Chad's spot for various thoughts, musings, poetry, ideas and whatnot

Tuesday, February 18, 2003

Chicago: Not my kind of town

This weekend, I took the lovely wife to see Chicago as part of a Valentine's Day dinner and movie date. I have to say that the movie was fabulous. The acting, the costumes, the story, the way the story was told, the dancing, the music, everything. I could go on and on about the movie but there are pletty of reviews and the Academy has recognized the film's excellence with about a bazillion nominations. On the technical oscars, it's a toss-up in my mind as to who should win between Chicago and LotR:The Two Towers in terms of light and costuming.

The reason I wanted to blog about the movie was because I found a couple of aspects of the story quite relevant to what's going on in popular culture this week. In the story we find out that an awful lot of what's going on has to do with show business. The women are murderers. In a normal court they would have been found guilty and either spend the rest of their lives rotting away behind bars or, well, we won't go any further as I think you get the picture. In fact, one woman who has no show business connections is executed for a murder she may or may not have committed. But our heroes (????) are sensational in the actual sense of the word. In Chicago, which lives vicariously on the startling acts of others, the murders these women commit are just fodder for the papers. Add a lawyer who knows the system and can manipulate it and by the end of the movie they are headlining Chicago's biggest theater.

There were obvious parallels in this movie to the OJ Simpson trial and all that surrounded it. The bit I found a lot more relevant and a lot more creepy were the parallels to the latest Michael Jackson uproar. In the movie, the characters do things in order to pull the spotlight back on themselves after society's wandering eye has left them. They manipulate the press to create sensational events so that they can generate publicity to propel a dead or dying career. After watching the movie I had to wonder about MJ's video back and forth.

I think every generation has to have it's star-turned-circus-sideshow-act. Elvis and Howard Hughes are two examples from other generations. For my generation it's the "King of Pop". To look at the guy, he fits the part. But more to the point is the back and forth on the video interviews. First ABC and the scandal over the children and then the "rebuttal" piece on Fox. All of the sudden I'm seeing a set-up, especially after watching Chicago. It's all looking pretty contrived to me. A fading rock/pop star who all his life has craved the attention and recognition the media machine provides shows up and goes off with an obviously inflammatory statement on a sensitive subject. This is a guy who owns an army of lawyers and the video isn't editted? So now there's a stink and MJ has to go to Fox to tell, "his side of thestory". It's like two for the price of one. And guess what? America tuned in. I'm not sure who I'm more frustrated with, the media for being so easily flimflammed (or being involved in outright complicity) or the mass of Americans who actually think watching this guy's sad life is more interesting than living their own.

Dude, get a life. The only way this ever goes away is if we don't tune in. We don't need to know about MJ or J Lo and Ben or anyone else. We need to live our own lives and make our own memories. All of this stuff is meaningless. How many readers remember Wham or George Michael or what happened in a southern California park's public bathroom? If you do remember any of these things, it's because you liked the music Mr. Michael made (which was quite good and even occasionally socially relevant at the time). In 10 years Michael Jackson will be a footnote (unless he can find that ability to make amazing music again) in entainment history. His music will not be, however. It is what we create that is lasting, what we leave behind. No one cares about Elvis' personal life now, but his music still has the power to move people. We need to stop paying attention to them and focus on the world we can influence and affect. The world that we can make better through who and how we love. Paul says to think on what is excellent. MJ and all the hoopla is not excellent.

Of course that's just my opinion, but in this case, I don't think I'm wrong.

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Friday, February 14, 2003

The Race of Truth

Last weekend I rode my first race of the season, a time trial on the Silver Comet Trail. 9.2 miles of me and the clock and no one else, sort of. The morning was rough because we had to drive 1.5 hours to get to the site for a race that started at 8:30 am. Props to my lovely wife for dragging herself out of the very nice, warm bed to drive to Powder Springs on a very cold morning with a nervous, impatient husband. After signing in, it was on the trainer for some warm-up time and then a quick peek at the course. Mostly flat.

At 9:09 I go off. I shoot off the start line, spring a bit and then settle into the aerobars. For the next 24 minutes I'll be laid out over my front wheel trying to push as big a gear as I can spin at 90 rpm. Three miles into the ride I caught my one minute man. This is the guy who started a minute before I did. Passing him is a good sign when I'm feeling like I'm having a very hard time getting into a rhythm. In time trialing, rhythm is a big thing. You get the right cadence with the right breathing pattern with the right pulling up on the areobars and the power starts to pour from you legs. For the first three miles, I had struggled to find a rhythm. Too much shallow uphill, 1-2% with some flat sections. Once I saw the rabbit up ahead, however, I started to get into the swing of things and when I passed him I was going flat out.

The hard part was not going too hard. I knew that I needed to ride at just below lactate threshold on the way out but with all the adrenaline of the start I had to fight not to push too hard. I had to stay at 172 for my heart rate. Going harder would mean I wouldn't have anything in the tank for the last half of the course. As I went into the turn around point, I had just seen my two minute man pass me going the other way. I was close on catching him too. So, coming out of the turn I took it up a notch. Climbing a small rise I spiked to 182 and then settled back down. As I caught sight of the guy ahead I realized that there was a group of three. I was about to pass my two, four and five minute men. I poured on the gas and let the heart rate drift up. I was flying at around 27 or 28 mph now. As I passed the group I began to wonder where my three minute man was. Two miles later, I saw him. Would I have enough distance to close the 500 m gap he had on me? It turned out that I would fall about 30 seconds short of catching him.

