End of Something (Start of Something Else)

We played Metuchen today in the Group I State semi-finals and we knew it would be a tough match-- all we could hope for is that it stayed close-- and that's how it went down; Ian was playing a very tough heavy-hitting player who he has never beaten (Grayhson Kang) and he knew he had to work his ass off the beat him-- unfortunately, he ran into a pole at the back fence in the first set (down 2-3) and smashed his fingers and that was that-- he lost the first set 6-2 and really couldn't hit the ball-- his pinky nail was split and the rest of his fingers jammed and shaking . . . but we only needed to win three matches and we were doing well at second doubles and third singles and second singles was close-- but not close enough-- we ended up losing the match 3-2 . . . there was some contention in the second singles match but the other coach and I were watching the third singles match-- because of some disputed calls-- anyway, I was very proud of my guys, they played hard and we nearly pulled off an upset victory and this is the end of something very special-- I don't think there are many high school coaches who coached their own children in both high school soccer and high school tennis . . . then we rushed back to Highland Park and the seniors all got dressed for prom and headed right back out--  this is all high school in one day, from the tennis match straight to the red carpet for photos and then prom (and then they head to the beach tomorrow-- and Ian's friends acquired some lodging so they're not sleeping in the car) and Catherine and I are excited because Alex and his girlfriend invited us to go see the new Spiderverse movie tomorrow night-- it's nice when the youngsters include you (when it's not mandated).

Senior Cut Day!

I nearly forgot to put a sentence up-- it's senior cut day and the vibe is infectious.

Sports with the Boys (and more)

I had off yesterday (because we didn't use any snow days) and so my older son Alex snuck me into the Rutgers gym on Busch Campus at noon so we could play basketball-- I felt pretty sketchy, hanging out by the back doors waiting for my son to let me in-- but no one seemed to care and there was a fun five-on-five game-- a few older guys and a few college students . . . Alex and I got to play on the same team and we won every game-- he's really become a player, he can shoot a bit from outside, he's tall and long, and he knows how to drive and seal someone and get to the rim (he's also lefty, which confuses people) and I made a few three-pointers and got some rebounds-- definitely a treat to be able to play full court with a nineteen-year-old-- and then I rushed home and was off to coach the tennis match-- we were playing the two seed in the state quarterfinals but we matched up well-- we played a much tougher schedule than they did-- and Ian was crushing his forehand-- he whipped his kid in less than an hour and though some of the other kids put up a fight, we still won 5-0 in the end-- but the match took forever because there were only four courts, so second doubles had to wait-- then we rushed back to Highland Park and went straight to the senior awards night-- Ian got an award from the booster club for athletics and sportsmanship-- very nice-- and it was a great-- if tiring day-- until Ian told us that after prom-- which is on Thursday, along with the state semi-tennis match-- him and a couple of friends planned to drive to Wildwood and sleep in the car for a couple of nights-- so we had to explain that you really can't do that and that he needed to plan some lodging and that became a whole teenage debate which I won't get into-- but that's the deal with teenagers, it's an emotional rollercoaster (for all those involved).

The (Murder) Mystery of Existence

A new episode of my podcast We Defy Augury is up and streaming-- this was a tough one to make; it's called "The (Murder) Mystery of Existence" and my meandering philosophical thoughts are (loosely) based on Stuart Turton's mind-bending mystery novel The 7½ Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle . .  . Special Guests include: Albert Camus, Phil Connors, and Grant Goodeve.

A Very Windy (and possibly penultimate) Practice

Tennis season is annoying-- it runs through Spring Break and Memorial Day Weekend, so you're always missing kids for various reasons-- but we had a pretty good turn out at practice today-- despite it being Memorial Day-- and the second doubles team (Akhul and Theo) actually beat Michael and me in a set-- they played awesome-- and I gave the team the typical motivational speech at the end-- no other team is practicing today, no other team is preparing for these gale force winds (it was insanely windy today) and all we need to do are the things we know how to do, just with as much focus and good-decision-making as we can muster-- and so we play the two seed tomorrow, but we match up well against them . . . hopefully we'll get a win and head to the semi-finals later in the week (with the added bonus of Thursday night prom).

Weekend Review

I went out with the pub crew Thursday night to Steakhouse 85 and Alec leaned too far forward on his bar-chair, so that he was leaning on two legs, his elbow resting on the bar, and the chair legs slid backward on the polished wood floor and the long-legged chair went skittering backward-- horizontally-- and Alec's body suddenly dropped vertically, down below the bar (and luckily, he didn't hit his face on the rail) and though the chair skittered back eight feet or so, toward the host stand, no one was injured; then Saturday Catherine and I drove all the way up to Foxwoods in Connecticut for my cousin Nick's wedding-- and I remarked that you don't hear much about the state of Connecticut-- it's an under the radar state-- and now I know why-- the fucking traffic is terrible-- we stopped in Clinton at Liv's Dockside Grill for some seaside seafood-- and once you get off the highway, Connecticut is lovely-- it looks kind of like Cape Cod-- Clinton is near the end of the Long Island Sound-- you're looking across the sound at East Hampton and Montauk-- but then you have to get back on 95 and it's two lanes and white knuckle driving-- Foxwoods is a wild place, a little bit of Vegas in the middle of the Mashantucket Pequot reservation-- the wedding was lovely but we split the very expensive hotel room with my brother and his (soon-to-be) wife and my brother had a sinus infection and was snoring and making a lot of noise so we got up at 6 AM and hightailed it home-- much better drive with no traffic, but still a long fucking way-- and then I played some pickle-ball, practiced tennis with Ian, and went to a graduation party where I drank a bunch of Corona beer-- great for the day after a wedding-- and Alec and I dominated at corn-hole-- even over the recent college graduates, who were surprisingly bad . . . I asked one college student what the leisure sport of choice was at Reed college-- darts, frisbee golf, corn-hole, spike-ball, beer pong?-- and he said they don't play anything . . . I guess they just go to class and learn stuff . . . kids these days.

I Need to Even Out

I am developing quite the "farmer's tan" because of tennis season and today's Relay for Life outdoor school event-- but I don't think I'm going to remedy this any time soon, as going shirtless around school grounds is frowned upon (even if you're as jacked as I am).

We Are Through to Round Two!

Highland Park boys tennis team is the ten seed in our region of the State Tournament, so we took a ride up to Roselle Park-- the seven seed-- and I was a bit nervous because they have an excellent first singles player (Owen Miller-- he's going to play at Susquehanna) but though Ian got spanked (and he hit the ball really well-- their guy was amazing, and an all-around nice guy and captain who seemed to be a real leader on and off the court) the rest of the team really came through-- Michael Cederbaum played the match of his life, as did the rest of the crew (aside from the usual second set space-out from our first doubles team) and we won the match 4-1 . . . but it was a very slow match, as they only had four courts-- so second doubles had to wait-- and, a weird tennis peccadillo that I've never encountered-- all their players, doubles and singles, took the full 90 second rest during switchovers . . . the ref even had to call for them a couple of times-- I'm not sure why they did this but it was weird and boring and it made the match much longer than it needed to be . . . next round is closer, in Woodbridge, and hopefully we will beat them soundly (and quickly).

Nice Job Stacey!

Stacey made a good-old-fashioned worksheet for Hamlet scenes 4.5 and 4.6 and it was just what the doctor ordered.

Shakespeare Motivates Shakespeare?

This year, I'm really getting to the bottom of Hamlet, the most bottomless piece of literature in existence, but this means we might never finish-- which is perfectly appropriate . . . I probably need a ghost (played by myself) to visit and "whet my almost blunted purpose" so that I actually finish the thing before the last day of school (that's essentially what happens in Act III scene iv . . . Hamlet's dad returns in the form of a specter that only Hamlet can see and tells him to stop calling him mom a slut and get on with his revenge on King Claudius, the same way Mufasa tells Simba to quit it with Timon, Pumba, and Hakuna Matata and live up to fate and responsibility and go kill Scar . . . but of course, Shakespeare wrote Hamlet's lines-- so when the ghost (probably played by Shakespeare, tells Hamlet to get on with it-- because we're nearly three hours into the play and the plot hasn't really gotten going yet) this is very strange-- it's the director telling the writer (who are both the same person) to stop going so deep with his character because people have to eat dinner.

