Tuesday, December 31, 2013
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
A marathon . . . and then some
The wonderful and fabulous Kristin Baxter has completed her first marathon . . . and then some. On December 31, 2011, at the Coastal Trail Runs' New Year's One Day, Kristin ran around Crissy Field in San Francisco until she amassed 26.525 miles.
How awesome is that?
Monday, December 26, 2011
El Paisanito
A beautiful song, performed by the Choral Project. Includes a duet with the marvelous and talented Kristin Baxter. See if you can hear her beautiful voice.
If that Quicktime player doesn't work, you should be able to download the file by clicking on the next link and saving the file to your computer and playing it from there. Here's the link:
Click here to download.
If that Quicktime player doesn't work, you should be able to download the file by clicking on the next link and saving the file to your computer and playing it from there. Here's the link:
Click here to download.
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
The Choral Project
Joyful sounds poured forth from the Center for Spiritual Living in Willow Glen on a recent Sunday morning. Performing a variety of songs for those assembled was a local choral group with international experience.
The Choral Project was founded in 1996 by Artistic Director Daniel Hughes. He wanted “to create an ensemble that would share concerts specifically intended to transform and heal.” The forty-member ensemble, many of whom come from Willow Glen and other San Jose neighborhoods, rehearses weekly at Le Petit Trianon Theatre in downtown San Jose and performs around the Bay Area and beyond.
Variety is the spice of the Choral Project. They have performed music from the Medieval Period (c. 1000-1250) to 20th-century works, to works that have been written specifically for the choir, and they regularly feature music from other cultures around the globe.
The Willow Glen performance included four songs in three languages. From a rousing Sephardic love song to a toe-tapping spiritual, the Choral Project thrilled the audience and earned multiple standing ovations. One song included five percussionists and another incorporated full choreography—while singing in Japanese.
Therein lies the genius of Hughes. By incorporating “choralography” and instrumentation with a set list that explores stirring melodies as well as more complex pieces, he makes it accessible for even the most casual listener. Whether you are a true aficionado of choral music or you are visiting it for the first time, you could do no better than a Choral Project concert.
Being an organization strongly rooted in education, the group has several outreach programs designed to assist youthful enthusiasts of choral music. The Composition Contest is an opportunity for high school and undergraduate students to flex their muscles with choral writing. Three winners are selected, and their works are performed in the final concert of each season.
In the Mentorship Program, high school students from around the Bay Area apply (via essay and video audition) to participate in concert preparation and one performance during the season. They sing a portion of a concert's set, attending the rehearsals and group activities leading up to that concert.
The Choral Project also started a choral festival in which the very best high schools from the Bay Area (and slightly beyond) can come and sing a set showcasing their fine artistic work. The Choral Project sings for them in kind, and then all the participating choirs join with The Choral Project en masse for some thrilling music making.
All of these programs are designed to keep the fire of choral singing alive in the young people who will become the next generation of choral singers.
The group will be closing their successful fifteenth season in June with a concert entitled Voices of Crystal. Highlights include pieces by Francis Poulenc, Lili Boulanger, Irving Fine, Eric Whitacre, Stephen Schwartz, and Maurice Duruflé, as well as spirituals, rousing gospel music, and folk music from around the globe.
Performances will be at Holy Cross Church in Santa Cruz on Sunday, June 12, at 4:00 pm and Mission Santa Clara de Asis in Santa Clara (where many of their concerts throughout the year take place) on Saturday, June 18, at 8:00 pm. Tickets are on sale at www.sjcp.com and at the door.
Later this year, the Choral Project will travel to Tolosa, Spain, to participate in an exclusive choral competition. After doing very well at the California International Choral Festival in San Luis Obispo, the group received an invitation to the 2011 Tolosa International Choral Competition based on the recommendation from the conductor of a Basque choir that had also performed in San Luis Obispo.
The winner of the Tolosa Choral Competition goes on to compete against five other competition winners in the European Grand Prix for Choral Singing (despite its name, the contest is open to choral groups from other countries).
If Spain is not in your upcoming travel plans, there are plenty of other nearby opportunities to catch the Choral Project in action. After all, they are a homegrown sensation.
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Caption Contest
This is the way it works: someone signs you up to receive The New Yorker. I know people who have received New Yorker subscriptions as a gift, but I've never met anyone who signed up for themselves. I am in the midst of a yearlong free ride myself, enjoying each weekly issue for its fiction, nonfiction, cartoons, and current events. The list of shows and clubs and other goings-on in New York at the beginning of each issue are of less importance. I live rather far away.
The back page of each issue is the Caption Contest.
Readers submit a caption, three are chosen to be voted upon, and then readers vote. The winner gets a framed print with their caption. Pretty decent. I decided at the start of the year that I would participate each and every week, in the hope that I would eventually win and have something to hang on my wall that I really didn't need. For the above cartoon, I thought my contribution was pretty good.
"Perhaps we should downsize the furniture as well."
But no, I didn't make the final cut. These are the three we got to vote on:
"Is that your foot?"
"Should I call and downsize our pizza order?"
"They're outside protesting, sir."
I forget which one I voted for. I only know I couldn't vote for my own because (yet again) mine wasn't chosen. Still I persist. The actual winner was "Is that your foot?" How disappointing.
By my recollection looking over the entire list of submissions, there were somewhere near 5000 entries. So, odds being what they are . . . well, you know. The odds are long.
