Following up on a point from the Bacon essay I just posted, yesterday (28 February 2008) on his excellent Uni Watch blog (http://www.uniwatchblog.com) Paul Lukas wrote a bit about how his artsy intellectual friends don't understand his obsession with sports. I also share this problem. All of of my intellectual/artist friends, including my wife, who is a sculptor, think following sports is a waste of time, and don't understand why I am so passionate about them, especially baseball, which they view as the most boring sport ever (a puzzling viewpoint, since baseball is widely regarded as the most "intellectual" of the four major North American sports [yes, I still count hockey as a major sport]).
I think this anti-sports attitude (which is not simply a lack of interest, but an active dislike of sports) among intellectuals is simply a form of snobbery. Because the less-educated often like sports, sports are viewed as being somehow "beneath" those of us with advanced degrees. This view may stem from a patriarchal privileging of activities of the mind over activities of the body (though sports are, of course, activities of both).
Friday, February 29, 2008
Francis Bacon and blogging
Here's an essay I just finished for my Seventeenth Century Prose and Poetry class on Francis Bacon's Essays. During my last two years of college, I attempted to relevantly cite H.S. Bender's The Anabaptist Vision in every paper I wrote as a joke. This practice makes a rare cameo here.
On Bacon’s Blogging
The 1625 edition of Francis Bacon’s Essays reminds me of blog entries. Of course the biggest difference between the Essays and blog entries is that Bacon’s pieces were revised and expanded over a period of twenty-eight years, whereas blog entries are often not revisited by their authors once they are posted. But if we set aside this dissimilarity, reading the Essays is like entering the early seventeenth century blogosphere.
The first characteristic of the Essays which reminds me of a blog is their seemingly random order. When writing a personal blog (as opposed to a thematic blog that just treats one topic), it is common for the author to discuss a variety of subjects, to write about whatever happens to be on her or his mind that day. Sometimes succeeding entries will treat related matters, and other times two consecutive posts will be on completely different issues. I see this same pattern in the Essays. For example, essays seven and eight, “Of Parents and Children,” and “Of Marriage and Single Life,” respectively, each deal with topics in the domestic sphere, so it makes sense that one follows the other. One day, Bacon was thinking about parenthood and wrote number seven, and soon afterward, he thought to himself, “Well, but before you can talk about parenthood, don’t you have to first think about whether or not to have a partner with whom you can have the children?,” or something along those lines, so he sat down and wrote about it. But on the other hand, essays such as number ten, “Of Love,” and number fifty-seven, “Of Anger,” which are related in that they treat opposites, are forty-seven entries apart. And further, the essays that follow these two, “Of Great Place,” and “Of Vicissitude of Things,” respectively, seem unrelated to their predecessors. So Bacon lets his thoughts give his pen direction like today’s bloggers do rather than receiving direction from a formal structure – the Essays are an episodic narrative, not a five-paragraph essay.
On a related note, it is common for blog readers to only read the entries on topics that interest them. An example of this is found in the case of my blog. I love sports, and often blog about them, but many of my friends who read my blog are not interested in sports at all, and constantly complain to me that I should write about topics that interest them all the time instead of just here and there. Likewise, I find some of Bacon’s essays to be quite fascinating or memorable – I will remember the phrase “But enough of these toys” (176) from essay thirty-seven for as long as I live – and find others to be utterly unremarkable.
The second characteristic of the Essays which reminds me of a blog is that Bacon is writing to an audience of acquaintances and friends. When someone begins a blog, he or she will send text-messages or e-mails to friends saying something like “Hey! Check out my new blog! Here’s the link, put it on your MySpace page.” Similarly, just like authors today when they publish a book, Bacon must not have been shy about letting his friends at Court know that a new edition of the Essays was coming out, and telling them to pass the news around. Although the Essays do not appear to discuss Bacon’s personal life, Bacon’s first readers would have read the Essays while thinking about what events in Bacon’s life might have inspired or influenced them. Therefore the Essays contain both a public and a personal element, just like personal blogs are very public in that they can be accessed by anyone on the internet, but have special meaning for those who know the author.
I am going to take time now to respond to three of Bacon’s essays that especially caught my eye, just as though I were a blog reader posting comments about an entry.
