You're doing it wrong, Part 2

Today on CNN.com they had a story about an ad the GOP was running in support of Elizabeth Dole in North Carolina, and an analyst wondered if it implied that the GOP was effectively conceding the White House to Barack Obama:

A new Republican ad appears to suggest that Barack Obama has all but won the presidential race, an argument several vulnerable Senate Republicans may have to reluctantly embrace with only days until Election Day, an expert in campaign advertising said.

Aimed at Kay Hagan, Sen. Elizabeth Dole's surprisingly strong Democratic challenger in North Carolina, the 30-second spot from the National Republican Senatorial Committee warns voters against Democrats holding the White House and Congress, and flatly states that if Hagan wins, the party will "get a blank check."

"These liberals want complete control of government in a time of crisis, all branches of government," the ad's narrator states. "No check and balances, no debate, no independence. That's the truth behind Kay Hagan. If she wins, they get a blank check."

So, that's one item of interest, I guess. But here's the part I found more interesting: The GOP apparently has nothing better with which to promote Elizabeth Dole than "Hey, you wouldn't want Democrats running both branches of government, would you?"

Really, GOP? Really? You expect people to vote for Elizabeth Dole solely because she isn't a Democrat? Or, more accurately, you expect people who are otherwise inclined to vote for Kay Hagan - presumably the targets of such an ad - to vote instead for Elizabeth Dole solely because she isn't a Democrat?

This is the truth of the GOP these days. They aren't winning the war on policy, so all they have are scare tactics, name-calling and advertising that damns their own Senate candidates with the faintest praise possible. Elizabeth Dole is a sitting senator; don't you have anything in her record to run on? Nothing but "I sure hope people like divided government so much they're willing to vote for someone they otherwise wouldn't just to prevent, maybe, a Democratic supermajority in the Senate?" All right then.

You're doing it wrong

Ponte Fresco is a make-your-own-salad sort of place in my building, where you pick a green base (romaine, spring mix, spinach) and they mix in your choice of additional ingredients (vegetables, legumes, meats) and chop it all up for you. Here is what the woman behind me ordered today:

[she has a container of spinach selected]
Staffperson: What would you like on it?
Woman: Bacon, and two scoops of cheddar cheese.
Staffperson: And?
Woman: That's it.

Why even get a salad if that's what you're going to do to it?

The Politics of Division

In 1999, during the early part of his campaign for the White House, George W. Bush described himself as "a uniter, not a divider." This phrase was widely used for mockery when Bush turned into one of history's most partisan presidents, but compared to his successors as conservative-value standard bearers, Bush is starting to look like Gandhi. Sarah Palin and the far-right-wing cadre that John McCain never wanted a part of until he deemed it necessary to be a viable Republican candidate have amped up their rhetoric in recent weeks to a degree that McCain's campaign now looks like the most bitterly divisive since George Wallace took five Southern states in 1968.

Here are just some of the many recent examples:

* During a speech in North Carolina, Palin discussed how much she liked visiting "pro-America" parts of the country. Naturally, this implies that there are "anti-America" parts of the country. Her pro-small-town rhetoric during the RNC equally implied that urban areas - which tend to go heavy for Democrats at election time - were not full of the "good people" whose virtues she extolled. Then, of course, there's her use of inflammatory terms when referring to Obama, suggesting that his policies are little more than socialism and accusing him of "palling around with terrorists," as though he and Osama Bin Laden were playing Connect Four or something.

* McCain advisor Nancy Pfotenhauer saying the following on MSNBC: "I certainly agree that northern Virginia has gone more Democratic. As a proud resident of Oakton, Virginia, I can tell you that the Democrats have just come in from the District of Columbia and moved in to northern Virginia, and that's really what you see there. But the rest of the state, real Virginia if you will, I think will be very responsive to Senator McCain's message."