This week's cartoon:
What would be your caption? (No, I don't want to steal yours, I already submitted mine! I'm just curious. Heck, go online and submit your own. Just tell me first!)
The back page of each issue is the Caption Contest.
Readers submit a caption, three are chosen to be voted upon, and then readers vote. The winner gets a framed print with their caption. Pretty decent. I decided at the start of the year that I would participate each and every week, in the hope that I would eventually win and have something to hang on my wall that I really didn't need. For the above cartoon, I thought my contribution was pretty good.
"Perhaps we should downsize the furniture as well."
But no, I didn't make the final cut. These are the three we got to vote on:
"Is that your foot?"
"Should I call and downsize our pizza order?"
"They're outside protesting, sir."
I forget which one I voted for. I only know I couldn't vote for my own because (yet again) mine wasn't chosen. Still I persist. The actual winner was "Is that your foot?" How disappointing.
By my recollection looking over the entire list of submissions, there were somewhere near 5000 entries. So, odds being what they are . . . well, you know. The odds are long.
This week's cartoon:
What would be your caption? (No, I don't want to steal yours, I already submitted mine! I'm just curious. Heck, go online and submit your own. Just tell me first!)
Friday, April 15, 2011
Newspaper Gods
Pity the last few people hired to work in the old Betamax factory. They thought they were starting the dream job of a lifetime only to have it fizzle within weeks. Also those folks building Edsels long ago. Sure, they might have gone on to work for another automobile manufacturer, but the disappointment must have been palpable.
Industries are born, grow, and some die. Some implode instantly while others dwindle over lengthy periods of time, as if they are on life support. They never actually revive, but they never entirely go away either. Witness the newspaper industry.
As a victim of cable TV, the Internet, and a general lack of interest among the American populace, the newspaper industry has been on its last legs for a long time. Its utter demise has been forecast for many years. Newspapers are going out of business, or merging with former competitors, or shrinking in size and distribution, or replacing reporters with items pulled from the Internet, or substituting advertisements for most articles. This has been going on for a few years now, which makes my entry into the newspaper world back in 2007 a spectacular bit of bad timing.
I started writing commentary pieces for Silicon Valley Community Newspapers just over four years ago. Once or twice a month they allow me to pontificate on whatever subject matter interests me, and they even pay me for the effort. Lately, though, my offerings take a while to come to print because of the restriction in number of pages in each issue. Sometimes the Op-Ed page is completely skipped over.
So it has been a while since I've had a piece in the paper. Fortunately, when I do, it is also available on the San Jose Mercury News web page. Here. This is my latest. Hopefully it isn't my last.
Looks like I picked the perfect time to be a newspaperman. I wonder if I can get a job at the old Betamax factory.
Industries are born, grow, and some die. Some implode instantly while others dwindle over lengthy periods of time, as if they are on life support. They never actually revive, but they never entirely go away either. Witness the newspaper industry.
As a victim of cable TV, the Internet, and a general lack of interest among the American populace, the newspaper industry has been on its last legs for a long time. Its utter demise has been forecast for many years. Newspapers are going out of business, or merging with former competitors, or shrinking in size and distribution, or replacing reporters with items pulled from the Internet, or substituting advertisements for most articles. This has been going on for a few years now, which makes my entry into the newspaper world back in 2007 a spectacular bit of bad timing.
I started writing commentary pieces for Silicon Valley Community Newspapers just over four years ago. Once or twice a month they allow me to pontificate on whatever subject matter interests me, and they even pay me for the effort. Lately, though, my offerings take a while to come to print because of the restriction in number of pages in each issue. Sometimes the Op-Ed page is completely skipped over.
So it has been a while since I've had a piece in the paper. Fortunately, when I do, it is also available on the San Jose Mercury News web page. Here. This is my latest. Hopefully it isn't my last.
Looks like I picked the perfect time to be a newspaperman. I wonder if I can get a job at the old Betamax factory.
Sunday, March 27, 2011
April Fooler
I have never been the greatest April Fool. Mind you, I can be a fool at any time of the year, but as far as perpetrating a good April Fool's joke I have come up a bit short. Nothing that ever really compared to what I considered the standard: my mom calling to the three kids early in the morning, "Snow! It's snowing, kids, run and look!"
My sister, brother, and I ran to the living room shutters and threw them upon . . . to gaze on a sunshiny and blue sky morning. It was April 1 and we lived in San Jose, California. If we had given even a moment for rational consideration we would not have fallen for it. But we were young, sleepy, and Mom was usually a trustworthy sort, so we ran, and looked, and were disappointed, and then laughed. If I remember it practically forty years later you know it must have been good.
I probably pranked my kids when they were young, but nothing really comes to mind. Which makes them not memorable. The one I do remember was when a friend and I taught kindergarten in adjoining rooms back around 2006. I was in Room 13 and Aimee was in Room 14 but we taped paper over those numbers on the classroom doors and wrote the other number. We swapped the pupils' pencil boxes and a few other items to give the semblance of our own rooms.
When the morning bell rang, we opened each other's door and looked at each other's students. I said, "Mrs. Kalivoda is over there" and pointed down to my classroom. Her students scampered to her as mine walked toward me with a thousand questions. The parents looked a bit confused as well.
Escorting the students inside, I pretended that nothing was the matter and proved my thesis by pointing out their pencil boxes. Then I passed out their morning work and told them to get busy. Through the opening to Room 13 we could see Aimee was doing the same thing with her students.