Essay three, “Of Unity in Religion,” struck me when I first read it because towards the end Bacon asserts that it is dangerous for commoners to wield the sword for religious causes, and says that this “monstrous” practice should “be left unto the Anabaptists” (70). In his gloss of this passage, John Pitcher claims that the Anabaptists were “Protestant sectarians [...] whose history had been violent” (70 n. 32). As someone who was raised in one of the three main Anabaptist-descended groups who are still in existence as a Mennonite (the other two being Amish and Hutterites), I am saddened by Bacon’s misconception of the Anabaptist movement (not to mention Pitcher’s misleading note – historians have accepted that the sixteenth-century Anabaptists were overwhelmingly nonviolent since at least 1944 when Harold S. Bender published The Anabaptist Vision; Pitcher could fix his problematic phrase by writing something like “whose history included some violent episodes” instead).
The large majority of Anabaptists during the sixteenth century were non-violent, and by the time of Bacon’s writing all of the surviving Anabaptists groups were peaceful. But Bacon is only thinking of the Münsterite strain of Anabaptism when he worries about commoners participating in religious violence. Historian Cornelius J. Dyck writes that the Münsterites were led by the Anabaptist prophets Jan Matthijs and Jan van Leiden, who claimed in 1534 that Jesus was going to return very soon to set up the new Jerusalem in the German city of Münster. The Jans said it was necessary for their followers to violently seize the city in order to prepare it for Jesus’s return. The authorities recaptured the city in 1535 and executed the remaining Anabaptists there (99-101). While it is understandable that the Münsterite episode would have been troubling to Bacon as someone who was very interested in keeping the commoners docile to preserve his titled position, I wish that he would have used a more precise word choice, substituting “Münsterites” for Anabaptists. Being too lazy to properly research your subject is never an acceptable excuse for inaccurate writing, even in 1625.
Essay twelve, “Of Boldness,” is interesting to me as an avid chess player because Bacon uses a chess metaphor to explain himself. In describing how the bold react when they are “out of countenance,” Bacon writes that “they stand at a stay, like a stale at chess, where it is no mate but yet the game cannot stir” (95). Stalemate occurs when it is a player’s turn and he or she cannot make any legal moves. According to modern rules, a game is drawn if stalemate occurs. However, according to David Hooper and Kenneth Whyld, the rule in England until 1807 was that the player who stalemated her or his opponent lost the game, because giving stalemate was viewed as a “dishonourable,” unsporting act (388). So Bacon’s use of stalemate as a metaphor includes the notion of there being a winner and a loser.
To give stalemate today is a terrible blunder because the player who gives it is usually winning, but makes a mistake and allows his or her opponent to escape with a draw instead of a loss. Chess books constantly warn their readers to make sure they do not stalemate their opponents in won positions. For instance, Jeremy Silman’s Complete Endgame Course alerts readers about stalemate dangers at least six times (6, 115, 117, 166, 180, 191). With these warnings in mind, think of how much more of a blunder it was to give stalemate in Bacon’s day, when the giver of stalemate lost the game instead of settling for a frustrating draw. This knowledge gives Bacon’s twenty-first century reader further insight into how forceful Bacon’s condemnation of the bold is. Just prior to the stalemate passage, Bacon opines that the bold “are a sport to behold,” and contain elements “of the ridiculous” when their bold boasts have “failed most shamefully” (95). Although Bacon uses the stalemate metaphor to describe the faces of the bold when they fail, the reader can infer that Bacon chooses this metaphor rather than something like “their faces are like statues showing no expression” to reinforce his position that the bold are foolish. They are like those who give stalemate, blunderers who turn their presumed victory into defeat.
Essay thirty-seven, “Of Masques and Triumphs,” also fascinates me, mostly because of Bacon’s downplaying of the importance of his topic at either end of the essay. He starts out by apologizing that “These things are but toys” (175), and finishes sneeringly with the abrupt “But enough of these toys” (176). It is commonly taught that the worse action to take when beginning a speech is to apologize to the audience about something. Likewise, when I teach writing, I always tell my students that it is necessary to use assertive language throughout their papers to make a convincing argument. With this advice in mind, it appears on the surface that essay thirty-seven is badly written because Bacon apologizes to the reader for the argument he is about to make, and then ends the essay in a way that makes the reader feel that Bacon thinks he wasted his time by writing it, and therefore the reader wasted her or his time by reading it.
