique offerings, and Interstate Managers is no less unique.

I don't mean to drag this on, but it seemed that with every other track on the CD, I had stumbled across a new favorite song. The hit single "Stacy's Mom" was the only one with which I was already familiar, and while it's an entertaining single, it's far from the best the album has to offer. If I had to pick (and I'm not sure I can), I could go with "All Kinds of Time" (perhaps the most beautiful song ever written about what goes on during a single play of an American football game), or maybe "Halley's Waitress" (which almost romanticizes the plight of diners at the mercy of an inattentive server). Maybe I'll crown co-champions instead: "A Bright Future in Sales" (for the livelier side) and "Valley Winter Song" (as a mellow favorite). And there's half a CD full of worthy challengers besides.

But that's just what I thought of it; I'm no critic, but on the off chance that you're exactly like me, I can guarantee you'll love this CD.

"Brevity is ... wit."
-Shakespeare
(as paraphrased on The Simpson's)

Raise your hand if you get it.

The above lead-in quote is one of my all-time favorite sight gags. It appeared in a Simpson's episode in which Lisa was selected to go to Washington, D.C., to write in an essay contest sponsored by a magazine whose title and format bore a resemblance to Reader's Digest.

Anyway, since brevity is the soul of wit, and I have nothing much to say tonight, I just wanted to proclaim my love of a television show revolving around a particular animated nuclear family. I am not one of those who believes it's just another mindless cartoon.

(This is just the end of a thought process I was mulling over breakfast this morning -- I ended up scribbling furiously for about thirty minutes while my food got cold, and while the food didn't end up tasting too good, I was somewhat happy with about 20% of what I wrote.)

It was late one evening as Smedley lounged in his favorite chair reading a magazine. Mrs. Smedley disrupted his relaxation, demanding that he go out to get bread and milk. She asked him if he thought the local supermarket would have bread and milk; Smedley replied that he couldn't be sure, but there was good reason to believe the store would have these two items.

About twenty minutes later, as Smedley pulled up outside the store, he noticed a woman being assaulted in the parking lot. Being a basically decent man, Smedley intervened and chased away the woman's assailant. Once the woman's safety had been secured and he made sure she would be okay, Smedley made his way into the store, only to find that they were sold out of both bread and milk, and there were no other stores open at such a late hour in the surrounding area.

Upon his return home, Smedley was questioned by his wife as to why he didn't get the two items she requested. Smedley proceeded to tell her that he thought the store would have the two items in question, but as it happened the store had no more of either item. He went on to tell her what had happened in the parking lot, how he had rescued the woman in distress. His wife, seemingly ignoring his story, called Smedley a liar, because he predicted that the store would have bread and milk, but it did not (despite the fact the store had regularly advertised that both bread and milk were normally kept in stock).

Okay, enough with the story, and while my analogy may be lacking, I'm starting to tire of die-hard presidential critics harping on Bush's perceived dishonesty regarding WMD's. I don't know whether he knowingly misrepresented intelligence findings or not, but I do know that some decent objectives were accomplished in the recent war in Iraq, and it isn't as if the Iraqi regime never gave anyone the impression that they had WMD's, whether or not it turns out to be a big bluff.

There's plenty of solid ground on which to base criticism if you disagree with the President's political philosophy. All I'm saying is that being urged into a war under a somewhat suspect pretense is not the newest chapter in the history book. I was reminded recently that Woodrow Wilson cited the unabated worldwide patrol of German U-boats as a major reason for joining the fray in the first world war -- and we could probably get a consensus of the citizenry to agree that the eventually proven inaccuracy of Wilson's paranoia didn't necessarily make joining the war a mistake, much less a scandal.

That's all I'm trying to get across.

And thanks, by the way, to those who offered me feedback on the blog colors/legibility. (I made a minor cosmetic change to the blog page by lightening the shade of green.)

