It's more fun to pilfer one rock at a time from the park, then it is to wheelbarrow a bunch of free rocks in a pile by the public works building all the way back up the hill to my house.
Atlanta = Black Seinfeld
When Donald Glover's brainchild Atlanta isn't being totally weird (like the recent Black Mirror reparations episode) it reminds me of Seinfeld:
Darius is, of course, Kramer-- and the episode about the Steve McQueen poster where Earn trades his cell phone at a pawn shop and enters the world of Darius and the dogs is a perfect example of this;
Earn is George-- poor, jobless, a mess with women, looking for purpose, and angry at the systems of the world;
Alfred (Paper Boi) is Jerry, the straight-man performer who usually has the most common sense of the bunch;
Van is Elaine-- a tough candid beautiful broad with an entangled past with one of the main characters, but no solid relationship with any of them and her own aspirations;
it's one of my all-time favorite shows, up there with Curb and Seinfeld and The Wire and The Shield, just awesome . . . don't miss it.
The Wild World of HP Sports
The rainy weather finally broke today, allowing us to play our match against Edison Academy-- a nerdy math magnet school with a lot of tennis players-- and things started chaotically and just kept getting messier; I was driving over with my son Ian when my older son Alex texted-- the one bus that Highland Park runs did not show up, and this is the bus that takes kids to the townhouse complex near the courts, so I turned around and picked up Alex and his buddy Boyang . . . so now I was driving first, second and third singles to the match, but Boyang didn't have his racket, so I dropped him off and headed to the courts-- because the other team was already there; the plan was that I would unload the equipment and then Alex would take the car and go back and pick-up Boyang; we arrived and Edison Academy was there in full force and we only had a couple of players present; I knew we were missing our second doubles team (Jewish Holiday) so we were already short players to begin with, but then I couldn't find Jakob or Ethan; soon enough, however, I was directed to where Ethan was splayed out on a bench-- he had crashed on his pennyboard (a little fast skateborad) and had some serious road rash on his shoulder, knee, and hand . . . Alex just got back with the van and Boyang, so I ran and got the First Aid kit and cleaned him up and patched him up as best as I could, but he was in no condition to play; Jakob did arrive, but he had to ride his bike through the park, which was totally flooded-- so he was biking through two feet of water-- and, a true Highland Park athletics story, we now had to replace Ethan with Theo, a novice at tennis and a freshman who had never played a real set of tennis in his life . . . and then I learned from the coach that this was just a scrimmage as they hadn't officially joined the GMC, which was a relief, so while we got beat in every position, it was competitive all around-- Ian was having a great match but had to bow out because of an ankle injury and Alex and Boyang squandered leads to excellent players, and first doubles took a set before losing and Theo and Isaac held their own; anyway, it's Friday and I'm now officially on Spring Break (even though we have four tennis matches in a row next week) and will get to spend some quality time with the dog while my kids and wife are at school.
The Nineties . . . Whatever
If you came of age in the 1990s then it really helps to read a book about all the stuff you didn't pay attention to . . . all the stuff you didn't bother to read about or see on TV or develop opinions on because you were snowboarding or rock-climbing or going to Lollapalooza or whatever; Chuck Klosterman wrote this book and whether you grew up in the 90s or just want to understand Generation X, I recommend you read it; I was born in 1970, so my first decade as an adult happened in the 1990s . . . and I did not vote in a presidential election-- why bother when all politicians were sell-outs?-- and there was nothing worse in the 90s than to be a sell-out . . . although Klosterman points out for every Kurt Cobain there was a Garth Brooks . . . I actually told my first department head, when she was making some sort of workplace demand, that the only reason I came to work was to earn money so I could go on snowboarding trips (she found this amusing) and Klosterman reminds us that this was the last time period when it was fine to NOT know stuff-- there was no magical device on which you could look everything up and also look up every take and opinion and spin about that thing-- we would get into the same argument time after time when my friends were all drinking: did peanuts grow underground or above ground? and then we'd look it up and then we'd forget and argue about it again . . . Klosterman revisits the big stuff-- Waco and Tupac and Tarantino and Jordan-- and lots of fun little things that you may or may not remember (Liz Phair, The Day After Tomorrow novel, Biosphere 2, tons of TV and music and movies, etc) and he finishes with the Bush/Gore election and how no one thought it mattered as it happened-- the two guys were SO similar-- but then in the ensuing chaos and resultant Supreme Court decisions-- which happened along party lines-- lines were drawn and sides formed, and then he has a cool set piece: he runs through all the front pages of newspapers on 9/10/2001 and they are so various: from missile defense to KFC's strategy in China and he reminds us that the world was still big and various and unknowable but the nice thing was America was on top and the economy was humming and then the next day nineteen men with boxcutters passed through airport security and everything changed and the complacent, whatever vibe of the 90s collapsed with the Twin Towers.
