Today, Monday, July 16th, is a rest day for the Tour de France, or Le Tour de France, and I am suffering a mild case of withdrawal. With eight stages completed, the race has become one of the more interesting editions of late, and a morning staple. The field is peppered with favorites, the crashes epic, and every day a new hero emerges.
One of the most refreshing moments was T-Mobile rider Linus Gerdemann's successful breakaway on Saturday, a ride that propelled the 24-year German rider into the yellow jersey and the white jersey (best young rider), as well as the stage win. Gerdemann stressed the need for a new generation of "clean" cyclists to put their stamp on the event that has been synonymous with drug scandals over the past several years.
Of particular note are the two main announcers of the race, Phil Liggett and Paul Sherwen, who bring the beauty of the English language, a deep understanding of their sport, and a keen sense of both geography and history to their broadcasts. Watch a single Tour broadcast and compare them to the panoply of morons that clutter the booths of football and baseball. (Jon Madden has become a bumbling parody of himself with him "booms" and "bams".) Rather than dumb down their broadcast, Liggett and Sherwen assume that you have a working brain.
There are still 13 stages to go...
A final note...check out the www.versus.com website coverage of the race, much easier to navigate than the official website, www.letour.com.
Monday, July 16, 2007
Sunday, July 15, 2007
Books and the end of something...
A couple of musings about books.
I buy all my mysteries from Mysterious Galaxy, an independent bookseller specializing in science fiction and mysteries. I even pre-ordered the last Harry Potter novel. Yeah, I can get it at 40% off from Barnes & Noble or Amazon.com but that's not the point.
The point is that these small independents are the lifeblood of authors. A couple of times each week Mysterious Galaxy sponsors book signings from some of the biggest and smallest name in mystery/crime fiction. From Michael Connelly and Robert Crais to the less well-known, and is some cases superior talents of Alan Russell and Don Winslow, Mysterious Galaxy offers an intimate environment to listen, learn and buy.
And then there's the staff, including Patrick, who always greets me with our favorite word from the HBO series Deadwood.
The store is fun, intimate, and only a few blocks away from another of my favorite San Diego establishments, Liberty Tobacco (but that's another post for another time.)
My other thoughts surround the end of the Books section of The San Diego-Union Tribune. If there has ever been a champion for books it has been the section's editor, Arthur Salm. His columns, insights and suggestions are gems.
The handwriting on the wall was first the inclusion of the Books section into the Arts Sunday section. From there it was only a short few weeks until it disappeared, now folded into the increasing drab Arts section. The local fish-wrapper has now sentenced its literate and polished book reviews to the same fate that nearly every American daily has adopted. Only six U.S. newspapers have a stand alone book review section.
There's enough ink and newsprint for Paris Hilton, Phil Spector, Brittany Spears and entire columns featuring local American Idol "judges" but not enough for books. Another black mark for The San Diego Union-Tribune.
I buy all my mysteries from Mysterious Galaxy, an independent bookseller specializing in science fiction and mysteries. I even pre-ordered the last Harry Potter novel. Yeah, I can get it at 40% off from Barnes & Noble or Amazon.com but that's not the point.
The point is that these small independents are the lifeblood of authors. A couple of times each week Mysterious Galaxy sponsors book signings from some of the biggest and smallest name in mystery/crime fiction. From Michael Connelly and Robert Crais to the less well-known, and is some cases superior talents of Alan Russell and Don Winslow, Mysterious Galaxy offers an intimate environment to listen, learn and buy.
And then there's the staff, including Patrick, who always greets me with our favorite word from the HBO series Deadwood.
The store is fun, intimate, and only a few blocks away from another of my favorite San Diego establishments, Liberty Tobacco (but that's another post for another time.)
My other thoughts surround the end of the Books section of The San Diego-Union Tribune. If there has ever been a champion for books it has been the section's editor, Arthur Salm. His columns, insights and suggestions are gems.