Weird and Ugly Tennis Match

This was a difficult situation to process and I am sure this sentence is extraordinarily biased and we'll never get to the bottom of it but we had a tune-up tennis match today against Monroe-- a giant Group IV school with a county champion first singles player-- which our team was treating as a practice for the State Tournament (we got lucky and have a decent bracket!) and it was a no-worries-let's get some practice kind of match because we knew we would get slaughtered but Monroe was missing their first singles player (he was playing in a tournament down in Virginia Beach) so my son Ian was playing their second singles player, who was still much better than him in UTR rating, and while the rest of our players went down quickly, Ian took the lead on their player-- and things were a little weird because this was the Monroe kid's first match at first singles and all his friends were on the fence cheering him on and then something strange happened-- the assistant coach (yes, this school is so big they have an assistant coach for tennis) came over to me and said that he heard our first and second singles players using profanity and he told my son to stop cursing and my son told him to "shut up" and so I stopped both matches and told Ian and Ethan to stop using profanity and then I pointed out to them that this young guy-- who looked like a student manager-- was an assistant coach-- which neither of them realized-- and Ian told me he didn't tell the assistant coach to "shut up," he told the kids who were clapping when he made on error to stop-- and then I watched and saw the deal-- the kids on the fence were really excited that their buddy was getting to play first singles and they thought he had an easy win against a player from a tiny school-- but Ian had eye of the tiger today, and was not going to let that happen-- and I did have a few words for the assistant coach: why the fuck was he talking to MY players during a game about profanity? . . . you come to me first and let me deal with it, especially when they didn't know him from Adam-- and I explained to him that we play in a county park and our kids are used to telling adults to be quiet because we often have lots of them circling like vultures to get on the court-- but the other coaches were having none of my diplomacy and explanations and chit-chat-- they were downright weird and angry, but I think they really wanted their kid to get his first win at first singles-- a singular chance for him-- because they were vociferously rooting for their kid-- which is weird in tennis-- anyway, Ian closed out the match and won 6-4, 6-4-- despite some sketchy calls from Ian's opponent and while I'm not sure exactly what happened, I'm sure Ian and Ethan cursed-- as they are wont to do-- but I don't know why some assistant coach is wandering around acting as the profanity police, especially in a match that means nothing, but I guess this is good practice for States, when shit will get real.

Construction Raises Dave's Spirits (and Property Values)

 

I'm not sure if it was due to my persistent and eloquent emails to the County Parks Department, but construction is underway . . . they are finally resurfacing the tennis courts right next to my house-- and they are adding much needed pickle-ball courts as well . . . there aren't many pickle-ball courts in Middlesex County so this project is going to make the courts 100 yards from my house a real commodity-- and hopefully they will attract a decent pickle-ball scene (and I'm sure these courts will further assist my choice to phase out tennis-- I'm playing tennis today but I'm enjoying the fast-paces pick-up nature of pickle ball more and more). 

Wink Wink Nudge Nudge Revisited

I read the book Nudge: Improving Decisions About Health, Wealth, and Happiness way back in 2009 and-- like much of rational liberal America, I decided I was a "libertarian paternalist" and bought in-- this was a kinder gentler time in politics, the years of hope and economic recovery from the subprime economic crisis-- which seemed to be a technical crisis more than anything, based on technocratic choices and rules gone wrong-- and now it seemed if we got those technocratic rules right, then solutions and progress could be made by smart little tweaks to choice architecture-- technocratic solutions instead of partisan political chaos and conflict-- but after listening to Mike Hobbes and Peter Shamshiri revisit this book and all the "nudge-like" ideas on their fantastic podcast If Books Could Kill, I realize-- like Mike Hobbes-- I bought into something very silly-- and so I have changed my mind-- especially since the main anecdote supposed to hammer home their thesis is not true-- changing organ donation box default from opting in to opting out does NOT greatly affect the organ transplant system of a nation-- Spain has best organ donation program because of the structural system they put into place-- and when Mike and peter break down, debunk, run the numbers, and point out the illogic and in the rest of the nudge-like examples-- then none of them work or seem to even fit the description of a gentle choice architecture nudge-- aside from the one very simple example-- putting the desserts below eye level in a cafeteria line and promoting fruits and vegetables to a better placement promotes slightly healthier eating-- more telling examples are things like "we know how to fix gay marriage . . . just make ALL marriages a private legal affair-- so essentially burn down the institution of marriage instead of letting gay people take part in it" and "we know the problem with healthcare-- let people opt out of litigation if care goes wrong and then it will be cheaper because all these lawsuits are what's wrong with the US healthcare system" . . . so just downright stupid stuff that I was probably too sleepy to parse back then (because I had two very young children) and in part two of the episode, they really dive deep and point out that co-author Cass Sunstein ended up riding this "nudge" wave to a government position on the creepy Reagan-created Office of Information and Regulatory Affairs, an office designed to sit on regulations and block regulations and essentially murder people in a slow methodical deliberate bureaucratic manner-- a real detriment to Obama's legacy and technocratic slow walking of anything against big business-- check out what happened to silica regulations under Sunstein's reign; co-author Richard Thaler kind of rescinded his ideas about the ubiquitous wonder of nudging, realizing that many nudges were scams-- and we are surrounded by scams in America-- and when it comes down to it, the nudges just never seemed to be neutral-- anyway, listen to both parts of the podcast, wonderful and funny and logical and eye-opening-- but the only scary thing is this kind of breakdown makes me not want to read these fun non-fiction books anymore because they play so fast and loose with facts and numbers, and these books have to fill pages with stuff that won't hold up to academic scrutiny-- and I'm not doing academic research in the fifteen minutes before I drift into REM sleep at night so I can succumb to these ideas quite easily (as can entire administrations of the US government . . . and many other governments, who formed "nudge units").

Artificial Intelligence Does My Job . . . and More! So Much More . . .

Yesterday in Public Speaking class, a student asked if AI could grade an essay and I said "sure it can" and then I took his speech-- which was in an incipient stage (read lousy) and I asked Bard (Google AI) to grade it (as Chat GPT is blocked at our school) and Bard said a bunch of nice things about this fairly lousy informative speech about the student's five favorite animals-- so then I asked Bard to grade it like an old angry English teacher and I got some better results-- Bard said it was disappointed with the student because the speech was disorganized and had grammatical mistakes-- and then I had a stroke of genius and asked Bard to grade the essay like "Al Pacino in Scarface" and Bard said "this thing is a D . . . a D" and then there was a parenthetical that said "points gun at student" and I was like "wow, this thing is getting serious and pretty fucked up" and then I had Bard grade the essay like The Dude from the Big Lebowski and Bard basically said, "I'm not going to judge this, man, but I like what you're going for" and I told my Creative Writing class about this today and they were having a field day with it . . . someone had Bard grade their story by a "drunken Joseph Stalin" who called the piece of writing " a disgrace to Russia" and said the student should be "taken outside and executed."

Tennis Tennis Tennis Tennis

We finished out the regular tennis season with a couple of wins over Colonia and Bound Brook and now we just have to wait and see what happens with the state tournament brackets-- it was nice to play a small Group I school like us today, just so my players could remember we're pretty good at tennis-- we beat Bound Brook soundly and Ian actually won quickly at first singles (6-0, 6-0) which was a nice treat for him-- to get on and off the court quickly-- because every other match this season has been brutal-- he played well yesterday against a good player but lost the first set in a tiebreaker, after a very long bus ride to Colonia because there was a truck on fire on Route 1 . . . anyway, the real season starts next week for us, with the single elimination State Tourney-- and it's going to be a real roll of the die determining who we face in the first few rounds.

We Defy Augury . . . Hamlet Style

Tennis season has really slowed down my podcasting output-- I am becoming downright Hamlet-like in my indecisiveness and aversion to action, but I managed to squeak out a new episode (although you might want to wait a day or two to listen because I forgot to include an audio clip so if I get motivated I'll wedge it in somewhere . . . one of the great things about podcasting is that you can go back and revise your audio for an episode) and one of the reasons I took so long is that this episode tackles some very complicated topics about belief, the morality of whistleblowing, and the existence of Deep State surveillance; it's called "Reality Loser" and it is based on thoughts (loosely) inspired by Kerry Howley's book Bottoms Up and The Devil Laughs: A Journey Through the Deep State and Jeff Sharlet's book The Undertow: Scenes from a Slow Civil War.