Dave Breaks the Rule
As many of you know, I am generally an advocate of the Golden Rule of Food Hygiene:
Never leave perishable food out for more than 2 hours
but today after school, I broke the rule . . . once again, Ian forgot to eat the hardboiled egg that my wife made (and peeled) for him this morning and I hadn't eaten lunch, so when I saw it on the counter I grabbed it and inhaled it (so quickly that I got the hiccups) and while I did some research and you should NOT eat peeled boiled eggs that are left out in the danger zone (between 40°F and 140°F) but so far so good, I'm writing this sentence, I'm not in intestinal distress, and I will probably follow the rules in the future.
A Good Start
It's always nice to start the season with a win, especially if it's your first win ever as a varsity tennis coach, so I was especially appreciative of the effort the tennis team put in today against a very tough JFK squad; as usual, it all came down to Boyang, in the third set, and he was cramping in both legs-- but he came through in the clutch and won 6-4, giving us a three to two win on a cold day . . . which is where spring sports in New Jersey always begins-- and it always ends when it's too hot and humid to hold onto the racket.
A Supposedly Fun Thing I'll Do Again
We met some friends at Flounder Brewing Company in Hillsborough yesterday, and the beer was great (especially the Fred IPA, the Brown Ale, and the Black Emerald) and the atmosphere was even better-- the tasting room is rustic, all wood and big rough-hewn beams, and there are several nice patios and dogs are allowed-- eventually, a bluegrass-style band started playing and it was hard to tell you were in central Jersey (unless you listened to the conversation) and then, once we had sampled the beers, we wandered ten yards over to Bellemara Distillery and the drinks they made from their single malt gin and single malt "spirit" were, incomprehensibly, even better than the beer next door . . . I had a Herbaceous, which had Thai Basil, Star Anise, Lime, Jalapeño, Lemongrass Syrup, and their single malt gin-- yikes it was good-- so we will be returning to this little complex on the way to the Sourlands, it's scenic, only twenty-five minutes from Highland Park, and feels like a little vacation.
Word in One!
I know nothing is more boring than hearing a grown man's Wordle journey BUT . . . this morning I awoke and a new opening world popped into my head-- a very Dave word, as Zman said . . . a word that we often use in Creative Writing, a word made famous by this website-- and it turned out that this rather odd word was THE word of the day . . . which is actually kind of sad because I didn't get to play Wordle, really . . . my wife said I should play the lottery but I think I SHOULDN'T play the lottery because all my luck is used up for the day.
Worth the Spot
Stacey drove me to the library today during school so I didn't have to give up my pole-position parking spot (I need to exit the school in a hurry because I coach tennis in my hometown) and then we stopped at Wawa and I bought her a well-deserved coffee . . . but she also insisted that I buy a jumbo-sized bag of Sour Patch Kids for the English Office, which I did . . . and I ate a bunch of them and realized that though they are delicious, there's no difference in flavor between the different colors-- and we verified this with a Cunningham blind taste test-- and my pole-position spot worked and I got out of the school in a hurry and made it on time for the van-ride to the match in Edison and wow was it cold and then it rained and then it dried and we got started and then it rained again and we got postponed.
F U Cells and Formulas
At least some girl in my college writing class knew how to fix the Rutgers Excel spreadsheet . . . because I sure as hell don't know how to use Excel (I'm an English teacher, not an accountant!)