But Bacon’s dismissive declamations of his topic actually have the opposite rhetorical effect. His dismissal of the essay’s topics is so forceful that the reader cannot forget it, and therefore the essay sticks in the reader’s mind even though it is about seemingly trivial subjects. The reader cannot get “Of Masques and Triumphs” out of their head, and thus cannot help but considering Bacon’s ideas expressed therein. I remember virtually nothing about some of the essays with more serious topics such as number two, “Of Death,” or number thirty-six, “Of Ambition,” but “Of Masques and Triumphs” keeps coming into my mind.
Works Cited
Bacon, Francis. The Essays. 1625. Ed. John Pitcher. London: Penguin, 1985.
Bender, Harold S. The Anabaptist Vision. Scottdale, PA: Herald, 1944.
Dyck, Cornelius J. An Introduction to Mennonite History: A Popular History of the Anabaptists and the Mennonites. 3rd ed. Scottdale, PA: Herald, 1993.
Hooper, David, and Kenneth Whyld. The Oxford Companion to Chess. 2nd ed. Oxford: Oxford UP, 1992.
Silman, Jeremy. Silman’s Complete Endgame Course: From Beginner to Master. Los Angeles: Siles, 2007.
On Bacon’s Blogging
The 1625 edition of Francis Bacon’s Essays reminds me of blog entries. Of course the biggest difference between the Essays and blog entries is that Bacon’s pieces were revised and expanded over a period of twenty-eight years, whereas blog entries are often not revisited by their authors once they are posted. But if we set aside this dissimilarity, reading the Essays is like entering the early seventeenth century blogosphere.
The first characteristic of the Essays which reminds me of a blog is their seemingly random order. When writing a personal blog (as opposed to a thematic blog that just treats one topic), it is common for the author to discuss a variety of subjects, to write about whatever happens to be on her or his mind that day. Sometimes succeeding entries will treat related matters, and other times two consecutive posts will be on completely different issues. I see this same pattern in the Essays. For example, essays seven and eight, “Of Parents and Children,” and “Of Marriage and Single Life,” respectively, each deal with topics in the domestic sphere, so it makes sense that one follows the other. One day, Bacon was thinking about parenthood and wrote number seven, and soon afterward, he thought to himself, “Well, but before you can talk about parenthood, don’t you have to first think about whether or not to have a partner with whom you can have the children?,” or something along those lines, so he sat down and wrote about it. But on the other hand, essays such as number ten, “Of Love,” and number fifty-seven, “Of Anger,” which are related in that they treat opposites, are forty-seven entries apart. And further, the essays that follow these two, “Of Great Place,” and “Of Vicissitude of Things,” respectively, seem unrelated to their predecessors. So Bacon lets his thoughts give his pen direction like today’s bloggers do rather than receiving direction from a formal structure – the Essays are an episodic narrative, not a five-paragraph essay.
On a related note, it is common for blog readers to only read the entries on topics that interest them. An example of this is found in the case of my blog. I love sports, and often blog about them, but many of my friends who read my blog are not interested in sports at all, and constantly complain to me that I should write about topics that interest them all the time instead of just here and there. Likewise, I find some of Bacon’s essays to be quite fascinating or memorable – I will remember the phrase “But enough of these toys” (176) from essay thirty-seven for as long as I live – and find others to be utterly unremarkable.
The second characteristic of the Essays which reminds me of a blog is that Bacon is writing to an audience of acquaintances and friends. When someone begins a blog, he or she will send text-messages or e-mails to friends saying something like “Hey! Check out my new blog! Here’s the link, put it on your MySpace page.” Similarly, just like authors today when they publish a book, Bacon must not have been shy about letting his friends at Court know that a new edition of the Essays was coming out, and telling them to pass the news around. Although the Essays do not appear to discuss Bacon’s personal life, Bacon’s first readers would have read the Essays while thinking about what events in Bacon’s life might have inspired or influenced them. Therefore the Essays contain both a public and a personal element, just like personal blogs are very public in that they can be accessed by anyone on the internet, but have special meaning for those who know the author.
I am going to take time now to respond to three of Bacon’s essays that especially caught my eye, just as though I were a blog reader posting comments about an entry.