That's right: real Virginia. Not that ersatz, Virginia-like substance in the northern part of the state. Clearly Democrats have just been flooding in from DC, which explains why DC no longer has any people in it. What the fuck is she talking about? Guess what - it's yet more division. If you're not receptive to McCain's rhetoric, it must be because you're some sort of liberal carpetbagger. That's the only reason McCain could be losing ground in traditional Republican strongholds. I wonder what her excuse is for North Carolina and Colorado?

* The worst of them all comes from Minnesota representative Michele Bachmann:



Bachmann can't even be bothered to separate her talking points, which Matthews calls her on; Tony Rezko isn't exactly known as a "radical leftist." But the scariest part is the last minute or so of this, in which Bachmann asks the media to "do a penetrating expose" to find out which members of Congress are "pro-America or anti-America." If this sounds like McCarthyism, that's because it is.

If you think this all reeks of desperation, you're right. Because that's all the Republicans have left. Even fear tactics, which have dominated recent elections as Republicans insist that only they are equipped to defend America, haven't been working. Division is the only avenue even more extreme. People aren't swayed by the suggestion that Barack Obama is too liberal? Then call him anti-American. Districts aren't voting your way? That's not the real part of the state anyway.

The irony in all this is that the only thing that seems to qualify someone for the "anti-American" label is not being a flag-waving, jingoistic yahoo who supports the government no matter what it does. So, assuming Obama wins, is that going to make all the Republicans who hate him "anti-American"? (Of course not! Nothing can be negative if it's done by Republicans.)

It always reminds me of the quote from The American President, in which Sydney Wade asks liberal-minded president Andrew Shepherd how he's able to keep quiet in the face of mounting attacks on his character by his Republican challenger (not so ironically played by Richard Dreyfuss, who would go on to play Dick Cheney in W.). "How," she asks him, "do you have patience for people who claim to love America but clearly can't stand Americans?"

That's exactly how I feel. How can you take the McCain campaign seriously when it's talking out of both sides of its mouth? It's ready to label anyone who isn't voting for McCain as "fake," and people with liberal viewpoints as "anti-American." But what's more anti-American than slandering half the population like that? It doesn't even matter what McCain's policies are anymore, apparently - you're either for them or you're against them. Of course, if you're Palin - the nasty, mud-slinging attack dog who has lied about virtually every facet of her record as mayor and governor - that's the only reason you're here. She doesn't have the background that would lead her to have formulated any national or foreign policies. All she has is supposed blue-collar cred, enabling her to toss around words like "terrorist" and "pro-America" with no regard for the issues (never mind her connections to the Alaskan Independence Party, at least as solid as Obama's ties to William Ayers and about as "anti-American" as it gets).

Some people wonder how much of this ultra-right-wing attitude McCain really buys into, speculating that maybe he's just doing it because he thought it was the only way to win the presidency in what's clearly his last chance. I say it doesn't matter. Are you really willing to take the chance that McCain the Maverick would suddenly show up again on his first day in office, with a wingnut VP ready to step forward should anything happen? The Republicans would like you to believe you can judge a man by the company he keeps, but if it's true of Obama, it's true of McCain as well. And McCain has surrounded himself with people who clearly loathe more than half of the country. After eight years of failed Republican policies, why should we accept more leadership from a party that openly hates those of us who aren't willing to goose-step?

Ben Folds' laundry

To this point, Ben Folds' entire solo career took place within the context of his third and (to date) longest marriage, to Frally Hynes. Folds' relationship with Hynes undoubtedly did much to shape aspects of his songwriting; "The Luckiest," from 2001's Rockin' the Suburbs, certainly seems to refer to her, and she also has writing and vocal credits on that album. Her voice pops up on "Dog," from the 2003 Speed Graphic EP, and she appears on the cover of 2004's Super D, which also includes a song called "Adelaide," a tribute of sorts to where Folds and Hynes lived at one time.