The parents figured it out, laughed, and left. Most of them figured it out. I think a few truly thought we had changed classrooms. Aimee and I continued the joke for a while, with morning read-alouds in the wrong rooms. Then we got back to normal.
Proof that it was successful and memorable: a sixth grader who experienced that joke-of-jokes six years ago just brought it up, telling me how funny it was. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is all the proof I need.
My sister, brother, and I ran to the living room shutters and threw them upon . . . to gaze on a sunshiny and blue sky morning. It was April 1 and we lived in San Jose, California. If we had given even a moment for rational consideration we would not have fallen for it. But we were young, sleepy, and Mom was usually a trustworthy sort, so we ran, and looked, and were disappointed, and then laughed. If I remember it practically forty years later you know it must have been good.
I probably pranked my kids when they were young, but nothing really comes to mind. Which makes them not memorable. The one I do remember was when a friend and I taught kindergarten in adjoining rooms back around 2006. I was in Room 13 and Aimee was in Room 14 but we taped paper over those numbers on the classroom doors and wrote the other number. We swapped the pupils' pencil boxes and a few other items to give the semblance of our own rooms.
When the morning bell rang, we opened each other's door and looked at each other's students. I said, "Mrs. Kalivoda is over there" and pointed down to my classroom. Her students scampered to her as mine walked toward me with a thousand questions. The parents looked a bit confused as well.
Escorting the students inside, I pretended that nothing was the matter and proved my thesis by pointing out their pencil boxes. Then I passed out their morning work and told them to get busy. Through the opening to Room 13 we could see Aimee was doing the same thing with her students.
The parents figured it out, laughed, and left. Most of them figured it out. I think a few truly thought we had changed classrooms. Aimee and I continued the joke for a while, with morning read-alouds in the wrong rooms. Then we got back to normal.
Proof that it was successful and memorable: a sixth grader who experienced that joke-of-jokes six years ago just brought it up, telling me how funny it was. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is all the proof I need.
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Beyond an Ironman
You are probably familiar with the triathlon: swim, bike, and run. The Ironman is the über-triathlon . . . 2.4-mile swim, 112-mile bicycle ride, followed by your garden variety marathon of 26.2 miles. I can only dream of such a thing; I'm just not that much of a swimmer. An acquaintance is competing in the Texas Ironman this May and I look forward to hearing of his adventure.
I have run marathons, 36 to this point. Though truth be told two of those were 50-milers. I have spent time on my feet. Last year I rode my bicycle about 4600 miles. I aspire to a few other achievements, namely the Tahoe Triple (three marathons in three days, encircling the lake) and another 12-hour footrace (rather than how fast can you run a distance, this is how far can you go in an amount of time).
Maybe we're all nuts, but let me tell you, what I have to impart here is really nuts.
In Brooklyn, New York, in 1879, an Englishwoman named Ada Anderson walked 2700 quarter miles in 2700 quarter hours. Consecutively. To rephrase: every fifteen minutes she walked a quarter mile, or one lap around a conventional track. By timing it right, in other words walking one quarter-mile at the beginning of a quarter-hour and walking the next quarter-mile toward the end of the next quarter-hour, she might have twenty minutes rest max. Usually it was more like ten.
And she did this for 28 days, without cease. Every fifteen minutes, a lap. Can you say sleep deprivation? I knew you could.
Two years later, Exilda La Chapelle exceeded this accomplishment in Chicago. She walked 3000 quarter miles in 3000 quarter hours. That's 31 days and change.
No more whining from me about how hard it is to run for four or five hours. Clearly I ain't done nothin' yet. There's a track over at the Campbell Community Center. Maybe I'll look into taking it over for a few hours . . . or a few weeks. Maybe I'll give a go at this insane physical accomplishment. Maybe I'll call Kurtis and see if he wants to join me.
I have run marathons, 36 to this point. Though truth be told two of those were 50-milers. I have spent time on my feet. Last year I rode my bicycle about 4600 miles. I aspire to a few other achievements, namely the Tahoe Triple (three marathons in three days, encircling the lake) and another 12-hour footrace (rather than how fast can you run a distance, this is how far can you go in an amount of time).
Maybe we're all nuts, but let me tell you, what I have to impart here is really nuts.
In Brooklyn, New York, in 1879, an Englishwoman named Ada Anderson walked 2700 quarter miles in 2700 quarter hours. Consecutively. To rephrase: every fifteen minutes she walked a quarter mile, or one lap around a conventional track. By timing it right, in other words walking one quarter-mile at the beginning of a quarter-hour and walking the next quarter-mile toward the end of the next quarter-hour, she might have twenty minutes rest max. Usually it was more like ten.
And she did this for 28 days, without cease. Every fifteen minutes, a lap. Can you say sleep deprivation? I knew you could.
Two years later, Exilda La Chapelle exceeded this accomplishment in Chicago. She walked 3000 quarter miles in 3000 quarter hours. That's 31 days and change.
No more whining from me about how hard it is to run for four or five hours. Clearly I ain't done nothin' yet. There's a track over at the Campbell Community Center. Maybe I'll look into taking it over for a few hours . . . or a few weeks. Maybe I'll give a go at this insane physical accomplishment. Maybe I'll call Kurtis and see if he wants to join me.
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
No Breakthrough
Well, it is always nice to be nominated, even if you don't win. That's what celebrity always say after the Oscars or the Tonys or the Emmys or the . . . other million award ceremonies where celebrities get all celebrified.
