So....who's up for another wood-splittin' party?

I came home last night to find this monstrous, 20-foot-long branch had fallen into my back yard. Astonishingly, it missed the house, the utility cables (just a few feet away), the outdoor furniture, the dog, the dogwood and basically everything else in the yard.


While I'm happy with this minor miracle of avoided destruction, I'm not left feeling very optimistic of the longevity of the huge hickory that dropped the branch. As many of you will remember, we had a hell of a time taking apart the hickory goliath in my front yard last year. This one is about the same size, and seems to have even more branches.


I'm just telling you all this as a fair warning for when I call and ask who wants to help run the hydraulic splitter in exchange for some premium firewood -- as much as you can carry! What a deal!

This should clear up some things.

Not my office., originally uploaded by Griner.

I fully expect this to become a standard piece of signage, like "Not an Exit."

My Christmas wish for my Web browser.

There's something that drives me crazy every time I try to recall a login for a Web site, and Firefox asks if I want it to remember the password. The answers, essentially, are "yes," "no" or "never."

What I want is a "yes, but only if this password works." A lot of times, a failed password takes you to another screen, where you try to guess again. Firefox remembers that one, but also remembers the wrong one for the front page. I'm sure there's a manual way to fix all this, but bullocks to that.

Anyone know of an extension or fix for this kind of thing? Or am I just light years ahead of the Internet? Poking around, I found this security extension, but I can't say I really understand how it works.

But if you are using Firefox, I overwhelmingly recommend this calculator add-on. It's wonderful for day-to-day stuff or more advanced things like successive calculations (we use it for budgeting). Anyone know of other great extensions? I love Firefox, but I feel like I'm not really using it to its full potential.

We picked a name and a monkey-robot nursery theme. Can't we just use a dartboard for the rest?

All things baby related are proceeding well. Karen and I have obviously had to stumble somewhat blindly through the many selection processes -- pick what to register for, find a day care, pick a pediatrician, etc.

I feel like we've been pretty lucky with each of these, considering how little experience we're operating from. Stacy was a huge help with picking registry things we'd actually need, and hand-me-downs from her and Kim have negated a lot of decision making.

The day care was pretty easy. We toured three. One was complete crap. Chaotic, messy, grumpy staff, bad vibe, hefty price (at least for that level of crapiness). The second was nicer but just felt cramped and loosely organized. We ended up going with one that was a bit sterile and institutional, but well coordinated and safe. They had cameras in each room (really just a psychological barrier to keep workers from losing their cool), lots of sanitary precautions, a helpful staff and a ton of space indoors and out. Plus, it's close to the house. Score.

Pediatricians were a little tougher, because you're picking a person, a location and a business.

The first one came highly recommended, but there were some snags that were immediately noticeable. First, the practice is in a hospital complex, which means parking stinks (and costs money...no validation). The waiting room felt messy and uninviting, and I'm guessing I'll have to spend a lot of time there. The doctor herself was nice enough, but she spoke 100 miles an hour and never came up for air. I was left feeling stressed and confused, just from the atmosphere of our conversation.

Plus, the practice seemed to shovel a lot of the work onto nurses. Phoned-in questions were answered by nurses. After-hours calls were divided up with another practice entirely. And the doctor only worked three days a week (no doctor there works more than four). Finally, she rushed us out the door because she had a backlog of patients.

Luckily, we found a place the next day that was everything the first one wasn't. The practice is in its own brand-new building with its own free, covered parking. The waiting rooms are comfortable for adults and, presumably, kids. The doctor was fantastic. Calm, supportive, upbeat and practical. Plus, she's only 38, so odds are good she'll be around a while.

I have no idea what the next "Oh my god you haven't done that yet?!" decision will be. But at least we've found that trusting your gut is about the only thing you really need to muddle through.

Oh, and congrats to our friend Sarah, who just made it through 10 hours of labor, 2 hours of pushing AND a C-section. If our kid puts us through that, she better damn well be the next Doogie Howser.

The look that made Jonas a Griner.

We finally got a decent photo the other day for our Christmas card, and when I saw Jonas' expression, it seemed familiar. Eventually, it hit me. It looked almost identical to the photo taken at the pound in California.

On the left, you can see the original photo that ran on a rescue group's adoption page. I was actually just visiting the page to ensure I was printing the Web address correctly in our newspaper's weekly Adopt-a-Pet feature. Jonas (actually called Wally at that point), was at the top of the page, and I was smitten right away.

Obviously, the Christmas card photo is on the right. Three years have elapsed between the two shots, but Joe still knows how to fire up the charm on occasion. (Especially if the cameraman -- my dad in this case -- makes a weird noise right before the shot.)

Do not, repeat, do not arm yourself with the bones of Godzilla.

In one of those "don't ask how I got here" kind of moments, I found myself perusing the Godzilla page on Wikipedia today. Scrolling through it, I started to notice that the page is a treasure trove of hilarity.

Here are my favorites:

• "In the movie Godzilla x Mothra x Mechagodzilla: Tokyo S.O.S., the two shobijin fairies warn that using Godzilla's bones as a weapon is a big mistake."

• "Indeed, a translated conversation between Godzilla, Mothra and Rodan in said film reveals that Godzilla's ire towards humans is merely due to what he perceives as unprovoked attacks towards him."

• "The American version looked much more like a badger like than the original version."

• "He is also shown to have a high degree of physical strength and dexterity, often utilizing martial arts techniques in combat."

• There's really no excerpt that will do this justice, so here you go:

In Godzilla vs. King Ghidorah, it is discovered that the time-travelers that had attempted to prevent Godzilla's creation had left in its place on Lagos island their own creation—three tiny Dorats—mutating and combining them into a three-headed golden abomination, King Ghidorah.

Unfortunately, they are unaware that the Godzilla they had planned to erase was later mutated by the nuclear submarine crash which would lead to the events of The Return of Godzilla. In an effort to stop King Ghidorah's rampage, an extremely wealthy corporate developer plans to send a nuclear submarine into the Bering Sea in an attempt to create a second Godzilla. Instead of finding the Godzillasaurus, the submarine would come face to face with Godzilla himself, unchanged and still recovering from the ANEB.

The Futurians’ ignorance of the past leads them to create the second Godzilla in the first place rather than removing him from history. Godzilla absorbs the power of the nuclear sub, purging his system of the bacteria and increasing his size further to 100 meters (328 feet), becoming big and powerful enough to defeat King Ghidorah.

Godzilla proceeds to attack Japan itself, but is stopped when Emmy, one of the Futurians who had turned on her fellows, resurrects Ghidorah as a cyborg in the future and returns to the past to battle Godzilla with the new Mecha-King Ghidorah. The two battle in Tokyo, with both falling into the sea, but Godzilla is still alive.