But in 2006, they separated, and officially divorced in 2007. Folds has since re-married, but one might rightly wonder if the after-effects of his divorce would come out on Way to Normal, Folds' new album, especially given the nearly three-and-a-half-year hiatus since the release of 2005's Songs for Silverman. Folds was quoted as saying that everything he wanted to say about the divorce in song was on Silverman, and looking back you can see how that might be the case; Silverman is a relatively melancholy album, and it has a number of songs that, in retrospect, could perhaps be read as early evidence that Folds' marriage was only going to last so much longer (and the separation did come the year after Silverman's release) - "You to Thank" is about a rushed-into marriage; "Landed" is about escaping a bad relationship; "Trusted" is about a fracturing relationship; "Give Judy My Notice" is about leaving a bad relationship; "Time" is about the immediate fallout of the end of a relationship. Seen in that light, it isn't necessarily that subtle, though at the time it just seemed like these songs could have been more abstract or drawn from moments in Folds' past (as he had already gone through two divorces).

But Way to Normal sort of has one foot in each aspect of Folds' recent history. On the one hand, it kicks off with some of Folds' most upbeat, up-tempo piano rock in years; on the other, there certainly seems to be lingering bitterness and sadness that comes out in several songs. Folds has never been afraid to write about personal issues - let's not forget that "Brick," the biggest hit spawned by Ben Folds Five, is about taking a girlfriend to get an abortion - and he certainly seems to have mined his life for yet more material here.

Track 1 - "Hiroshima (B B B Benny Hit His Head)"
The title of the track is an obvious reference to Elton John's "Bennie and the Jets," possibly because the main piano riff has some resemblance to the John song, as well as the use of concert audience noise (more prominently in "Hiroshima," which actually uses the crowd to sing the chorus hook later in the track). The story related in the song is a recounting of an actual moment on tour when Folds fell off the stage in Japan and ended up getting a concussion. It's all rather literal and straightforward, but then so is "Brick." The "oh-oh-oh-oh" and "They're watching me, watching me fall" of the chorus are almost ridiculously infectious, and when your goal is to engage a listener, it's hard to do much better for an opener than a song that virtually demands audience participation.

Track 2 - "Dr. Yang"
One of two straight "social commentary" tracks, in which Folds ridicules what he appears to consider a hypochondriac interest in alternative medicine. (One line goes "I might be dying / Or maybe I've got too much time," and the character singing tries out at least three different methods of finding out what's wrong with himself before eventually making his way from Dr. Yin, at the start of the song, to the titular Dr. Yang at the conclusion.) It comes off a bit glib, but the peppy, relentless melody and short running time (around 2:30) make it more than palatable.

Track 3 - "The Frown Song"
The same can't necessarily be said of "The Frown Song," one of the album's weaker tracks. Here Folds takes on the scowling rich people who wear grimaces like fashion accessories, but the song can be a bit of a chore - it contains almost no rhymes outside of the chorus, as though Folds jotted down a few notes and then just sang them. The opening image is evocatively sarcastic - "Tread slowly from the car to the spa like a weary, war-torn refugee / Crossing the border with your starving child; it's a struggle just to get to Shiatsu" - but things don't really improve, aside from the upbeat choruses, which are surely intended to completely shift the mood but sound no less jarring for that. At least they provide a welcome respite from the dentist's drill that accompanies the verses.

Track 4 - "You Don't Know Me"
Here's where Folds' personal life seems to kick in; he starts off by asking the addressee, "Do you ever sit and wonder, it's so strange that we could be together for so long and never know, never care what goes on in the other one's head?" The key moment is around the two-minute mark, when Folds asks, "If I'm the person that you think I am, the clueless chump you seem to think I am, so easily led astray, an errant dog who occasionally escapes and needs a shorter leash, then why the fuck would you want me back? Maybe it's because you don't know me at all." You don't get much more blunt than that, do you? I haven't heard Folds state that this song is about the demise of his marriage to Hynes, but knowing the context it's pretty hard to think of it any other way. As for the song itself, I had to listen to it a few times before it grew on me; the instrumentation isn't exactly classic Folds in the way it leans heavily on strings, but Regina Spektor's voice is a good addition.