It is nice to be nominated. That's why I nominated myself for Amazon's Breakthrough Novel awards last month. I don't know how many were turned away from first round voting, but I survived. And now that the second round cut has been made, I have been vanquished. Summarily dismissed. I am not amongst the 250 still with the potential of being officially published (of course 249 of those people will be soon crying in their soup as I am now, but for right now they are winners!).
This was to be expected. It wasn't as unlikely as, say, winning the lottery, but the odds were against me. And now the odds have fallen on me.
But cheer on with me those who remain, for they are all potential winners. One real winner, but 250 potential winners. And that will have to sustain them until the moment they are disappointed. I will do my part toward restoring their faith in humanity by offering my two self-nominated books, Will Teach For Food and The Average Family, for sale. Here. Other great books are there as well. Take your time while browsing.
Sure, it is nice to be nominated, but it is better to win.
It is nice to be nominated. That's why I nominated myself for Amazon's Breakthrough Novel awards last month. I don't know how many were turned away from first round voting, but I survived. And now that the second round cut has been made, I have been vanquished. Summarily dismissed. I am not amongst the 250 still with the potential of being officially published (of course 249 of those people will be soon crying in their soup as I am now, but for right now they are winners!).
This was to be expected. It wasn't as unlikely as, say, winning the lottery, but the odds were against me. And now the odds have fallen on me.
But cheer on with me those who remain, for they are all potential winners. One real winner, but 250 potential winners. And that will have to sustain them until the moment they are disappointed. I will do my part toward restoring their faith in humanity by offering my two self-nominated books, Will Teach For Food and The Average Family, for sale. Here. Other great books are there as well. Take your time while browsing.
Sure, it is nice to be nominated, but it is better to win.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
A Postcard You Wouldn't Expect #2
Last week I shared a postcard from 1993. Later the next year, the same fellow sent another greeting to the two girls and their newly arrived brother. So, three kids, aged four years and younger, took a look at the picture of William Shakespeare's birthplace in Stratford-upon-Avon, and then read the following:
Hi [names removed]!
We're having a lovely time in England. We have visited charming English gardens, mighty medieval castles, grand, dramatic cathedrals, Shakespeare's delightful home--pictured here--and the pastoral Lakes. Everything went smoothly until the railroad workers went on strike and shut down the trains. Those bastards. I think I'm going to kick all of their asses.
Love, Uncle [XXXX] and Aunt [XXXX]
Wasn't it nice of him to drag his wife into his unholy message?
Hi [names removed]!
We're having a lovely time in England. We have visited charming English gardens, mighty medieval castles, grand, dramatic cathedrals, Shakespeare's delightful home--pictured here--and the pastoral Lakes. Everything went smoothly until the railroad workers went on strike and shut down the trains. Those bastards. I think I'm going to kick all of their asses.
Love, Uncle [XXXX] and Aunt [XXXX]
Wasn't it nice of him to drag his wife into his unholy message?
Saturday, March 5, 2011
Couples Relay Results
If you read about the race I signed up my wife for without telling her, I can now share the results with you. Actually, even if you didn't read it I can share them.
Kristin and I ran in the 33rd annual Lake Merritt Joggers and Striders' Couples Relay on February 27, 2011. One partner runs around the lake first, and then tags off the second runner. It is just about exactly a 5K for each (3.1 miles). The female runs first. On our team, that would be Kristin. She was worried about coming in last, but as she has never come in last place in any run that was unlikely. The competition did look a bit fierce. Lots of real "runners" in their runner clothes and doing their runner warm ups.
Since it is a Couples Relay, the only results that count are the team results. We came in 150 out of 155, which is definitely not last place. If Kristin tells you that she came in last in the first group of runners, or that nearly twenty teams or so completed both laps before she completed her own, tell her that doesn't matter. Tell her emphatically. She didn't come in last place! In fact, she did her 5K in 44:30, which is a very fine performance indeed. I was able to pass a couple of blokes on my lap, thus are slight rise from last place.
Go Team!
Kristin and I ran in the 33rd annual Lake Merritt Joggers and Striders' Couples Relay on February 27, 2011. One partner runs around the lake first, and then tags off the second runner. It is just about exactly a 5K for each (3.1 miles). The female runs first. On our team, that would be Kristin. She was worried about coming in last, but as she has never come in last place in any run that was unlikely. The competition did look a bit fierce. Lots of real "runners" in their runner clothes and doing their runner warm ups.
Since it is a Couples Relay, the only results that count are the team results. We came in 150 out of 155, which is definitely not last place. If Kristin tells you that she came in last in the first group of runners, or that nearly twenty teams or so completed both laps before she completed her own, tell her that doesn't matter. Tell her emphatically. She didn't come in last place! In fact, she did her 5K in 44:30, which is a very fine performance indeed. I was able to pass a couple of blokes on my lap, thus are slight rise from last place.
Go Team!
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
A Postcard You Wouldn't Expect
There is, in my collection of things, a postcard sent from the Napa Valley to two young girls in San Jose in 1993. The older sister was two years old; the younger, six months. The picture on the front is titled "The Rhine House in Summer" and the preprinted facts on the back say this:
"Beringer Vineyards, the oldest continuously operating winery in the Napa Valley, was founded in 1876 by Frederick and Jacob Beringer. In 1883, this seventeen-room gothic mansion, now known as the Rhine House, was built to be the private residence of Frederick Beringer. It was patterned after the Beringer home on the Rhine River in Mainz, Germany. The home now serves as the winery's hospitality center."