•Finally, some actually interesting information:

"One characteristic that has remained stable is his roar. It was first created by Japanese composer Akira Ifukube by rubbing a resin glove over the strings of a contrabass."

If real life were like Rock Band.

So I got a chance to try out the new game Rock Band this weekend at friend Bill's house, and it is truly spectacular. Like Guitar Hero stepped up to the Nth degree. (You can read Bill's summary of the game here, or check out videos like this one to see how it works.)

Anyway, so yeah, the game's a blast, but to make it as fun as it is, the programmers had to really change your notions of how a live performance should work. Below, I've done my best to recreate what it must look like from the fan's perspective.

-----------

Hey man, how was your weekend? Good good. Yeah, no mine was fine. Went and saw a show. What? No, I wouldn't really say it was good, but it was pretty friggin weird. No, nothing like that. Let me see if I can do this justice:

At the beginning, the band just kinda walked out on stage and picked up their gear. Then they started debating who should play what instrument. The guitarist picked up a bass, then changed his mind again and sat at the drums. The drummer picked up the mic, then seemed to get shy and handed it to the other guitarist. I thought maybe they were just joking around, but then it really got crazy.

Right when the band looked like they were finally ready, they just stood there staring straight ahead. So someone yells out, "Play 'Run for the Hills' by Iron Maiden!" Then the drummer freaks out and starts trying to hand the sticks to anyone who will take them. Everyone else in the band tells the bassist to play drums, but the drummer wants to play guitar, so the guitarist switches with the singer. Then the song starts after what felt like forever.

So the drummer begins playing, but he can't figure out the beat, so it's just random banging. And just when I'm thinking, "wow, this sucks," the singer gets going. And it's like she has never heard the words in her life. She's reading the lyrics off some kind of karaoke machine, at least until she gives up and just starts saying "roo roo roo" for the next, like, 6 minutes.

Right when I'm about to go get a beer, things actually got pretty interesting. The drummer, who looks like some kind of nervous, caffeinated monkey, gets forcibly yanked off the stage for playing so incredibly bad. Then it's kinda creepy, because the song keeps going without any percussion.

But that only lasts 30 seconds or so. That's when the guitarist, who's actually pretty good, starts crotch-grinding his guitar and doing this weird ride-that-pony dance across the stage. I guess that won over the stage manager or whoever, because the drummer got to come back out and play the rest of the song. Strangely, this happened two or three more times. The drummer even got kicked off stage a second time, but he got to come back yet again, apparently because the bass player started shaking his butt and using a wah-wah pedal.

Anyway, at the end, they try to do this big finish. But it's not like one of those jam-band finishes where all the different melodies come together into one triumphant finale. No, it's more like they all just start hitting random notes and drums and cowbells and whatever. I swear my ears were bleeding.

At the very end of the song, they all hit their instruments one last time, but the bass player hits his note about a half a second too late. Everything goes quiet, and they all stare at him like he's an ass. He apologizes to the rest of the band and says he should probably just sing the next one or two. Then the audience got to vote on who was the "most energetic" or some crap. I threw my bottle at the stage and went home.

Home security redefined.

Found this photo while I was organizing our external drive and decided to give it the lolcats treatment. Hope you all had a great Thanksgiving!

Hoboy! I have an Amazon wish list! And my unborn daughter has a charity!

This feels self-serving and materialistic, but I personally like when friends have Amazon wish lists. Because even if I know you well, come Christmas crunch time, I don't really want to do any more thinking than I absolutely have to.

So anyway, here's mine...



If you've got one you'd like to share (or see something that I'd love but is blatantly missing from my list), post a comment here.

Oh, and I almost forgot, with all the baby registry stuff also going on this year, Karen and I are offering an easy alternative to gifts of any kind.

We're trying to collect donations in our daughter's name for kiva.org, so you're all invited to take the easy route and send a contribution of any size (seriously...$1, whatever) via check. Just make it out to us and write kiva.org in the message line. Contact me if you need our address.

Five years ago today....

...it was an icy-cold, blustery day in Chicago. And mere minutes after our friend Matt snapped this photo, it started snowing and didn't let up. Thankfully, I don't live in a Victorian novel, so the weather didn't end up being a portent of things to come. It just made the bridesmaids cuss a little.

I doubt I have to tell any of you how incredible it's been being married to Karen. She keeps me excited about life and energized about learning new things. We've gone through some pretty dramatic transitions in the past five years, and Karen has always been the voice of enthusiasm and optimism, although she's enough of a realist to actually make me plan my life more than a day ahead.

I could obviously spend countless posts talking about how great she is, how much she's added to my life, how cute she looks when she's killing samurai on the XBox, but there's really no rush. We're only five years in.

Happy anniversary, Karen.

When no one's looking.

Had to run home today for a few minutes so the TV repair guys could pick up the set. When I got there, it was quiet. Too quiet.

Assuming Jonas had not again broken INTO the house, I decided he probably just hadn't noticed me pull up.

So I carefully went into the house, grabbed the camera and snapped a photo of what he secretly does when no one's around during the day.

Witness the SHOCKING TRUTH. If you dare!

A (not so) quick wrapup of the many things going on.

I keep wanting to write epic blog posts about all the different things we've got going on lately, but I never have the time to actually write them. So I'm going to cop out and just give you guys some big updates in bullet form.

• We're having a daughter. Sorry if you're just now hearing about it, but yes, it's true. We're quite excited, nervous, etc. Karen's about halfway along and has had a pretty much ideal pregnancy. (No sickness, no super-crazy cravings or aversions, etc.) Read more over at Karen's blog if you haven't already. If you're my daughter reading this in the distant future and wondering how your dad announced the big news....um, sorry about this.

• We're adopting a cat. That's the plan anyway. Tomorrow, we're scheduled to pick up a kitten that was brought into our vet. It was found hiding under a car and has since been named "Volvo," which I assure you will not last. If this ends up causing too much craziness, our vet has assured us we can bring her back at any time and they'll find a good home. So at worst, we're fostering, but I hope it'll work out long-term.

• We're painting our house. And it is an epic affair. After two steady weeks of work, we've only completed about 1/6th of the house, but it looks INCREDIBLE. (We're going from horrible mint green to a sort of dark cedar. I love it.) Again, I steer you to Karen's blog for the backstory. We'll have some great in-progress photos soon, and I'm especially excited about my parents coming down to help next weekend.

• I got to see They Might Be Giants Friday night in Atlanta, which was great. They played a good mix of old and new stuff, although they did seem pretty exhausted from all the touring they've been doing. (Thanks to YouTube, you can see a video clip from the front row, which is far closer than I was.) I picked up an autographed vinyl copy of their new album, which will make for a fun memento. Had a great time with my old California friend Jeff at the show. Maybe too great a time, because....