Tracks 5 and 6 - "Before Cologne"/"Cologne"
If "You Don't Know Me" is the album's bitter pill, "Cologne" is the track that shows you the other side of a relationship's end. Folds may indeed have been bitter and angry, but surely he was also sad at times, and "Cologne" presents that side, with the singer holed up in a hotel room after walking his erstwhile love to the train, sending her on her way to the other side of the world. Again, whether or not it's 100% autobiographical can be debated, but the reference to the Lisa Nowak story dates the song's events to February 2007, two months before the divorce was finalized (according to Wikipedia). "Cologne" is a tender, aching song, with a typically beautiful piano melody and a good use of backing strings; the lyrics give a real sense of sadness and emptiness, as when Folds describes the Nowak story and then wonders if the woman he's singing to read it, and if "we both might be having the same imaginary conversation." Perhaps even more affecting is at the conclusion of the song's vocals, when Folds simply speaks "That's it." Whether this was an intentional metaphor or whether it was just him marking the end of the vocal track and it got left in, it works perfectly with the song's theme.

Track 7 - "Errant Dog"
Folds bounces back into wackiness with this track, which again seems like it might have some connection to reality given that the title can be found in the lyrics of "You Don't Know Me." It's not exactly a common expression, making one wonder if perhaps it's even something that Folds has actually heard used to describe himself. "Errant Dog" is told from the perspective of a woman who grouses about her husband or boyfriend, yet nonetheless always seems ready to take him back. In line with the question in "You Don't Know Me," "Errant Dog" seems to be somewhat sarcastic about its subject, with the female character unable to decide if "he's my everything, he means the world to me" or whether she should just give up and become a lesbian. As for the music, it's a bit less accessible than many of the other tracks.

Track 8 - "Free Coffee"
Probably the least of all the tracks on the album. It's another piece of social commentary, in which Folds comments on the absurdity of poor people always needing to come up with money for coffee while rich people just get it poured for free. It's a fair point, I guess, but it's not really all that meaningful in the context of the song (it's difficult to tell whether or not Folds sympathizes with the character singing), and while the idea to strap Altoids tins to the piano strings to create the unique sound in the song was an interesting one, it doesn't prove all that listenable in practice.

Track 9 - "Bitch Went Nuts"
"Free Coffee" ends with a disposable bit in which a Zen-master character describes the difference between what happens if you ask a bunch of different women why their relationship failed and what happens if you ask a bunch of men; Folds' theory, such as it is, is that all men just say, "Bitch went nuts." Needless to say, it's not as funny as he thinks it is. The actual "Bitch Went Nuts" track starts with the music, which is a relief. Again, it's perhaps a surprisingly peppy song considering the material; Folds swears the song isn't about Hynes in any way, but surely he must have drawn on past experiences to some degree in coming up with lines like "And then she burned a telepathic link into the brains of all her embittered drones." As such, it's another song that's upbeat enough to sing along to and yet comes off more than a little bitter in the lyrics.

Track 10 - "Brainwascht"
Speaking of which. "Brainwascht" is at least partly a true story, according to Folds; a friend (or former friend) wrote a song about him that he describes as very judgmental and mean, and which, if you trust the lyrics of this song, was based primarily on information from a former girlfriend or wife. Whether the unnamed woman in this song is Hynes is unknowable; it seems possible that Folds is actually referencing an earlier event, since late in the song he snorts at the addressed songwriter by asking if he remembers "in '94 getting blown in your basement while your wife slept," and Folds wasn't married in 1994. It's another pretty bitter track, in which Folds complains that the songwriter didn't bother getting his side of the story but simply was brainwashed by whichever ex-wife or girlfriend he's talking about, but another one that's pretty peppy and otherwise fun if you gloss over the lyrical content.