Below that is personal note from the girls' uncle:
Hello [names removed]!
I'm sitting on the can so I thought I'd drop you a line. We were in Napa a couple of weeks ago, but now we're in Washington, D.C. Tomorrow we're going to the White House and the Capitol, etc. Out of all the cities we've visited, I think New York has the most hookers.
Love, Uncle [name removed]
Now that the girls are coming of age, I have decided that this is the right time to unveil this little masterpiece. It is surely a family keepsake that will charm descendants for many years to come.
"Beringer Vineyards, the oldest continuously operating winery in the Napa Valley, was founded in 1876 by Frederick and Jacob Beringer. In 1883, this seventeen-room gothic mansion, now known as the Rhine House, was built to be the private residence of Frederick Beringer. It was patterned after the Beringer home on the Rhine River in Mainz, Germany. The home now serves as the winery's hospitality center."
Below that is personal note from the girls' uncle:
Hello [names removed]!
I'm sitting on the can so I thought I'd drop you a line. We were in Napa a couple of weeks ago, but now we're in Washington, D.C. Tomorrow we're going to the White House and the Capitol, etc. Out of all the cities we've visited, I think New York has the most hookers.
Love, Uncle [name removed]
Now that the girls are coming of age, I have decided that this is the right time to unveil this little masterpiece. It is surely a family keepsake that will charm descendants for many years to come.
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Breakthrough
Amazon.com has something called the Breakthrough Novel Awards. It's been around for at least a couple of years, but was new to me a few weeks ago when I heard about it. Apparently you nominate yourself (or perhaps someone can nominate you) and you see what happens. They have two categories: General Fiction and Young Adult Fiction.
Entrants submit a three-hundred word pitch (summary) and a 5,000-word excerpt and a third file that contains the entire work. Those who live in fear of their stuff being hijacked need not apply! The pitch is used to choose 1,000 to go on to the second round of judging. I believe the excerpt is used to whittle the list down further, and the winner, one in each category, receives a publishing contract with Penguin including a $15,000 advance.
Mmm . . . that smells very nice, that amount, doesn't it? And all you have to do is win!
I decided to compile the required items and enter one written work in each category. I chose Will Teach For Food for the Gen Fic and The Average Family for the YA Fic. This afternoon I heard that both made the first cut and are in the second round as one of 1,000 entries. These are not astounding odds, of course, but better than the lottery, and according to the list I downloaded both are near #56. From an alphabetical standpoint, using the author's last name. Listed by title Average Family would be near #1! Will Teach For Food, sadly, would be near the bottom.
None of which really means anything. They'll be announcing the 500 quarter-finalists on March 22, 2011, and I will share the results with you, win or lose. And let's face it, even if I make the next cut, it is unlikely that the fifteen grand is going to end up in my wallet.
But what if . . .
Entrants submit a three-hundred word pitch (summary) and a 5,000-word excerpt and a third file that contains the entire work. Those who live in fear of their stuff being hijacked need not apply! The pitch is used to choose 1,000 to go on to the second round of judging. I believe the excerpt is used to whittle the list down further, and the winner, one in each category, receives a publishing contract with Penguin including a $15,000 advance.
Mmm . . . that smells very nice, that amount, doesn't it? And all you have to do is win!
I decided to compile the required items and enter one written work in each category. I chose Will Teach For Food for the Gen Fic and The Average Family for the YA Fic. This afternoon I heard that both made the first cut and are in the second round as one of 1,000 entries. These are not astounding odds, of course, but better than the lottery, and according to the list I downloaded both are near #56. From an alphabetical standpoint, using the author's last name. Listed by title Average Family would be near #1! Will Teach For Food, sadly, would be near the bottom.
None of which really means anything. They'll be announcing the 500 quarter-finalists on March 22, 2011, and I will share the results with you, win or lose. And let's face it, even if I make the next cut, it is unlikely that the fifteen grand is going to end up in my wallet.
But what if . . .
Friday, February 18, 2011
Too Much Information
My gas meter has apparently acquired the ability to connect to the Internet. If this sort of thing continues with the rest of my appliances, I think I'll move to a cave somewhere.
Read the sad story here.
Read the sad story here.
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Old Fribble
If you aren't familiar with the Motley Fool, it is a personal finance website. If you aren't familiar with Fribbles, they are what the Motley Fool used to publish as reader commentary. The Fool's stated purpose: to educate, amuse & enrich.
If you aren't familiar with Where the Wild Things Are, it is a famous children's book. If you aren't familiar with Maurice Sendak, he is the author of the aforementioned book.
If you aren't familiar with my Fribble, now you can be. (By way of caveat, be it known that on fool.com it is good to be an uppercase-F Fool, and, conversely, bad to be Wise, because the so-called Wise are misguided sheep who don't think for themselves.)
Read on.
If you aren't familiar with Where the Wild Things Are, it is a famous children's book. If you aren't familiar with Maurice Sendak, he is the author of the aforementioned book.
If you aren't familiar with my Fribble, now you can be. (By way of caveat, be it known that on fool.com it is good to be an uppercase-F Fool, and, conversely, bad to be Wise, because the so-called Wise are misguided sheep who don't think for themselves.)
Read on.