• Saturday was one of the worst days of my life. Not really sure why. I didn't drink a tremendous amount Friday night, and never even really got that tipsy. But Saturday was literally a gut-wrenching day of frequent, sudden stops along the interstate. I came home, passed out and woke up about 20 hours later feeling quite a bit better. I'm blaming the gypsies who fed me before the show. They'll probably come for my baby in a few months, too. (Actually, the restaurant was tasty, if a bit underwhelming in terms of menu choices.)

Sadly, I had to miss our monthly Supper Club with friends and family (sorry again, guys), but another drive up to Huntsville was far, far out of the question.

• I've been playing around quite a bit on Facebook, which is a world of better than MySpace. If you're on there and you haven't found me yet, let me know. All sorts of friends from college, high school and elsewhere have come out of the woodwork on there. I even started a group for advertising bloggers, and it already has more than 80 members from around the world. Crazy. (If you have a Facebook account, here's the link to the group.)

• Work is going wonderfully, but it's definitely keeping me busy. Just embarked on a huge new project that should be fun. It comes on the heels of this huge project, which was a good time. I have an office now, which is a first in my career. It's quite nice and serene, and I'm actually somewhat close to my colleagues now.

I don't have much recent stuff I can really show off, but here's a fun "save the date" card I made with designer Miles to promote an HR conference. The client is a local law firm.

FRONT


INSIDE



• Our TV is broken, and it's become quite an ordeal. We took the 180-pound monster into a repair place, which eventually said they fixed it (for $125....not terrible). After dragging all 180 pounds BACK home, I realized it was still broken in the same way. (But thanks to Greg and Valerie for helping load it into and out of the car.) The repair guys are picking it up tomorrow and waiving the $50 pickup fee, but we'll see how it goes.

If it ends up costing too much more or being unfixable, we're looking at this 37" LCD by Vizio, which sells for about $750 at Sam's and has gotten good reviews for such a cheap model. Anyone out there have any other recommendations? We're replacing a 34-inch CRT by Phillips, if that gives you a sense of perspective.

• Jonas has ballooned to 73 pounds. I'm starting to think he's actually a manatee.

OK, that's plenty of updates for now. There's so much more going on, but I'll try to be better about keeping you all up to speed more regularly. As always, you can enjoy my blogging antics somewhat daily over here.

For a $25 copay, it's pretty good entertainment.

Doctor: So, what's wrong?

Me: I've had really bad abdominal cramping for a few days.

Doctor: Ooh, could be kidney stones.

Me: Really? I mean, my kidneys don't hurt.

Doctor: Huh. Maybe bladder stones?

Me: Uhh...

Doctor: Does it burn when you pee?

Me: No.

Doctor: Have you had heavy bleeding in your stool?

Me: I would have mentioned either of those things before the cramping.

Doctor: Huh. Well, let's X-ray you and see if we can find those stones!

(After X-ray)

Doctor: Mm, no stones. Are you sure you haven't had heavy bleeding in your stool?

Me: Pretty sure.

Doctor: Well, if you notice it happen a few times...

Me: Shouldn't I be worried after the first time?

Doctor: Yeah. That would be bad.

Me: Wait, should I expect it to happen?

Doctor: Whew, I hope not. Do you ever eat so much that it might rupture your intestinal wall?

(Doctor looks at my 150-pound frame.)

Doctor: Probably not, huh?

Postscript:

I was eventually diagnosed with "abdominal cramping" and given pain pills and antibiotics, even though the doctor seemed vague about what he expected the antibiotics to kill.

To date, no heavy bleeding, and I feel much better. And I can't say I'll stop going to that doctor. He seems to call it like he sees it, which I appreciate. And strangely, there's never a wait.

All the freaks come out.

Here's a slideshow of choice pics from this year's Boo celebration in Birmingham. Most of our group went as marketing icons. I'll let you try to guess them all.




One highlight of the night was a friend saying that my gray beard made me look "10 years older." That would be 40. Jerk.

One joy I cannot be denied.

P1010004, originally uploaded by Griner.

My TV's broken and my Internet connection is failing every few minutes, but nothing can keep me from enjoying the first fire of the season.

Every reporter's dream.

Big congrats to my wonderful friend Angela, who has made it into The New York Times. I think she's either trying to dismantle her own chin or getting ready to play the harmonica.

Let's get ready to jumble!

So a few months back, Karen proposed a small yard sale to get rid of excess junk around the house. I personally didn't think we had enough to justify the work of a yard sale, but then my sister found a new house, effectively stocking us with a driveway full of pretty good stuff.

This past weekend was the yard sale. (Or as they say in the U.K., "jumble sale," which my British friend Cait wants me to popularize in America....although I didn't risk putting that on the signs.)

It was a somewhat epic amount of work, but the result was about $630 in profit. (We spent roughly $100 on the newspaper ad, signs and prizes for friends who helped set up).

The experience itself was great, too. I actually had a lot of fun. People were nice, and just about everything sold.

But if you ever find yourself wanting to host a garage/yard/jumble sale, let me share a few tips while they're fresh in my memory.

What we did right:

* Warned away early birds. We had a "No early birds" line in our ad, and we put a sign at the end of the driveway the night before. That seemed to keep people from knocking on our door at 5 a.m. (which I hear is a regular occurrence).

* Offered free coffee. It was easy to make and set out, and it seemed to make folks happy and encouraged them to stick around longer.

* Had HUGE signs. I borrowed some large sandwich boards from my agency and covered them with poster board that we had colored with markers. They ended up dwarfing every other pitiful yard sale sign. I know most people don't have access to these, but you should at least try to scrounge for something similar in size and effectiveness.

* Had a clothing rack. Last time we did a yard sale, we stacked clothes on a table. This time, thanks to a clothing rack we borrowed from Karen's office, they seemed to sell a lot better. They also obviously saved precious table space.

* Had lots of grocery bags and cardboard boxes on hand. The boxes proved especially useful.

* Priced low. Our goal was to move stuff, and we did. If you price low, you stand the best chance of getting rid of most things in the first hour. Be strong, and forget what you or your mother-in-law paid for that porcelain sauerkraut cooker or whatever.

* Priced simply. $1 for adult clothes. 50 cents for baby clothes. The only exception was $3 for jackets.

*Didn't have a cash box. We carried the money in fanny packs and dropped off large wads of cash inside when it started to get full. This eliminated the stress of watching a money box all day.

* Arranged tables by topic, not by price. This just seemed to help people find what they were looking for, then buy lots of it. It can be tempting to bunch by price, but it's pretty worthless.

* Played music. It made it a bit less creepy and easier for people to talk to each other about my stuff in front of me.

