Merry Blogsmas

Hey Everybody! Sliding in under the wire on my self-imposed blog requirements, mostly just to wish the goyim (that's you if you don't know what it means) a Merry Christmas and to quickly mention the momentous sporting events we all have to look forward to on this most Jesus-y of days. First on tap, the 12:30 ET Spurs-Pistons showdown which (in addition to being a 2005 NBA Finals rematch) should tell us who is the best team in the NBA right now! Don't change that channel when it's over, because at 3 ET we've got our annual Kobe-Shaq Christmas Extravaganza, hyper-hyped this year thanks to the subtext of Riles v. Phil. Finally, at 5 ET (and you can all thank Fox for making this a national broadcast) we all get to see the Bears - they of the healthy Rex Grossman - clinch the NFC North and a first round playoff bye. Enough then, you all have work to do. Enjoy your sport-filled holiday, and remember: don't drink and drive. Or at least don't drink while you drive. Or at least give the beers to the guy in the back seat before the cop gets up to your window. L'chaim.

You were always on my mind...

Yes, my dear friends, K-bors and fellow bloggers, I once again neglected you for the better part of a week. I'm really trying to get a handle on this blog thing, so as to keep you updated on things more regularly, but I have to be honest with you: the holidays are really throwing a monkey wrench into the whole situation. As Christma-Hannu-Kwanza-kah draws ever nearer, I think everybody begins to panic a bit. Nevertheless, I suppose it's fair of you to ask why it's so tough on a guy who doesn't buy presents for anyone and takes the entire week from Xmas to NYE off from work. I can't be certain, but it seems to be intense feelings of loneliness - expounded by the fear of dying horribly alone - that do it for me. Whatever the cause may be, know that the holidays can be a busy and stress-filled time for unemployed vagrants, too. Yet, despite crying myself to sleep with thoughts of sales jobs and ugly prostitutes, I managed to stop by the K-borhood to wish you a "Happy Holidays," since the US Government now requires me to do so.

I also figured, since I was already in the 'hood, that I'd do a teensy little bit of self-promotion. I am recently employed (in the sense that I have assignments, not in the sense that I earn money) by a website called Sports Business Simulations. You can find my work (and a picture of me holding a toucan) in the "SBS - Taking Pulse" section. These writings (mentioned previously in the K-borhood) are a significant part of what has been keeping me from you guys...

... but enough excuses already! What kind of person lets his blog sit idle for a week and returns with nothing but platitudinous apologies and excremental excuses? Not me, friends. And that is why I leave you with this pledge: so long as you continue to read and comment, I will continue to post; and though I might need a little leeway until the holidays are officially over, I hereby promise to post at a rate of NO LESS than once every 6 days. And now, dear K-bors, I bid you adieu, with Happy Holiday tidings. It is my sincere hope that we shall speak again before December ends, but should we not, I invite you to join me in boldly going where no man has gone before: 2006.

If I made you feel second best...

Friends and K-bors, I would like to take the time to apologize for my recent behavior. I have been neglecting you, as a group, for a week now. Alas, I have no good excuse for my truancy. I'd like to say I've been terribly busy with work, but that would be a blatant lie. I might as well be like Stan Van Gundy, and tell you I really need to spend time with my family. In truth, I have been setting my affairs in order in an attempt to organize my life before beginning a three-week period of insanity. I drive from San Francisco to Chicago, then fly back to San Fran, then back to Chicago the following weekend, then back to San Francisco the week after that, all the while making important decisions about the Kolsky Road Show's next launching site. Meanwhile, I'll be writing NBA articles for a sports website. More on that later.
For now, though, I need your help, K-bors. And not with my life decisions, though I certainly need help there. I am about to embark on a three day, thirty some-odd hour road trip, and I've been feeling confined by my music lately. If I let the red-headed-she-devil-captain of the vessel control the music, I would very probably find myself as the ball in a vicious game of Pong played by The Killers and Method Man. As such, I'm hoping my readership will be able to save me from certain insanity by coming together and participating in a collective brainstorm. If we all put some ideas for good driving music in the comment section here, we can have a rubric for road trip programming on this blog in perpetuity, and no K-borhood reader will ever again suffer for lack of music to drive by.
Blastoff is in T-minus 55 hours, circa 5 PM PST, Wednesday, Dec. 14. I trust we will complete our mission before this deadline. Suggest away!

It was the BOMB, dawg...