Last Period Ideas

The last 82-minute block is brutal to teach-- especially when you're trying to educate fourth-quarter seniors, but we did come up with a few good ideas today:

1. when a student suggested I get a funny Shakespeare t-shirt (we're doing Hamlet) I said, "I don't wear t-shirts with funny stuff on them . . . I'm the funny one, not the t-shirt" and then we decided that "I'm the funny one, not the t-shirt" would make a great novelty t-shirt;

2. we also decided that words that sound opposite to what they mean-- like "restive" which means fidgety and "enervate" which means to drain energy-- should be banned from the English language.

GMC Monday

Yikes, quite a long GMC Tourney Monday-- we left the school at 7:45 AM (because Jakob was late) but there was no traffic so we made it down to Veteran's Park in Mercer County in record time-- all of our players won their prelim matches (a superset to eight) including-- notably-- Ethan Chen against another HP kid (Jack Shannon, who goes to a magnet school) and my son Ian against a kid from New Brunswick coached by Highland Park alum Felix Rojas-- so some fun small world stuff-- and then Ian advanced another round because the four seed (Edison Academy) dropped due to a hamstring pull and then he was dismissed by an excellent player from J.P. Stevens and our second doubles team also advanced to the second round- Theo and Akhul played the longest possible tournament match you could play, losing the first set in a tiebreaker, then wining the second set 7-5 and then winning the 10 point tiebreaker 10-8 . . . so they got to play the Monroe second doubles team-- a powerhouse school-- but they avoided the double bagel and lost 6-1, 6-1 . . . though they were very very tired-- a fun day had by all . . . nine hours of tennis (the only major error was that I forgot to bring the vinegar and oil for the Tastee Subs we bought last night).

Real Friday Continued . . .

So . . . I finally had a real Friday without tennis and I certainly made use of it (to the chagrin of Saturday) because after happy hour with the ladies at B2 Bistro, I headed home and Catherine and I went to our friends' house for some drinks and corn-hole . . . first corn-hole of the season!-- and we had a good time-- especially since our friends' 23 year old daughter Liz played-- she's a great athlete and very competitive so I took great joy in kicking her butt-- but the drinking continued for a while, along with some gossip, which I will not repeat-- but it led to a walk, led by the youngster, over to this party on our side of town-- and our goal was to crash the party-- really? it seems we're a bit old for that but we were fairly hammered and while Ann and Craig turned back at the last possible moment, they saw their daughter walk in and decided they'd hightail it home, but Liz saw her friend tending bar at the shindig-- a vast and very well-stocked bar-- and Catherine and I wandered in with Liz and got some drinks from her friend-- who we also knew-- and then we saw some people we knew and integrated ourselves into the crowd and then eventually we met the host-- who Catherine had some connection with so we were not asked to leave-- plus I think everyone was drunk-- and then we did some dancing? and then we wandered home-- where I passed out on the couch eating pizza-- and then the kids got home at some later time period and they said I didn't even rouse a bit when they walked in and out of the living room, turned the lights on, etc etc . . . so quite a real Friday but a very fuzzy, uneventful, and unreal Saturday-- I'm too old for that kind of nonsense.

Sandwich Choice

 Apparently, if your wife makes you a sandwich for lunch-- especially if she very rarely makes your lunch-- and then you go to work and your boss has purchased a spread of really really good sandwiches from the Italian deli in Middlesex (Sapore) and you make an executive decision and eat the better sandwich (actually sandwiches, I had two) then you should throw away the sandwich your wife made and never tell her you didn't eat it-- this is what my wife suggested when I told her the truth about the sandwiches-- as she was rightfully annoyed that she made lunch for me and I didn't eat it . . .  next time I will prevaricate and dispose of the evidence of my sandwich infidelity.

A Real Friday!

After four tennis matches in a row-- Monday through Thursday-- we all took a much needed day off today . . . and I got up and played Friday morning 6:30 AM hoops-- the games were especially intense and I think my deep squatting stretching exercises paid off, as I felt fairly quick (and had to cover some young folks) and while my outside shot wasn't exactly on, it wasn't totally off either-- and then I covered PE class, so I had 15,000 steps by 10 AM . . . and then, as a rare treat, I got to attend happy hour with the ladies (and the ladies asked me last period if they thought working with so many women made me a better husband and I said, "absolutely" because I learn things like don't enumerate all the hard work you've accomplished in a day because ladies "don't need a fucking list" . . . which is upsetting because I love enumerating all the hard work I've done in a day, even if it's things like "I did my summative evaluation meeting AND I covered a half period and made fifty bucks!" because, as my wife pointed out, "EVERY teacher does a summative evaluation meeting, you're not special."

F%$& Thursday

 There's still another day in this week?

All Kinds of Shit

You may have seen this video where John Stewart lambastes Oklahoma State Senator Nathan Dahm about the hypocrisy of "protecting" children from "drag show readings" while not protecting children from the leading cause of death-- guns-- and while I certainly agree with his sentiment, this little clips are the problem with social media, polarization, and how discourse is conducted today-- because the real discussion is about what people value-- and obviously conservatives value the Second Amendment and the right for manly men (and women) to bear arms and protect their traditional families-- and that's fine-- and they value that more than they value the continuum of gender and sexuality-- but no one wants to come out and actually say what they value-- even though it's inherent in legislation-- for example, New Jersey (and a number of states) value the liberty to get stoned over the mental health of children-- because the legalization of marijuana, long overdue for many reasons, definitely solves one problem-- that of incarcerating people for an absurd crime, but it does cause another problem-- a ubiquitous flood medical grade marijuana products -- and the research shows that marijuana before the age of 24 (or more than twice a week after the age of 24) can have some serious consequences on mental health-- and cause anxiety, schizophrenia, and other mental disorders-- so people need to start having serious and measured conversations about the costs and benefits of what we value-- less rhetoric and more utilitarian logic-- and while I'm rambling, the other things we need to have serious conversations about are cell phones and social media-- there's a great new Shortwave podcast on the deleterious effects of this shit-- psychologists are starting to coordinate causal data about how social media for teens leads to depression, self-harm, suicide, anxiety, and loneliness-- and we need to think about large language model AI-- and I heard this basic premise on the Ezra Klein podcast-- how we might start valuing the product more than the process, especially in writing- when the process is where you figure out that you should be writing about a different topic or you see the holes in your logic-- while Chat GPT can produce a coherent piece of writing about any topic, it's a product more than a process-- and it's the process where we think, revise, create and grow-- the product is just the cognitive journey polished up a bit . . . it would be a shame to lose that.

Here's a Leak to Make You Freak

Bottoms Up and the Devil Laughs: A Journey Through the Deep State by Kerry Howley is a book that will make you reflect on the power, pragmatism, risk, and reward of whistleblowing . . . of leaking some information for moral reasons-- the book focuses on Reality Winner and the document she leaked in order to show Americans that there really was Russian meddling in the 2016 election and the blowback from the Trump administration (and the use of the Espionage act) and the book has persuaded me that whistleblowing and leaking are just another check and balance of our government--  because the government (and corporations, of course) can engage in highly secretive and illegal activity that might need to see the light of day before it is unclassified-- and we need to remember these whistleblowers and the price they pay for releasing information-- and let's not forget Daniel Hale, either, who leaked information about the Obama administrations many errant drone strikes . . . while I'm not privy to any compelling government secrets, I did snap a couple of screenshots of this "Pest Issues" spreadsheet, which paints a vividly pestilent portrait of our rather dilapidated and porous school building (and perhaps this will encourage the town to pass the budget in order to build a new high school).