Essay three, “Of Unity in Religion,” struck me when I first read it because towards the end Bacon asserts that it is dangerous for commoners to wield the sword for religious causes, and says that this “monstrous” practice should “be left unto the Anabaptists” (70). In his gloss of this passage, John Pitcher claims that the Anabaptists were “Protestant sectarians [...] whose history had been violent” (70 n. 32). As someone who was raised in one of the three main Anabaptist-descended groups who are still in existence as a Mennonite (the other two being Amish and Hutterites), I am saddened by Bacon’s misconception of the Anabaptist movement (not to mention Pitcher’s misleading note – historians have accepted that the sixteenth-century Anabaptists were overwhelmingly nonviolent since at least 1944 when Harold S. Bender published The Anabaptist Vision; Pitcher could fix his problematic phrase by writing something like “whose history included some violent episodes” instead).
The large majority of Anabaptists during the sixteenth century were non-violent, and by the time of Bacon’s writing all of the surviving Anabaptists groups were peaceful. But Bacon is only thinking of the Münsterite strain of Anabaptism when he worries about commoners participating in religious violence. Historian Cornelius J. Dyck writes that the Münsterites were led by the Anabaptist prophets Jan Matthijs and Jan van Leiden, who claimed in 1534 that Jesus was going to return very soon to set up the new Jerusalem in the German city of Münster. The Jans said it was necessary for their followers to violently seize the city in order to prepare it for Jesus’s return. The authorities recaptured the city in 1535 and executed the remaining Anabaptists there (99-101). While it is understandable that the Münsterite episode would have been troubling to Bacon as someone who was very interested in keeping the commoners docile to preserve his titled position, I wish that he would have used a more precise word choice, substituting “Münsterites” for Anabaptists. Being too lazy to properly research your subject is never an acceptable excuse for inaccurate writing, even in 1625.
Essay twelve, “Of Boldness,” is interesting to me as an avid chess player because Bacon uses a chess metaphor to explain himself. In describing how the bold react when they are “out of countenance,” Bacon writes that “they stand at a stay, like a stale at chess, where it is no mate but yet the game cannot stir” (95). Stalemate occurs when it is a player’s turn and he or she cannot make any legal moves. According to modern rules, a game is drawn if stalemate occurs. However, according to David Hooper and Kenneth Whyld, the rule in England until 1807 was that the player who stalemated her or his opponent lost the game, because giving stalemate was viewed as a “dishonourable,” unsporting act (388). So Bacon’s use of stalemate as a metaphor includes the notion of there being a winner and a loser.
To give stalemate today is a terrible blunder because the player who gives it is usually winning, but makes a mistake and allows his or her opponent to escape with a draw instead of a loss. Chess books constantly warn their readers to make sure they do not stalemate their opponents in won positions. For instance, Jeremy Silman’s Complete Endgame Course alerts readers about stalemate dangers at least six times (6, 115, 117, 166, 180, 191). With these warnings in mind, think of how much more of a blunder it was to give stalemate in Bacon’s day, when the giver of stalemate lost the game instead of settling for a frustrating draw. This knowledge gives Bacon’s twenty-first century reader further insight into how forceful Bacon’s condemnation of the bold is. Just prior to the stalemate passage, Bacon opines that the bold “are a sport to behold,” and contain elements “of the ridiculous” when their bold boasts have “failed most shamefully” (95). Although Bacon uses the stalemate metaphor to describe the faces of the bold when they fail, the reader can infer that Bacon chooses this metaphor rather than something like “their faces are like statues showing no expression” to reinforce his position that the bold are foolish. They are like those who give stalemate, blunderers who turn their presumed victory into defeat.
Essay thirty-seven, “Of Masques and Triumphs,” also fascinates me, mostly because of Bacon’s downplaying of the importance of his topic at either end of the essay. He starts out by apologizing that “These things are but toys” (175), and finishes sneeringly with the abrupt “But enough of these toys” (176). It is commonly taught that the worse action to take when beginning a speech is to apologize to the audience about something. Likewise, when I teach writing, I always tell my students that it is necessary to use assertive language throughout their papers to make a convincing argument. With this advice in mind, it appears on the surface that essay thirty-seven is badly written because Bacon apologizes to the reader for the argument he is about to make, and then ends the essay in a way that makes the reader feel that Bacon thinks he wasted his time by writing it, and therefore the reader wasted her or his time by reading it.
But Bacon’s dismissive declamations of his topic actually have the opposite rhetorical effect. His dismissal of the essay’s topics is so forceful that the reader cannot forget it, and therefore the essay sticks in the reader’s mind even though it is about seemingly trivial subjects. The reader cannot get “Of Masques and Triumphs” out of their head, and thus cannot help but considering Bacon’s ideas expressed therein. I remember virtually nothing about some of the essays with more serious topics such as number two, “Of Death,” or number thirty-six, “Of Ambition,” but “Of Masques and Triumphs” keeps coming into my mind.