The results? Third in the Cat V class and 9th overall. Not too bad for a February time trial.

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Tuesday, February 04, 2003

Quick Thoughts

The last couple of posts on this diatribe have been a bit heavy so I thought I'd post something a little lighter. A few random thoguhts follow below:

Peanut Butter

A short consumer note, Laura Lynn Reduced Fat Creamy Peanut Butter Spread is yucky. Now I'm not sure if it's yucky like Mr. Yuck sticker yucky but if the taste is any indication I would be inclined to think so. I've had better tasting sawdust. (I know what you're thinking, "You mean you go around eating sawdust? What are you, some sort of half-man, half-termite hybrid created to combat cellulose-based space aliens when they invade to liberate their tree brethern?" While I can't comment on that particular subject, I can say that my sawdust tasting experience comes from the fact that it seems that my role in increasing the entropy of the universe is confined to turning big pieces of ugly wood into smooth pieces of not ugly wood and lots of really small pieces of wood.) As someone I spoke with about this said, "Never venture far from Jif." You can call this a shocking bit of product endorsement but short of something homemade, Jif (especially the Creamy) just tastes better. It tasted better when I was a kid, it tasted better when I was a dirt poor undergrad and didn't have the money to afford it and it tastes better now. Top the Laura Lynn off with some rather nasty Great Value strawberry preserves from Wally World and you have one rotten PB&J sandwich. There are times when generic might be cheaper, but it certainly isn't worth the cost.

Product Endorsements

I got an email from Active.com today asking if I was interrested in joining one of their sponsored athlete teams. Hmmm, I thought. Sounds intriguing. All I have to do is wear/use/promote-in-a-sort-of-passive-way the stuff at six sporting events I will participate in and I'll be set. There's swag involved, maybe even some cash. I'm a thirty-something amateur athlete with a reasonable amount of disposable income and a drive to compete and win. I'm a good time-trialist with some real podium potential (at least in Cat V road cycling). On the heals of Lance's newest endorsement deal with Subaru, it sounded like a pretty good deal. I mean, maybe I'd promote Power Bar whose slogan is "Be Great" or I'd get a shoe or a sunglasses brand. Hmmmm, sounds even more interesting. But then I wondered, what if I don't like the product. I mean, I think Power Bars are great and all for athletic performance but I think they taste like slimy carboard (I sure hope you're not eating lunch while reading this). What if my product is Gatorade when I like to drink Cytomax. What if it's too personal...somethink like promoting a particular brand of underwear for actively minded adults? Come to think of it, I'm a pretty brand loyal kind of guy. I ride Specialized bikes and use Specialized products whenever I can. I like Mavic wheels, Ritchey components (for the most part) and Shimano drivetrains. I drink nothing but Cytomax or water, my computing choice is Apple, my electronics choice runs toward JVC and I always wash with Cheer. I'm the guy the marketing people keeping try to say doesn't exist anymore, a consumer neanderthal. One the other hand, getting a hand to pay for this expensive hobby would be nice. Hmmmm.....

Small Town Life

I love living in a small town. Last night the lovely wife and I went for our evening fair weather walk when we ventured across a small crowd of people. Some of the folks have lawn chairs and cool, refresshing beverages; others are standing in groups talking wise talk. What was the event? The tree guys were cutting down an enormous old tree that had started to rot out and was threatening to fall on the house that had probably been built before the tree was planted in the front yard. In some towns, this sort of thing is greeted with derision but I'm glad that things are peaceful enough around my home that the day's big event is trying to predict which branch the guy up in the ropes was going to cut next.

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Saturday, February 01, 2003

Loss

When I was 14 years old, two events brought to me a re-realization that I, more than anything, wanted to study astronomy and astrophysics. One was the broadcast of Carl Sagan's Cosmos and the other was the launch of the space shutle Columbia. Both kindled my imagination and opened my ideas to the beauty of science and the ideals of discovery. Dr. Sagan died a few years ago. Today, the Columbia broke apart upon reentry into the Earth's atmosphere after a 16 day mission of scientific discovery and exploration, killing the seven humans who made up her crew.

Watching the home video of the space plane's break-up I remembered back to the Columbia's first launch, the excitement I and the rest of the country felt. The excitement of returning to space after what seemed like so many years being Earth bound. The Voyager missions to Jupiter had generated great sceintific excitement but watching the Columbia lift off filled us all with a sense of pride that was hard to contain. I remember that I cried with joy when she slipped from her berth and ascended into the heavens. Watching her roll over onto her back just as she was supposed to was one of the most breathtaking things I had ever seen. The reporters covering the event were breathless in their commentary, as were we all.

Now again I weep. I weep for the families whose loved ones will never return home. I weep for the scientists, engineers, technicians and administrators of NASA who place so much of their lives into these missions and who care for the fleet of shuttles and their astronauts. I weep for us who dreamed one day to fly; not just on any shuttle, but on the Columbia. To soar on a pillar of flame and smoke to the heavens and pursue knowledge from a vantage point that few would ever have.

I pray now that although the Columbia is gone, except as "pieces on the ground", the dream that she and her crew represented will not be allowed to fade. That their loss will bring us to more deeply appreciate the cost of our search for truth. She represented a country regaining its pride and returning to a destiny it had once claimed. She represented the continuation of mankind's drive to pioneer and discover and search beyond the boundaries of the everyday world. Let us who remember her on that glorous first day carry forth the dream she represented.

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