Wednesday, May 10, 2023
By the time I finish writing this post the VSL blog will have hit 30,000,000 direct page views. We've also tallied up nearly 58,000 comments from readers (and trolls) and have written over 5500 posts. That's a lot.
OT: Pickle Ball. A fun "pseudo" sport or harbinger of the collapse of modern civilization. Discuss.
I first became aware of pickle ball when my swim club re-configured an outdoor basketball court, installed by a vote from a previous board of directors, into a pickle ball court. Much smaller, dimensionally, than a tennis court and with a similar net crossing it and dividing it into two sides, the court is like a tiny tennis court for pixies who don't wish to move far. Which is probably a benefit to the people I have seen engaged in the game. They seem not to want to run very far or very fast when playing. They are further helped in this endeavor by the construction of the balls which are plastic and have holes in them. What we would have called a "whiffle ball." It's hard to imagine a person sustaining an injury from an errant whiffle ball strike as the balls are neither dense nor heavy. And have no sharp corners with which to put an eye out...
To my mind this new game is analogous to "water aerobics", a pass time for people who are not happy to "break a sweat" and who communally conspire never to raise their heart rates about 80 bpm. Although just spending time in the water might be more healthful.
Pickle Ball arrived on the scene and into the public consciousness as quickly as did Rep. George Santos. And delivered to me the same feelings. I have just seen my first ads for real estate developments which brag about their shiny, new Pickle Ball courts. No doubt this will join bowling in the Olympics. Games shabbily masquerading as sports. Sports ingenuously masquerading as fitness.
Maybe this droll game was introduced to distract people from inflation, the threat of recession and the instability of global alliances right now. If so it's, in my mind, a poor substitute for just heading to the local bar and getting plastered. At least in those instances there is money changing hands and at least tangentially buoying the local economies.
I have nothing against people wanting to waste their time and energy. I have the same regard for croquet and snooker. But I draw the line when people who are soon to be demoted from friends to acquaintances, or from acquaintances to Trumpian, "I never met them. I have no idea who they are or where they came from!" badger me to join them in their misguided pursuit of whiffle activities. Or try to engage me in conversations about the positive attributes of whifflage. Or breathlessly (not as a result of pickle ball) exclaim that "it's the fastest growing sport in the country..."
I can only imagine that this is yet another attempt to assuage the boredom of traditional religion by creating a (semi) active activity to replace it.
I'm too busy to start pushing a legislative initiative to ban pickle ball but wanted my gentle readers to understand how pernicious this new activity is. This, along with other aimless faux sports, are dangerous because they give rise to the assumption that people are getting some sort of healthy exercise.
There are few true sports. They consist mostly of running, swimming, track and field events, maybe basketball because the players run a lot, and, of course, swimming. Did I already mention swimming?
Pickle ball serves to demean the real sports. We must be on guard.
Alert: quasi, but not completely quasi satire. Play PB if you want to just try not to talk about it in polite company. We really aren't interested.
Do you play? Was it a court mandated punishment?
If the UK made no cars of their own would King Charles be willing to drive a Chevy Camaro? Not a stock, base model but the top of the line, in full sport trim! What car (other than UK models) do you think King Charles should drive?
He would be driving it himself in this scenario and not just riding in the back. And now that I think about it the back seats would be too cramped for a comfortable riding situation.
Your thoughts?
Me? No dog in the hunt. Just came to mind as I was stuffing errata into my pockets in prep for a walk...
Tuesday, May 09, 2023
Is it really King Charles or is it "The Wiz"?
I saw this absolutely ridiculous, laughable, embarrassing "portrait" of King Charles in my news feed and it immediately reminded me of a Jerry Seinfeld episode in which the 'Elaine' character dates a guy who turns out to be "The Wiz", an over the top spokesperson on a TV commercial for discount furniture. The resemblance is remarkable.
I guess it's okay to still have a monarchy. It probably beats the sheer horror of our previous president. But at the same time modern, sane and tasteful citizens of the U.K. must be very uncomfortable having their grown up leaders dressing up like this. Just an observation. Charles in full regal drag.
complaints about the post? See our subscription department...
Monday, May 08, 2023
Better camera? Or better frame of mind?
Sunday, May 07, 2023
Still playing around with yesterday's images from the SL and the Zeiss 28mm Biogon. I wonder what they look like in black and white. Oops. Excuse me! I wonder what they look like in monochrome.
Apropos of nothing, I was once a newspaper delivery boy. I was reminded of that this morning when B and I were out for our walk through the hills in our neighborhood. It was during my fresh man year of high school. I delivered the San Antonio Express News and the New York Times to some of the homes in my community. Almost everyone took the local paper back then. About a quarter also took the Times.
It was not my favorite job, looking back. I had to get up well before sunrise, gather up the papers that were dropped off via a big, white truck, roll them and bind them with string or twine to keep them from coming apart and blowing away, then stuff them into the wire baskets on my bicycle and peddle off into the darkness to get them to the subscribers in time to read over breakfast. It was a neighborhood of assorted professionals and business owners and they mostly seemed to be early risers. I'd catch hell if the papers weren't on the driveways or on the front porches by the time the sun came up. Older guys in ties needed their fix of daily news...
Sometimes I would sleep through my alarm clock and my father (one of the early risers) would gently shake me awake and make sure I got up. A couple of times I came down with a cold or the flu and I remember my dad very professionally assessing my condition and telling me to go back to sleep. Before heading in to work at the hospital those mornings he went out with my paper address list, found the papers, bound them and delivered them. In his suit and tie. Never complained.
The early mornings I dreaded most were the ones during which it was raining, sleeting, snowing or otherwise wet. If we had rain, or strongly suspected there would be rain, I would have to roll the papers up and then insert each newspaper into a waterproof, plastic sleeve. If there was a lot of news on a day like that, or a lot of advertising circulars, getting the rolled papers into the sleeves took a lot of time and ingenuity. It was an "art" I never truly mastered.
There was something odd about collecting the money from people at the end of each month. I'd have a ledger from the newspaper that laid out how much each house owed for their papers. The best time to catch everyone at home was the dinner hour since so few people routinely went out to eat back then. Most people expected to see me and had an envelope with cash in it next to the front door so they could hand it to me when I rang the door bell. Some people played hard to get and inadvertently taught me the time value of money... The best customers were friends and co-workers of my father. They routinely tipped me more than the cost of their bills. And they were kind and supportive.
My job throwing papers onto driveways lasted from the end of 8th grade, through the long Summer, and up to the day I tried out for the high school swim team. I made the cut and had to abandon my early "career" in "journalism" because in order to be on the swim team I had to make it to both of the daily practices. The first practice started at 5:30 a.m. A direct conflict to early newspaper delivery...
My father suggested I write a "thank you" note to each of my customers explaining my schedule change and giving them the telephone number to call if they didn't get their paper on time. I took his advice and learned a bit about the value of good customer relations when I subsequently dated some of the former customers' daughters, or applied for Summer jobs in the following years at some of their companies.
The most valuable lessons I learned doing the newspaper delivery gig were: You get a lot more done if you get up early. Making your own money is fun and empowering. Being organized and disciplined smooths out some of the inevitable bumps in life and makes the day-to-day work easier. And, finally, it's really wonderful to know my dad always had my back. And he did for many decades afterwards. I tried to return the favor whenever I could.
My next Summer job was lifeguarding. That was a lot more fun.