The handwriting on the wall was first the inclusion of the Books section into the Arts Sunday section. From there it was only a short few weeks until it disappeared, now folded into the increasing drab Arts section. The local fish-wrapper has now sentenced its literate and polished book reviews to the same fate that nearly every American daily has adopted. Only six U.S. newspapers have a stand alone book review section.
There's enough ink and newsprint for Paris Hilton, Phil Spector, Brittany Spears and entire columns featuring local American Idol "judges" but not enough for books. Another black mark for The San Diego Union-Tribune.
Thursday, July 5, 2007
Fourth of July in Mexico? My ass!
The American in Mexico...on the Fourth of July. We decided, at the last minute, to take a Carnival Cruise down the Mexican Riviera. Yesterday, the Fourth of July, we happened to make a port call in Ensenada, a city less than two hours south of San Diego and a favorite day-trip or weekend retreat for Americans who find Mexico fascinating, romantic, colorful...or just plan inexpensive.
Did I see a single American flag, even a paper version, hanging outside any of the Ensenada watering holes, restaurants, or tourist traps?
Not one.
But walk through downtown Santa Barbara, California on Saturday, May 5th and you would have sworn you were in Mexico. Mexican flags and shameless promotion of Cinco de Mayo. The most absurd pandering establishment was a bar themed as an English pub. I poked my nose in, contemplating indulging in one of my worthwhile pursuits (drinking my way through the single malt alphabet--let's leave that for a different post) when I saw the ceiling festooned with Cinco de Mayo promotional material.
OK, we're the paragons of capitalism, and I was in Santa Barbara where it's a party every weekend (as if the Barbarians need an excuse to party!) so I can temper any perceived cynicism by pleading that it is just us doing what we do we do best...make a buck.
Yet somewhere in all of this there might be a lesson. Why no flags in Ensenada? Why not indulge the Americano tourista? After all, a peso's a peso.
Or can we chalk this up to being proud of your own country. Mexicans tear their hair out when we beat them in soccer, causing a national examination of spirit. Mexicans in the United States (whether here legally or not) drape themselves in the flag of their country.
Meanwhile, our national angst seems bent on apologizing for our country. Apologizing for what? For remaining the beacon of the world? For being the land of opportunity? We seem to walking around too worried that we are going to offend someone.
Before I go all James Brown and Living in America on you, I'll sign off.
But not before saying that for the first time in my life I'll admit that I missed the fireworks and The 1812 Overture.
Did I see a single American flag, even a paper version, hanging outside any of the Ensenada watering holes, restaurants, or tourist traps?
Not one.
But walk through downtown Santa Barbara, California on Saturday, May 5th and you would have sworn you were in Mexico. Mexican flags and shameless promotion of Cinco de Mayo. The most absurd pandering establishment was a bar themed as an English pub. I poked my nose in, contemplating indulging in one of my worthwhile pursuits (drinking my way through the single malt alphabet--let's leave that for a different post) when I saw the ceiling festooned with Cinco de Mayo promotional material.
OK, we're the paragons of capitalism, and I was in Santa Barbara where it's a party every weekend (as if the Barbarians need an excuse to party!) so I can temper any perceived cynicism by pleading that it is just us doing what we do we do best...make a buck.
Yet somewhere in all of this there might be a lesson. Why no flags in Ensenada? Why not indulge the Americano tourista? After all, a peso's a peso.
Or can we chalk this up to being proud of your own country. Mexicans tear their hair out when we beat them in soccer, causing a national examination of spirit. Mexicans in the United States (whether here legally or not) drape themselves in the flag of their country.
Meanwhile, our national angst seems bent on apologizing for our country. Apologizing for what? For remaining the beacon of the world? For being the land of opportunity? We seem to walking around too worried that we are going to offend someone.
Before I go all James Brown and Living in America on you, I'll sign off.
But not before saying that for the first time in my life I'll admit that I missed the fireworks and The 1812 Overture.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)