Works Cited
Bacon, Francis. The Essays. 1625. Ed. John Pitcher. London: Penguin, 1985.
Bender, Harold S. The Anabaptist Vision. Scottdale, PA: Herald, 1944.
Dyck, Cornelius J. An Introduction to Mennonite History: A Popular History of the Anabaptists and the Mennonites. 3rd ed. Scottdale, PA: Herald, 1993.
Hooper, David, and Kenneth Whyld. The Oxford Companion to Chess. 2nd ed. Oxford: Oxford UP, 1992.
Silman, Jeremy. Silman’s Complete Endgame Course: From Beginner to Master. Los Angeles: Siles, 2007.
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Detritus in old books
This afternoon a used copy of Roger Angell's Season Ticket (1988) that I ordered came in the mail. In it was an old bookmark from "Books Inc. Since 1851" located in the Stanford Shopping Center, no city or state listed. Also, there was a postcard with a picture of a ballgame at Fenway Park and the words "Red Sox" at the bottom left along with their sock logo. The message field of the card is blank, but it is addressed to a Brian Harwell in Bogota, Colombia. No return address.
I always used to throw away whatever leavings were in old books that I acquired, but lately have been keeping them. I find them to be interesting pieces of the books' histories. A few months ago I found an Eastern Airlines ticket stub from 1983 or '84 in a chess book I purchased, and about a year ago there was a Book-of-the-Month-Club invoice in a Doris Lessing novel. I've also found old, sometimes almost disintegrated, store receipts in a number of used books (the only one I remember specifically from recent times was in Ludek Pachmann's autobiography; it was bought at Brentano's, I forget which branch). It's always interesting to see where the original owner purchased a book, and for how much.
I always used to throw away whatever leavings were in old books that I acquired, but lately have been keeping them. I find them to be interesting pieces of the books' histories. A few months ago I found an Eastern Airlines ticket stub from 1983 or '84 in a chess book I purchased, and about a year ago there was a Book-of-the-Month-Club invoice in a Doris Lessing novel. I've also found old, sometimes almost disintegrated, store receipts in a number of used books (the only one I remember specifically from recent times was in Ludek Pachmann's autobiography; it was bought at Brentano's, I forget which branch). It's always interesting to see where the original owner purchased a book, and for how much.
Monday, February 25, 2008
Can't wait for baseball
I am so excited for baseball season! Over the past few days I've been getting so excited thinking about the Mets that I've felt light-headed. This afternoon I purchased tickets for their game on May 27 against Florida. I'll be visiting New York for a few days, so it will be my last visit to Shea Stadium. Depending on whether there are any rainouts before that game, Johan Santana or (more likely) Pedro Martinez should start for the Mets, either of which would be awesome to see.
When I lived in the city as a kid my dad would take me to 3-5 games a season, and sometimes my entire family would go. My first game was as a five-year-old in 1985 against the Braves. Dwight Gooden pitched and the Mets won something like 14-4, and I was hooked. My second game was Hat Day in 1986, the Mets lost 2-1 to the Astros, but that was okay because they got revenge in the NLCS. I think Mike Scott pitched the game I was at, but I'm not sure.
When I lived in the city as a kid my dad would take me to 3-5 games a season, and sometimes my entire family would go. My first game was as a five-year-old in 1985 against the Braves. Dwight Gooden pitched and the Mets won something like 14-4, and I was hooked. My second game was Hat Day in 1986, the Mets lost 2-1 to the Astros, but that was okay because they got revenge in the NLCS. I think Mike Scott pitched the game I was at, but I'm not sure.
Sunday, February 24, 2008
Nader again
I just read that Ralph Nader is again running for president. This makes me sad. Nader is needlessly tarnishing his important legacy as a consumer advocate. He has no chance of playing a significant role in the race, and as a result is simply reinforcing his current image as a grumpy old man.
Strawberry vs. Piazza
I mentioned in a post yesterday that I thought Mike Piazza was the best Met ever offensively. In thinking about this statement, I realized that one could also make a strong claim for Darryl Strawberry to receive this honor. So let's compare the two and see what we come up with.
Strawberry played for the Mets from 1983-1990. In 1109 games he had 3903 at-bats, from which he produced 252 homers, 733 RBIs (both the most in Mets history), 1025 hits, and a .263 batting average.
