Phutatorius

I'm putting my Christmas wish-list together, and I'm stuck. I don't know whether to ask for a "New York City" T-shirt like the one John Lennon actually wore in the famous picture or the T-shirt that shows the famous picture of John Lennon wearing that "New York City" T-shirt.

I mean, you can make a case for both. I think it's probably cooler to wear the same one that Lennon wore — that way I can cut off the sleeves and be exactly like John Lennon. The problem is that there's nothing on it that says, HEY! John Lennon wore a T-shirt like this, with "New York City" on it. So people who haven't seen the picture won't know why I'm wearing a shirt with "New York City" written on the front. In Boston these days, that's not a particularly safe proposition. More importantly, though, if people don't get the reference, the whole point of wearing the T-shirt is lost. After all, the shirt isn't cool because it says "New York City." It's cool because John Lennon wore it in a famous picture.

Now the other shirt sends a clearer message: here's John Lennon wearing a T-shirt with "New York City" on it. And for all you Bostonians who want to clobber me for wearing a shirt with "New York City" on it, I'll point out that I'm not endorsing New York City, John Lennon is. So there. That's what the shirt with the picture of John Lennon wearing the "New York City" T-shirt has going for it. In the end, though, if I get this T-shirt, I come across as nothing more than a run-of-the-mill fan of John Lennon, whereas with the other shirt, I'm actually dressing like him.

The problem is this, in a nutshell: It's not the acknowledgment that Lennon wore a T-shirt with "New York City" on it that is cool — it's going out and finding that same T-shirt and wearing it myself. But if I'm the only person who knows I'm wearing a perfect simulacrum of John Lennon's "New York City" T-shirt, then there's no point in doing it. It's a waste to be cool if no one else notices. It's like a tree going to all kinds of trouble to fall in the woods, just to make a sound nobody hears. I mean, I suppose I could go around telling people about it, on the train, in the office, in the grocery line: Excuse me, sir/madam: did you know that John Lennon wore a T-shirt like this? But that's not really cool, either.

(sigh!)

I don't see a way out of this dilemma, except maybe to ask for the two T-shirts, hope I get both, and wear them on alternate days. Or maybe I could wear Lennon's T-shirt, put Bobo the Chimp in the T-shirt with Lennon on it (do they make it in extra-small?), and send him down the street ahead of me, incognito, to clue people in to the significance of my shirt. I dunno. I don't see any way out of this, and I welcome any insights or suggestions.

A friend of mine solicited my thoughts on Saturday's OSU-Michigan football game. I wrote up a lengthy response to him and mailed it off, and then it occurred to me that I had not posted here in some time, and my dissertation on the Buckeye win was probably Chestnut-worthy, most notably because it's about time somebody got on ABC's case about their programming. And no, I'm not talking about Desperate Housewives.

So here it is (please note in advance that it is peppered with obscenity):

"OK. Let's do this. On ABC: I called their fucking local affiliate earlier in the year to ask them why the fucking hell they don't EVER play the games that the regional map says they're going to fucking play. I got screwed with OSU-Marshall, and I got screwed with OSU-Penn State. I don't think in either case the substituted game even had regional relevance. One of them was a fucking ACC game, and the other one had USC in it. So fine, maybe the USC game was a better matchup (Virginia-North Carolina certainly wasn't, in the season's second week), but the stupid map advertised the OSU-Penn State game, and I about lost my shit when they didn't run it, and I called Channel 5 to complain.

In the sports bar that week I found out that when the stupid local affiliate bumps games, they land on UPN. You know, because ABC and UPN are totally the same company. They're not, and it doesn't make any goddam sense, but whatever. That's where the OSU-Penn State game was. So when the happy lady from the local affiliate's PR department called and left a happy message on my machine offering to explain their arbitrary and capricious college football programming scheme, I said fuck it. I didn't have three hours to go over the whole tortuous fucking business, and my game would probably land on UPN if it happened again.

Then Saturday came along, and the game everybody in the goddam country wants to watch every fucking year — OSU-Michigan — was to be broadcast by ABC. They would NEVER mess with that, I thought. It's OSU-Michigan. I mean, Jesus. Then I turn on my stupid-ass fucking local ABC affiliate around 12:30 p.m., and lo and behold, they're showing BC-Temple. And BC-Temple should not be on television. Big East football should arguably never be on television, and a game involving Temple should never ever ever EVER be on television. Except on closed-circuit fucking TV in goddam Temple University lecture halls when the Owls are on the road.

I started eating my sandwich. I thought, what the hell? They'll probably switch over, bump BC to UPN, or if they really want to insult me, they'll bump OSU-Michigan to UPN. I'm halfway through my sandwich at 1:00. They don't switch over. I'm still watching 'ESPN+' bonus coverage on the goddam ABC affiliate. BC predictably beating the snot out of Temple, because they're like one of two teams left in that miserable shit of a football conference. Well, let's check UPN.

