Always time for a Wire-related post

OTP used to live in Charm City, and will forever have a soft spot for that magical land of John Waters films and David Simon works.

Here’s a fun little post about one of the newest Baltimore Ravens, via Deadspin.

It does, however, pain me to know that Tom Zbikowski will have to share the field with a player named “Big Dick Bandit,” who, in a logic could only be spawned at the University of Miami, is not a gay escort.

“Girls With Herpes Love This Song”

At least that’s the review that Paul Ford gives to a SXSW (That’s South By Southwest, Dear Reader, if you’ve been living in an undisclosed location) song. He listened to 48 hours of free MP3’s and reviewed them all: in six words or less.

Check them out here.

Via 43 Folders.

I’m Href affectionate for 43 Folders

As I continue to figure out wtf I’m blogging for, I just keep thinking about all the time I spend online. Sports, politics, policy, education, humor, email, etc. I also have yet to get myself really into the habit of using my RSS reader effectively, too.

So it occurred to me that what I might need is some sort of productivity managment. I looked at Bento, and I might still get it (man I’m turning into a Mac nerd), but for now I’m flitting about the web looking for little “tweaks.”

Then I happened upon this dream of a site. I saw the hipster PDA and it was awesome.

Much like the Minimalists article on fancy kitchenware, this article caused a sea change in how I think about productivity. Right now, I’m in love with my Rhodia pads, and I hope that this is a relationship that will last, but I fear the ones I use now are too big, and I need to get the smaller ones. If only the minis were lined, and not graph….but anyway.

Back to my point. I love the 43 folders site. They are clearly helping many cut through the bullshit of the organization industry and helping people simply get shit done.

Another take?

This website is great. Tons of cartoon characters are reinterpreted by other professional artists. It’s very fun to see how some of them take this seriously, others are just playing, and some hardly make any changes at all, choosing only to put them in their style. This version of Catwoman might be my favorite.

Andre The Giant’s Legend Grows

Here, in Modern Drunkard Magazine (I hear the layout is designed to be viewed with double vision), is a profile of the Greatest Drunk on Earth.

I had no idea that he was such a prolific drinker. However, it stands to reason that the greatest drinker is also a pro wrestler. If ever there was a work hard, play hard, you-might-be-a-flash-in-the-pan kind of job, this is it.

And really, what else is a giant who can’t even ride in transportation going to do with his spare time? Scrabble? Maybe on a board with sushi plates as tiles.

Anyway, this is an impressive read.

Admit it.

Just admit it, Gygax nerds.

For what it’s worth, I did:

  • Reread Dune
  • Doubt the technical accuracy of the diagram.

I’m feelin’ pretty damn collateral myself…

I gotta say.

This Lester Freamon line pretty much sums up my feelings about the end of The Wire. I can’t believe I started blogging about this show during the finale. I have never cared about a television show before.

Kottke covers it.

Columbia Heights Target opens pleasantly

I live in Columbia Heights, DC. I just got to work after heading to our brand new, fine French departmentstore, Tar-jay. Unfortunately, unlike the Prince of Petworth, I did not get a royal invite to the party. But I do have some observations.

I was very impressed with the customer service in particular and the genuine excitement from the employees in general. People were smiling, kind, and courteous: they really did want to help.

About five other random shoppers/casual observers spoketo me about their happiness that Target was opening. You could almostsee the relief in their face as they took it all in, fully
internalizing that they don’t have to make the trek out to Prince George’s plaza or Wheaton anymore to make their department store purchases.

One older gentleman said to me: “I can’t believe it. I’m impressed. About a department store” (emphasis mine, natch). Another woman said “I have a dog, and I have to keep him right, and now that Target is here, I may come every day.”

It was nice to see some sense of civic pride there, as people were happy to have a new job in a new store in a part of town that needed a development anchor. Although we can all list a litany of shortcomings/ problems with this kind of development, I hope that the positives for the community psyche mitigate some of them.

OTP is going to continue to check out the vibe at our new Target, and also attend the openings of the other stores in the DCUSA complex. And, of course, I’ll continue to talk up Taqueria Distrito Federal as one of the best places to eat in all of Washington DC.

Red Sox Fans Keepin’ it Real.

Stay Classy, Boston.

I remember wearing my Yankee hat in Boston during the Torre Dynasty, and getting grudging looks, but that’s about it.

Looks like the Curse of the Bambino was more like a restraining order. Now the curse is all of baseball’s.

I second Matt Watson in saying that the Red Sox need to say something about this. And Hank Steinbrenner needs to STFU, at least until the Red Sox do. At that point, he needs to concur, and that’s it.

12 Year Favre Storyline is over, for today.

Brett Favre’s offseason media conditioning program, in which he runs Chris Mortensen, John Clayton, Sal Paolantonio, and others through a series of hoops, around agents, through the hallways of the Packers front office, culminating in a series of windsprints between the sets of Sportcenter, NFL Live, and whatever Cold Pizza is called today, is over.

According to TWWL, Favre was only willing to commit to continuing his career if the Packers were able to sign one Randy Moss to play alongside him. The Packers surely knew this, and declined. I’m sure they are as tired of having Favre hold their offseason hostage as I am. But look for TONS of column inches to be devoted to this in the next month.

I just hope that people talk about the fact that Favre’s best teams–like Elway’s–were anchored by a chains-moving running game, and that for all his “gunslinging,” Favre created at least as many bad plays in the last few years as good ones when the game was put in his hands to win–and not just to ably lead his team (I’ll not use the semi-pejorative “manage”). I can’t wait to see what Bill Simmons says about this. I know he’ll have my back.

But, who will bring up Favre’s troubling relationship with performance-enhancing painkillers? If taking HGH to stay on the field is illicit, then isn’t taking Vicodin to achieve the same result also problematic? Yes, he entered the substance abuse program voluntarily, and yes, he’s genuinely contrite, but he abused a chemical to keep playing, and we should not overlook the fact that he owes at least a part of his consecutive games record to their usage. If anything, his story should be illustrative of the fact that painkillers are perhaps the most widely abused performance enhancing drug in use in professional sports today. I’ll have more to say on this as the Brett Favre Slurpfest moves from “Will he or won’t he?” to “How great was he?” and “What will the Packers do now?” (Prediction: The Packers will not cancel their season.)

Frankly, I can find a dozen other things to watch between the end of March Madness and the NBA playoffs besides the Brett Favre dramatic reinterpretation of the Runaway Bride. But if we’re going to be subjected to a Favre career post-mortem for the next 3 months, let’s at least talk about his whole career.

UPDATE: First Moss Sabotage Post I’ve seen.