A Fun Wedding (Sort of)

My wife and I almost had a fun and relaxing time at my wife's niece's wedding yesterday afternoon . . . almost . . . the wedding was down the shore in Asbury Park at the Asbury Hotel and we were sleeping at my brother-in-law's house in Long Branch-- a beautiful spacious place with an ocean view (and we pretty much had the run of the place because Bob and Wendy were staying at the hotel-- father-of-the-bride stuff) and it was a beautiful day and we read our boys the riot act-- we wanted to have a relaxing time without incident-- Ian was supposed to help Alex move out of his dorm-- drive the minivan over and help him clean out his room- and then Ian was supposed to go to a sleepover and Alex was going to take care of the dog and then return to his dorm for the night-- but during the wedding service-- which was lovely and happening on the rooftop of the Asbury Hotel-- we got a call from Alex . . . he was getting some of his girlfriend's stuff on College Ave and then he needed to come over Landing Lane Bridge-- a skinny bridge full of traffic and he cut the turn too sharply and hit something on the edge of the bridge and popped the tire and so then he drove the van into the park on the flat tire and parked it but the spare was at home in the storage area-- we gave up on trying to get the spare back to where it belonged because the 2008 Toyota Minivan has the most inaccessible spare tire contraption known to man-- we've already had our problems with this thing-- and we had the spare in the back of the van for a while but then when tennis season started I removed it because it took up too much space-- and we didn't want Alex waiting forever in the park for roadside assistance so he walked back to his dorm and then biked home to take care of the dog-- which-- if he communicated with Ian-- he didn't need to do because Ian's sleepover was cancelled-- Ian was home and now going to a party around the block and we weren't all that happy about this development because we knew that party would be out-of-control and it seems it was-- but what could we do? we were down the beach . . . anyway, everyone survived their ordeals (although we're pretty sure Ian had too much to drink at this party) and the wedding was wonderful and the band was great-- so we had a good time, despite worrying about the kids and the state of the van-- and we rushed home in the morning, headed straight to the park, found the van, removed the warning ticket, managed to change the tire-- despite some very tight lug nuts (next time bring a rubber mallet!) and get the van to Mavis, where they replaced three of the tires but could not do the fourth because Alex bent the rim so badly that the car needs to go to an actual mechanic tomorrow to get that fixed-- so now we are driving it on the spare and hoping we can finish this project tomorrow (we did need new tires so this expedited that purchase -- yuck) and the moral is just because your kids are in college (or nearly in college) doesn't mean that they are smart.

Rain Redux Broom Dementia Redux

It's been raining all week at 3 PM . . . tennis got canceled earlier in the week but today I was able to sweep away the puddles with my big push broom and we were able to play the match-- but I left the fucking push broom at the courts again-- I am an idiot. 

Million to One Shot, Doc . . .

 

I bit into my soup dumpling and the juice shot right into my wine glass!

Rainy Round Trip

Yesterday, we had an away match against JFK (Iselin) who slaughtered us 5-0 last time-- and we were scheduled to have four matches this week, so I told my players to treat the match like a practice and just work on one thing-- hitting backhand winners, drop shots, big first serves, whatever-- because I didn't want them to get worn out in a match we couldn't win-- my son Ian was playing an excellent player, maybe the best in our division (and the seven or eight seed in the county) so I made a point to not watch him because I tend to make faces that annoy him when he hits dopey shots-- and when I passed him by in the second set (which he was losing) all I said was "have fun, you're first serve looks great" and then I found out from the other coach that Ian had WON the first set 6-4 and meanwhile our third singles won because JFK was missing a player and second singles was doing well (doubles were getting smacked) and Ian lost the second set 6-3 (but he had never taken a set off this kid before) and then in the third Ian took the lead-- he was crushing his first serve-- so he was up 5-4 -- but he eventually lost 7-5 . . . he ran out of serves-- but still, a great outing for him-- first singles is no joke-- so he was very sore today for North Brunswick-- a match we could win-- but we took a ride over to my hometown and while it wasn't raining in Highland Park, it was raining in North Brunswick-- so we pulled up, I got out and chatted with the coach for a minute, and then we turned around and headed home . . . very annoying but you can't play tennis in the rain-- so now we have four matches in a row next week.

Hey Books . . . Stop Trying to be 100 gecs

I can't get a break lately with the mystery books I've been reading lately-- I'm done skewering books on my podcast (If Books Could Kill does a better job and I just want to read things that are smart-- I don't have the time and energy to debunk idiotic stuff) but I keep reading mysteries that turn into weird shitty sci-fi/horror/paranormal adventures (notably The Quiet Boy and The House Across the Lake) and not only is Adam Hamdy's The Other Side of Night a mystery gone wrong (that starts with typical mystery tropes, a tough female cop, dismissed from her job because no one witnessed a chase gone wrong-- but it wasn't her fault-- and she gets involved in a weird case because of a cryptic note in a library book, a possible suicide -- or possible death by misadventure, as they say in England-- and an abandoned child with a secret) but then turns into a shitty sci-fi novel with time travel and a total misunderstanding of the "block universe" theory-- the narrator, a physicist, writes "I embrace the block theory of the universe, because if time doesn't pass, if all moments exist simultaneously, my son and his love are out there right now, somewhere in the gathered multitude of moments"-- but obviously the author is NOT a physicist and normally I wouldn't have thought much of this sentence, just chalked it up to sci-fi mumbo jumbo, but I have been serendipitously listening to  the new Sam Harris episode, which  features a REAL physicist-- Tim Maudlin-- who explains some misunderstandings about this block universe theory- and the fact that time still passes within this theory and within this four dimensional space of the block-- all four dimensions means is that you need four coordinate points to locate an event-- the outlier being time-- and so I'm going to implore these genre writers to stop treating books like 100 gecs songs-- songs can mix genres easier than books because songs are shorter and you have less time to think about what's happening-- but if you have a moment to contemplate, then going from realistic crime fiction to ridiculous oversimplified time travel and sci-fi appears very silly and absurd.

Monday is the Day You Forget Shit

I keep a big push-broom in my car so that before tennis matches, I can sweep water and/or tree catkins (green fuzzy pollen shit) and samaras (helicopters) off the court-- I had to sweep quite a bit of tree debris today and then I put the broom in the corner and promptly forgot about it-- but one of the friendly adults who always plays on the courts once the match is finished reminded me to take the broom home and I thanked him for the reminder, and then in the midst of cleaning up all the other tennis equipment, I forgot the broom and I had to drive back to the park-- and then when I got home for the second time I noticed that my son Alex's glasses had arrived -- and his dorm is back in that direction but still, I'm not driving out there again.

gecs!

Last night, my wife and I, my son Alex, and his girlfriend Eva made a foray into the heart of Brooklyn-- to the Avant Gardner concert/warehouse/event space in Bushwick-- to see 100 gecs . . . because of the awful weather, we drove in and we hit some traffic on the way there (and we took a route through Staten Island I've never driven-- kind of nuts in the rain, especially because there were these DOT trucks with crazy flashing lights, sirens, and hypnotic symbols that were weirder and more stimulating than the light show at the concert . . . I need to contact someone about these fucking things) but we made it, parked in a strange little lot with an entertaining old and slow-moving attendant-- Mr. Green-- who my wife had a long conversation with in his little attendant shack while the rest of us stood in the rain-- apparently Mr. Green has nine kids and usually one of them runs the lot at night but she was sick so he was doing it-- and then we walked through some sort of warehouse district to the venue and there was a fair bit of line waiting and pat-downs and a futuristic bracelet that you linked to your credit card so you could get beers and such without using cash; the interior of the warehouse was expansive and gritty-- exposed beams and boards and brick-- and the crowd was a wide-ranging, gender-fluid whimsically dressed and pierced group-- very fun to people watch-- but the opening band: Machine Girl . . . two dudes who play insanely loud industrial punk rock (it doesn't sound like that on Spotify!) was a bit beyond my noise tolerance (luckily we brought some earplugs) and then the gecs came on and pretty much played every good song from their first two albums, plus a few others-- their songs are short so they crammed them all in, at an even faster pace than the recorded versions-- I was a bit disappointed in the fact that they rarely played guitars (a couple times) and used a lot of loops and computer recordings but my son pointed out that their sounds are so weird that if they tried to reproduce them live it would get muddy and sound awful-- and they did sound crisp and clear and really fun and fantastic and Laura Les put on quite a show, between her insanely autotuned singing and her silly banter, while Dylan Brady wore his giant wizard hat and played keyboards and weird synth drums and synched computer parts and occasionally sang-- we didn't get out of there until midnight, but the ride home was much faster than the ride there . . . a good night and probably something that won't happen very often: we went to see a band in a really hip space that both my son, my wife, me, and my son's girlfriend all enjoyed-- quite the miracle.

The Mysteries of Your Musical Taste . . . Part Two!

 

It's finally up . . . Part Two of my epic investigation of musical taste-- my thoughts are (loosely) based on This is What It Sounds Like: What the Music You Love Says About You by Susan Rogers and Ogi Ogas and Hit Makers: The Science of Popularity in an Age of Distraction by Derek Thompson-- and I weave in loads of musical (and comedy sketch) clips and try to examine how our aesthetics tastes are formed (and possibly the futility of thinking they mean anything all that special).

Put Your Money Where Your Feet Is

Yesterday, my son Ian's feet were all messed up from the previous day's tennis match-- blisters and couple of toenails that looked like they were ready to rip off, so I told him he needed to cut his toenails or they were going to get worse but he said he was too tired and that he would do it in the morning and I said, "No way you're doing that before school . . . I'll bet you ten dollars you don't cut them" and he accepted the bet and-- surprisingly, he cut them-- so I paid out the bet but I told him this was the last time I was paying him to cut his toenails . . . I really hope that's true.