Potpourri
I returned to my old stomping grounds for a tennis scrimmage match today and while the match was a great success tennis-wise (Ian, Alex, and Boyang won their singles matches, as did our second doubles team-- against a school in the highest division, a school five times our size) but Boyang left his expensive blue puffy winter jacket at the court and he didn't realize until we were well on our way back to Highland Park-- so we'll see how that turns out, hopefully, the coach grabbed it-- and I had a meltdown at school because of this insane Excel spreadsheet that all the Rutgers college writing teachers need to fill out-- what a pain in the ass-- I was ranting and raving about it so much that my boss just ignored me and left (very wise of her) but Brady had a decent solution-- we'll only put the kids on it that want Rutgers credits; also, Stacey had a different Wordle word than the rest of us (we all had "stove" but Stacey had "harry") and I solved it for her-- with some help from Smurphy-- and we figure Stacey is either dead or living in an alternate universe . . . and people are starting to get used to us walking backwards up the terminal.
Something Spooky
Batman: The Long Halloween, by Jeph Loeb and Tim Sale, is a dark, moody, and surreal graphic novel-- and it's got all the usual villains; the story of how Harvey Dent became Two-Face; several organized crime families; Arkham Asylum; and a serial killer named Holiday . . . who commits grisly murders on holidays . . . highly recommended if you're looking for something fun to read (and your eyes are tired from grading essays).
Tennis Anyone?
I thought it might get up to 45 degrees today-- that was the initial weather report-- but instead the high was a brisk 38 and the winds were nearly 20 mph . . . which made for an interesting tennis practice, but we reviewed some doubles strategy (I made the kids watch a video and take a quiz yesterday, as it was 30 degrees and too cold to even attempt practice) and played for as long as we could stand it; tomorrow is our first scrimmage, so hopefully it will warm up a bit and we can shed the winter gear and work up a sweat (I certainly haven't needed my wristbands).
Not That Sick
I've got some kind of cold or allergies or sinus thing, so I'm all stuffed up and I have a sore throat-- but luckily, I tested negative for COVID . . . and-- also luckily-- I'm not so sick that I can watch "Is It Cake" with my wife and younger son-- I'd have to be in a fever dream delirium to watch that nightmare.
Dave The (Pretty) Good Samaritan
I was on my way to the store, and I was in a bit of a rush because I wanted to get some chili cooking and I did not plan ahead and defrost any meat so I had to buy some unfrozen meat, and while I was driving by the synagogue near the intersection of Third and Benner, I saw an older man sitting on the ground and a woman crouched behind him and their body language was so weird that I stopped the car and got out and asked them if everything was okay . . . and it was not, the man had been visiting the woman-- he drove from Manhattan-- and he was walking back to his car, which was two blocks up, and he felt dizzy and collapsed, but then he said he was feeling better and we tried to get him up, but he collapsed again, so I called 911 and I stayed there until a policewoman came-- and she had actually given him oxygen a few minutes previous and then he seemed okay, and then the ambulance came, so I took off . . . and I might not have stopped in the first place if we hadn't just read an excerpt from Malcolm Gladwell's book The Tipping Point in class, in which Darley and Batson's "Good Samaritan" experiment is described . . . and the gist of the findings are thus: if you are in a hurry, you are less likely to help someone in trouble, even if you are a seminarian about to do a presentation on the parable of "The Good Samaritan"-- fairly ironic, BUT since I knew about the experiment, I was able to short-circuit the impulse to let someone else take care of the issue-- though I was in a rush-- and so I DID stop and help . . . my knowledge of human nature helped me to reverse typical behavior (so I didn't really stop to be helpful, I stopped because I didn't want to behave like the ignorant seminary ding-dongs in the experiment . . . but I did stop and help as much as I could, which makes me a pretty good Samaritan).
Caliban's War: Expanding on the Expanse
My memories of The Expanse TV show and the series of novels are beginning to combine and unravel-- perhaps I have been infect by the protomolecule and soon I will be paid a visit by Detective Miller-- anyway, I can't help imagining all the folks from the show as I read the books, and this one (Caliban's War) gets far more in depth with the politics between Earth, mars and the Belt and there are many more scenes with protomolecule monsters; this book ends with the formation of the Ring (which might be in Season Three of the show?) and I think I will be forging ahead at some point, and perhaps even checking out the prequels, as this is some kick-ass sci fi-- nice job James S. A. Corey (including the Shakespeare allusion in the title, in reference to the half-man/half-monster protomolecule monster soldiers).