* Cut boxes in half to hold books. This was my personal accomplishment. We had tons of books, but I didn't just want them stacked messily on a table. So I cut some cardboard boxes horizontally, then sealed the top or bottom. Poof! Suddenly you have a bunch of shallow boxes that were perfect for books, CDs, etc.

What sold well:
* Tools. By far the big winner, especially power tools. Sold before we opened.
* Small appliances. (Be sure to have an outlet for people to test them.)
* Computer and video game peripherals.
* DVDs. (Thanks, Dad!)
* Books -- especially cookbooks and paperbacks (we charged 50 cents a piece).
* Holiday stuff. (October was a good month for that.)
* Bathroom stuff, aka "Health and Beauty." Everything sold but a comb.
* Furniture.
* Guns. I didn't have any, but people kept asking all day.

What didn't sell well:
* Reference books. Total waste of space, except the dictionary and the Bible.
* Board games.
* Flower pots. Didn't sell one (out of about 15).
* Coffee mugs.
* Candles.
* Slim clothes. (Although it was worth it to see the look on women's faces when they held up Karen's shirts.)

Well I hope all that helps you guys out if/when you decide to tackle one. I definitely think it was worth the effort, but it'll be a while before I have the energy to tackle it again.

If you find yourself waffling about whether to have one, just picture this little stash of pot-dealer cash:

More news from my childhood (kinda).

Sure, my mom is friends with a bunch of astronauts. She has been as long as I've known her. This in and of itself has never impressed me.

But back when I was a video game junkie (er, in my early days as a video game junkie), my mother found a way to truly impress me. I was reading an article about Richard Garriott, creator of the Ultima video game series, and it mentioned that his games always included a silver serpent medallion because he actually wore one every day. The only time he didn't wear it was when his father took it into space.

Wait a second, into space? I asked mom, and sure enough, she knew Richard's dad, astronaut Owen Garriott. Holy crap, I was one degree away from the guy who made my favorite game! OK, so maybe it was still two or three degrees, but still.

Mom sent me an e-mail the other day saying that Richard is finally living his dream and going up into space himself. Now the story's starting to pop up in my blog feeds. (The photo above comes from a New York Times story that mentions Richard also owns a Sputnik. Good for him.)

But what confused me was today's entry in Gadling, a travel blog I read daily. They never mention the fact that Richard Garriott was one of the first software millionaires. In fact, check out this bit from the blog post:

If the name Garriot sounds familiar, think Owen Garriot. Owen Garriot, is a retired NASA astronaut who spent time aboard Skylab and Spacelab-1 is his dad. Next year's trip will be the first time an American astronaut's kid has headed to space.

I don't know how much weight I should give that blog entry anyway, since it misspelled Garriott on all references. But even in the NYT story I linked to above, Richard is referred to in the headline as just a "Texas man."

So now I'm not sure whether to feel bad that I think of Richard as the far bigger celebrity, or feel good that my mom is friends with the dad. One thing is clear: I don't really come out ahead in either scenario. Maybe I'd feel better if I had my own Sputnik.

Hey Emily, take notes from a real poet.

As we pored through boxes for our upcoming yard sale (more on that soon), Karen and I dug up some real treats. One of my favorites was "The Write Stuff: 1987-1988," the literary magazine from my fifth-grade year.

I think it will become apparent in the following poem that I was an exceptionally gifted poet, and some of you might find yourself shocked or even angry at the fact that I didn't pursue this as a career. The experimental rhyme scheme, the nontraditional metaphor...I may have reached my creative peak at age 10.

Undertow

Once there was a little man
Sitting on the beach.
A big wave came along.
He was afraid.
It turned him white like bleach.

It sucked him out into the water
Taken away he was.
He was treading water poorly
When he asked himself
"Is this what a dolphin does?"

He was swimming rather well
When a whale nudged him in the leg.
He looked for something to hold on to
When he saw a keg.
So he laid on top of it.

Finally he came to a shore.
As he got to the beach of ice
He stated "Gah!"
He had started out in South America
And ended up in Canada.

Now, as pleased as I am with the work of child Griner, I have to say I was actually outdone by other kids in my school. Check out this opening line from a fourth-grader's short story:

One day a robot named E.L. Fudge found a crystal that breakdanced.

I'll just let you imagine the rest.

Behold, an online bible for coffee nerds.

If you knew me in college, chances are you knew that each of my days was divided thusly:

• 1/4th asleep.
• 1/4th in classes.
• 1/4th working at student newspaper.
• 1/4th hanging out at Lakota Coffee Co.

Lakota was almost solely responsible for both my epic love of coffee and my unshakable desire to open a coffee shop. It was relaxing, warm and quiet — a combination that's just about impossible to come by in a college town.

Sure, it was the preferred hangout of professors and grad students, not undergrads like myself, but that's probably what has kept Lakota alive while countless other coffee shops in Columbia have failed.

Anyway, getting to the point, I was working on an AdFreak item today about NOSO, a somewhat-serious effort to break people away from social networking. You can read more about it on their site, but basically they recommend you find a nice quiet place to relax and invite other NOSO users to show up as well — but not ever join you or talk to you.

I was instantly reminded of Lakota, where I saw the same people every day but never talked to any of them. Even the staff didn't know my name after four years of daily visits, but that's just the kind of vibe it is. Friends would join me there on occasion, but most times it was just a nice introverted break from the daily chaos of college.

But I'm still not getting to the point. After reading about NOSO, I decided to Google Lakota and make sure it was still there. Not only is it alive and well, but they've even started a separate Web site to teach people about coffee.

The site — Specialty-Coffee-Advisor.com — reads like an ad for a book. But in fact, they just put all the info out there for anyone who's willing to read.

It's a virtual encyclopedia of coffee learnin', with tips for the daily coffee drinker and the professional roaster alike. (I hope to be both someday.)

You can read about:
• How to grind beans properly.
• How to store coffee.
• The real meaning of "organic" and "fair trade."
• A thorough definition of coffee types.
• Brewing tips that justify my own preferences. (See mom? I told you you're not supposed to be able to see the bottom of the cup.)

I don't mean to sound so blatantly promotional, but I know that several of you share my zeal for coffee, and it can be difficult to find one reliable source of information about this stuff. In the end, the site is likely aimed at getting potential coffee shop owners to hire Lakota's operators as consultants. In that respect, I'm sold as well.

Now I just need a Web site with tips on how to raise $250,000 in a few short years. Hey, what a coincidence, I just got an e-mail from a kind-hearted bank president in Nigeria...

Bush has a plan for zombies to eat U.S. beef.

I've got a few things to blog about in the near future (like the Griner 30th birthday festivities, which are still in full swing).

But until then, you'll have to subsist on this bit of YouTube awesomeness:

Not dead. Just resting.

