Tonight's Adventure

I am planning a photo adventure with Lauren Hank tonight.  I'll be using a Canon point and shoot and touching up the pictures with Photoshop, to make them look real professional-like.  You'll see what I see, a couple hours delayed.

Other upcoming adventures:
Going to Washington D.C. to see if Washington can, indeed, party.  Benjamin Miller will be my experienced guide to all things free and exciting.
Also, way down the line, is a Black Keys concert on July 30.  Buying the tickets tonight and I cannot wait.

Check back late tonight for the pictures.

UPDATE:
A little disappointing, but no pictures were taken tonight.  Give it another 24 hours and we'll see what happens.

Frenzied Action

Quite a day for the USA.  In Pretoria, the drama unfolded like a well-told Hollywood story:  The underdog American team, branded the tournament sweethearts for unfair officiating in the second match against Slovenia, needed to beat the solid Algeria team in order to advance out of group C.  The same went for the Algerians; no points, no advancing.  The world watched as England played out a steady hand (or foot?) against Slovenia, leading 1-0 early on.  The tension built.  If neither the US nor Algeria could score, both teams would be out of the World Cup.

The match was frustrating for both teams.  The US got lucky with a wild shot off the cross bar, and the Algerians were lucky with a very questionable off-sides call.  89 minutes into the match, the score stood at nil-nil.  In a final, desperate attack, Clint Dempsey shot hard, the ball deflected back in front of the net.  Landon Donovan came in with the heart-stopping rebound and drilled in the glorious goal.

Wow.  No wonder he was so happy.

Pure, unbridled joy

(credit: unknown, but obviously not me)

If Pete Docter wrote this in a script for the next Pixar film, studio executives would have laughed it out of the offices for being too trite.  Beeyootiful.

Plus, I would be awfully surprised if this doesn't increase State-side interest in soccer.  Michael Bradley (I almost typed Baldy) plays for Borussia Mönchengladbach in Germany.  Donovan plays for the Los Angeles Galaxy team, so we've got MLS representation.  Who knows, maybe our passion will equal that of the French, but hopefully a little less pouty.  

Paranoia

Today, Doylestown was filled with the strangest sights.  While I walked to lunch, a car pulled up to the stop sign ahead of me and the teenager in the passenger was staring directly at me, grinning his stupid head off. Looked like a maniac.  Big, toothy grin full of braces.  ...wait, was he mocking me?  Screw you, I'm feeling surly.

I turned the corner and saw a guy heading my direction.  Quickly, I gauged his stature to decide how I could pass him.  Smaller than me, looks like he's smiling, I can definitely give him the head flick and a grunted "How's it going".  Upon closer inspection, he wasn't smiling, he was grimacing.  And GLARING at me, like I done him some horrible wrong.  When we passed me, his eyes never left me and I heard him singing some old Irish folk song under his breath.  Worst of all, he was wearing Crocs.

I walked on, and felt like Simon Pegg walking through his zombie-stricken village in Shaun of the Dead.  I started humming "Don't Stop Me Now" to feel better.  Maybe that's what happened to Irish folk song guy, he got freaked out and started humming.  Perhaps this sort of thing gets passed along...

Crooks and Nannies

I had a conversation tonight with an intimate friend about my writing style.  It developed into a discussion about writing with emotion, separating thoughts from feelings... and I have found something that I can write VERY PASSIONATELY about.  

The Associated Press.

This trite piece of reporting from the AP found its way onto Yahoo! this evening.  "Nooks & Crannies Lawsuit" caught my attention, and in my suburban ennui (is anyone else ironically excited for Arcade Fire's new album?) I clicked the link.  

The head-line, "English Muffin-maker guards 'nooks and crannies'" smacked me in the face like a ton of toasty bricks.  Now, I'm sure you all remember those commercials where grandma butters the delightfully toasted bread crowing about the way the butter runs and seeps into the nooks and crannies so deliciously.  Creepy, but in a she-probably-doesn't-know-what-she's-saying way.  But now that a guard is involved, the breakfast table suddenly doesn't seem so wholesome.  I'm feeling wary, but I plow on.