There is no substantive insight tonight, but I would appreciate any feedback from folks who are having difficulty reading these entries. I only test-view it through a few different browsers (Netscape, IE, Mozilla Firebird, and Opera) but it usually comes up okay for me. Though I'm aware it may not be perfectly coded, it's usually legible, so if anyone notices a serious problem (if you can actually read this) please let me know.

Well, the Massachusetts senator has bested my early favorite yet again, which is okay I guess, so long as the voters were being honest.

What might I mean by honest? Well, from several elections past, I recall the seemingly incessant lamentation of voters from all over the country when asked who they would vote for; it goes a little something like this: "I'd vote for candidate X, if I thought he could win in the general election."

God only knows how many Americans have adopted this philosophy, essentially transforming themselves from actual voters to mere speculators, almost no more than gamblers at a racetrack.

And really, John Kerry seems like a decent enough choice. After all, he married the widow of my all-time favorite senator, John Heinz (rest his soul). Looking on the bright side, perhaps Kerry holds certain similar character traits to the late senator from my home state -- maybe these were the qualities that drew Heinz's widow to wed Kerry. I can hope.

Anyway, back to my lament. Even as I was listening to a radio report in the car this evening, I heard a pundit claiming that the New Hampshire voters simply gravitated to the candidate that they believed could beat the President in November (God forbid the contest should go past November this year). It frustrates me that people would be so willing to surrender their votes.

I have a picture in my head of the process that drives a voter to resort to this sort of surrender. It must go something along these lines: "Well, I like this candidate, but I know nobody else thinks the way I do (quite possibly because everyone else is too shallow or stupid to see past superficial flaws), so I'm going to cast my vote for the other guy, who may not fit my ideals, but he's probably the one other people will like." -Meanwhile, there are untold others who, to everyone's detriment, thought the same exact way.

Is it condescension that drives us to think this way? I don't know, and I have even less of an idea how many, or how few, cast their vote in such a cynical way. I just hope against hope that there weren't too many people in New Hampshire today playing politics like a horse race.

If so, John Kerry may well represent the true will of the primary voters in New Hampshire.

I used to think people got more conservative as they got older. Where did I go wrong?

A while back my mother asked me when I became a liberal. I couldn't provide a quick answer for two reasons: (1)I didn't realize I was a liberal, and (2) I'm not really clear on when such a transformation occurred.

But looking back at my sociopolitical disposition, I can definitely see that I've made noticeable strides away from the right side of the political arena. This is taking into account that I was once comfortable with being label a "young conservative." In fact, I would have even gone so far as to accept the label of "young Republican" without a gag reflex kicking in.

Funny, I've noticed many people around me settle into their older, more conservative selves, whilst I, the formerly proud "ditto head" have slid comfortably into what I'd like to think of as a more progressive position. But I suppose to those I left behind on the right, I may well appear to be a full-blown liberal. Even my mother seems to think so. Truth be told, I think my mother is more of a liberal at heart than I am; perhaps she just can't kick the habit of thinking of herself a certain way.

And while I don't presume to be wiser in this area of life than other people, I do sometimes wonder about people I've known who have clearly expressed views to the center, and left thereof, who still seem to express the same knee-jerk loyalty that I used to know so well. Don't get me wrong, I'm not referring to the "true conservatives" out there; I'm referring to people who have very little in common with the general conservative philosophy, yet they stubbornly cling to the label.

I guess I just remember a little of the realization I came to, when it finally started occurring to me that I didn't understand why I called myself conservative anymore. I don't think it makes me a liberal, but sometimes I think I'd be more comfortable with that as a label.

A co-worker of mine has been inviting me to some kind of seminar for the past couple weeks. I couldn't go last weekend, and to be truthful, I wasn't all that sad about not going. I don't recall the name of the organization, but for some reason what little description he offered me of it seemed creepily similar to those Amway stories I've always heard -- and I may have the wrong impression, but the words that I remember him using seemed to involve making money with very little investment of time or capital, along with terms like "networking."