Sad to say, the Cafe is probably going to remain a dusty, tumbleweed kind of place for a few weeks more. I'm loaded with intense amounts of work, and I'm trying to devote any free writing energy to AdFreak, where I'll also be helping as guest editor this month.

So don't cancel your RSS feed or erase your bookmark, but also don't expect a lot of action over here. I'll still try to post when I can, preferably with items of more substantial girth than "hey look, something funny!" I'd also like to rekindle my podcast idea. So many things to do! So little desire to sit in front of a computer and do them!

Cheers,
Griner

25 and sleepy? Sign me up!

A snippet from an IM chat with friend Valerie today:

Me: Check out this message that just got through my Gmail spam filter: "Hi! I am tired today. I am 25 y.o. girl that would like to chat with you."

Valerie: awesome
hee
I know how much you like tired girls

Me: Every good solicitation starts with an expression of fatigue.

You guys might not know this...

...but I am SO an industry notable.

Have a great weekend, all.

Meet Ruby!

She's my new niece, and my only goddaughter! Weighing in at a healthy 7 pounds, 5 ounces, she's the first kid for my sister Stacy and her husband, Jamey.

Thank you, Wikipedia.

(Click image to see larger.)

I plan to use this pronunciation from now on.

Ah, much better.

Our recent trip put me up two whole percentage points. Well that, and remembering that I honeymooned in Greece. Still a lot of room for improvement.

Well good news. I finally got my bag, which had been waylaid at Heathrow for weeks (with my camera inside). Fun stories of international intrigue to come next week.

Have a great weekend, all.

The house just isn't the same without her.

For those who haven't heard, we lost a beloved family member today.

Our younger cat, Callie, recently suffered sudden kidney failure. Today, we learned that all the vet's best efforts over the past four days were having little effect, and Callie's condition was bound to take a turn for the worse. So we put her to sleep just before noon today.

I'm not sure what to write about. The intense grief of losing a healthy 7-year-old cat? The anger we feel that it might have been caused by contaminated food that was never recalled? Or on the upbeat side, the fact that Callie's adoption in 2000 was the first good excuse I came up with to visit Karen's apartment back when I had a crush on her?

How about I just say this:

She was wonderful, and I miss her very much.

"I, no no no no. No, what I said..."

Again, I promise to share some vacation stories, but there continues to be a hold up. My camera, along with my souvenirs and a healthy batch of my clothing, is still somewhere between Heathrow and my house. Supposedly. Until then, more random thoughts...

When Karen and I got engaged in Boston, back in the heady days of 2002, it just happened to be the weekend that the Patriots finally won the Super Bowl.

Being in an Irish pub in Boston, watching the Pats win, was truly an awesome experience. We emerged from the pub to find the entire city in rapture, a sprinting mass of people hugging each other and howling with glee.

The next day, we stopped by the Patriots' victory parade. Tens of thousands of people turned out to welcome home their champions, and the mood was again one of unbounded joy. As the parade dispersed, the crowd spontaneously began chanting in unison, as if they were all of one mind, one voice.

And what did they chant?

"Yankees Suck! Yankees Suck!"

This was my first real introduction to the depth of rivalry between the Red Sox and the Yankees. It runs so deep, a Patriots celebration is as good a reason as any to boo a baseball team in New York.

Because of this, I was able to appreciate the inherent humor in Gov. Bill Richardson's spectacular implosion on "Meet the Press." Slate's coverage notes that the painfully awkward interview ended with Tim Russert's softball question about the Red Sox, which presidential candidate Richardson still botched dramatically.

So with that lengthy prelude, I present you with the transcript of Richardson's closing:

MR. RUSSERT: You spent a lot of time in, in Massachusetts. Are you a Red Sox fan?

GOV. RICHARDSON: I’m a Red Sox fan, but I got into trouble in New Hampshire. You know why? Because I said...

MR. RUSSERT: Luis Tiant, the fund-raiser. But, now, governor, this is very serious. In your book on page 18 it says...

GOV. RICHARDSON: No, about Mickey Mantle?

MR. RUSSERT: You said you’re a Yankee fan!

GOV. RICHARDSON: No, no, no. I said—no, no, no.

MR. RUSSERT: I mean, you can, you can...

GOV. RICHARDSON: No, no, no, no.

MR. RUSSERT: ...you can have different views on immigration, assault weapons...

GOV. RICHARDSON: I, no no no no. No, what I said...

MR. RUSSERT: But when it comes to Red Sox, Yankees.

GOV. RICHARDSON: What I said, the Associated Press asked me, “If you weren’t running for president, if you weren’t running for president, what would you rather be?” I’ve always been a Red Sox fan, but I said if I weren’t running for president I would like to be number seven, Mickey Mantle, playing center field for the New York Yankees.

MR. RUSSERT: “Because of Mickey Mantle, I became a Yankee fan.”

GOV. RICHARDSON: I, my favorite team has always been the Red Sox.

MR. RUSSERT: You’re a Red Sox fan.

GOV. RICHARDSON: I’m a Red Sox fan.

MR. RUSSERT: End of subject.

GOV. RICHARDSON: End of subject.

MR. RUSSERT: You better get rid of this book.

GOV. RICHARDSON: Oh, no! I’m also a Yankee fan. I also like...

MR. RUSSERT: Oh, now, wait a minute!

GOV. RICHARDSON: You can—Tim...

MR. RUSSERT: I guarantee...

GOV. RICHARDSON: No, I know, I got in trouble...

MR. RUSSERT: ...if you go—if you go to Yankee Stadium or Fenway, you cannot be both.

GOV. RICHARDSON: But I like—Mickey Mantle was my hero. If I weren’t running for president, and the Associated Press asked me, I’d play center field for the New York—I wanted to be number seven. And—but I still love the Red Sox as a team. I mean, this is the thing about me, Tim. I can bring people together. I can unify people.

MR. RUSSERT: Yankee fans and Red Sox fans?

GOV. RICHARDSON: Yes.

MR. RUSSERT: Not a chance.

I feel like 38% of a man.

OK, I'm back and will be posting a few thoughts and insights on my trip to Europe pretty soon.

But first, I have to share two disappointing facts I learned about myself today:

38%

(Apparently, compassion for loved ones and strangers in peril does nothing good for your score.)

and

I am 90% Addicted to Coffee

Just 90%? Sigh. Be right back...gotta go refill...

I'm afk.

Talk to you again around May 23.

OK, I lied. THIS is humbling.

Well this is humbling.

Hey, who knows...after Germany and Prague this month, I might be up to 3%.

If you want, click on the button to make your own, and post the link in the comments. (Posting the code for the map doesn't work.)

My talk with the Swampers.

It's that time of the month again....time to show you the new video clips from The Year of Alabama Arts.