It was the morning of Sunday, December 4, 2005. I was in my car, lamenting my inability to enjoy my usual God's day festivities. Put another way, I was stone cold sober and NOT watching the Bears' game; but this was a special Sunday, folks (and not just because it was Bears-Packers week). I was making my way across the San Francisco Bay Bridge to Berkeley, where I would share pizza and cake with a cadre of ten-year-olds (led by my just-turned-ten cousin), before chauffeuring them to Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire (a movie experience I would not be partaking in, having seen it at midnight on opening night). I won't lie to you, K-bors, I was pumped, and I had skipped my usual eggs-and-bacon sports bar breakfast in favor of delectable delights to come. Imagine my dismay when, at around 11:25 AM, all traffic on the lower (or easterly) deck of the bridge froze.
After five minutes of sitting in the same place (literally the same exact place), my dismay turned to curiousity and my fellow drivers began to turn off their engines. At ten minutes, people started walking around. By the time fifteen minutes had passed, I was comiserating with some jerk in a Cubs hat about missing the Bears' game, while leaning over the edge of the Bay Bridge, looking at the view of SF. Other highlights: 18:23 - overly tan guy in truck sitting next to my car opens his doors and starts blasting the Grateful Dead; 19:55 - group of three kids walks a golden retriever east on the bridge; 20:47 - overly tan guy breaks out his bongos and starts jammin' along with The Dead; 22:33 - middle-aged couple begins to dance to bongo guy's rythmic stylings; 24:07 - same three kids walk dog back in the other direction; 28:01 - toddler plays leapfrog with lane markers. It was about minute 30 (though I stopped counting at 28:47) when everybody mysteriously got back into their cars - myself included, though I can't put my finger on why - and resumed a speed of 40-50 MPH within a matter of seconds.
As I sped north towards Berkeley, hoping against hope that the Liliputians hadn't finished all the pizza without me, I wondered what the source of the holdup could have been... Perhaps an accident? Didn't see evidence of one... Some sort of construction issue? But how could that hold up traffic for so DAMN long? It turns out, as I should have known, that I was the victim of the day's second "suspicious suitcase" bridge stoppage. Thank goodness for me and the hundreds of men, women and children moseying about the bridge, it was filled with a relatively low-blast-radius explosive. Plus, I finally know CHP bomb squad procedures: a 7 AM call reporting the suitcase leads to a ten-minute bridge stoppage at 9 AM, followed by a couple hours of regular traffic, and THEN a 30-minute closure from around 11:30 to noon. I know it wasn't a bomb after all, but I sure feel safe knowing that the Bay Area is more than capable of dealing with this kind of problem.

Bear down, Chicago Bears, la da da-da da da-da...

Today we renew the oldest of all pro football rivalries: Bears v. Packers. There's not much for me to tell you here that you don't already know. Given the records (Bears 8-3 to Packers 2-9), the defensive dominance of the Bears, and the ineptitude of the largely no-name Packers' offense, we could very well be looking at a slaughter today. On the other hand, Brett Favre is 11-1 all time at Soldier Field, so you can pretty much toss out all the other statistics. Still, the Packers are too beat-up and light on talent to stop this Bear-gernaut: Bears 20, Pack 7. Mark it 8 (in a row), dude.

I never picked the wrong champion. Period.

Continuing a now well-established tradition of attacking sports' most dangerous problems (see steroids, TO), today congress announced plans to "look into" the "deeply flawed" BCS system. Well it's about damn time! Say what you will about baseball's history of drug abuse, at least they know how to decide who wins properly. The question is, what was our nation's legislative body doing when USC needed them in late 2003? Was the war so much more time consuming a year ago when Utah and Auburn could've used a congressional hearing?? I'm just glad that Joe Barton (Rep. - Texas), the chairman of the investigating subcommittee, knows what's important in college athletics: "Too often college football ends in sniping and controversy, rather than winners and losers."

...and in politics:

As opined by the Jew:
dealey77: SF politics is stuck on the 1960s youth culture, bohemian, ultra liberal, convinced it can save the world... however, the world moved on 25 years ago and thats why san francisco flails about like a retard, cut off from the rest of the world's political thinking... no other city in america, and very few in the world, take care of people in the same way... this city's establishment is obsessed with helping the downtrodden
... and overall I think he's right, with the possible exception of his use of the word "retard". I ask you, my K-bors and friends: Is this a good thing? Posed another way, as seen on SF Politics message boards: Is SF ahead of the curve or stuck in the stone age?

Let me explain...

While I appreciate the rousing email response to my blogenesis, it's really counterproductive. The whole point of a blog, as I understand it, is to propose and discuss issues in a public forum. In other words, don't send me an email, POST A COMMENT! In the spirit of sharing, I'm bringing my blog to YOU, sports fan, with an Objectively Chosen NFL Game of the Week: a contest all of us can enjoy while the Bears whip the snot out of the Packers on the other TV in your local sports bar. This week, a battle for NFC South supremacy, a fight betwixt the black cats and the birds of prey, Jake Delhomme vs. Michael Vick, DeShaun Foster and Stephen Davis vs. Warrick Dunn and TJ Duckett, Steve Smith vs... who plays receiver for the Falcons? (Alge Crumpler, I suppose) This game is a close one, with the Vegas line currently favoring the Panthers by 3, but I'll take the birds, baby. Like the Bears, the Falcons speedy pass rush will put Delhomme on his ass early, and disrupt the flow of the Panthers' offense (not that Steve Smith won't still go the distance at some point). On the other side of the ball, Vick baffles the opposing defense every week, and the Bears showed us that the Panthers can be run on, so look for Dunn to do damage. Don't bet the under (43) on this one, folks, cause we're gonna see some TDs. My prediction for this week's OCNGotW: 27-23 Falcons over Panthers. Discuss.

I am Spartacus

As you might have guessed, Thursday is movie day. Not sure why you would've guessed that, but I suppose anything is possible. On tap for today: a Spartacus marathon. A marathon by virtue of the fact that Spartacus is so long. This is a Spartacus festival of sorts, celebrating the theme with pizza and other similarly Roman festivities, presided over by the Fisher King, elevated to the position of Emperor for the day. I've lost you by now, so I'll move on. A note about Spartacus: he's just led a slave rebellion of sorts, and now a band of malnourished gladiator trainees are ravishing the countryside and bathing in the gold of their oppressors. Awesome. I was further excited to find that the removal of Laurence Olivier's brilliant and sensual seduction of Tony Curtis - perhaps the most Roman event in the film - has been reversed in perpetuity by Hollywood liberals. This unfortunate censorship was championed by the wayward Legion of Decency, an evil holdover from the first half of the 20th century. Also restored was a simply wonderful scene where (thanks to a one-armed man) we got to see Spartacus sever an arm. Bottom Line: this movie kicks Gladiator's ass.