Tomorrow Morning is Double Convergence Friday!

While I'm not happy about the impending rainstorm (and accompanying blustery winds) that's going to make this weekend a washout (and make it difficult to get to the 100 gecs concert in Brooklyn) I am happy that I finally finished part II of my musical taste podcast-- if my podcast site goes back up any time soon, I'll put it online-- and I'm also happy that we've reached Friday in my Year-as-a-Week metaphor . . . tomorrow morning will be the convergence.

Tennis Etc.

So much tennis . . . and some Hamlet and some persuasive speeches in Public Speaking-- and a trip to the vet for Lola's exotic UTI-- hopefully the special urinalysis culture will give us the specific bacteria in her bladder that is causing the infection . . . but summer is coming.

Too Much to Bear

Because of some sort of copyright infringement, my high school had to remove the bear logo from their stadium turf field-- they hadn't paid to use it, so they had the field redone with a new original bear logo but now the bear is gigantic, off center, and far too realistic for a field logo . . . Coach Mckibbin says the bear looks great . . . if you're in a plane flying over the stadium . . . but even from a plane, it still wouldn't look like a logo, it has too many details, several shades of brown, a wide open red gullet-- while I'm not a graphic designer, in my humble opinion, this is a shit show (and who am I kidding . . . I'm not humble and this is not an opinion, it's fact).

From . . . Where Do They Come From?

A long day-- got up early to chip away at the new podcast episode, away tennis match in Metuchen, Catherine took the dog to the vet because she's got yet another UTI-- but we still had time to whip up a Hello Fresh meal and watch the season one finale of From . . . and it's scary and awesome-- we can't wait to check out season two.

Tracy Morgan . . . Back from the Dead

Over a decade ago, my wife and I saw Tracy Morgan perform his very profane, very insane brand of comedy at the State Theater-- the performance was underwhelming and downright weird at times; two years later, Morgan was in a limo that was struck by a Walmart truck and Morgan nearly died (another passenger, a fellow comedian, did die) but he survived, collected 90 million in damages, and returned to stand-up with a decent and celebratory Netflix special . . . Saturday night, my wife and I went to see him in a much smaller venue-- The Stress Factory in New Brunswick and he was much more entertaining-- his joes were too raunchy to transcribe here (but he did do 15 minutes on having sexual intercourse with very old women) and the crowd was either laughing hysterically, looking at each other as if to say "can we laugh at this" or doing both things simultaneously-- anyway, the house was packed, beyond sold out-- they crammed seats in every nook and cranny-- and obvioulsy Morgan is doing this because he loves doing stand-up (or sit-down . . . as he had to take frequent breaks-- he needed help to get on stage . . . unless that was a James Brown act) because he's got enough Walmart settlement money to retire . . . I don't think I'd see him again, but I'm glad he's back on his feet, making sexist, racist, politically incorrect non-sequiturs again-- actually living the life of 30 Rock's Tracy Jordan in reality.

Friday!

I went to school for five days in a row this week, but-- oddly-- I did not reach total enlightenment (nor were any prizes awarded).

My Turn!

 My kids like to take turns . . . getting in trouble (euphemistically known as experiential learning).

English Department Defeats Google . . . In Bed?

The other day I was racking my brain because I knew there was some situation where you insert the phrase "in bed" at the end of a sentence, for humorous effect, but I couldn't remember when you did this (and I was kind of mixing it up with Michael Scott's catch phrase "that's what she said") and I Googled it and it didn't come up so I thought I was losing my mind and that maybe I fabricated this idea and it was not a thing in the reality of our known universe but during lunch I asked my fellow English teachers and they said this was what you did with the little nugget of wisdom inside a fortune cookie and I was like "yes!" and I have no idea where this tradition originates but that's what I was thinking about-- "you will never hesitate to tackle the most difficult problems . . . in bed."

TV . . . It's What's On TV

Catherine and Ian were resistant to watching a new show-- they wanted to forge ahead with Money Heist (which is good, bit it's five million episodes so I wanted some variety) but I reminded them that in the old days you might watch a different show every day of the week and my wife conceded that point (although Ian didn't know what we were talking about) and so we started TWO shows-- both seems similar:  The Society and From . . . both shows are about being trapped in a town, both shows are creepy, and both shows are compelling-- I like From  a little better-- we ended up watching two episodes-- the pilot is pretty amazing-- and I think they will both provide a nice diversion from the infinite money heist.

The Raider Bird

A few hiccups today-- no Ian at first singles (got in some trouble at school) and Jakob was very late (Patrick retrieved him) but we still managed a 5-0 win over my alma mater, North Brunswick.

Your Musical Taste . . . Part One!

New episode of We Defy Augury up and streaming . . . "The Mysteries of Your Musical Taste: Part 1" . . .  the premise of this one is thoughts (loosely) based on This is What It Sounds Like: What the Music You Love Says About You by Susan Rogers and Ogi Ogas and Hit Makers: The Science of Popularity in an Age of Distraction by Derek Thompson, but I included so many examples and clips-- Glenn Gould, Little Richard, The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, Billy Joel, Vulfpeck, Rage Against the Machine, The Shaggs, Steely Dan, Lightnin' Hopkins, Ornette Coleman, Herbie Hancock, The Crystal Method, The Flaming Lips, Pavement, Johnny Cash, Sonic Youth, Adele, Tom Petty, Jason Aldean, Bob Dylan, The Chemical Brothers, The Wu Tang Clan, Hamilton, and N.W.A.-- that I had to stretch it into two episodes.

Talk to the Bus Driver: He Might Be Famous

On the way to tennis matches, I always make a point to chat with the van driver-- because I'm sitting shotgun and it would be rude just to stare at my phone-- and the conversation is usually the standard drivel-- which is annoying but tolerable-- but today was different: our driver was a large fairly corpulent black dude who looked to be my age, and on the way to the match we got to chatting about punk rock venues in the New Brunswick, indie bands from back in the day, the industrial band Ministry, and other related nostalgia-- then our team played the hottest tennis match ever (in April-- record-setting heat) and we beat Sayreville 4-1 . . . Ian lost to another dinker but the rest of the team came through-- and then on the way home the bus driver and I chatted about the ruins of Amboy Cinema and the great movies of 1999 and we got on the topic of superhero movies and comic books and he mentioned Luke Cage and then he mentioned that the guy who played Luke Cage-- Mike Colter-- actually played him in a movie and I was like "what?" and he said, "I'm famous" and it turns out that he was not fucking with me, our van driver was indeed famous; his name is Daryle Lamont Jenkins and he's a political activist who is credited with pioneering the technique of "doxing" bad actors-- he goes after neo-Nazis and he is a proud leader of the Antifa and Mike Colter (Luke Cage) played him in a film called Skin . . . so the moral here is: normally when you talk to the bus driver, it's going to be about traffic and property taxes and car maintenance, but once in a while, you'll run into something completely different . . . so go ahead and roll the dice (the other thing I learned on this ride is that one of our tennis players is on the Highland Park Board of Health . . . he informed us that a particular restaurant did not have permits).

So Much For Spring

Hottest April tennis practice in history . . . but we played a fun game to make the points go quickly: tiebreaker to 7, you get one serve-- so you are hitting a second serve-- but returner has three shots to win the point-- if the server can get it back in play three times, the server wins the point-- very fun and taught kids to engineer and win points quickly, with a hard deep return or a drop shot, or get to the net and finish . . . hopefully this will pay off tomorrow when we play in the 90 degree heat.

Free to Die Whenever We Damned Please

The new Plain English podcast dives into a depressing question: "Why do Americans die so much younger than people in any other rich country?" and the answer is multi-faceted, but it can be boiled down to:

1) a proliferation of guns;

2) a proliferation of dangerous drugs- mainly opioids and fentanyl-- that lead to an incredible number of overdoses;

3) a proliferation of big cars, which we drive faster and more than people in other rich nations;

4) a proliferation of health and medical issues: our diet, unequal distribution of healthcare,  the fact that we drive more and walk less, which leads to poor health outcomes (aside from things we focus on, like prostate cancer)

5) the American attitude and character-- which can make us more creative and interesting and rich, but can also make us defend the proliferation of assault rifles, the right to drink giant Big Gulps, the right to not get vaccinated, the right to drive giant heavy deadly gas-guzzling cars, the right to live wherever we want and commute as long and far as we want, the right to do drugs, the right to NOT be filmed by traffic safety cameras, and the right to not provide a safety net for many of the workers in our nation . . . which provides cheap labor which is great for capitalism and may help us be the leading innovators in the world but may also help us be the best at dying as well.