This time, I have to say, it's probably the coolest set yet. These are from my interview with two members of the Muscle Shoals Rhythm Section. They're the ones Lynyrd Skynyrd referred to in "Sweet Home Alabama" when they said, "Muscle Shoals has got the Swampers."

The Swampers are studio musicians who recorded and played on everything from Aretha Franklin's "Respect" to Skynyrd's "Free Bird." Despite all their success, they are still wonderful, humble guys. Enjoy!

Baby robots! Baby effin robots!

I'm feeling more and more like a local these days. I think a major part of that is going to the same events as last year.

This weekend's Magic City Art Connection was even better than a year ago. Weather was perfect, the collection of artists was diverse, and, of course, we got a framed print of the Best. Painting. Ever.



It's called "Where do baby robots come from?" and it's by former Birmingham resident John Lytle Wilson. Check out his stuff. All great. But of course, we own his best work.

For the record, this isn't me...

But don't get me wrong, I'm proud of the guy.

What's your best practical advice?

First off, I've officially started writing for AdFreak, in case any of you were waiting for a signal flare to start reading it or add it to your RSS reader. I'll probably be posting 3-5 times a week.

But there's not much meat on that bone, so we'll move on to a livelier topic:

What is the most practical advice you've ever been given? Stuff that's just all-around good to remember?

Let's see, I've got...

• On driving: "Always accelerate when changing lanes." - My sister.
• On driving (and life): "When you're steering between obstacles, don't look at the obstacles or you'll hit them. Look between them." -My mom.
• On drinking: "Never mix dairy and booze." - Myself, after an unfortunate "White Russian Night."
• On life choices: "Don't ever get divorced twice and then decide to go to grad school on student loans." -My mentor.

What have you guys got?

Ur

I can't quite explain why I so love the Internet phenom phrase, "I'm in ur base, killing ur d00ds."

Variations on the theme are just about the only text messages I enjoy sending, such as when my brother-in-law was meeting me for lunch, and I texted him, "I'm in ur base, eating ur bread."

Well, Mental Floss has delved into the issue pretty thoroughly. (Mostly as a good excuse to show funny pictures of cats.) So if you've never laughed along with me at things like this...



...then you should probably read the Floss post.

'I was just glad Alabama didn't have polar bears and smoke monsters. Whew!'

I feel like I have several ideas for deep, thought-provoking and tremendously entertaining blog posts. But sadly, I lack the time to piece them into anything of consequence.

So instead, you get an exclusive look at the TV commercial I spent the past few months working on for The Year of Alabama Arts. It even features Michael Emerson, who plays Ben/Henry on "Lost." Huzzah!



Yes, I realize there's no obvious "writing" for this spot, but I did do the interviews. Except the one with Emerson. We had to hire some folks out in Hawaii to do that. Oh well.

A mere 317 posts later, blogging pays off.

So it looks like I'll be going national ... dare I say international? ... with this blogging thing.

No, not with this blog specifically. Cafe Asteria will remain an intentionally unfocused writer's journal for friends, family and some chick in Calgary.

Here's the deal: I've been asked to be a writer for what I can honestly say is my favorite advertising blog, AdFreak. It's a part-time gig, of course, so it's not like I'm leaving agency life behind.

I think this will be a great opportunity. For one, it's flattering that they approached me with the idea. For two, my boss is cool with it...as long as I hold off starting until we launch our current behemoth of a campaign. For three, I think it builds street cred for my agency to have someone involved with a blog this respected.

So thanks to all of you for keeping me blogging, thanks to Tim at AdFreak for giving me a shot, and thanks to the bookstore for being so understanding when I quit last night.

I'll keep you guys posted on when I actually start up with AdFreak, so that I can start mining you all for good ideas. As I said, it'll be a few weeks. Until then, you should still read it. That way you'll know that, yes, even MTV spots featuring hookers are fair game. I know, I know...when doesn't MTV feature hookers, right?

I will soon begin stumping for an age cap of 28.

Got some unexpected props today, when the president of my agency announced I had won the annual "Rookie Award." I think he had some very nice things to say about my work, but I was a little too surprised to hear what it was.

It was great recognition, but I also thought it was funny to be a 29-year-old Rookie of the Year. It left me wondering who held the record for Oldest Rookie of the Year.

The good news is, it's not me.

In baseball, which seems the most rookie-obsessed sport, the title generally goes to Sam Jethroe. His story is pretty interesting.

He was one of the first three Negro League players who tried out for the Major Leagues, but none of the three, including Jackie Robinson, was hired from the tryout. Soon Jethroe was picked up by the Boston Braves, and his first year earned him the National League Rookie of the Year honor.

That was 1950, Jethroe was 32, and he has held the "oldest" title ever since. The oldest rookie in the sport was another Negro League veteran, Satchel Paige, who pitched his first Major Leagues game at 42.

But the real hero I discovered today was Connie Madigan. After a lengthy stint in minor-league hockey, Madigan played his first game in the pros at age 38.

So what makes Madigan so great? His record of being the oldest NHL rookie can never be beat. That's right. Never.

Why? Check out this tidbit:

Barring a rule change, the record will technically stand forever. Due to the large influx of Russian players in the late '80s, the NHL limited its definition of rookie to players 26 and under. (Source)

So there you go. Were I a professional hockey player, I would be out of luck. But at 145 pounds, I'd probably also be dead.

Blogging Griner quotient doubles. Science textbooks pulled for emergency revisions.

Big congratulations to my wife, Karen, who has joined the exciting world of blogging. She even started off strong, with a post that's simultaneously thought-provoking, sad and uplifting.

Personally, my favorite part of her blog is that her "about me" section ends with, "That's all you need to know for now." It helps give everyone an insight into the unique challenges I faced in courting her.

Enjoy! Oh and yes, I'm still besieged by work, so the blog updates remain soundly on the back burner. Maybe Karen will pick up the slack.

Vader's comic genius.

Sorry for the very few posts lately, but work is eating me like Cookie Monster with a bag of ... um .... broccoli?

Anyway, here's a clip that gave me a much-needed laugh-until-I'm-openly-weeping moment today:



Via Mental Floss.

Debunk'd!

Has anyone else heard that the Cookie Monster was changed to the Veggie Monster on Sesame Street?

I was told that by someone very matter-of-factly a few weeks back, and I promptly started asking people whether that was true. I pictured a green version of CM, which would really just look like Oscar, sans trash can.

No one could tell me if it was true, probably because I am not yet at the point in life where my friends find themselves watching Sesame Street.

Strangely, Snopes.com rides to the rescue. Turns out, it is all just a myth/misunderstanding/paranoia. There was even an online petition, signed by thousands, aimed at boycotting Sesame Street until the Cookie Monster returned. Crazy.

