Shouts of the regular kind

As I previously mentioned in the post you are most likely to read after this one, I am watching the Giants-Packers playoff game. It is now between the third and fourth quarters, and the Giants have a 3 point lead.

As a huge, huge (you should see my waistline) Giants fan, I am in the midst of an emotional roller coaster right now. This will either be the best or most painful day I've had in a while.

Either way, I suspect that by the end of the game I will have a whole load of wooden nickels in my underbritches.

UPDATE: 2:48 remaining, the Giants just punted to Green Bay, and the score is tied.

Also, I found a wooden quarter.

UPDATE II: 0:00 remaining, the Giants just missed a field goal, the game is in overtime.

I have a new wooden coin collection.

UPDATE III: SUPERBOWL!!!!!!!

Giants 23, Packers 20 (OT)

Shout-Outs

So, while I'm watching my beloved New York Giants take on the Packers, the -2 degree weather, and the officiating crew, I figured I'd take this moment to shamelessly promote ...

ME!

Yes, I know this belongs squarely within the realm of meaningless accomplishments, but for the first time ever I have been mentioned in a podcast!

No, I am not one of people hitting someone with sticks (or one of those getting hit by the sticks); I gave Short Cummings Audio a really good review on iTunes and he gave me an on-cast thanks. This simple act by a podcaster demonstrates how it doesn't take much to make the world a better place. Be nice to others, be gracious, be respectful ... it's not hard at all and it makes such a difference in these rough and tumble times.

I tell ya, people should thank me more often!

Cellph Destruct

I have a truly good, positive, heartwarming post in the works about my day today, which itself was very good and positive and heartwarming. But there was an event that occurred in the midst of all the good, positive, heartwarming stuff that was in no way good, positive, or heartwarming ... but I can't help sharing it with you anyways.

CONTENT ADVISORY
This post is rated "I" for crass, sophomoric, and off-color subject matter. It is intended for immature audiences only.

Now, I normally wouldn't write about this type of event, but this is a special circumstance. I got a chance to make a total stranger truly, truly regret using his cell phone in an environment in which no cell phone should ever be used.

It all started with a buffet table.

Actually, it was something on the buffet table. That something wound up on my plate and, as often happens with things that wind up on my plate, it soon found itself in my stomach.

Unfortunately, whatever it was, it didn't feel like staying there.

Like most buffet tables, this one was stationed at a public event. Coincidentally, I found myself in need of a public restroom. I proceeded with great haste to the only stall suitable for such use, closed the door, and braced for the worst.

I usually try to maintain a reasonable degree of self-consciousness about public restrooms. I don't start idle chit-chat with the guy in the next stall, I don't whistle, sing, hum, or any other noisy time-passers, and I certainly try to avoid producing any gratuitous audible evidence of the nature of my business.

This time I didn't have that option.

So when I heard the guy walk into the bathroom, I felt a moderate degree of chagrin for subjecting him to conditions specifically outlined in the Geneva Conventions. That is, until I realized he was talking on his cell phone!

At that point, I felt it was my dooty (get it?) to teach this man a lesson in cell phone etiquette. And fortunately I was uniquely prepared to present this instruction.

I don't know why, but for some reason public restrooms seem specifically designed for acoustic amplification. That said, between the tiles and the porcelain, my gastronomical discomfort resulted in decibel levels comparable to those found NASA launch pads or teenagers' car stereos.

Yes, I was a sub-woofer.

As I was safely positioned behind the solid partitions, he could not see me smiling. I could hear in his voice that he was regretting his choice of venues for this particular phone call. I'm quite certain the party on the other line got wind (so to speak) of where he was. I think deaf people could have heard me.

But the simple joy I felt from being able to teach someone such an important life lesson turned to outright satisfaction when I heard him bring his call to an end. His final four words indicated that he probably chose the wrong person to inadvertently subject to my malharmonious melody.

"I love you, honey."

And being the nice guy I am, I helped him end his call on a high note!

He's the Manning!

Archie's boys shocked the football world Sunday.

The oft-heralded elder son Peyton Manning and his Indianapolis Colts fell to the visiting San Diego Chargers, thus canceling the much anticipated rematch between the Colts and the New England Patriots in the AFC Championship Game next week. In Texas about three hours later, the oft-maligned younger son Eli and his New York Giants upended the Dallas Cowboys 21-17.

Yes, that means that the Giants are going to the NFC Championship Game for the first time since 2000, when they shut out the Minnesota Vikings 41-0. As NFL Network's Rich Eisen noted, to almost everyone's surprise, Eli is "the last Manning standing."

Next Sunday the G-Men take on men with the G's; they head off to the frozen tundra of Lambeau Field to face Brett Favre for a long, long overdue chance and avenging the NFL Title game losses to the Green Bay Packers in 1944, 1961, and 1962!

(Those last two were the most painful, as Big Blue first got shut out 37-0 in cheese country, then almost got shut out again the following year at Yankee Stadium. Their only score in the 16-7 loss came from a Packer punt which they blocked and recovered in the end zone.)