Track 11 - "Effington"
Presumably inspired by Effingham, Illinois, this is a difficult song to read. The piano part is nice, but do the lyrics actually suggest that Folds wants to settle down in a small town, or is it one big, straight-faced joke told by a sixth-grade sense of humor that finds "Effington" hilarious? Folds starts by musing that "Effington could be a wonderful effing place" and then wonders "Are they effing in their yards, effing in their cars, effing in the trailers and the back roads and the parking lots of Effington?" Droll, indeed. I'm willing to forgive this, because the piano is great and because Folds never cracks a lyrical smile during the track, giving the impression that he's actually serious about finding an appeal in small-town life.

Track 12 - "Kylie from Connecticut"
Way to Normal lacks many of Folds' traditional character sketches, but he ends with a strong one, and another that seems to give a bit of a suggestion as to his mindset: the main character is a woman in a 35-year marriage who sees a note that makes her worry that her husband might be having an affair - except that at the same time, she flashes back to an affair she had some 30 years ago. (At least this is how I interpret the lyrics, though there is some wiggle room.) This calls back to "Trusted" from Silverman and, given all the other veiled references to real or imagined infidelity on Folds' part on this album, may have some connection. Perhaps that's reading too much into it, but you could argue that I read too much into a lot of the songs, though I suspect that in most cases there's at least a grain of truth to those suspicions. Musically, this song could easily have come from pretty much any other album Folds has ever recorded, which is more of a compliment than it might sound.

When I first listened to Way to Normal, I was mostly underwhelmed, to put it charitably, although "Hiroshima" and "Cologne" were pretty much instant grabbers. Since listening to it a number of additional times - enough that I can sing along with virtually all of the songs already - I'd say I like it, although I can't say it's at the same level as Rockin' the Suburbs, Songs for Silverman, or even the combined Speed Graphic/Sunny 16/Super D. Even a lousy Ben Folds album is likely to be better than a lot of other stuff, though, and this isn't a lousy Ben Folds album in spite of the bitter or caustic edge on so many of the songs - even with as many as three tracks that are significantly missable (though that's probably being overly harsh on at least one of them), there's still enough good stuff on the album for it to be a good album, and there are at least two tracks that I'd rank among his best. Way to Normal may not have been worth a wait of almost three and a half years, but it'll do until the next one comes along.

They're watching me, watching me fall

Sure enough, right as October rolls around, the weather cools off precipitously. On one of the last warmish days, last Sunday, Alma and I went up to Elkhorn, WI, for the Apple Festival at the Apple Barn. It was probably nostalgia to some degree; I'm sure I haven't been apple picking in 15 years, and I can't remember going more than once, but it was something I had been thinking about doing.

There are closer places, but the Apple Barn had a few attractions besides merely apples, namely the Apple Festival's promise of cider donuts and a tree maze. Unfortunately, it turned out that cider donuts are either the hardest baked good to make in the world ever, or just the most popular. The Apple Barn was limiting orders to a dozen per person due to a problem with machinery, and the line showed no signs of moving. We actually ended up going to Apple Holler, just north of Kenosha, where they did have cider donuts - and it was still a 20-minute wait because of demand. As for the tree maze, it wasn't exactly that tough. You could see through all the trees inside the maze, and the whole thing was only about 30 or 40 feet on a side.

Picking apples itself was pretty fun. I got a bunch of Cortlands and Ida Reds, which are both supposed to be on the tart side. I've actually only eaten one so far, so I should probably get on that this weekend before they all go bad and I feel like an idiot. I have been enjoying the cider we got at Apple Holler, which is really nice and tart, which you rarely see in cider.

To continue the nostalgia back to a time I'm not even old enough to be nostalgic for, we went for dinner to a Dog 'n' Suds drive-in in Lake County. It was interesting, although it was a bit cold for keeping the windows open by that point (the last day for the drive-in is actually this Saturday; it finally occurs to me why Sonic doesn't have any serious penetration north of the Mason-Dixon Line) and they were having trouble with their eponymous root beer (Alma did manage to get it in diet). I settled for Green River, which isn't a bad second choice.

On the way back from the Apple Barn, we drove past a farm that touts itself as having Illinois' largest corn maze. We might go do that this weekend. We spend so little time outside, might as well get it in before it gets too cold to do it at all, and some walking (the corn maze apparently covers as much as 11 miles) couldn't hurt either.