Cookie Monster even denounced the media for the misunderstanding. Check out this exchange with Matt Lauer, quoted by the Snopes article:

Cookie Monster: Me like fruit.


Matt Lauer: And there you have it. Cookie Monster likes fruit, and not cookies.


Monster: No! You members of the media blow story way out of proportion! Me still like cookies!


Lauer: Then why fruit?


Monster: Why not fruit? It delicious! And healthy. Me still eat cookies, like me world-famous for doing, but now me eat other things, too.

Yeah, I realize it was probably staged, but that doesn't stop me from laughing about Cookie Monster saying "members of the media blow story way out of proportion."

So, um... there you go.

Carry on octopus sir

I'm a big fan of my friend Adam Stoves' art. But it wasn't until I was looking at his stuff online the other day that I noticed how great his rarely seen titles are.

So here are a few of my favorites. I didn't include the pictures, so that you could focus on the names. But just click on any one to see the art.

a man whose face was so priceless that it was preserved through obliteration

carry on sir. carry on octopus. carry on octopus sir.

a creature birthed from a collection of discarded boxes

man, deaf and bored by the nature of things, has again embellished this place.

the wedded couple, after much deliberation, makes a grandiose exit

how to tell who of them are the imposters

For more of Adam's work, check out his Flickr photo page or his MySpace page. Oh, and there is my crappy video of Adam's recent one-man show. Enjoy.

Bless his heart, he's a beautiful flower.

Poor Jonas. He couldn't resist biting off his bandage, so today the vet exiled him to coneville.

This is apparently the new kind of "soft" cone. He supposed to wear it at all times, but I don't think he deserves to be walked around the neighborhood in that.

More folk artists, comin' atcha.

We've posted some new videos from my interviews with Alabama artists.

These feature Woodie Long, who is a fascinating guy. He grew up picking strawberries and cotton for his sharecropper dad. Although you'd think he had it rough, he actually has tremendously fond memories of this time, and that's mostly what he paints.

Anyway, enjoy:



To see more of the interview clips, check out our YouTube channel.

Sad times at the agency.

Sadly, the founder of my company died yesterday. I know most of you haven't heard of Robert "Ace" Luckie, but he was still a frequent sight in our office and always remained interested in what we were up to. (His sons now run the company and are both great guys.)

I wish I could say a bit more about him, but I obviously didn't get much time to get to know him. However, I was honored that our president (one of Ace's sons) asked me to write the memorial announcement. I know it wasn't easy for him to work with me on something like that while his dad was so sick, but I think the end result was good, and my boss said he's gotten a lot of feedback on it.

For now, you can see the memorial on our agency site. It's going to act as our front page for a little while.

Now I'm Bill's biggest fan. Get it? Fan?

The enemy: This granny-panties ceiling fan in my living room.



The hero: Bill, who earnestly loves installing fans and lights. How can you thank a friend like that? By putting the least flattering photo of him on the Internet? Don't mind if I do!



Bill nears completion of Operation ... um ... Fandango!



The final result. Is classy, no?



So what was my role in this whole affair?



Props to Dawn for properly estimating my intelligence and warning me not to burn the old plastic-faux-wood fan blades in my fireplace. Next she's going to tell me to stop grilling indoors.

A wee bit of inside baseball, but still...

I'm not one to throw stones or hold grudges, but there are a few people who have rubbed me the wrong way in my professional life. And it's an incredibly short list.

The recurring theme with the folks I just cannot like is that they are willing to do almost anything to make themselves look good or to help themselves succeed. And there's just something uniquely frustrating about watching this person prosper while you tell yourself: "In the end, there's nothing more important than your ethics. It's worth being less successful if it means being a better human being."

Why do I bring this up? Well, in my old newspaper chain, there was this one editor who seemed to be an ever-brightening star within the industry. I felt like I was the only one seeing (or at least caring about) his reprehensible ethics.

Well, you can't outrun that forever.

No good conversation starts with, "Sorry we had to meet this way..."

So work's been kicking my ass this week (and last week), and I was quite excited about a relaxing night at home yesterday. Maybe some podcasting, some TV, some of Karen's leftover birthday cookie cake.

Sadly, no. I walked in the door and Karen said, "Oh good, you're home! I'm worried about Jonas."

Turns out, while she was taking him on his daily walk, Jonas got jumped by a golden retriever-looking dog that usually just barks at him from behind a fence. Luckily, the owner and another neighbor were there to pull the dog off quickly, and Jonas seemed unfazed.

But at home, Karen saw that the wound on Jonas' leg was pretty deep. That was when I came in. I agreed it was pretty serious, and we were able to catch the vet at 5:55 and beg them to stay open.

The vet said the bite had gone down to the bone and nearly separated a tendon in his ankle. She had to put him under, sew him up with nine stitches and give him the stylish bandage you see in the photo above.

The anesthesia was pretty disorienting for Jonas, so he spent much of the night crying. All in all, though, he was a trooper.

As for me, I got to go have a fun conversation with our neighbor. I had never met him, and here I was showing up with a $350 receipt in hand. But he was extremely apologetic and promised to "take care of it." He seems like an earnestly good guy, so hopefully we'll get that money back. If the attack had been just a few minutes later, he might have owed us $1,000 or so for the emergency vet.

Anyway, just had to share our fun evening. To be honest, I still squeezed in some cookie cake and TV. Karen's cousin's girlfriend is in the new series The Black Donnellys, but sadly (we realized halfway through the show) she doesn't appear until the second episode. So keep an eye out next week!

UPDATE: Before I could even hit the "publish" button, I got a call from the other dog's owner. He's working with the vet to reverse the charges on our credit card and switch it over to his. Says he'll call when he's gotten confirmation about it. So huzzah for being neighborly.

UPDATE 2: Karen says the vet bill has been resolved. Woohoo!

'Do you have any plans to make the PS3 not suck so much?'

I have to admit, I was one of the most pessimistic about the Nintendo Wii. It just sounded like a novelty gimmick with its nunchuck-style controller. But now that I've played it, I understand why it's become such a phenomenon. It's, you know...fun.

At the same time, I've been amazed by the spectacular collapse of the Sony PS3, which follows two generations of incredible success. How did Sony lose out to an unloved corporate megalith like Microsoft (whose 360 is both fun and powerful) and a perennially uncool brand like Nintendo, which didn't even bother to upgrade its graphics technology for the Wii?

I think this guy does a pretty good summary of the whole situation, set to the tune of "How to Save a Life" by The Fray:



Hat tip to Adfreak.

What can nerd do for you today?

No real deep message here...just a series of coincidences:

On Slate.com today, the main story is illustrated thusly:




Then, a few paragraphs down, there's this headline:



Finally, their "Explainer" piece on real-life tomb raiders begins with this:

Video-game maker Eidos will soon release the 10th-anniversary edition of its classic game Tomb Raider, starring nerd temptress Lara Croft.