It has now been 69 years since the Giants beat the Packers in the playoffs. But before the Spirit of '38 fever grips the Big Blue faithful, there a few things left to savor from yesterday. For example, T. "Terrell Owens" O. cried in the post-game interviews! (One Cowboys fan I know showed me the gift he got today from his anti-Cowboys co-workers -- a tissue box decorated with T.O. pictures.)

And did you see that look on Cowboys owner Jerry Jones' face when R.W. McQuarters picked off Tony Romo's pass in the end zone with nine seconds remaining to squash the Cowboys' final hopes? He looked like he was in the middle of a lemon and Tabasco enema. Eagles fans have actually been nice to me today! (The enemy of my enemy ...)

We'll see what next week brings. Farve is having a storybook season. Until then, I'm just livin' the dream!

Theo-illogical

I'm all about impressing my pastor.

There's a group of guys in my church who meet one morning each month with the pastor for breakfast and Bible study. Having been lured with the promise of free food, I accepted their invitation to join them this week. We enjoyed bacon, eggs, and the Baptism of Jesus.

One of the many asides in our discussion was about the presence, or lack thereof, of Joseph in the latter parts of the Gospel. He's obviously a big part of the story in the beginning of the New Testament, but after the manger scene and the arrival of the wise guys, you never hear about him again, save for a cameo appearance at the Temple when the preteen J.C. began his rabbiing.

Biblical scholars believe that the lack of mention of Joseph beyond this point indicates that he died while Jesus was a teenager. If that was indeed the case, as first-born son, J.C. would have the responsibility to care for the other children in the home until they were old enough to care for themselves, which may explain why he held off on the whole Messiah thing until he was 30.

That there were other children in the house led to our aside from the aside. You see, we Protestants are of the belief that after the whole inn thing, Joseph and Mary went on to bear children the old fashioned way. As such, we feel the brothers and sisters mentioned in the Bible where the real brothers and sisters of Jesus.

(Well, half-brothers and half-sisters, as it were.)

Pastor mentioned that Catholics hold to the premise that the Blessed Virgin Mary remained both Blessed and a virgin throughout her days. Those brothers and sisters, say the Catholics, were actually cousins who lived with Aunt Mary and Uncle Joe.

I figured this was the time to add my thoughts into the great theological debate; to join the ranks of the storied biblical scholars like ... well, like whoever those storied biblical scholars might be.

"This is twelve years later, the cousins were living in the home, and Mary was still a virgin?" I asked.

Pastor nodded.

"Well maybe that's why we don't hear any more about Joseph," I said.

We'll see if I am invited to next month's Bible study ...

It’s Podcastic

When it comes to hand-me-downs, I have little shame.

(Yeah, yeah … I have notable shame deficiencies in other areas, too; but those are fodder for other postings.)

I drive an inherited car. I compute on hand-me-down computers. I read hand-me-down books. I wear some hand-me-down clothes. (I tell hand-me-down jokes ...)

Yet every handed-down item is, by definition, comprised of one hundred percent post-consumer recycled content. The hand-me-down market turns one man's refuse into another man's treasure. The discarded items of those who stay on the cutting edge wind up not in the dumpster, but instead in the hands of us less discriminatory folks who can continue to extract value today from yesterday's goods.

As such, in these more environmentally conscious days, I can hold my head high and proudly state that my proclivity towards embracing the down-handed material good makes me the embodiment of positive stewardship of the earth's precious resources. It is quite satisfying to be part of the solution.

(Not that I am an environmentalist by any means; far from it. I am about as green as a stop sign. No, my satisfaction is drawn more from the relief that I no longer have to admit to being too broke and/or too cheap to buy the stuff myself.)

So when Ms N upgraded her iPod recently (she got the spiffy new one with the tiny screen and the irritating commercial), I became the very happy recipient of a hand-me-down iPod.

It fails to bother me in the least that both my fiancé and my daughter have much nicer and newer iPods than I, nor does it bug me that engraved into the back of my iPod are the words, "This is mine. – DevineMsN."

While I would like to have the newer model, I much prefer what little cash I have staying in my wallet for the time being. And I sincerely doubt I will ever be accused of stealing from Bette Nidler.

So at first, I limited my iPod activity to listening to the songs Ms N left behind. You know, the hand-me-downs. While I’m not quite the Prince fan she is, I happened to enjoy the other songs not found in my collection, like Apache from the Sugar Hill Gang and select songs from Big E. Smalls.

(Ain’t that right, Boo? True!)

Soon I (by which I mean Ms N) started loading on songs from my CD collection. Shortly afterwards, I (by which I mean me) realized that The Economist, my favorite magazine, had an audio version, which of course, could be played on the iPod.

(Yes, The Economist.)

(Would you believe I only get it for the pictorials?)