Ugly First Match

Today we drove to Old Bridge- a giant group 4 school-- with a limited line-up . . . Michael was away for Passover and Akhul was sick-- and we definitely had some first match jitters; Ian played awful-- just couldn't loosen up and hit the ball-- and Ethan lost the first set 7-6 in a 21-19 tiebreaker-- some sort of record?-- they were dinking it back and forth forever-- but then he started hitting the ball and won the second set and a third set tiebreaker-- ultimately we lost 3-2 in a very very long match but if we played loosely and strategically we would have won . . . instead we played like high school boys in their first match of the season and lost.

Whatever You Believe, Please Try To Climb the Political Ladder

Blogger, author and illustrator Tim Urban doesn't think right/left expresses the politics and polarization in our great nation-- first of all, he doesn't think that most people are actually into POLITICS . . . he thinks they are into reality TV based on politics-- narrative with main characters and epic conflicts and no room for boring, rational people who go to work, pass bills, make progress, impede stupidity, and think like a scientist-- but his "ladder" of thinking puts things on a much clearer spectrum; you can have some deep convictions but as long as you're willing to think like a scientist and weigh evidence, good things can happen-- and even if you think like a sports fan-- even if you are rooting for your team but still want to maintain the integrity of the game and respect a good play or a smart --game plan even if it's not your home team-- then that's not so bad . . . but once you go below that it doesn't matter what you believe, it's how you are believing it-- and down there, it's a mess (I still haven't read Urban's new book but Sam Harris has a great conversation with him).

 

Easter Sunday Tennis Resurrection

This afternoon, my brother, Alex, Ian and I played some doubles at Mercer County Park before Easter dinner-- Alex hadn't played since the summer (when he played once or twice) and my brother has been playing primarily pickleball so that evened up the teams-- it was my brother and I versus the children the old men won the bulk of the games-- the only times the children won was when Ian was serving-- he's got a big first serve now-- but most importantly, much fun was had by all, especially Alex because I kept forgetting he was left-handed and hit him some very poachable balls at the net, which he slammed with glee at my brother-- my brother is not used to the size my children have grown to . . . they are both much taller than the two of us and when Alex hits an overhead off of one of my lame cross-court shots, it's coming down at a crazy angle.

Wind . . . What is it Good For?

The wind is the most annoying element in sports (except when it becomes a tornado-- then it's one of the most deadly elements) and while I love pickleball, the ball is highly susceptible to the wind-- and yesterday was the first time I ever played pickleball in a low wind speed situation and it was awesome . . . you can lob and you can really hit the ball hard (I haven't played indoors yet . . . or not since 1988 in gym class at NBTHS).

History . . . What is It Good For?

New episode of We Defy Augury up . . .  I read a couple of history books and learned a few things-- but probably not as much as I should have learned: "Revolutions, Reconstructions, and a Mountain Lion."

John Mulaney Stole My Bit!

I was texting with my friend Whitney today and I recommended he listen to the album "10000 gecs"-- but I also recommended the context in which he should listen to the album . . . this is an album to enjoy with a beverage or a substance or perhaps driving alone in the car, blasting it with the windows open (but do not combine all three) and I told him when he played Track 2 (757) he should recall this moment from 2004:

it's the Outer Banks Fishing Trip and there are twenty dudes crammed into the Martha Wood cottage-- a beach shack at Milepost 12-- and it's dark and we're drunk and playing some poker and also playing some tunes-- on a CD player-- and I've got Ween's new album Quebec and I'm playing "The Fucked Jam" over and over and over, for two reasons-- 

number one, I love "The Fucked Jam". . . the incomprehensible high-pitched lyrics, the weird synths, the random dips and pauses that make you think this groovy abomination is over . . . 

but the second reason I'm playing this track over and over is that it's driving this huge guy Tinsley, once a linemen for the W&M football team, absolutely crazy-- and he's new to our fishing trip-- he wasn't in our fraternity-- and so perhaps he's not used to my brand of humor-- but the song is really driving him nuts and I keep promising him that it's over, but then it starts again-- check out 23 seconds in, it does that dip quite often-- and then I sincerely promise him I'm going to play another track from the album-- and then I don't and I feign surprise and tell him I thought it was over . . . and this goes on and on until he finally runs around the table, pops the CD player open, grabs the disk, sprints out to the porch, shaking the house with his massive footsteps, and throws the disc into the dunes-- which was completely deserved and we laughed and laughed-- and then a few years later-- and I'm just putting this together now-- John Mulaney does his "Salt and Pepper Diner" bit, about playing the Tom Jones song "What's New Pussycat" over and over at a diner, until the people in the diner lose their mind-- and he talks about how the song has a "dip in it," just like "The Fucked Jam" and I'm just realizing that Mulaney stole my bit (although my punchline was much better-- a giant football player barreling across the porch and chucking a little discus into the darkness) and I will simply await a simple thank you for the idea that propelled him to great fame and fortune.

Tennis Canceled (Self Reflective Stretch Day)

No tennis match today-- the weather is truly ugly-- and we could probably use a bit more practice so this might be a good thing, so this afternoon (after listing to this podcast) I have been trying to some flexibility exercises and it turns out that I should stop bench pressing and start sitting on the floor, getting up off the floor, doing Asian deep squats, and hanging from bars (not hanging in bars) or I'm going to be a burden to my flexible and fit wife (who can pop up from criss-cross applesauce without using her hands) when I get older . . . although I can get up off the ground without using my hands-- but I have to twist to my knees, so I've got that going for me . . . or I could keep bench-pressing and if I need any assistance when I get old, i could just punch a young person and then tell them they need to help me or I'll punch them again (but I'll have to coax them into getting down to ground level, since I won't be able to lift myself up).

This Doesn't Bode Well . . .

Today at tennis practice, our third singles player and I beat Ian and Ethan -- first and second singles-- in a set . . . Ian has the yips with his backhand and Ethan must have been up playing video games all night . . . first match is tomorrow-- I hope they get it together.

Horror with Panache (or Should I Say Flair?)

Last Night in Soho, which on first glance might seem like some other kind of film-- perhaps a feminine/Anglophile version of Woody Allen's Midnight in Paris-- but the film is NOT directed by Woody Allen, it's directed by Edgar Wright (Shaun of the Dead, Hot Fuzz, Baby Driver, etc) and this is most definitely stylish and dream horror movie-- and it's a horror movie that makes decent sense (unlike Barbarian) but it mainly becomes a ghoulish contest of which blonde has more style, glamour and verve: Sandie (Anya Taylor-Joy) or Eloise (Thomasin McKenzie) and the film is a reminder not to romanticize the past because it might not live up to your expectation (or die up to your expectations).

Remember When Harry Potter Fought Jesus?

I've just started listening to The Witch Trials of J.K. Rowling and it seems Rowling is a useful and fascinating lens with which to observe the polarization of our culture-- I also forgot (until I listened to episode 2) how crazed the conservative Christians were about banning the Harry Potter books in the late 90s because they seduced children away from the magic of Jesus and towards the magic and necromancy and divination and sorcery and spells and fantasy of Hogwarts and the Potter pantheon-- and the books were just a victim of scale, of course, because there were plenty of fantasy books with far darker magic (I vaguely remember reading The Elfstones of Shannara in middle school . . . I think there's a nuclear war metaphor in that one) but the Harry Potter books were singular in their mass market domination-- anyway, it's an interesting podcast that's got a far broader scope than just talking about some J.K. Rowling tweets.

Horror and Lunch Buffet

Last night, Catherine and I watched the horror movie Barbarian and while I will admit that every decision every single regular person made in the movie was stupid and irrational and utterly insane, I was still gripping my wife's leg in terror throughout the film-- I don't really understand the title (although the film did take place on Barbary Street . . . a rundown abandoned Detroit suburb inhabited by squatters and derelicts-- aside form one cute AirBnB?) but there were so many bad choices . . . but that's how horror movies happen I suppose-- and maybe in this film most of the bad choices were made by men, but Tess-- the leading lady-- doesn't fare much better-- nor does the female arch-villain-- but it's still a fun and crazy journey; almost as scary was our ride to Muhlenberg University this morning-- torrential rain-- but the campus was lovely, the weather cleared up, and the free lunch at the dining hall was phenomenal-- since when does college have good food?