So what have we learned? Nerds are dangerous. Nerds are auteurs. Nerds are tempted by cleavage.

I was surprised about the auteurs part.

Dive! Dive! Dive! Now run!

Check out this British TV spot. The surprise is not the visual trick they pull off, but the fact that they didn't use any digital effects. It's all done with frantically running and diving actors.



You can see how they pulled it off by watching these behind-the-scenes clips.

Tim over at AdFreak wonders why they bothered, when digital effects would be so much easier.

The answer, in my opinion, is found in the fact that I'm writing about this ad, Tim's writing about this ad, etc. I think someone recognized that a trick like this would get good buzz. But does that translate into customers for...um...whatever this product is?

Well, it's one-third right. I am hot.

Random stat thrown out on the Mental Floss blogs today...

If you’re turning 30 this year, you’re probably good-looking and might have marital problems, because you’re so fickle.

Since Karen and I are both turning 30 this year (she'll hit the landmark in just a few days, while I have a good six months left), this seems doubly pertinent.

But maybe it's that double dose of beauty and fickleness that is offsetting the potential for marital problems. Woo...hoo?

Let's all help out my man Miles.

New-media guru Joseph Jaffe is having a contest to select his next book cover, and one of the candidates is Miles, a designer I work with here at the agency. He was winning clearly, though one of the other candidates "magically" shot up about 150 votes.

I refuse to play dirty and exploit the admitted frailties in Joseph's voting system, so instead I'm just grubbing for extra votes. Miles' design is included here, and I'm sure he'd appreciate your support.

But as I am a man of principle, I encourage you to vote for the design you feel deserves it most.

Start here and follow the link to the vote. There's no confirmation or anything after you vote, but his blog post includes a link to the current vote tally.

So many Ethiopians, so little room in my inbox.

Today's Mental Floss blogs included a mention of Spamusement.com, a site where a guy makes cartoons based on the subject lines of spam e-mails he's gotten. It's worth checking out.

The one shown here is called "Your dog will love it!"

But be sure to check out "You were wrong cabinet Sanchez" and "Who will know?"

What's the best subject line in your spam folder right now?

I'd have to say mine is "Over the past year, you have received letters from a number of Ethiopian politicians, academics and citizens backing our claim."

Yes, that's literally just the subject line.

I wonder if they have beer there?

Well, we've finally booked our long-awaited trip to Prague. If you've known me a while, you know this trip has been a dream of mine for a decade or more. So I'm obviously quite a bit excited.

The plan, roughly, is to fly into Paris this May, pick up our friend Alexia, and take a train to Prague. (It's a 10-day trip.) We then fly back from Prague to Paris, then back home. If you've ever tried something like this, any advice would be appreciated. Our last international trip that didn't involve Canada or Mexico was our honeymoon in Greece, which was pretty easy, since we basically just sat around eating and drinking.

Not much else to say right now, but I did want to share. Please commence the advice, warnings, etc., for long-distance travel in the comments section.

I might be lying to you right now.

Thanks to the power of Google Alerts, which lets me know when a new Web site or blog post mentions my name, I stumbled across this recent newspaper column mention by my longtime mentor Rich Somerville:

Another regularly visited site is that of a friend, Griner*, who is in his late 20s and has an eclectic (some might say warped) creative side that is manifested through his blog as well as his job as an advertising copywriter.

It's flattering to be mentioned in Rich's column, even if said column does end with the line, "And next time you're reading a blog and think you're getting the gospel truth -- think again."

I assure you, there are quite a few points between A and B. Be sure to check it out. It's an interesting read and a nice insight into the the daily struggles of being a modern newspaper editor.



(*He actually used my full name, but I try to keep references to that at a minimum on this blog. Not for any real reason, though. I know better than to write things on here I would seriously regret.)

Yeah, we actually did fast-forward through parts of the game.

I really have nothing of interest to say about Super Bowl advertisements. I watched them, I made a drinking game for them...you know, the usual stuff. But probably because of all the industry buzz before and after, I'm just too burned out on the topic to say anything of interest.

But hey look, The Birmingham News interviewed my boss about it! (It's hard to tell, but that article's supposed to be a Q&A.)

Other than that, nothing else to say.





Oh fine, Goulet was my favorite.

Remind me not to be a Russian in the 1800s.

Picked up a copy of The Idiot by Dostoevsky last night, and I'll probably start in on it in earnest once I finish Rebel Angels. (I'm also reading world history stuff for the impending podcast and two books for work...my readin' brain is spread a little thin.)

Anyway, The Idiot starts off with the usual six or seven prefaces. I was shocked not to find a family tree of major characters and the 17 names for each person.

But it did have a timeline of Dostoevsky's life and a lengthy bio explaining what was going on while he was writing The Idiot and his other stuff.

So what was happening to him? The answer was almost always "bad things."

Here are a few highlights of the big man's life:

• 1821 - Fyodor Dostoevsky is born in a "hospital for the poor" in the worst part of Moscow. His father is both a "violent alcoholic" and a doctor! What a combo! Check out this line from Wikipedia:

There are many stories of Dostoevsky's father's despotic treatment of his children. After returning home from work, he would take a nap and his children, ordered to keep absolutely silent, stood silently by their slumbering father in shifts and swatted flies around his head.

• 1837 - His mom dies from tuberculosis, and Fyodor is sent off to military school.

• 1839 - His dad is murdered, most likely by the serfs he oversaw. And he sounded like such a good guy. Wikipedia says that the peasants drowned him by pouring vodka down his throat while they restrained him. How quaintly Russian!

• 1849 - He's arrested for being a liberal agitator and is sentenced to death. On the day of his execution, as he's standing in the rain and waiting for the firing squad to kill him, he's told that the tsar has commuted the sentence to four years in Siberian exile. Tsar Nicholas I intentionally waited until the last second to maximize the psychological torture of Dostoevsky.

• 1850 - While in a prison camp, he has the first of many epileptic seizures.

• 1854 - He's released from prison -- and promptly forced to enlist in the Siberian Regiment.

• 1864 - His wife dies. And his brother.

• 1860s-70s - He squanders his book advances on his gambling addiction.

• 1881 - He dies of an emphysemic lung hemorrhage/epileptic seizure.

Of course, scattered in there are some of the most incredible books ever written, but still. The one thing that did surprise me is that he kinda sounds like he was a jerk. Slept around quite a bit, gambled his life away, etc.

The only reason that seems strange to me is because the good guys in his books are just so good. I was talking about that with Open(s) Book(s) today at lunch, and she pointed out that it probably tormented him all his life that he could recognize what it takes to be a great person, but he couldn't actually be that person. Heavy.