Harvard-Yale is on UPN. A game of 'regional' interest. This might be true, except that anyone who goddam cares about the Harvard-Yale game is actually at the game, probably drunk, probably with their pants off waiting to streak across the field. I understand that the Harvard-Yale game is a big deal. I get that Harvard is undefeated. What I don't get is why this fucking game is on television. The Harvard-Yale game is never on television. Ivy League football is not a television sport. It's an experience. So go to the goddam game. If you don't want to go, then you don't get to see it, because other, REAL football games like OSU-Michigan are WHAT'S ON TELEVISION.

I picked up the other half of my sandwich, thought really hard about whether I was going to throw it against the wall. The Wife gave me a look. I put the sandwich down, picked up the remote, cycled through my cable channels twice, just to see if I was missing something. Oh, no — I wasn't missing anything. There's the BC-Temple game on the stupid-ass fucking miserable crapper of a local ABC affiliate, there's Harvard-Yale on UPN broacasting to an audience of twelve, ESPN is running Penn State-Michigan, some other channel is actually showing NORTHWESTERN-ILLINOIS. But OSU-Michigan isn't anywhere on the goddam cable dial.

I lost my shit. I shouted, I screamed, I yelled. I went through the cable channels again. I saw that NBC had its usual Saturday religious programming — not the Notre Dame home game against some terrible service academy team, but even worse: NASCAR. And specifically, that part of NASCAR where they have a prayer at the racetrack before the fucking race. I expanded the scope of my shouting and screaming to consider the miserable state of the nation we live in, how our TV programming — which was the last citadel of secular sophistication — is getting goddam taken over by the hyper-Christian stock-car freaks from North Carolina.

The Wife threw me out of the house. After I left, she probably put Judging Amy on the TiVo.

I went to the sports bar, still seething, managed after a few minutes to find a seat at the bar in front of a television that was actually showing the biggest college football game currently being played within this nation's borders. I saw that OSU had scored on a 68-yard touchdown pass that I missed while I was in the car. The guy next to me kept asking the open air why BC's quarterback was no longer in the Temple game. I sipped my Diet Coke, managed to suppress my every instinct, which was to turn to the guy and say:

Who gives a rat's ass about BC's quarterback, you stupid stupid fuck? They play inconsequential games in an inconsequential conference that they'll be glad to leave next year so that real football teams can kick the living shit out of them in the ACC for years to come. They're wandering stupidly into a BCS bowl because their sad-sack conference still gets an automatic berth, for reasons unknown to me, you, and the goddam stupid assholes who preempted OSU-Michigan with this shit-for-brains Temple game. Shut the goddam living fuck up about the BC quarterback, because my team is now down 14-7, Michigan just downed a punt on the Buckeyes' 1-yard-line, I've got to sit here and listen to obnoxious Michigan fans cheering for their team (when if I could I'd be at home, by myself, watching this game), and if things get any worse, I'm going to take a big steaming shit on this bar and go crash my Volkswagen through the front windows of the Harvard Business School.

And then something really crazy happened. Troy Smith and the Buckeyes marched down the field, largely unimpeded by the Michigan defense, and scored a touchdown. OSU fans in the bar erupted. I hadn't seen them before. They had had no occasion to cheer since I'd got here. I thought about that 99-yard drive. That doesn't happen, I said to myself. That hasn't happened all year. My attention centered itself once more on the television. I was intrigued, and more than a little concerned. What was that I just saw? An offense? Because I hadn't seen anything quite like that in quite a long time — and that's including the 2002 national championship year.

I kept watching. And it kept getting better. The defense stiffened up, swarmed on Mike Hart, pressured Henne to make plays, forced three-and-outs, and the offense moved the ball and scored. It was unbelievable. I ordered myself a caesar's salad and boneless buffalo tenders. When these plates arrived I was allowed to forget my half-sandwich at home, which I'd left behind when the Wife threw me out. A Michigan fan took the seat beside me and swore a lot. He kept yelling, 'Throw the ball to Braylon!' He was also wearing a jersey with the number 1 on it, and he seemed a little bit like a groupie. I hated him. We watched the game for a while in silence.

Finally, I turned to him and said, loud enough that the idiot on the other side of me could hear: 'What the hell is that stupid-ass local ABC affiliate doing playing the goddam BC-Temple game?' The Michigan fan said it was an absurd development, and that it had caused him to leave the comforts of his own home to watch the game here. He continued to swear a lot, but we talked a little more. I was surprised to learn that he wasn't an absolute asshole, and actually kind of a nice guy, though I could afford to be magnanimous because OSU was up 34-14.

Of course, in the fourth quarter Tressel reverted to the usual 'run the tailback into the back of the tackle and fall down' playcalling, which allowed Michigan to get back into the game by simply throwing the ball to Braylon, as the guy next to me had prescribed. I started to feel the buffalo tenders kicking around in my stomach. Why why why why why? Why not actually try to get a first down, Tressel, and burn the clock that way? I mean, are you totally chickenshit? Run the ball outside, for crying out loud. Ultimately, of course, it all ended well.

And I went home happy and hugged the Wife and apologized to her about the outburst."

You know what? I'm getting sick and tired of J.D. Power & Associates (and no, just because I said their name, that doesn't mean I have to link to them — nothing in the Blogger's Handbook says I have to do that). What, some guy wakes up in the morning and just decides that he and his Associates are going to start ranking stuff? And they're going to run a business based on that?