The opening paragraph immediately sets me off.  The author (Maryclaire Dale- holy God, a name could not reek more of southern bell trophy wife) lovingly describes the way english muffins enhance the butter and jam experience, "the way they cradle butter and jam, and after a good toasting, produce just the right crunch".  Is she a paid advertiser?  Does she realize she's talking about bread, an object that cannot possibly cradle anything, let alone runny churned cream?  I am one sentence in and already seething.  Strap yourselves in or leave now, it's going to get bumpy.

The next two paragraphs establish what we need to know.  The makers of Thomas' English Muffins guard the recipe because it's big money.  Fair enough.  Not good writing, not bad writing, just necessary exposition.  

Next, the problem.  Allegedly, some board member (she calls him "one of the trusted seven,"- does elvish script appear on the muffin when toasted just so?), weighed down with the impressive knowledge of a dough to moisture ratio, "bolted" to a competing food company, Hostess.  What he was afraid of, we do not know.  So what did the maker of Thomas' Muffins do?  Sued the pants off Hostess.  Thank God for that.

Ah, but wait!  Maryclaire divulges more information about the malodorous muffin man.  He has been charged with copying files onto a flash drive and has seen recipe books for more of the companies products.  

On a side note, the article mentions that Thomas' is owned by Grupo Bimbo and made at Bimbo Bakeries.  Worst.  Name.  Ever.

Maryclaire manages to present the other side of the case (I'm not arguing she's stupid... not exactly).  The rogue board member had a salary of $250,000 as vice president of Thomas' and was leaving for Hostess at a salary of $200,000.  No bonus, doesn't look to me like dubious foul play.  I would guess he snapped thinking about nooks and crannies and working for bimbos all day.

Just when I think the article is over (we know the problem, the accusation, the defense, and the case hasn't been decided yet), Maryclaire marches on, trumpeting the good name of Thomas and his damned good muffins.

"The butter melts and those craters catch the butter, or anything else, whether it's jam or honey," said Elise Bauer, who operates simplyrecipe.com and has been eating the muffins since she was a child. "The honey can swim in the butter. It doesn't drip through."

With this, I am thoroughly disgusted.  The author is attaching a mystical quality to the product, turning the situation into a dramatic courtroom debate where boardroom members dash off in the night with zip drives loaded with secret recipes, passing along the information in a back alley, where Thomas just wants to bake delicious muffins packed with butter catching caverns for his devoted "fans".  There is no substance to this article.  A boring situation involving a product (because that's what the muffins are, a control-group tested product that has gone through many revisions through many scientists and ad sharks, far removed from a real baker, just like a McDonald's burger) and a few whiny board members had to be fluffed up with meaningless advertisement.  Are people expected to read this?

And the final paragraph summed up my feelings.

"It's a horrible situation he finds himself in," said one of his attorneys, Elizabeth K. Ainslie. "If the assistant coach of the Philadelphia Eagles moves to the Dallas Cowboys, is he supposed to forget all of the plays that he learned while at the Eagles?"

She had to resort to a football analogy to make me understand the situation.  Are Americans so dumb and tuned out?  Jesus Christ, maybe everything should be explained using football metaphor; obviously I'm not smart enough to start and operate a computer, surf the internet, and read.

But maybe I'm the sucker, because I read the entirety of the filthy, pointless article.

When Life is Slow

It's hard to write a blog about interesting events when you aren't doing anything.  But sometimes you gotta squint, refocus, and change your f-stop to really see what's in front of you.  Even easier now with iOS video tap-to-focus!

In small, not-really-big-on-the-international-scene news, Germany overtook Australia in a daunting 4-0 victory.  Watching Podolski and Klose rail (and head) in shots past Australia's ailing defense was exciting, but goals three and four failed to make me sit up straighter.  I mostly felt bad for those tired legs.

And I didn't even care about soccer before!

Chris Johnson plays football

In other news, some friends are graduating from high school tomorrow and it brought back all my memories- Finishing up classes at the quickly-turning-to-crap Quakertown High School, sitting in Stabler Arena with 450 of my peers trying to listen to idiot speakers amble their way through pointless and poorly crafted speeches (one spent five minutes discussing the difference between Dr. Pepper and Mr. Pibb, the other asked us to picture what we want on our tombstone).

It'll be a good summer of grad parties.  But I'm mostly waiting to get back to D.C.  You know the feeling.

The Phillies curse

I don't think I'm supposed to see Halladay pitch.  Ever.  