I don't know why that sent up red flags for me, but regardless, I finally agreed to go to one this morning (after this entry is written). It seems as if he's really trying to clue me in on a good opportunity, so I figure I'll at least show friendly acknowledgement of his efforts by showing up for a couple hours. Besides, I don't have much else to do with the first half of my day.

Maybe the reason I felt the good-natured impulse to accept my work buddy's invitation has more to do with the fact that I went in to get my taxes done the other day, and I found out that I was entitled to a much better tax credit than I expected; it had something to do with a combination of my 401(k) contributions and my status as a part-time student (along with school expenses). It was a sizable increase in refund money, so I've been feeling good about it for the past day and a half.

So, I guess I'll go to the hotel conference room, hear about some new moneymaking scheme, and probably get a free lunch. Sounds good...

Last night I was listening to a driving expert on the radio list the most common mistakes people make while driving in less than perfect conditions. The first thing he mentioned was a phenomenon called "target fixation."

Target fixation often occurs after a driver has begun to lose control of the vehicle. What happens is we tend to focus on the peril we're trying to avoid, be it a ditch, a tree, or whatever else may loom ahead.

The driving expert on the radio explained that this focus on what we're afraid will happen usually takes away from our ability to manipulate the vehicle in the direction we actually want it to go. His solution? Instead of fixating on the bad result we don't want, we should focus on the good result we do want.

Listening to this man on the radio with his list of common driving mistakes, I realized this is one of life's most practical truths. It's not just about driving; in fact, until I heard this radio commentary last night, I don't think I had ever applied the concept of target fixation to the practice of driving (--which may just mean I'm a little behind the curve).

I have, however, noticed a few personal acquaintances who seem to continually dread failure as if it were imminent, and they are seldom surprised by their results.

It's just something to think about next time I'm out for a joy ride down an icy road.

"So while our art cannot, as we wish it could, save us from wars, privation, envy, greed, old age or death, it can revitalize us amidst it all."
-Ray Bradbury

This entry is about a book by Ray Bradbury. The title of which is the title of this entry, and the above quote appears in the preface (one of the countless quotes I've scribbled into notebooks over the years). It's been years since I've even seen the book lying around, though I'm sure it's still here, somewhere. I ended up thinking about this, but I started out thinking about the book that I was reminded of when I first spotted this Bradbury title in the bookstore -- Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. So, by thinking of both books now, I have apparently confused myself as to what I wanted to write here.

I guess I'll start by saying I enjoyed both books immensely, and I'll admit that I was a little confused by each of them the first time through. But then, the way I tend to read, I can miss an awful lot the first time through. I think it has to do with the way I relate to certain passages of literature. I can easily be distracted when a story starts to sound in any way similar to my memory of personal experiences. Both of these books did that to me on more several occasions.

The passage in Bradbury's book on writing that got me first was an account about how he liked to collect Buck Rodgers comics when he was a boy, but peer pressure swayed him to get rid of his comic books. He went on to explain how, soon after getting rid of them, he ended up wishing he'd kept his Buck Rodgers comics, and how the experience taught him the importance of not letting other people tell him what to like. I imagine (though I can't recall) that this had to do with his resolve to write science fiction, even though some people initially discouraged his early attempts. I guess the lesson I took from Mr. Bradbury's story was to march to my own drummer, or something like that.

I guess this story resonated with me because, unlike Ray Bradbury at the age of nine or ten, I took a little longer to figure out that it wasn't worth it to conform to everybody else's standards. But even when learned late, it's still a lesson well worth learning.

"Get up every morning with a purpose, not a reason. If you don't know the difference, picture a robbery taking place in an alley. The guy holding the gun is being purposeful. The guy forking over his wallet is being reasonable.'"
-Rich Hall
(from Self-Help for the Bleak)

I have recently been asked to contribute to something of a small time political endeavor. It's not exactly anything to be read about in the newspaper, not even the local ones, but it interests me...