Thursday, February 10, 2011
Two years without TV
I wrote the following when the digital television revolution was just getting underway. I was at risk of losing television reception because we operated only with a rooftop antenna. Two years later, we still have the antenna and a snowy screen. At this point I am waiting for a friend or neighbor to upgrade their digital-ready TV to something even bigger and fancier so that I can inherit something that will work.
The Campbell Reporter
Home > The Campbell Reporter Home > Columns
0806 | Friday, February 8, 2008
Columns
Watching TV shouldn't be this difficult
By Matt Baxter
The scurrying, meddling, mysterious people who hastened the demise of my Betamax, my stereo turntable and my easy-to-repair mechanical car have turned their attention to my television. Under the guise of "improvement" and "quality," I am being forced out of my comfortable recliner to research and make the switch to digital television reception.
The only problem is, I don't want to. I am uninterested in HDTV, flat screen behemoths, plasma doodads, or televisions that can communicate with my computer.
There is a sturdy and faithful rooftop antenna on my house that provides all the TV channels I need. Sure, 500-channel people snicker at the eight channels I receive, but they also enjoy a good laugh when they learn I don't have a microwave oven to prepare some sickening buttery popcorn to munch on while I watch the paltry airwave offerings.
It came as some surprise when I was informed that the government was mandating a change to how I watched TV. No more would the antenna suffice. Soon we would be an all-digital nation (apparently a more pressing need than feeding the hungry or housing the homeless), and if I steadfastly stayed with my antenna all I would receive as of early 2009 would be a screen full of static.
I hear fancy words in the media to describe the reasons for the change: "freeing up parts of the valuable broadcast spectrum for public safety communications," and "providing consumers with a more efficient technology and even more channels" (because 500 isn't enough).
The truth is it boils down to two things: increasing television set sales and auctioning some of this broadcast spectrum to wireless companies. In other words, reason No. 1 is money, and reason No. 2 is money. Does this surprise you?
Knowing full well that there is a subset of the American people who don't jump onto each miraculous technology as soon as it is developed, or even as soon as "everyone must have it," the folks in charge have tried to offer some middle ground. A small, inexpensive box will be available that will somehow translate the digital transmission through my antenna and into my TV.
Don't ask me how it works. I can no longer explain how my car works either, now that the engine compartment is stuffed side-to-side with computers, electronics and magic. Whatever happened to having room to shove my wrench in and replace a part?
To entice stalwart revolutionaries who are fully prepared to throw out their TVs in defiance of this new world order, coupons for $40 are being offered to offset the cost of this "enchanted converter box" or whatever they are calling it. And because the government truly cares about me (witness the 114-page love letter it just delivered titled "2007 1040 Forms & Instructions") it will offer me two. That's practically $80! All I had to do was go online and order the coupons.
Hmm, online ... that would be that Internet thing I keep hearing about, right? Well, without such access at home I would have to wait until I was at work. Or maybe the public library, where they still have books that don't need a digital converter thingamajig to read. I've got plenty of time, I'll get the coupons later.
But wait, the government says, this is really important and we don't want you to miss another episode of your favorite TV show (which is currently not in production because of the Hollywood writers' strike) so call this toll-free number and order your coupons. Surely even you, a grumpy and anti-social Neo-Luddite, have a telephone?
Well, yes, as a matter of fact I do. So I dial the number and a recorded message asks me to press 1 for English, followed by further instructions in other languages, none of which I understand. I look at my rotary phone and recall that its numbers don't have "buttons" but actually have "holes" into which I insert my finger to "dial" the phone (which, incidentally, took quite some time with all those eights and nines and zeroes). There is no 1 to "press."
I hang up the phone. Perhaps I should just give in and purchase the super-duper high-tech television that I am being herded toward. But no! If I give in now, what will happen next? Is my refrigerator substandard because one of its door hinges is held together with a twisted-up paperclip? Will I be required to trade in my broom and rusty push mower for powered versions? Can I not just heat up leftovers on my stovetop rather than nuking them?
Watching TV isn't supposed to be this hard. I think I'm going to go to the library right now, but not for their online access.
I'm going to check out a few good books.
The Campbell Reporter
Home > The Campbell Reporter Home > Columns
0806 | Friday, February 8, 2008
Columns
Watching TV shouldn't be this difficult
By Matt Baxter
The scurrying, meddling, mysterious people who hastened the demise of my Betamax, my stereo turntable and my easy-to-repair mechanical car have turned their attention to my television. Under the guise of "improvement" and "quality," I am being forced out of my comfortable recliner to research and make the switch to digital television reception.
The only problem is, I don't want to. I am uninterested in HDTV, flat screen behemoths, plasma doodads, or televisions that can communicate with my computer.
There is a sturdy and faithful rooftop antenna on my house that provides all the TV channels I need. Sure, 500-channel people snicker at the eight channels I receive, but they also enjoy a good laugh when they learn I don't have a microwave oven to prepare some sickening buttery popcorn to munch on while I watch the paltry airwave offerings.
It came as some surprise when I was informed that the government was mandating a change to how I watched TV. No more would the antenna suffice. Soon we would be an all-digital nation (apparently a more pressing need than feeding the hungry or housing the homeless), and if I steadfastly stayed with my antenna all I would receive as of early 2009 would be a screen full of static.
I hear fancy words in the media to describe the reasons for the change: "freeing up parts of the valuable broadcast spectrum for public safety communications," and "providing consumers with a more efficient technology and even more channels" (because 500 isn't enough).
The truth is it boils down to two things: increasing television set sales and auctioning some of this broadcast spectrum to wireless companies. In other words, reason No. 1 is money, and reason No. 2 is money. Does this surprise you?