Fall fever: catch it! (Don't bother catching Cubs fever, though; it's only a 24-hour bug anyway.)

Posting

Wow, it's been a month? It's amazing how little has been going on. I did have my 26th birthday, which was pretty non-noteworthy. I got Blue Planet DVDs from Alma to accompany the Planet Earth she got me last year, which was nice, and my parents got me both a subscription to The Economist and the Rosetta Stone software for Tagalog, which I really need to get started on. So I got everything I really wanted, which is always nice.

Class has started up for this quarter and my time is already running pretty short. I'm just praying that as few Cubs playoff games as possible are scheduled on Monday and Thursday nights, although I'm also praying, of course, that there are as many Cubs playoff games as necessary for a title. If the expense of that is me having to watch a couple on DVR, I could live with it. If a potential World Series clincher was on one of those days, maybe I could make an exception (we get one free skip).

Politics are making me ill. I really just need to avoid this garbage until Election Day. And no offense, but if you're voting for McCain you're probably an idiot.

This report called in by Russian journalist Baba Booski

Okay, maybe I have the mind of a 12-year-old. But I found this hilarious.

So I'm listening to the BBC today and they're talking about Russian operations in Georgia. And they discuss what the Russian army did in Poti, a city on Georgia's Black Sea coast. (You can see it on this map.) In fact, it's not just a coastal city, it's a port city. And it's pronounced pot-tea. Or, if you like, potty. And that was what the BBC reporter kept saying.

The port of Poti.

Thank God he wasn't Irish, if you get my drift. I don't know what they call portable toilets in the UK - possibly "portable toilets" - but you have to love that the end result is this slipped right past the goalie. I mean, it sounds like something you'd get on some prank phone call, where someone calls CBS News and tells them he's in the port of Poti, and then they put him on air and he milks that joke for a while, then yells out something about Howard Stern's butt cheeks.

----------------------------------------------------------

Russians make pit stop in Georgian port of Poti

POTI (Reuters): A number of Russian soldiers, under orders to return to their country, have paused in this seaside city for what Russian president Dmitry Medvedev termed "a quick pit stop."

"Our soldiers merely need to make brief use of the port of Poti," Medvedev said. "I assure NATO and the Georgian people that our troops will move on once they have done their business."

Told that Georgian president Mikhail Saakashvili had declared that "Russian soldiers have to go," Medvedev replied, "I agree completely," before lapsing into a brief giggling fit.

That berry's not getting any pinker

If you live in New York City or Los Angeles and have any sense of the latest trends, you're probably aware of Pinkberry, the hip frozen yogurt joint. If you don't, like me, you're probably only aware of it via the many, many television shows on which it's been name-dropped, or perhaps via this American Express ad.

In the last few days, I've read several accounts of people complaining about how lousy Pinkberry is. Keith Law, professional baseball writer and amateur food writer, made a post on his blog in which he complained that "[t]he flavor made me feel like I was sitting inside a bottle of white vinegar, licking the sides and inhaling the fumes." The main gripes I've seen all seem to hinge on the fact that Pinkberry's frozen yogurt tastes like, well, frozen yogurt. In other words, this isn't TCBY; it's mildly sweetened frozen yogurt that otherwise tastes like a big spoonful of plain Dannon. I can't speak for Law, but at least one other person I heard complaining was clearly expecting TCBY or Colombo, and wondered who liked the taste of plain yogurt anyway.