It appears that Senator John Kerry has won the Iowa caucus this year. Senator John Edwards placed second, and Dr. Dean finished a somewhat distant third. The fourth place prize went to the candidate who seems to be maneuvering to get himself out of this race. I hope Congressman Gephardt's lean toward bowing out isn't just about the caucus results. That would be a shame, and given past performance of Iowa's non-primary, possibly a mistake.

Gephardt should know, for more than one reason, that the Iowa caucus hasn't been the most accurate predictor of who wins the nomination. He might remember that he finished first in the '88 caucus, and it didn't exactly propel him to the nomination. Bill Clinton, in '92, didn't even finish first among candidates not named Harkin.

All I'm trying to suggest here, as I read the headline at CNN.com, is that the winner of the Iowa caucus may not want to spend too much time or money celebrating. While it seems like a nice pat on the back, it doesn't seem to always favor the eventual nominee.

But Gephardt may have other reasons for the glum expression and defeated mannerisms; I guess we'll know when we know.

"If I waited for perfection...I would never write a word."
-Margaret Atwood

Looking back over some of what I've written in the past, I'm now feeling the effects of the revisionist bug.

But I guess it should be that way. If I felt like everything I've written in the past was still good enough, I suppose that would mean I've made no progress as a writer (not that I've settled on calling myself a writer). But I keep the old stuff just the same, mostly because it signals at least modest development for me.

This thought really struck me when I recently heard someone speaking of how he thought he'd finally hit his plateau, in that he believed he could get no better at his craft. But the thing that struck me about his statement was that he seemed to mean it in a good way. If I ever think of my skills in such a way, I hope I don't feel satisfied about it.

Until then, I hope I keep noticing ways I can improve on past efforts.

I was looking back over an essay ("Being Who You Are")in which I lamented the failure of the Democratic party in supporting clear cut Democrats, when I noticed that things have played out much differently than I would have predicted.

I somehow miscalculated the appeal of Howard Dean by assuming the more mainstream Democrats would (as usual) dominate the campaign discourse. It's not that I entirely agree with the party's platform, but it seemed to me that it would be a more honest political approach to be what you are, instead of trying to cater to the ever-changing whims of "mainstream" voters. Maybe it won't win every election, but such a strategy would definitely win my respect -- it might even bring frustrated would-be supporters more into the process.

I'm somewhat satisfied to have been wrong (so far) about Dr. Dean's campaign, even if in the end I don't find myself supporting him. The whole 21st century approach to campaigning (including heavy internet communication) may offer some relief against those whose war chests make them seem invincible -- though Dean's war chest is looking pretty healthy these days; which is mostly due to his campaign strategy.

Granted, Dean isn't the furthest left of the current candidates, but it's still nice to think that the guy with the most cash might not actually win every time.

(Okay, so sports columnist isn't my number one hat to wear, but I felt I had a few things to get off my chest, and since I wasn't publishing a blog earlier this NFL season, I'm going to make my stand now.)

It was early in the fall of 2003, and a certain political talk show host mis-cast as a sports commentator made an unfortunate, ignorant remark about one of my hometown sports heroes being overrated because of his skin color. As fate would have it, within a week of this comment, the same talk show host was discovered to have been, dare I say, overrated in certain areas of his own life.

I don't bring this up to smear Rush Limbaugh with regards to his drug addiction. In fact, a couple people for whom I have cared deeply have had their own problems with addiction -- and I would never treat the issue in such a way as to poke fun at such problems. I bring up this unfortunate incident to illustrate one of the things Rush absolutely missed in his assessment of Donovan McNabb: People who are winners, in sports or life, are people who have good character. McNabb is a winner by this vital definition.