Piazza played for the Mets from 1998-2005. In 972 games he had 3478 at-bats, from which he produced 220 homers, 655 RBIs (both second-most in Mets history), 1028 hits, and a .296 batting average.
Looking at these numbers, the two played for the team for approximately the same length of time, though Piazza played in fewer games because he was injured for much of his last three years as a Met (he never played more than 129 games in those seasons). Piazza's only deficits when compared to Strawberry are 32 homers and 78 RBIs. So if Piazza had been healthy those last three years, he would have come very close to Strawberry's numbers if he didn't pass them.
Therefore, because the numbers are so close, it is also necessary to think about the size of the role each player played in their teams' offense. In this category, Piazza clearly has the advantage. While Strawberry played in line-ups including Keith Hernandez, Gary Carter, and Howard Johnson (whose 192 homers are third in Mets history), Piazza had very little offensive help during his Mets tenure - John Olerud and Robin Ventura were it. So while opposing pitchers couldn't pitch around Strawberry much because of the other guys in the line-up, in many cases they could pitch around Piazza. This factor causes me to give my vote for the best Met ever offensively to Piazza. Of course, if defense were brought into the equation, Strawberry would have a large advantage there, but since we're just talking about offense, Piazza gets the nod.
Strawberry played for the Mets from 1983-1990. In 1109 games he had 3903 at-bats, from which he produced 252 homers, 733 RBIs (both the most in Mets history), 1025 hits, and a .263 batting average.
Piazza played for the Mets from 1998-2005. In 972 games he had 3478 at-bats, from which he produced 220 homers, 655 RBIs (both second-most in Mets history), 1028 hits, and a .296 batting average.
Looking at these numbers, the two played for the team for approximately the same length of time, though Piazza played in fewer games because he was injured for much of his last three years as a Met (he never played more than 129 games in those seasons). Piazza's only deficits when compared to Strawberry are 32 homers and 78 RBIs. So if Piazza had been healthy those last three years, he would have come very close to Strawberry's numbers if he didn't pass them.
Therefore, because the numbers are so close, it is also necessary to think about the size of the role each player played in their teams' offense. In this category, Piazza clearly has the advantage. While Strawberry played in line-ups including Keith Hernandez, Gary Carter, and Howard Johnson (whose 192 homers are third in Mets history), Piazza had very little offensive help during his Mets tenure - John Olerud and Robin Ventura were it. So while opposing pitchers couldn't pitch around Strawberry much because of the other guys in the line-up, in many cases they could pitch around Piazza. This factor causes me to give my vote for the best Met ever offensively to Piazza. Of course, if defense were brought into the equation, Strawberry would have a large advantage there, but since we're just talking about offense, Piazza gets the nod.
Saturday Night Live's return
Saturday Night Live's first new episode after the writer's strike last night was decent, a low B. The opening sketch about journalists fawning over Obama was hilarious, though Fred Armisen's Obama impersonation needs some serious work - he seemed to have so much trouble merely speaking in a deeper voice that he had no energy left to make this deeper voice sound like Obama's. The opening monologue with a cameo by Steve Martin was also good, though I am biased here because I am a total sucker for Steve Martin cameos. Once he comes on camera my ability to think critically vanishes quicker than Hillary Clinton's chances for the Democratic nomination. (thank you! I'll be here all week.)
Speaking of Hillary, "Weekend Update" was mind-blowing, and not in a good way. Tina Fey's pro-Hillary rant was funny, but politically irresponsible. I understand that it would be great to have a female president, and I felt guilty voting against Hillary in the Illinois primary for this reason, but Obama has a much better chance of beating McCain in the general election, and it is absolutely necessary for the US's welfare that a Republican not be elected. Not to mention that Obama is the most exciting US politician since Bobby Kennedy. (Stepping off of my soapbox)
Mike Huckabee's cameo, though again somewhat funny, was extremely confusing to me - politicians go on SNL to try to convince people that they are cool (e.g., Obama's appearance this past fall, or Al Gore's appearances in the past few years), and the time for this convincing re: Huckabee has long since passed. Also, I'm sure the number of people who watch SNL and would be interested in voting for Huckabee is around three. Was he intending it as a sort of concession speech? I don't know. Anyway, the baffling nature of his appearance overwhelmed whatever humor it contained.