Yesterday I was supposed to see him, but the game got rained out.  I was almost on the train, too, leaving for Philly, but some guy saved me and my friend from the trip.  Best worst news ever.

And then I got invited last minute today to see Halladay pitch, but for some reason the traffic was unbelievable.  I wanted to shoot myself.  Rather than an hour and a half (with traffic) it took a full three ungodly hours.  We arrived for the 6th inning, saw Halladay pitch two, and the Phils lost anyway.  To the Marlins, 0-2.  Awesome.

Halladay is just a dream.

Sometimes seeing it live just doesn't happen.

Blag

Saying "blag" is the internet's way of making fun of the internet (thanks, xkcd!), but I prefer my own definition: 

v.; to brag in a blog; 

        blagged, blagging, blaggart.

"I plan to blag about the time I saw Roy Halladay pitch."

The closest definition on Urban Dictionary is 22-

"To brag about your blog / promote your personal blog or internet sites excessively and often; to blow your own trumpet according to number of site hits, users, links etc"

I don't really need to do that, I'll just let Ben's awesome blog direct traffic to mine.  It's all about blagging.  Remember folks, you saw it live here first.

Part of seeing it live is being the first on the spot. I'm going to the Phils game tomorrow, so I've decided to try out mobile blagging. Blagging... It's bragging in a blog.

Well, because I'll be using my Samsung Behold, I can only blog 160 characters.  Sigh.

Thoughts on Honduras

El Progreso is the sort of place that can give and take away credence from Thomas Friedman’s “flat-earth” idea.  On one hand, Honduran unemployment is stemmed to an extent by the surrounding factories (Hanes, Pepsi) and plantations (namely Chiquita).  But on the other, massive Burger King, Pizza Hut, and KFC signs dominate the skyline, corroding local culture.  El Progreso is Honduras exemplified on a miniature scale- it is at the geographical and political center of major cities and points of interest and where the country’s poorest and richest meet in a swirl of national pride and vague passion. 

This is where I stayed during my ten-day service trip in Honduras.  I was housed in relative luxury, ate like a king, and had access to the most interesting and important people and places for miles around.  I went into Honduras with a notion of political unrest and economic turmoil.  In ten days I was briefed on the strife of Honduras and the political crisis of 2009.  Unfortunately, and most importantly, I came away knowing how little I know.

I won’t pretend that this trip “changed my life” and revolutionized my thinking.  I saw nothing that I’ve never read about or seen with my own eyes.  After witnessing the devastation in South Dakota it is difficult to be surprised by poverty.  Not to say I wasn’t moved.  There is the example of the five women making tortillas for a sum of two hundred limpiras a week (for the whole group).  To put in perspective, one personal pizza from Pizza Hut is 199 limpiras.  Visiting an orphanage for HIV/AIDS infected children certainly tugged at my heartstrings.  But I can honestly say that the impression embedded in my memory will stay with me much longer than anecdotes on poverty.

The adventure came to life when my lovely lady, Sophia, worked out a service trip with the non-government organization, Organization for Youth Empowerment.  OYE is unique in its mission and method and I recommend that you visit their website and make your own assessment.  

Gathering a group proposed some difficulty, and after the size of the group dwindled from twelve to a small-yet-mighty three, the proposed service project changed from building desks to painting a mural.  I regretted not being able to do more, but when we completed the painting my satisfaction surprised me.  And as it turned out, I had a chance to fix up a few desks with an OYE staff member and his childhood friend.

When we weren’t working, we spent time visiting neighborhood locales and learning.  There were several school visits, both public and private.  A current student, rather than a teacher or administrator guided each visit.  In a country as corrupt as Honduras it’s not difficult to understand why this was such a blessing.  The comment that stood out the most went something like this: Hondurans have a history of dependence on foreign benefactors and when things go wrong, they promptly outsource the blame.  This was in relation to one of the public schools where the UN had donated a track while most of the classrooms were overcrowded to the nth degree.  The school was failing and it was the global north’s fault for not providing more money.  Hardly an ideal outlook for a society in need of progress.

I also met a few interesting people.  The first was Mahchi, an older man who introduced himself as the tenth richest man in Honduras.  He’s not lying, either- according to people who have visited his home, he owns original Matise paintings.  He was one of the few Hondurans I encountered who supported the Golpe de Estado in 2009 but I did not have the good fortune to discuss his thoughts in detail.

