My German friend insists Davd Hasllehoff’s celebrity in Germany is highly exaggerated. But what self-respecting German would be able to resist this?

From a column in the LA Times:

Before I said yes, I told him I needed to ask my wife, Cassandra. Afraid of a fight, I wimpily text-messaged her. Less than a minute later, she wrote back: “Are you going to get naked and simulate sex? I’d like to see that.” I read this five times. I couldn’t figure out if it was a joke, or if she was turned on, or just didn’t care. Was it, “I’d like to see that,” as in “I’d like to see it over and over again when you’re not home as a marital aid”? Or was it, “I’d like to see that,” as in “I’d like to see that so I could show everyone your pathetic attempts at foreplay”? Text messaging, I discovered, needs more emoticons.

Although I generally attempt to be as in-tune as possible with emerging technology trends, I admit complete ignorance on the latest format war between Blu-ray and HD DVD.

There is, however, a purely semantic reason I’m hoping HD DVD prevails: I simply cannot foresee a future in which one would refer to “shopping for Blu-Rays.” At least with HD DVD we can continue to referring to the new medium as “DVDs”, a term we’re already quite comfortable with.

Brooklyn, March 24th at 4:41 PM - The Ice Cream Truck is heard, its first appearance of 2007.

Can hardly wait for Spring in full swing.

Jeopardy! super-champ Ken Jennings is increasingly becoming one of the Best Bloggers Alive, and this post defending his usage of the generic feminine pronoun is a good example why:

Even if you’re not a feminist, there are already four ridiculous things in Cranky 1950s Man’s e-mail. One: that you should stop reading a book the second you disagree with exactly two words. Two: that two pronouns in a 300-page book constitute “agitating” for anything. Three: that there even is such a thing as agitating for a cause without telling anyone, and four: that books should, at all costs, protect readers from the author’s point of view.

For perhaps his best claim to the title check out this post analyzing dance styles from the Charlie Brown Christmas Special.

With UNC’s victory over USC we now have a sweet sweet Elite 8: #1 vs. #2, #1 vs. #2, #1 vs. #2, #1 vs. #3. No Final Four has ever been made up of all #1s.

But this is the year, right? The first time in history it has a chance of happening, yes?

Blah blah blah. That gets said every season, and every season I’ve learned to ignore it. This is March MADNESS, baby! It’s crrrrrazy! A 64-team, one-win-you’re-out tourney! Anything can happen! Miracles! Mad Miracles of March! Lions roaring! Miracles marching down mountainous mad miles!

And yet, Out Like a Lamb, because, this year, it looks as though it could quite easily come down to four number 1s. And what does that mean? That means some lucky dude who doesn’t know jack ish about college basketball will likely win the big-money bracket challenges out there.

No one has all number 1s in the Final Four. No one! (No one other than John McCain). It would be stupid, a waste of ink and paper, a guaranteed embarrassment.

This is now the second year in a row the gods of March Madness have rewarded the weak and the ignorant. George Mason’s improbably run to the Final Four led to an entire legion of Mason alums winning office pools nationwide, not to mention one lucky guy who accidentally chose Mason after confusing them with George Washington. (!)

Oh, Aggies. You have let me down.

A lot of embedded videos going on but this is worth it:

The Wii is f-ing awesome. This baby can barely stand on his own yet he can already easily serve, volley, and even skip his own replays!

The Wii works on all levels. You can go out Wii bowling on a daily basis but still occasionally lose to someone whose never even held a Wii remote.

It can also be a good excuse to take out your agression on an underperforming flat screen TV.

Ohio is a palindrome of noise.

UPDATE: Wait…no it’s not.

The name “Marilyn” is a funny word to spell; I don’t think many people would ever spell it wrong, but it’s almost impossible to type very quickly. Marilyn. I can’t type it without thinking about its spelling, which usually isn’t the case with words I know how to spell.

Marilyn.

An easily spelled word that must be spelled laboriously.

If the subtitle of this blog is anything as indication––Poetry, Politics, (and the) Boneless Sea Fauna––I’ll say right now I feel like a bit of a pussy starting off with poetry. In fact, I can’t determine whether or not posting poetry here would be a good idea at all, or just an uncomfortable and unintentional indication of my closeted namby-pamby. I’m so out of practice. My blog needs to be redesigned. Is that any reason not to do this? I can’t tell whether or not I should focus on the politics (a not-as-gay, left of right-of-center Andrew Sullivan), or the poetry (a non-Chilean, non-Black, non-as-impressive Amiri Baraka/Pablo Neruda). I’ve already found that this is no reason to start a blog––self-indulgent self-congratulation, unintentional self-parody. But it’s ok; I’m tired and lonely and a little bit thirsty. It’s a yawn, Brooklyn is a sleepy town, but there is some hip hop on the streets and beats in our meats, even for a young vegetarian. This is the introduction, and I just gentrified an entire city block.