Well, I like the taste of plain yogurt. There are no Pinkberries in Chicago, but there is one location of Red Mango in Evanston. Red Mango, as I understand it, is extremely similar to Pinkberry, right down to the "color+fruit" theme of the company name. The catch is that while Pinkberry has been open in the United States since 2005 and Red Mango only for about a year now, Red Mango is actually a stateside expansion of a South Korean chain which dates to 2002. (In what seems unlikely to be a coincidence, the founders of Pinkberry are Korean-American.) Frozen yogurt that tastes like actual yogurt seems to be all the rage, presumably because it seems healthier that way; in fact, looking at TCBY's nutrition facts, "standard" frozen yogurt really doesn't have many more calories. But the semblance of health value is usually enough to create a stir, and one trendy place usually begets ten others (think of all the Chipotle clones that popped up shortly thereafter). So now there's Pinkberry, Red Mango, Berry Chill (local to Chicago) and... well, just look at this list, which surely isn't even close to complete. It reminds me of the end of the Simpsons episode "Flaming Moe's," where the street is clogged with imitators (including "Famous Moe's" and "Flaming Meaux") once Homer reveals the secret ingredient.

Anyway, I like plain yogurt, and the idea of a dessert place with low-calorie (90 per serving) frozen yogurt and simple fruit topping (you can also get cereal of various types) had its appeal, so Alma and I decided to check it out. Quick review points:

The taste: Well, you have to like plain yogurt. If you're expecting vanilla soft serve, prepare to be sorely disappointed. You have to enjoy that tangy yogurt flavor; if not, you're going to leave scratching your head as to what the fuss is about. As I've said, I like the taste of plain yogurt, although this is sweeter than that, not surprisingly. It didn't change my life or anything, but I thought it wasn't bad. If I hadn't known what it was going in, I wonder if the unpreparedness for it would have bothered me even though I like tangy stuff and plain yogurt. Fortunately for me, I had that awareness ahead of time.

The fruit: I got raspberries and also granola. The raspberries were pretty great; they were extremely fresh and added an additional tartness to the tang of the yogurt which I liked. The granola was probably overkill, though it would have been good by itself. There were some nice chewy dried cranberries in it.

The value: Well, not so much. A medium is about a cup of yogurt; add two toppings and it ends up running you about five dollars, which is just a bit on the insane side. You're certainly paying for the "couture" aspect to some degree, but if you're like me you probably don't feel that need. I can throw together raspberries, granola and yogurt from the store for less than five bucks, and even if the yogurt isn't frozen, I'm not exactly losing a ton of the experience, personally. Your mileage may vary, but since the frozen yogurt is non-fat, it isn't terribly creamy, which means that trading it for regular plain yogurt may not be that big of a loss unless you actually prefer that somewhat icier consistency.

In summary, it wasn't too bad, but not something I'd do more than occasionally. I encourage the existence of relatively healthy dessert places - better people eat a large Red Mango yogurt than a "Gotta Have It" size Cold Stone Creamery offering with multiple mix-ins - but just like with most ice cream places, the cost is simply too high for me to justify going there with any kind of frequency. Which is certainly just as well when it comes to the ice cream. Red Mango at least removes a large percentage of the guilt associated with dessert, which probably has its upside and downside, but I suppose better this than most of its substitute goods.

Citius Altius Fortius

I always think I'm not a big Olympics guy, and then the Olympics actually start. I've never been the gung-ho patriot type, but I'll be damned if international competition doesn't bring out in me a fierce rooting interest in anything United States. Of course, it's one thing when it's the World Cup; soccer, that's a sport I follow on a regular basis. With the Olympics, by comparison, we're talking swimming, and track, and gymnastics. Like most people, I have no idea what's happening in the world of swimming at any point in the four years between Olympics. I knew what Michael Phelps did in Athens; I knew what he was trying to do in Beijing. I did not know, nor did I care, what he was doing from September 2004 to July 2008. But when Jason Lezak touched the wall a barely perceptible .08 seconds ahead of France's Alain Bernard - whose braggadocio I, no doubt like most American viewers, had been quietly seething over since being informed of it mere minutes earlier - I involuntarily yelled out of sheer excitement.