The second person, Melli, is the first female radio producer in Honduras.  She is thirty years old.  She is bold, outgoing, confident… in other words, like no one else in Honduras.  When I met her, I had trouble believing she is Honduran.  This assumption is hardly unfounded- wherever we went, her personality drew stares from people accustomed to keeping their heads down and not asking for attention.

The third person, and the one who left the biggest impression, was Luis.  He is twenty four years old and the current director of OYE.  Opinionated and intelligent (a rare pairing in my experience), he spent many days teaching us about the history of Honduras and the political crisis in 2009.  Our translator could barely keep up with his rapid-fire style of lecturing.  He spewed out fact after fact only pausing for a few brief questions.  It was difficult to keep him on topic.

His knowledge of Honduran society impressed me, but not as much as his mission for OYE.  When he became the director he quickly turned around the scholarship program and the “capacities” program.  OYE kids are required to attend regular meetings where they learn life skills, talk about self-esteem, and discuss “Honduran Reality”.  His goal is to instill critical thinking abilities in each OYE student and not let them dully observe the issues in Honduras.  Luis shared an example from when the magazine program was beginning.  A few of the young writers went to visit a site where locals were battling against the government over the privatization of water.  The resulting article was simply a report- “It was bad, and people cannot afford the water.”  Now the writers are thinking about why the water issue is bad, what can be done, and so on.  And he hopes this thinking will become a habit and change Honduras.

It was these three people that helped me see Honduras live in an awesome way.  I don’t know much about Central America, I did not spent much time at all in Honduras, but I do trust my instinct for picking out the bigger picture.  Mahchi, Melli, and Luis are outgoing, they have a purpose, a vision, and the will to do something.  From what I put together, these characteristics are rare.  It takes just a few people to change something for the better or worse. 

As we drove to the airport on the last day, we passed familiar sights of graffiti from the crisis last year.  Many are angry phrases fighting the golpe and the military.  I thought of Luis’ passion when the topic was brought up and compared it to the fading spray paint letters.  It’s easy to see where much of the graffiti has been painted over.  The one-year anniversary is quickly approaching and I hope Luis sees his dream realized- a group of young men and women who think critically and take ownership of their country. 

100 Years of Progress

The Mercer Museum sans original lobby.

The Mercer Museum is currently under construction!  Technically, not the museum proper, but the front lobby (constructed in the 1970’s) has been stripped away and is being replaced by a grander, modern entrance way.  The bigger entrance will also hold traveling exhibits.  

A picture of the picture of the projected entrance.  I could have copied and pasted a better jpeg, but I was playing with my phone today.

Two thoughts- one, the mercer museum holds thousands of articles, all old tools.  The main building, built in 1916 (or something close, damn I’m good at my job) is concrete and looks like a castle.  The projected plans for the new entrance look nothing like a castle, and is mainly built of steel and glass.  I feel that something will be lost in the transition from entranceway to museum. 

On the other hand, Mercer was an innovator (the first to build with concrete) and had an aptitude and eye for new technology.  So if the entranceway is going to be modern, make it modern, man!  Add some whirly-gigs and whatsits to drum up attention and continue in the true Mercer spirit.  Apparently, it will have grass on the roof.  That’s… interesting.  I mean, grass is everywhere, so why not on the top of a building?  We’ll be seeing it live next Spring.  

Also, I discovered that my phone can do some pretty nifty things, namely shoot panoramas.  Samsung has a solid place in my heart.

Click the image for the full, mind-boggling effect.  Yes, behold the power of the Samsung Behold.

Strange drawing

I am not an expert on art.  I am an enthusiast: I purvey, survey, and take away what I can, but never have I ever pretended to know a lick about styles, mediums, impressionism, and what have you.  I am flummoxed by modern art.  I do know, however, how a piece of art makes me feel.  And this picture makes me feel weird.

Dear God.

Is it erotic?  Is it trying to tell me something?  I hope that the owner of that foot has excellent hygiene habits.  I also feel bad and strangely about the licker.  They should probably be locked up and have socks taped tightly about their feet. 