Spring Break! Spring Break?

Long last day of school-- I covered a class so I worked every minute, plus the kids are wild animals the day before break . . . this poor girl in Public Speaking class had to do a speech today-- she was absent last class-- and the assignment was to perform either a toast or a eulogy . . . and kids often eulogize goofy stuff like bad haircuts and their motivation but she was doing a semi-serious one about her dog, a teacup Yorkie-- who died a few years ago-- and her friends got the giggles because she was describing such a tiny dog and then when it got sad, they kept giggling and it got contagious because teenagers are idiots and I pretty much regretted all my life choices that had led me to being in that room full of those teenagers on the day of Spring Break-- but we got through it and the rest of the stupid classes and then there was still tennis practice but now I'm finally home, drinking a beer, listening to Beach House, and winding down from a long fucking stretch of school.

Dave Learns Too Much Today

I took over a new class today (because Cunningham got knocked up) and my co-teacher was out, so I had to learn a lot on my own (sort of, I called Cunningham twice on the phone, to her chagrin and the students' amusement, I enlisted the aid of our two tech support guys, and I asked the students numerous questions) and this new class is called Publisher's Workshop and the purpose of the class is to create all the articles and spreads for the school yearbook and to fill the school web page with articles-- so it's serious shit-- and I learned how to log onto Cuningham's iMac (it's slow and I hate the mouse) and I learned how to log onto the Bearhub web site -- which seems like a Wordpress blog-- and I got a Canva account (different from Canvas) so I can do the layouts-- and-- most importantly-- I learned the last name of my co-teacher-- because I only knew her first name, so now when she comes back I can refer to her properly in front of the kids . . . I took the kids (there are only eight of them) on a field trip today to the secret location where they store the tissue boxes-- I go directly to this secret location instead of putting in an order with the supplies lady-- so I taught them something (but probably not commensurate with what they taught me) and then we had picture day for the tennis team and I had to deal with MORE platforms-- the UTR site-- some kids have two accounts-- and Remind and Google classroom . . . so to summarize, I'm on a lot of platforms: Canvas, Gmail, Remind, Microsoft Email, Canva, Bearhub, UTR, and probably some shit I'm not even aware of . . . what have we wrought?

Long Fucking Afternoon

My son Ian, a senior, and Ethan-- an athletic and skilled sophomore, played their challenge match today for the first singles position and it wasn't pretty; Ian had two fingers taped on his left hand from a basketball injury and couldn't hit his patented two-handed backhand and Ethan suffered from calf cramps; Ian won the first set 6-1, Ethan won the second set 6-3 and then Ian won the third set 6-4 . . . Ethan showed that he's incredibly fast and can get to almost anything, Ian hit some decent first serves, but it was mainly a war of attrition and I'd kind of like to see them play again when they are both perfectly healthy.

Almost Fucking There

The Rutgers Expos team is slogging its way toward Spring Break but there's a bunch of essays, an Excel Spreadsheet, numerous college credit forms, and a bizarre final exam (called the FIE) in our way . . . I didn't realize there were so many obstacles in my way until Stacey called them to my attention Monday morning-- but we are diligently working through them (and I guess this happens every year but I conveniently forget about all this bullshit) and once this stuff is done and we make it to Spring Break, we will be in the final stretch . . . the fourth quarter!

March Showers Are Fucking Cold

The weather apps did not concur-- my students, with their newfangled iPhones, said their Apple weather app predicted 90% rain, but my much derided Weather Underground app said it wouldn't rain until 5 PM-- and the Weather Gods went with the Weather Underground (so we got 90 minutes of tennis practice in before we got wet).

Life is Scarier Than Death

It's easier to fight a deranged possessed puppet than it is to be an executrix . . . or at least that's my argument in this week's episode of We Defy Augury.

One-on-one Doubles

 

My high school tennis team is going to play one-on-one doubles every day at practice-- they can't do it well yet, but they have improved-- it's a great game to practice serving net play, agility, and fitness (and I can hang in with the better players because I can serve and volley and I don't need to cover so much court).

gecs!

I am still obsessed with the album 10000 gecs . . . I'm sure I'll get sick of it, but I'm listening to this album the way I listened to Paul's Boutique, The Pod, OK Computer, and The Soft Bulletin (among others) and it definitely scratches my brain.

Chat GPT is a Prude

I haven't played with Chat GPT in a while, but it rained today-- resulting in no tennis practice-- so I got to screwing around and I asked it a question inspired by a Beatles lyric and this is the pablum I got . . .

Yes, "Why don't we do it in the road?" is commonly interpreted as an invitation for sexual activity. However, engaging in sexual activity in public, especially on a road, is illegal and can be dangerous for a number of reasons.

First and foremost, engaging in sexual activity in public can lead to criminal charges for indecent exposure, public lewdness, or other related offenses. Additionally, it can be unsafe as there is an increased risk of being caught by law enforcement or pedestrians, as well as potential injury from passing vehicles.

In short, it is never advisable to engage in sexual activity in public, including on a road. It is important to prioritize personal safety and follow the laws and regulations set forth in one's community.

So Many gecs

If you liked this song, then you might like 100 gecs . . . if you need some context, listen to the new Switched on Pop . . . or go all the way . . . 1000 gecs . . . or even better: 10,000 gecs!

Longest Week of the Year

The long angry week: half days with no lunch, four fucking days of spring parent conferences-- unheard of anywhere except East Brunswick-- tennis practice, then back for conferences from 5 PM - 8 PM . . . and Route 18 is all fucked up on both sides so it's white-knuckle middle-finger-flipping chaos to get back and forth from tennis practice in Highland Park to the stupid night conferences . . . and I just got the Rutgers expos essays . . . I should have been a librarian or a hedge fund manager or grifter.

El Orfanato plus Being John Malkovich Equals?

If you're looking for a horror novel with serious puppetry, Being John Malkovich level marionette skills, then check out the new Grady Hendrix novel How to Sell a Haunted House . . . some of the scenes get a little long winded, but the book is very scary, very funny, and very Southern gothic (and once again, set in Charleston) AND there is an amazing bonus flashback set piece chapter set in Boston back when one of the main characters dropped out of college and joined a radical puppet collective with demonic and anarchic tendencies-- brilliant stuff . . . and Pupkin is a worthy villain and the book has a satisfying (and fairly logical, considering the subject matter) resolution . . . Grady Hendrix is a national treasure.

Wild Times

I was going to run over to T.J. Maxx today and buy some athletic socks, but instead I ordered them on Amazon.

Thus Endeth the Streak

I played pickle ball today and tennis Thursday and Friday, and I did not fall down on any of those days . . . good times.

NCAA Weirdness Has Selected New Jersey

Rutgers doesn't make March Madness but Princeton and FDU move on . . . a New Jersey minor miracle (after a St. Peters major miracle last year).

Tennis: First Day!

Whirlwind day: reverse schedule because of testing; Cunningham had a mental breakdown because of the positioning of her horizontal oblique fetus, and the fact that she needs to buy a car, get married, do a million parent/teacher conferences, get married, plan all her classes, and grade all her stuff . . . all before the baby pops out (although if she gets chased by a fungus person, it will pop out faster than you can say "Ellie) and while I'd never wish a mental breakdown on someone, it did make me less stressed about our first tennis practice . . . things went well, I raced out of school, drove home, let the dog out, made some coffee, and made it to the courts on time-- we only had ten kids out today but that's not bad for the first day, expecting a few more; we focused on the forehand today and did two forehand games-- one where you CANNOT hit a winner-- you can only score by hitting deep topspin forehands, past the service line, until the other person screws up-- and you get TWO points if they hit the net; the other where the server only gets one serve and the returner gets THREE shots, including the return, to win the point-- so in one game you consistent heavy forehands, like Nadal, until you wear your opponent out-- in the other you try to hit forehand winners-- very fun (and I got to play and absolutely crushed it . . . although I didn't play Ian or Ethan, who will be one and two) and then I got home fro tennis and Catherine was at the chiropracter so I got right to work on dinner and made some delicious homemade meatballs (with the help of Hello Fresh) and she was very appreciative-- and now all I need is Auburn to win and I'll be in good shape.

What The Kids Are Up To . . .