Lezak had entered the pool nearly a full body length behind Bernard, only one of the fastest sprinters in the world and the world record holder in the 100m free until it was broken by Australia's Eamon Sullivan on the relay's opening leg. (Because the 4x100 starts with a tone, as do regular races, the opening legs are eligible for world records; the later legs are not because their starts are not controlled by the tone.) A full body length is an eternity in Olympic swimming, especially against one of the world's best sprinters and especially after Lezak had failed to make up significant ground after the first 50 meters of the final leg. With only 30 or so meters to go and Lezak still at least 3/4 of a body length behind Bernard, the commentators began discussing how the United States would have to settle for holding onto the silver medal, with Australia charging hard to Lezak's left.

Then, suddenly, the atmosphere changed. Almost no sooner had the announcers written the U.S. off than they began to remark upon the fact that Lezak seemed to be gaining. Like a championship thoroughbred breaking free of the pack, everyone could see Lezak closing on Bernard, a man seven years his junior. The intensity in the Water Cube reached fever pitch, and when Lezak touched the wall after just 46.06 seconds in the pool (in a finish so close that replays showed Phelps checking the scoreboard before celebrating), there was sheer exuberance from the rest of the team, the announcers, and surely Americans just like me all over the world, suddenly glued to their sets not four minutes earlier, having no idea until it unfolded in front of them that they were about to witness one of the most dramatic moments in Olympic history - perhaps the most dramatic moment for an American athlete at any Games since the 1980 hockey team stunned the Soviets.

Once the XXIXth Olympiad fades into memory, I probably won't remember much about it. If Phelps does indeed eclipse Mark Spitz's record by tallying eight gold medals, I'm sure I'll remember that; if he falls short, I may remember the race he lost. I'll certainly remember his name, as he's already just one gold medal shy of becoming the most decorated Olympian in history, a record he's sure to obliterate this year and possibly put even further out of reach in London in 2012. And I'll probably remember what the basketball and soccer teams did, sports that I care about outside of an Olympic context. But no matter what else happens at these games, I'm sure I'll always remember Lezak's charge, the hair standing up on the back of my neck as the announcers' voices began to break, the scream erupting from my mouth before I could even think of holding it in. It's moments like this for which we watch sports, and with the added incentive of national pride on the line, it's especially moments like this for which we watch the Olympics. We're a jaded society when it comes to sports these days, but when Lezak touched that wall, he was a pulsing reminder of how athletic competition can really still matter.

Apocalypse now

We had a pretty ridiculous storm here on Monday night. It had rained in the morning, so I took my umbrella into work (fortunately). When I left the office around 7, it wasn't raining, though things seemed a little ominous. By the time I got off the train, around 8, it had started to pour. I got into the car and started to drive towards Alma's house, thinking she was home, but I called her from the car and left a message saying that it was raining, but wasn't too bad at the moment, if she still needed to drive back down from school (which turned out to be the case).

Then I got about a mile from her house and things went crazy. The rain started coming down so heavily that I couldn't see ten feet in front of the car except for other car and building lights. I managed to get to Alma's driveway, where I called her apartment and told her not to drive back down if she hadn't left. It turns out that up at the school, it was barely doing anything! Meanwhile, lightning was striking within blocks of me; the sky was flashing constantly. I've never seen anything like it. It's what I imagine being in the middle of a military battle would look like. I turned on WGN to see what was happening with the Cubs game and there were tornado sirens going off at Wrigley. I'm not sure I can recall ever seeing a storm of comparable intensity.

Within an hour things had tapered off, but at around 11, it started up again, though by this time I was home in bed, trying to rest up for a doctor's appointment the next morning. Of course it turned out that the office lost power due to the storm, which I didn't find out until I got there at 8:30 am.

Probably not a very exciting post, in retrospect. So here's interesting news: there's a good chance I will be going to the Philippines with Alma and her family in late December/early January. It's not a cheap flight, but (even with a girlfriend of Filipino descent) how often do you get a chance to take a trip like that, especially when you wouldn't have to pay for hotels? Plus Asia is the last continent I've never been to, and with stopovers this would be a chance to add several countries to my list, aside from the fact that two weeks in the Philippines, especially in the middle of winter, would probably be crazy awesome.