He's Your Pusher (Final Tennis Notes of the Winter Season)
Today, in the last match of the EBRC Winter A-League, I played Chinmoy for third place-- we were both 7-4, I think, and folks were excited to see us play because we are both known for getting everything back-- but Chinmoy is more of a classic pusher/moonballer while this week, I've been teaching the high school players how to beat that kind of player, so I've been practicing along with them-- basically, you need to abandon your normal game plan-- if the moonballer hits you a moonball, hit a moonball back and sneak up to the net-- you'll most likely get an overhead or a swinging volley-- and in general, you need to hit the ball deep and up-the-middle with heavy topspin and be very patient, then when you get a shallow ball, you can slice a short shot to the backhand side and rush to the net; Chinmoy also has a directional flat serve that he can hit to your backhand or off the side on the deuce serve, but as long as you poke it back fairly deep, he's not going to kill the next shot; so I used all the strategies and I beat him twelve games to two . . . I've never run to the net so much in a match, never hit so many overheads and swinging volleys, and I definitely ended up in no man's land once in a while, but it really disrupted his game-- he wants to hit it back and forth forever and then maybe hit a weird spin shot but I made the point go fast when I could, and I hit the ball deep with topspin when I couldn't waited to throw him off balance and get to the net, so I was very happy with my mental game (and my leg is not 100% yet but it held up) meanwhile in the championship match on the court next to us, Rey and Dhiraj were in a battle that went to a tiebreaker, then there was a disputed call and they almost came to blows and there was some chest-bumping and lots of cursing -- and while Dhiraj won the match, they both lost their minds-- you have to remember tennis is a cooperative sport, even though you are competing against the person you are playing, and you need to remember the big picture (no one wants to play with a lunatic).
Two Things I learned Today from Podcasts
Two things I learned today:
1) Freakonomics taught me that we all need to stop tik-tokking and playing video games and start hunting white-tailed deer because white-tailed deer cause between one and two million vehicle collisions per year . . . or we need to embrace wolves, which do a decent job of culling the population and patrolling near roads, which make deer retreat (and wolves don't seem to get hit by cars very often)
2) Lydia Davis, on Conversations with Tyler, taught me that the English language is wonderful in its variety because you can use straightforward and visual Anglo-Saxon words like "underground" or you can utilize the Latinate counterpart, such as "subterranean"-- depending on if you want to sound more abstract and intellectual, or more blunt and muscular.
Right According to Plan
So things are preceding as expected:
1) Ian beat Alex in the three-set challenge match to determine first and second singles on the tennis team;
2) Boyang beat Raam so we have the same top three singles players as last year-- so now we can get down to hashing out the doubles teams;
3) I got in hot water when my wife was chastising the children for not checking their email and signing up for some job-training meeting because I inadvertently called my wife an idiot . . . I was trying to make the point that efficient people check their email once a day-- but they really check it that one time and reply back to whoever needs replying to and deal with whatever issues are there-- and then they don't check again until the next day, but I somehow said, "those people are idiots who check their email all day long" and my wife said, "I'm one of those people" and I tried to pontificate some but I just came off mean and judgy . . . so I just need to keep my mouth shut after tennis because I'm dumb and tired (and I had just gotten off a phone conference with a senior girl's parent-- a senior having a conference!-- and I was fairly mean to the day because he wanted his daughter to get credit for some very old assignments and he wanted me to give her another opportunity if she didn't do well on the upcoming paper and I told him she was an adult, you couldn't force her to do things, and the paper was being evaluated on the Rutgers rubric and it would be graded once, calibrated with Rutgers, and that would be the grade . . . so I was in a bad mood).
Tennis vs Soccer
I have coached soccer my entire adult life and can organize and arrange a practice for four to forty people in my sleep, but I am finding tennis to be a different animal entirely-- practice is much more chaotic and disorganized: there are challenge matches going on, and they end at various times; there are drills and fun games; there are balls EVERYWHERE; there's a court for our absolute beginners, who are just working on hitting the ball; plus, I try to work with some kids individually on particular shots . . . and there's no culminating scrimmage to end things-- practice start out organized but slowly fall apart as different matches and drills end at different times, so then you can end practice with whacky large group games like "around the world" and "lob doubles touch the net or fence" challenge and maybe some fitness . . . I really like coaching tennis so far, but I'm learning to go with the flow a bit and I can't wait for our first scrimmage to see the kids in action.
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