The rest of the show was so-so, the only skit that really stood out to me was Jason Sudeikis's drunken best man speech. Simple and well done. Samberg and Hader's digital short was a respectable try, but not as good as the shorts usually are.
Speaking of Hillary, "Weekend Update" was mind-blowing, and not in a good way. Tina Fey's pro-Hillary rant was funny, but politically irresponsible. I understand that it would be great to have a female president, and I felt guilty voting against Hillary in the Illinois primary for this reason, but Obama has a much better chance of beating McCain in the general election, and it is absolutely necessary for the US's welfare that a Republican not be elected. Not to mention that Obama is the most exciting US politician since Bobby Kennedy. (Stepping off of my soapbox)
Mike Huckabee's cameo, though again somewhat funny, was extremely confusing to me - politicians go on SNL to try to convince people that they are cool (e.g., Obama's appearance this past fall, or Al Gore's appearances in the past few years), and the time for this convincing re: Huckabee has long since passed. Also, I'm sure the number of people who watch SNL and would be interested in voting for Huckabee is around three. Was he intending it as a sort of concession speech? I don't know. Anyway, the baffling nature of his appearance overwhelmed whatever humor it contained.
The rest of the show was so-so, the only skit that really stood out to me was Jason Sudeikis's drunken best man speech. Simple and well done. Samberg and Hader's digital short was a respectable try, but not as good as the shorts usually are.
Saturday, February 23, 2008
The Mets should retire more numbers
The Mets currently have three of their own numbers retired: 37 (Casey Stengel), 14 (Gil Hodges), and 41 (Tom Seaver), plus 42 for Jackie Robinson. This to me is ridiculous - only one player in 46 years has been good enough to have his number retired? Really? I hope the team decides to retire a few more once Citi Field opens in 2009. I think Keith Hernandez (17), Mike Piazza (31), and John Franco (45) all would be appropriate.
Hernandez was the core of the great Mets teams in the mid-late 1980s, especially the 1986 championship team, was team captain for a while, and is one of the greatest defensive first basemen ever. Piazza is probably the greatest Met ever offensively, was the star of the 2000 pennant-winning team, and is a lock for the Hall of Fame (he will probably be the second HOFer [after Seaver] to be wearing a Mets cap on his plaque). Franco was also team captain for many years (I think he and Hernandez are the only two in team history, but I may be wrong on that), and is the best Mets reliever ever, and one of the best southpaw closers ever as well.
Gary Carter (8) wouldn't be a bad choice either - he loved being a Met, played a crucial role in the 1986 season (e.g., his two-out single started the improbable game-winning rally in game 6 of the World Series), and wanted to be inducted into the Hall of Fame as a Met (the HOF insisted on inducting him as an Expo). However, the fact that he only played five seasons for the Mets (1985-89) hurts his cause.
The overall point is that, despite many terrible seasons, the Mets have a lot about their history to be proud of, not least their two World Series championships, which are more than many teams have (Nationals, Astros, Brewers, Rockies, D-Backs, Rays, Royals, Rangers, Angels, Mariners, to name a few) including the evil Phillies, who have only won one in over 100 years. Part of showing this pride should be retiring some more players' numbers.
Hernandez was the core of the great Mets teams in the mid-late 1980s, especially the 1986 championship team, was team captain for a while, and is one of the greatest defensive first basemen ever. Piazza is probably the greatest Met ever offensively, was the star of the 2000 pennant-winning team, and is a lock for the Hall of Fame (he will probably be the second HOFer [after Seaver] to be wearing a Mets cap on his plaque). Franco was also team captain for many years (I think he and Hernandez are the only two in team history, but I may be wrong on that), and is the best Mets reliever ever, and one of the best southpaw closers ever as well.
Gary Carter (8) wouldn't be a bad choice either - he loved being a Met, played a crucial role in the 1986 season (e.g., his two-out single started the improbable game-winning rally in game 6 of the World Series), and wanted to be inducted into the Hall of Fame as a Met (the HOF insisted on inducting him as an Expo). However, the fact that he only played five seasons for the Mets (1985-89) hurts his cause.
The overall point is that, despite many terrible seasons, the Mets have a lot about their history to be proud of, not least their two World Series championships, which are more than many teams have (Nationals, Astros, Brewers, Rockies, D-Backs, Rays, Royals, Rangers, Angels, Mariners, to name a few) including the evil Phillies, who have only won one in over 100 years. Part of showing this pride should be retiring some more players' numbers.
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