On our ride home from the Catskills, my son Alex gave me the lowdown on college-- apparently fraternity hazing still happens, as does the use of various narcotics-- he also told me that college kids are very protective about their TikTok For You page . . . apparently by college the TikTok algorithm is so precise and addictive that letting anyone else scroll on your For You page would reveal all your secret peccadilloes and personality quirks-- I checked with my high school kids and the were not as defensive in regards to their personalized TikTok feeds . . . some kids said they wouldn't want people to see it (one girl said her feed is mainly "random teenagers crying") but other kids said they would be fine sharing-- so maybe it takes a few years for the algorithm to really pinpoint your personality-- who knows-- but Alex took all the social media off his phone so he could focus on school: he's been waking up early; studying a lot; and playing loads of intramural basketball . . . I also learned that he did NOT watch two shows that my students were into when they were young: Victorius and Jane the Virgin-- neither of my kids watch them, nor did they watch Grey's Anatomy, another show that is a favorite with my current students . . . and THAT is what the kids are up to.

Mark Leyner vs. The Internet

 

Take a trip back to the '90s in my new episode of We Defy Augury . . . the internet didn't quite work yet, but the movies were awesome.

Back to Belleayre (But Better)

Last spring, Alex and I took a trip to Belleayre Mountain to do some snowboarding in celebration of his acceptance to the Rutgers Engineering Program but the weather was weird-- rainy then balmy then frigid and icy-- so we did more hiking and eating in Phoenicia than snowboarding but this trip was far more fun . . . we were luck to get ANY snowboarding in this year because the winter was so lousy for snow so my son was very happy that things worked out-- he's on Spring Break and tennis season isn't ready to start yet because of the weather; anyway, we drove up to Kingston on Saturday night, ate some cheap pizza and crashed at the Best Western-- we had to have our room moved because 

1) our window claustrophobically faced an indoor arcade/pool courtyard and all the kids were screaming;

2) the people in the room next door were chain-smoking cigarettes and it was seeping through the door-- we ratted them out and the management put us in a very quiet room with a window facing the river;

Sunday was sunny and beautiful on the mountain and there was still fresh snow from the last storm and it really didn't get that crowded until after lunch-- we put in a long day and my feet and calves hurt-- first time using those muscles this season-- and then we drove down to Phoenicia, wandered around some, and ate at Brio's Pizzeria, which is highly recommended for incredible pizza (with sesame seeds ont he crust!) and beer and pulled pork burritos and everything else-- we watched some college basketball and then headed to the Starlite Motel to crash-- but first we learned that Rutgers would NOT be making the Bog Dance-- very sad but they didn't have enough out of conference wins and crumbled down the stretch in the Big 10-- this morning, we woke up to a wonderful surprise-- it snowed a bunch on the mountain, so we got to ride some fresh powder . . . so we ate our leftover pizza and headed to the mountain and the place was empty-- a great trip (aside from when I slipped and fell on some ice while getting on a lift and nearly got decapitated by the chair-- but I was able to pop back up and the lift attendant slowed the chair down enough so that I could hop on without injury or mishap) but the ride home was ugly-- the snow turned to rain and I'll actually have to deal with the stupid time change tomorrow.

 

Socks Suck

 Enough said.

My Boss is the Best

Yesterday, I had leftover tilapia for lunch and I needed some gum before I went back to class and breathed on the students and even though my boss was on the phone when I barged into her office, she fished some gum out of her purse and gave it to me (she said she went into multi-tasking mode, like she does when dealing with her two pre-school age children).

Cold Times in Laramie

If you're looking for a grim, bloody, disturbing podcast that investigates the unreliability of memory and the possibility that all first-person accounts are distorted and tainted-- a podcast that will make you question your own memory of the life you thought you knew, then check out the newest Serial production: The Coldest Case in Laramie . . . but it's a fucking bleak story set in a bleak place and I've listened to seven of the eight episodes and I doubt there will be a satisfying resoution.

A Podcast is Worth 10,000 Words

I converted one of my podcasts to text (using Otter.ai) and then cleaned it up and made it into a blog post and it turns out that a podcast is a lot of words, a whole lots of words . . . so if you want to read a whole lot of words, here it is: "Tomorrow I Will Play Video Games, Tomorrow."

Adulting 201

Lynn Steger Strong's novel Flight is a reminder of how difficult it is to be an adult-- to deal with money, finances, children, death, real estate, discussion about money and finances, substance abuse and parenting, and complex relationships within a family . . . the book reminds me of an ensemble cast Robert Altman movie-- Short Cuts or Gosford Park-- in the opening moments you don't think you're capable of keeping track of all the characters, but then, inevitably you do.

Delayed Reaction Dave

So I was going up for a rebound Saturday and some kid continued to box me out, even though I was in the air, and I took a hard horizontal fall but I felt okay yesterday-- good enough to play pickle ball (but not soccer) but this morning I felt like I'd been hit by a train-- mainly on the right side of my body, where I hit the floor, but I was also having trouble turning my neck-- but after trudging through my day, I went out with Ian and hit some tennis balls and then we played a game of 21 and though we weren't playing hard, i almost beat him-- got to 19, made one free throw and then missed the next one, sending me back down to 11 . . . anyway, I'm drinking a Swamp Donkey Pale Ale right now, and hoping when I wake up tomorrow I feel a bit less sore.

Anyone Seen This Guy Lately?

A couple of pictures of me circa 1993 (courtesy of my buddy Neil) when we went out to meet our buddy in Tahoe-- apparently thirty years ago the hair on my head hadn't migrated to my chest and I was still light enough to get some air on a snowboard (although I did jump up and slam a pickleball today). 

 

Yikes

I went up for a rebound today while playing four-on-four basketball with my son and somehow got my legs swept out from under me and hit the floor hard-- and my body was horizontal-- I think I came down on my right elbow and right arm and my right hip . . . I hot so hard my glasses flew off, but-- miraculously-- I did not hit my head on the floor and after a moment to shake it off, I was able to get up and continue playing-- but I might be sore tomorrow.

Sports: The Great and the Terrible

I got one sporting birthday gift for my birthday, and one sporting slap in the face:

1) Alex and Ian played together in a volleyball tournament yesterday and they did NOT get into any kind of altercation . . . unlike the last time they played some sports together . . . so this made me very happy, the fact that they played together on the same team, cooperated, and had a good time-- wonderful stuff;

2) then, once the boys got home, we sat down to eat chicken parm and watch Rutgers basketball close out the Minnesota game-- Rutgers had a comfortable lead the entire game, and we were all sitting there-- like old times-- so our dog Lola was incredibly happy and content to have her entire pack together at last-- and then Rutgers imploded and there was much yelling, even from my wife, and Lola got scared and Rutgers blew a ten point lead in the last minute-- I'm not sure why they didn't pressure the ball at the end of the game, or why they had guys in the paint when the only way they could lose was the three-pointer, but they figured out a way to squander that lead, it was like the fever dream of Reggie Miller when he scored 8 points in 8 seconds to beat the Knicks.

Dave and The Good Doctor Celebrate Yet Another Birthday With Some Doggerel Rhymes

The day has arrived,

the day of my birth--

The day Seuss and I

debuted on the Earth;

And while the good doctor

has passed from this place,

I'm still hanging on

still running the race,

still working the job,

still writing the posts,

still chasing the lob,

still taunting the ghosts--

I've been knocking around

for fifty-three years,

my knees are a wreck,

I can barely quaff beers--

but while I can walk,

stand and not fall,

I'll remain in the game

and play pickleball.

Various Kinds of Door Decorating

 

My older son Alex turned nineteen today (WTF!) and my wife slipped out of work at lunch and went to his dorm and decorated his dorm room door (and dropped off some cupcakes) which was lovely (and my brother took him out to lunch) but it does remind me of some "door decorating" that we did in the fraternity house in college-- my friend Whitney and I threw apples at a door every single day, until a thick crust of apple residue built up on the door and the floor in front of the door, and then we framed another guy so he took the blame; someone else painted a door pink, and the person's whose door got painted pink took a drive and found some roadkill, bagged it, brought it back to the fraternity house, and nailed it their door for revenge.

Contingency Waist Plan

 If I acquire a big beer belly, I'm wearing my friend Cunningham's pregnancy jeans!

Comparing Apples and Fungi

Which was scarier: watching last night's Rutgers basketball game or the new "spooky mall" episode of The Last of Us?

Here It Comes . . . The Long Haul

This is it: the long haul of school that precedes Spring Break-- five-day week after five-day week, tedium and repetition and no breaks in sight-- by the end of this stretch, some teachers and students will be empty husks, others will descend into madness, and very few will learn anything of value.