I could be saying this because the Philadelphia Eagles quarterback demonstrated yesterday, to anyone who was watching, that he is a clutch performer in important game situations -- as he has proven many times previously, though not on as grand a sporting stage as he did last night.

In deed, if Rush were to pick any NFL player as overrated, he could have chosen dozens of more apt examples than Donovan. Even before this season, before yesterday's conference semifinal against the most clutch quarterback of the last decade, McNabb had accomplished many feats that most decent NFL QB's have never accomplished. And he doesn't get half the highlight reel time on SportsCenter that some other less accomplished but flashier players have gotten. Even among black quarterbacks, he is surpassed in media darling terms by such players as Steve McNair and Mike Vick. And he doesn't garner half the respect of yesterday's opposing quarterback, Brett Favre, though at this stage of McNabb's career, he is ahead of Favre's numbers and accomplishments at the same stage of his career.

And yesterday, without pulling a Sharpie out of his sock, or a cell phone from underneath the goalpost padding, McNabb finally seemed to have won a little consensus approval, even from the ESPN crowd -- and he probably doesn't even care.

Why? Probably for the same reason he didn't take the bait from several sports reporters who begged him to comment on Limbaugh when the drug rumors started swirling; for the same reason he never seems to make excuses for his on-field miscues. Despite Rush's contention to the contrary, McNabb earns a certain level of credit for his team's success just by being willing to shoulder the blame that usually accompanies his team's failures.

In contrast, I recall listening to Rush's return address to his faithful radio audience. He spent decidedly more energy telling us how addictive Oxycotin is than he spent actually taking responsibility for his actions. It was as if he was desperately trying to distinguish himself from the drug addicts he had once scorned, as if the distinction was an honest one to make.

Simply put, Donovan McNabb possesses a quality that I sometimes suspect Rush Limbaugh has yet to acquire: strong character.

It's what sets the true winners apart.

My online service provider (AT&T) has issued a warning about an e-mail scam that requests members to update their billing info via e-mail. Needless to say, the warning urges members to not comply with the e-mail scam.

Now, far be it from me to render authoritative advice regarding online security, but I sincerely hope most people understand that billing information (such as credit card and bank account numbers) should not be sent via e-mail, and that most reputable institutions will not request such information via e-mail. At least that's what I always thought.

But maybe this rule of thumb isn't as obvious as it seemed to me. Having had my credit information stolen once before (by an unscrupulous employee of a banking institution), I do tend to be suspicious of certain things where some others might not be as wary.

Not exactly a philosophical entry, but an observation, nonetheless.

"You were the love, for certain, of my life;
More than simply my beloved wife..."
-Natalie Merchant

The past few days have flown by. Yesterday, I went to pay respects to a coworker's wife, who gave in to cancer after a long battle. She was young, only a couple years older than I am.

I have tried many times over the past few days to imagine what it must be like to lose some one that close to me at that stage of life. I can't though. I think sometimes that it may be of some relief to my coworker that he is no longer subject to the uncertainty of waiting for the inevitable. However, having experienced a vaguely similar type of waiting game, I sense that the actual loss of life is something that is never truly anticipated.

She was a vibrant person, and judging by the overwhelming turnout yesterday, she is being missed by many.

That's all I have for now...

"If you wish to be a writer, write."
-Epictetus
Greek Philosopher

I remember having a conversation with a college classmate. This particular person called himself a writer. Upon reading a small sample of his work, I silently objected to his self-characterization. As much time and energy as he put into writing, he still didn't seem very good at it. I consider myself to have significantly more writing skill than he seemed to have, and I don't like to refer to myself as a writer, mostly because there are so many others whose talents easily surpass mine.

This follows a philosophical pattern for me, in that there are many labels I am uncomfortable attaching to myself. But looking at the meaning of the word "writer," I guess it's reasonable to call yourself a writer if that's what you do, regardless of anyone else's opinion.

But I'm still loathe to call myself a writer; I'm satisfied, for the time being, to just be someone who tries to write. And I tend to enjoy other people doing the same.