Knowing full well that there is a subset of the American people who don't jump onto each miraculous technology as soon as it is developed, or even as soon as "everyone must have it," the folks in charge have tried to offer some middle ground. A small, inexpensive box will be available that will somehow translate the digital transmission through my antenna and into my TV.
Don't ask me how it works. I can no longer explain how my car works either, now that the engine compartment is stuffed side-to-side with computers, electronics and magic. Whatever happened to having room to shove my wrench in and replace a part?
To entice stalwart revolutionaries who are fully prepared to throw out their TVs in defiance of this new world order, coupons for $40 are being offered to offset the cost of this "enchanted converter box" or whatever they are calling it. And because the government truly cares about me (witness the 114-page love letter it just delivered titled "2007 1040 Forms & Instructions") it will offer me two. That's practically $80! All I had to do was go online and order the coupons.
Hmm, online ... that would be that Internet thing I keep hearing about, right? Well, without such access at home I would have to wait until I was at work. Or maybe the public library, where they still have books that don't need a digital converter thingamajig to read. I've got plenty of time, I'll get the coupons later.
But wait, the government says, this is really important and we don't want you to miss another episode of your favorite TV show (which is currently not in production because of the Hollywood writers' strike) so call this toll-free number and order your coupons. Surely even you, a grumpy and anti-social Neo-Luddite, have a telephone?
Well, yes, as a matter of fact I do. So I dial the number and a recorded message asks me to press 1 for English, followed by further instructions in other languages, none of which I understand. I look at my rotary phone and recall that its numbers don't have "buttons" but actually have "holes" into which I insert my finger to "dial" the phone (which, incidentally, took quite some time with all those eights and nines and zeroes). There is no 1 to "press."
I hang up the phone. Perhaps I should just give in and purchase the super-duper high-tech television that I am being herded toward. But no! If I give in now, what will happen next? Is my refrigerator substandard because one of its door hinges is held together with a twisted-up paperclip? Will I be required to trade in my broom and rusty push mower for powered versions? Can I not just heat up leftovers on my stovetop rather than nuking them?
Watching TV isn't supposed to be this hard. I think I'm going to go to the library right now, but not for their online access.
I'm going to check out a few good books.
Friday, February 4, 2011
Pants on Fire
Liar, liar, pants on fire, hangin' on a telephone wire.
Here is my recent newspaper column on the issue.
Here is my recent newspaper column on the issue.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Press Release: Beer Maker
SAN JOSE, CA - Author Matt Baxter answers the question, "What do you do when you have too much free time and too much money" in his new novel, Beer Maker (294 pages, $14.99), available from lulu.com.The story:
Alex Krieger has a lot of problems. He made too much money working for Digital Tombstone, Inc. during its lucrative start-up phase. He has too much free time after quitting his job. He has access to too much free beer from his father’s bar. These are not common problems for the average twenty-eight-and-a-half-year-old, and Alex has difficulty finding anyone who can relate.
Friends encourage him to get back to work. His girlfriend disturbs him with her odd sexual idiosyncrasy. And he organizes a Thirtieth Anniversary party for his parents with his father’s half-hearted help while keeping his mother in the dark. It is a thankless task, for which no one, oddly enough, thanks him.
Alex goes on a quest to find a hobby and possible career. He leaves no stone unturned, as long as the stones can be found in liquor stores, taverns, and home brewing retail shops. He turns to the part-time clean-up guy at his father’s bar for advice, and they start making beer at home.
Then, thwarted by an oddly dressed sociopath from the home brew store, a fellow who calls himself Mad Czech, Alex finds he has a whole new set of problems.
Monday, January 31, 2011
Lawnmower Man
We live in a cul-de-sac of twelve houses. Been here for nearly nineteen years. Six or seven of them have changed hands since we moved here, taking us ever closer to the top of the list of "longest term neighbor." Kristin probably met just about everyone who ever lived on our short street. I didn't start getting outside and meeting the folks until 1999, so a few escaped without ever getting to know me.
Poor dears.
I didn't even wave as cars came and went at first. I'd pull in the driveway after work and wouldn't step outside again unless it was time to mow the lawn or go back to work, so I didn't see a lot of cars go by. When I did, though, I'd reach down to tie an already-tied shoe or I'd look back at the house as if trying to remember something.
Eventually I stayed out longer and met people and found they were all pretty nice. There have even been a couple of block parties over the past few years. I wave at people, they wave at me. Some have had kids that befriended my own, and I have been a substitute teacher for the next wave of youngsters. We notice if another's garage door is open late into the evening, and we loan each other tools and books and spices, and we wheel each other's emptied garbage and recycling bins back to the house if we are out doing our own. Well, one guy does it. In fact, he walks the entire short block and brings up everyone's cans. Nice guy. Little weird, though.
To the best of my understanding, the family next to ours bought the house next to theirs, one of the corner lots, a few years ago. Then, they bought another one at the bottom of the street, giving them three of the twelve houses. This was a little while ago during a real estate heyday, and I don't know how that's working out for them. It's none of my business. One facet of the deal, though, is working out nicely for me.
I haven't maintained a front lawn for a few years now. It gets green in the rainy season, and it is now, and in the summer it is neatly cropped hay. Doesn't get watered, doesn't grow. It's not a weed patch, but as I say, this is a semi-arid plain, people. Your lawns are unnatural! The problem is when it does grow because of the damned rain, it is thick and hearty, and not particularly well-suited to my push mower. Thus, summer mowing is unnecessary, and winter mowing is a curse.