Here's my position on the matter, Mr. J.D. Power & Associates: you can't go around making blanket yearly statements about customer satisfaction unless you consult me first. I'm a customer — it's what I do, and I've done it for 31 years now. I know when I'm satisfied and when I'm not satisfied, and I'm not going to change my mind just because of your rankings. I certainly am not going to accept your "rankings" unquestioned, not unless and until I get a window into your methodologies. And you don't seem all that willing to let us into your Little Black Box. When a ballplayer endorses a razor, at least I know he's a ballplayer, and that he got paid for the ad. But who the hell are you? What makes you such Mr. Perfect Objective Expert?

Jerk.

In fact, if I did a customer satisfaction ranking of customer satisfaction rankers, Mr. Power, you and your Associates would be way down at the goddam bottom. But you know what? I'm not so presumptuous, Mr. Power. I'm not going to take my personal views and cram them in someone else's face. Have you ever heard the phrase "De gustibus non est disputandum," Mr. Power? Go on and ask your Associates, see if they know what it means. Roughly translated, it means you and your Associates don't know jack shit about my customer satisfaction, and I resent the suggestion that you do.

You know what else? It wouldn't surprise me if your last name really isn't Power. That's just the kind of name a guy like you would make up to give yourself more clout. And it would not surprise if you didn't even have any Associates, either. Or if you do, you only have two, so you're not technically lying when you say "Associates." After all, you don't say how many Associates you have. You just say you have Associates. Who are they, then? No — wait — let me guess: your mother and your goldfish. You're running this customer satisfaction Powerhouse out of your parent's basement, aren't you? And your name is really J.D. Bullshitter.

That's your real name, isn't it? ISN'T IT?

I've had it up to here [indicating with hand pressed against forehead] with J.D. Power & Associates. Cut the crap already, because none of us are buying it.

The 2004 race for the Presidency has been fraught with plot twists and high drama, but none quite so startling as the appearance of crowds of orange pylons outside the nation's polling places.

The high turnout of orange pylons — which has reached as many as seven per hundred voters in some districts (see inset) — took both parties by surprise.  "The candidates took us for granted," an orange pylon told reporters outside a community center in Cambridge, Mass.  "They thought that because we don't have legs, we wouldn't make it here to vote."

The Kerry campaign was quick to capitalize on the orange pylon development, calling a press conference in which their presidential candidate — some would say belatedly — specifically acknowledged the contributions orange pylons make to society.  "Orange pylons keep us safe," Kerry said.  "They steer us clear of industrial sites, they channel us into the appropriate highway lanes . . . they, uh, glow in the dark."

At the President's Crawford, Texas ranch, Bush-Cheney spokesman Scott Stanzel watched footage of Kerry's briefing with disdain.  "That's one more bandwagon Kerry's jumping on at the last minute," Stanzel said.  "He's just the king of the grandstanders, isn't he?"

But as orange pylons descend en masse on polling venues in Florida and the Midwestern battleground states, some pundits believe they have the ability to turn the tide of the election.  James Carville is one: "Kerry and Bush both made a grave error overlooking the pylon vote.  And though I think orange voters as a rule identify more with Kerry, because of that fake tan, the pylons are a wild card in this race — no doubt about it."

It should surprise no one that Republicans are taking no chances with the pylon vote.  The Republican National Committee has announced that it will challenge orange pylons who attempt to vote in Ohio's inner cities.  "They all look alike," complained RNC chairman Ed Gillespie.  "They're all bright orange and, well, conical in shape.  Each of these pylons could vote multiple times and no one would know."

What issues are driving the orange pylon voting bloc?  Health care, for one: "I've worked over at the DMV for six months now," said one orange pylon outside a poll center in Broward County, Florida.  "In total, I've been run over 114 times by teenage drivers trying to parallel park.  That kind of wear and tear adds up."  The pylon added that one of his brothers was hit by a drunk driver on a road construction site on Interstate 95, and the state found it more economical to replace him than to repair him.  "Now he's out of work, disabled — those tire tracks don't come off without cosmetic surgery, you know.  All this happened on George Bush's watch."

Job training is another issue.  The proliferation of orange plastic barrels and airport "Tensabarriers" over the last several years has left more than 30,000 orange pylons on the economic sidelines.  The Third Orange Pylon From the Door at the 9th Street Community Center in Cleveland said his fellow pylons need to let these jobs go: "I don't think you can reverse the Tensabarrier trend.  They're innovative, and they do a better job than we do keeping people in line."  The Third Orange Pylon added that he thought President Bush had a better plan to reposition orange pylons to work in the New Economy.

But don't think civil rights and discrimination are not at the forefront of the minds of orange pylon voters.  Pylon social status could turn out to be one of the most important issues in this election.  Another Broward County pylon explained: "I came to vote because it's high time we orange pylons stood up for ourselves.  I was standing outside a rest stop in New Jersey last summer, and a girl picked me up, put me on her head, and started yelling, 'Look at me!  I'm the Wicked Witch of the Turnpike!'"  The pylon paused, sniffled, then said, "Imagine if she tried to put a white guy on her head like that."