So I tried out the audio version ... and liked it! While I found the quaint British spelling quite amusing in the printed version, having it read aloud in that accent is absolutely smashing!

(And the fact that Robin Bew, Editorial Director and Chief Economist at the Economist Intelligence Unit, tends to sound a bit like Monty Python’s Terry Jones makes it that much better. I just love getting global economic forecasts from Mr. Creosote!)

Then I started looking around for other audio. Boy howdy, there is no shortage of this crap out there on the internets! And it's all too easy to subscribe, too. Before long, I found myself subscribing to 75 separate podcast feeds.

Yes, I am a Podophile.

If I were to listen to all the downloaded content I currently have on my computer, it would take four days – six if I wanted to sleep at all.

So with all this, I have some recommendations. For political discussion, there’s Left, Right & Center, from Santa Monica NPR affiliate KCRW. There is also the Washington Post's P3: Post Politics Podcast.

Paul Douglas Boyer's Mad Money Machine is a good investing show.

For business news, I stick with The Economist audio edition and The Wall Street Journal.

The Harvard Business Review's HBR IdeaCast (We’re ideating!) has some very interesting business discussion.

And of course, no Libertarian's day is complete without the Cato Daily Podcast.

In the mean time, I can't figure out which is sillier: The Official White House Weekly Radio Address or The Official Parody of the White House’s Weekly Radio Address.

(Perhaps Discurso Radial del Presidente ... You can't figure out what El Presidente is saying here, either, but at least there's a valid reason!)

(Then again, there’s the podcast for the President's dogs.)

(Yes, really.)

Of course, if you are not as excited by global economics, investing, and politics as I am, you may be more interested in Short Cummings Audio, a great collection of humorous essays written and read by Kevin Cummings. He is one of the funniest humorists I have seen in quite some time. (Imagine Dave Barry and Tom Bodett's love child.)

Bowl of Cheese, by Jeff Cutler, was another good find.

And what podcast library would be complete without the great works of comic genius John Cleese? (Much to my chagrin, thanks to this podcast I learned that for the past 20 years I have been pronouncing his name wrong. Turns out it rhymes with wheeze, not fleece.)

If you want more than this, don’t ask me ... Ask A Ninja!

(Just don’t go to Aks a Ninja … stupid fake sites!)

Ms N was taken aback by the speed at which I latched on to podcasting, but really it is just what I was looking for. For starters, I crave content. Like good ol' Number Five from the movie Short Circuit, I need input.

Unfortunately, carrying around all the magazines, newspapers, and such I would like to have gets to be a pain. Printing out pages from sites is not only wasteful, but creates quite the mess. The iPod, meanwhile, replenishes itself every time I plug it into my PC and fits nicely into my pocket, earphones and all.

That last feature provides one of the greatest benefits. As I head into the men's room for my morning constitutional, I've found that the iPod is as inconspicuous as the Wall Street Journal isn't!

'V' for Win

This afternoon in Tampa Bay, the New York Giants notched their first playoff victory since shutting out the Minnesota Vikings 41-0 in the NFC Championship Game!

(That would, of course, be the 2001 NFC Championship Game, which was shortly followed by Super Bowl XXXV, in which the Giants fell a mere four touchdowns short of beating the Baltimore Ravens.)

(That laughing you hear in the background is Ms N, who happens to be a fan of the Baltimore Ravens.)

Today’s final score: Giants 24, Buccaneers 14. In the immortal words of Daffy Duck: "Woo-hoo! Woo-hoo-hoo! Woo-hoo-hoo-hoo!!"

Football is all about strategy, and the Giants employed an ingenious one, indeed. They upended the Buccaneers by reversing their regular game plan. Unlike most games, the G-Men began the game playing with ineptitude - ceding a 7 point lead to the pewter pirates - before letting everything inexplicably fall together. Three touchdowns and a field goal later, Big Blue hushed the hometown crowd. A late TD brought the swashbucklers within 10, but avast, the scurvy bilge rats found themselves cast o'erboard into the dark depths o' Davy Jones' locker.

(Special thanks to the folks at talklikeapirate.com for providing the vocab help.)

Now the Giants are goin' down to Big D, and I do mean Dallas. (All the country music fans in my audience will get that one.) The re-rematch is set!

This is where some of the jubilation turns to trepidation. The Cowpokes beat the visiting Giants in the season-opener, and then beat the Giants again almost three months later in the Jersey Meadowlands. That doesn't bode well for the boys in blue. But I have faith, hope, and, most importantly, an abundance of denial. So as I rest my head on whatever pillow Ms N decides not to hoard tonight, I have a happy thought.

It doesn't matter what happens in the first two games, so long as you win the third.

B-Day Invasion

Just like they practiced it!

This is just too nutty for words. Here's a throwback to football's rugby days ...

Silly Signage

From the side of a bottle of Zeigler's Apple Cider:

Blended to Perfection

... and then two lines later:

Shake Well

I guess you can't expect perfection to be perfect anymore.