Until now. Mr. Multiple Home Owner, in all his intrepid do-it-yourselfness, recently purchased a riding mower, purportedly for his three nearby properties and others he has elsewhere. Because we are the closeknit helpful kind of people previously described, once he began mowing his three yards on our street he figured he might as well do a little kindness for neighbors. After all, he motors from one end of the block to the other, seeing as he owns a corner lot and one at the turnaround, why not take care of a few others. So now, on mowing day, he does just that. He decamps the mower from its trailer, and spends thirty minutes mowing up and down the block.
He was just here ten minutes ago. I heard the mower and could tell he was in my front yard. I smiled to myself and checked off one more item on my To-Do list.
Even though the service is convenient, I'm still not going to water my yard this year. I'll give the guy one less yard to worry about for at least six months.
Poor dears.
I didn't even wave as cars came and went at first. I'd pull in the driveway after work and wouldn't step outside again unless it was time to mow the lawn or go back to work, so I didn't see a lot of cars go by. When I did, though, I'd reach down to tie an already-tied shoe or I'd look back at the house as if trying to remember something.
Eventually I stayed out longer and met people and found they were all pretty nice. There have even been a couple of block parties over the past few years. I wave at people, they wave at me. Some have had kids that befriended my own, and I have been a substitute teacher for the next wave of youngsters. We notice if another's garage door is open late into the evening, and we loan each other tools and books and spices, and we wheel each other's emptied garbage and recycling bins back to the house if we are out doing our own. Well, one guy does it. In fact, he walks the entire short block and brings up everyone's cans. Nice guy. Little weird, though.
To the best of my understanding, the family next to ours bought the house next to theirs, one of the corner lots, a few years ago. Then, they bought another one at the bottom of the street, giving them three of the twelve houses. This was a little while ago during a real estate heyday, and I don't know how that's working out for them. It's none of my business. One facet of the deal, though, is working out nicely for me.
I haven't maintained a front lawn for a few years now. It gets green in the rainy season, and it is now, and in the summer it is neatly cropped hay. Doesn't get watered, doesn't grow. It's not a weed patch, but as I say, this is a semi-arid plain, people. Your lawns are unnatural! The problem is when it does grow because of the damned rain, it is thick and hearty, and not particularly well-suited to my push mower. Thus, summer mowing is unnecessary, and winter mowing is a curse.
Until now. Mr. Multiple Home Owner, in all his intrepid do-it-yourselfness, recently purchased a riding mower, purportedly for his three nearby properties and others he has elsewhere. Because we are the closeknit helpful kind of people previously described, once he began mowing his three yards on our street he figured he might as well do a little kindness for neighbors. After all, he motors from one end of the block to the other, seeing as he owns a corner lot and one at the turnaround, why not take care of a few others. So now, on mowing day, he does just that. He decamps the mower from its trailer, and spends thirty minutes mowing up and down the block.
He was just here ten minutes ago. I heard the mower and could tell he was in my front yard. I smiled to myself and checked off one more item on my To-Do list.
Even though the service is convenient, I'm still not going to water my yard this year. I'll give the guy one less yard to worry about for at least six months.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
State of the Bunion
I applaud our Commander-in-chief, the Elected One, the one and only Barack Obama (and let's just say with that name he is of course the "one and only"; that's no "Robert Smith" type of name) for taking to the airwaves and the Informational Superhighway to bring up the national horror of the bunion. That scourge of the foot, that most unsightly bump, has no celebrity-sponsored charity and is generally hidden away like your grandmother's goiter.
Regardless whether you think President Obama was born in this country, or whether you think he is a rabid socialist, or whether you think his only aim in life is to take this country swiftly to ruin (by the way, if you think any of those things, you might be an idiot), you must certainly agree with me that he has not shied away from affairs of the foot. Those afflicted with bunions are crying in their beers at this very moment, knowing that relief is coming. Stem cell research might help, or perhaps studying bunions on rats. Either way, my wife will be happy. I'm not saying she has a bunion, heaven's no, outing her in that regard would be tantamount to saying she's got the ugly feets.
For the record, I like my wife's feet.
And as the president said earlier tonight, "The state of our bunion is strong." I can only assume that he will be sending me a check soon so that I can get my wife that bunion surgery.
Not that she has a bunion, mind you, this is just preventive medicine I'm talking about. Really, people, stop with the mindless rumormongering.
And now, the Republican response . . .
Regardless whether you think President Obama was born in this country, or whether you think he is a rabid socialist, or whether you think his only aim in life is to take this country swiftly to ruin (by the way, if you think any of those things, you might be an idiot), you must certainly agree with me that he has not shied away from affairs of the foot. Those afflicted with bunions are crying in their beers at this very moment, knowing that relief is coming. Stem cell research might help, or perhaps studying bunions on rats. Either way, my wife will be happy. I'm not saying she has a bunion, heaven's no, outing her in that regard would be tantamount to saying she's got the ugly feets.
For the record, I like my wife's feet.
And as the president said earlier tonight, "The state of our bunion is strong." I can only assume that he will be sending me a check soon so that I can get my wife that bunion surgery.
Not that she has a bunion, mind you, this is just preventive medicine I'm talking about. Really, people, stop with the mindless rumormongering.
And now, the Republican response . . .
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