"Kids should practice autographing baseballs.
This is a skill that's often overlooked in Little League."
-Frank Edwin ("Tug") McGraw

He was the man who coined the catch-phrase of the 1973 New York Mets; the man who gave Philadelphia baseball fans their most wonderful memory in a 120 year run of mostly losing seasons, as he leapt from the mound after striking out Willie Wilson to end the 1980 World Series; the man who, as a local sportscaster, asked professional baseball players to invest in his (then unknown) son's chances at a country music career; the man who recycled that old "You gotta' believe" mentality in speaking of his battle with brain cancer, and in so doing, inspired all who observed the last ten months of his life -- he reached the end of his battle yesterday. Perhaps this news only resonates with Mets and Phillies fans, maybe with baseball fans in general.

I can only speak from my perspective as a lifelong Philadelphia sports fan, as someone who enjoyed his rare combination of enthusiasm and dry wit.

He wasn't a young man anymore, but even as the effects of his illness became undeniably visible, my image of him seemed frozen in time.

And yesterday, he was only one of two who left us too soon.

I have recently started to waver in my budding support for Howard Dean, mostly due to some really strange statements he has been making lately. For starters, does he really believe the world is not better off with Saddam Hussein out of power? I hear the popular knee-jerk Democratic response to Saddam's capture, as presidential critics sarcastically say they would prefer Osama bin Laden in custody -- as if bin Laden were just a menu item at a local restaurant; as if the soldiers pulled up to the drive thru and were offered a side of Osama to go with their Saddam order. We'd all prefer that they capture bin Laden; I don't think anyone needs to be reminded of the importance of that.

I had started to think there was a Democratic candidate I could support, but now I'm not so sure. And this just reminds me of why I couldn't justify registering as a Democrat when I decided to leave the Republican party several years ago.

I took my twelve year old niece to the movies last night. We saw Cheaper by the Dozen. It was good middle ground: I like humorous movies, and she likes Hilary Duff (if I even spelled that right). It's amazing how many things I like that she detests, and vice-versa, but the movie was okay, especially considering the scarce amount of family-friendly entertainment available today.

I wondered to myself for a while, how on earth could she have such horrible taste in music? in movies? I was almost astounded that anyone related to me could like some of the things she likes.

Then I thought about some of the things that appealed to me when I was twelve; it started to make sense to me that way. I guess I didn't start liking some of my current favorites until at least fourteen or fifteen.

Then I told her it was okay, because hopefully in a couple more years, she'll have decent taste in music and movies, too.

Sometimes...

I think that I sometimes let people hang on until it's no longer convenient for them, even if that point is long after they've ceased being convenient to me.

I can think of examples, one of which is an ex-girlfriend from years ago. After we theoretically broke up, she initiated contact with me, only to decide again that she thought we were better off not associating with each other. We cycled through this routine a couple times after the original break up, and it wasn't until the last time this happened that I realized she was the only one reaping any benefit from these little reunions. At least I assume she must have gotten something out of it, because it started to seem like each time things were beginning and ending on her terms -- and looking back on it, I wasn't really getting anything out of it all. But it may be that she now has whatever closure she needed in the first place.

Then I have this old buddy -- don't want to call him a friend, because I think the term carries a certain level of qualification with it. He's one of those people who shows up when he needs something, and pretty much only when he needs something. He was blessed with a few true friends who eventually tired of being his door mat, among whom I was probably the last. Even so, if he showed up today in need of something, I might still be tempted to help him, though I'm not sure it would amount to more than enabling him.

The problem for me is that I've actually seen people whose lives have been turned around, and I even had a longtime ex-girlfriend who has now become a longtime friend. So these two aforementioned cases, though they may have been hopeless in and of themselves, represent types of situations in which I have seen measures of success.

...which leaves me hard pressed to turn away sometimes, even when I should.