Where is this, you ask?  In my favorite little coffee shop, Saxby’s Coffee.  There are a few locations around the east coast, it’s less known than Starbucks (an incredibly easy feat to manage) and the one I frequent plays neat hipster music and encourages local art.  I think they need to raise their standards, though.  I mean look at this.  Seeing it live can also be very, very strange.

Bench Lovin'

Today during work I went looking for a bench to sit on and eat my lunch and I found a very awkwardly positioned seat on the corner of Ashland and Pine near the Mercer Museum.  

It was donated by the local VFW, and based on the plaque, I would assume in 2005. 

“Well,” I thought, “Some money was spent on this bench, I had better sit on it.  Maybe give it some satisfaction.”  So sit I did, rather enjoying the awkward looks from the drivers lining up at the stop sign.  They stared at me, I stared at them.  I munched thoughtfully on my delicious turkey sandwich (beautiful in its simplicity) until I saw this:

She learned how to dress watching Jim Carrey's Riddler from Batman Forever.

I rather adore strange outfits, even more so when the person enveloped in the odd garment struts about like not a thing is amiss.  I suppose I could have been bolder about taking a picture, but I was terrified she would lunge at my throat, or worse, criticize my outfit.  Seeing it live has its dangers, my friends.

Big Bands on the Cheap

Patrick Sweeney opened for the Black Keys. Excellent blues-rock.

In high school, I saw Kings of Leon and The Black Keys for around $35 each, even after Ticketmaster had its way with my wallet (I hate Ticketmaster with all of my heart, but I don't need to jump on the bash-wagon). I saw them both at the Electric Factory in Philadelphia. I was ten feet from the stage and had the best time of my life. I bet you want to know how you can do this, too. Trust me, I wish I had an answer.

Caleb from Kings of Leon. Truly a gorgeous sight.

One of the saddest consequences of a band's rising popularity is the wildly exciting ticket prices. Kings of Leon and The Black Keys now sell out massive stadium tours where the best seats reach over a hundred dollars. Back row seats can be around $75 and lawn seats are around $50. Guys on the street will try and bilk $20 out of you if you stand too close to the venue.

Annoying? Absolutely. But now I have the satisfaction of having seen these bands in the best possible way, for a totally reasonable price, at a real neat place.

Dan Auerbach from the Black Keys.

There are a few things you can do to protect yourself from music industry robbery. Find all the small venues in your area, the bars, the dives, the standing-room only clubs for hipsters. Look at the lineup of future bands and pick out the ones you've either heard of or that fit your musical taste. Now go to those shows. Just go. There's a half decent chance you will see great musicians and a slightly smaller chance that some of them will make it big. Or at least big enough to charge $120 for seats a mile out. By the way, the pictures in this blog were taken on my old Motorola flip with a 1.3 megapixel camera. That's how close I was to the stage.

Sir, What Was Better Live?

Sigh, you have much to learn, Padawan. What- is any live event, big or small, momentous or infinitesimal. Using the phrase "It was better live" is the bragging rights, the "I was there, and you weren't", the time you met Ricky Gervais or the Halloween when Paul drunkenly dive-bombed out of a tree and broke his arm. It is the raison d'être for name-droppers, travelers, and news reporters alike, and my excuse to be an asshole any time a popular song comes on the radio. If I have seen the artist live, you damn well better believe you'll hear about it. If you talk about a painting and I have seen the original, I will talk about the brush strokes and atmosphere of the museum. If you bring up the pandas in Washington, D.C.... I haven't seen them yet, but once I do I'll make sure to tell you how cute they were, what they were eating, and if the experience was worth it.

And that's the most important part: I am being an asshole, but I am also serving the role of critic. My irritating antics of self-aggrandizment come not only with a headache, but with a recommendation. Trick-or-treating at the embassies in our nations capital? Skip it.

The best part of that day- Meeting Jose, the future president of Paraguay, in drag

Seeing Sondre Lerche at the 9:30 Club? A must, and I'm sure it doesn't matter where you see him. You get the point.

The cutest elf in all the land- Sondre Lerche at the 9:30 Club

This blog is a celebration of the wonderful- events that I witness, movies I watch, musicians I see perform, places I go... and so on. I hope to encourage wary readers to go do things for the sake of doing them, to broaden horizons, to have a good time, and if that doesn't happen, at least have a good story to report back with.