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WORLD CUP COMMENTARY OF THE DAY:
In a delightful contest between former Nazi collaborators--in the very stadium where Hitler watched the 1936 Olympic games--France controlled pretty much all of the action over the last 75 mintues of the game yet still managed to lose 2-1 to the magnifently coiffed Italians. It was nice to see France confirm its repuation as a heady, cerebral culture--with Zenmaster Zidane ending his storied career with a perfectly ill-timed header to the sternum. Pretty startling use of the old noggin. One has to wonder what the Italian guy said to him to pique his ire and prompt the ridiculously ill-advised illegal use of head. A sexual, racial or religious slur? A claim that Fellini is greater than Truffaut? An observation that the Rogaine isn't working? Whatever it was that provoked this Ron Artest moment, the follicularly-challenged great will have a lot of explaining to do to the teammates he let down.
And speaking of letting down: It's terribly unsatisfying to see matters of such global importance resolved by recourse to penalty kicks--particularly with the day's clearly inferior team prevailing.
TEDDY VEGAS BRANDED QUESTION OF THE DAY:
What did the Italian guy say to Zidane to prompt his most unamorous giving of head?
FINAL THOUGHTS ON THE WORLD CUP:
Nice to see the World Cup failing to feed America's delusions of world dominance. Nice to have the other nations in the world join forces to say, in effect, "Yes, you're the special country. But now you have to go home." I think, in the end, that is good for our national character.
Seemed appropriate that the perfectly coiffed Italian team had a star goalkeeper named Buffon (That's a hair-do, right?). Oh, wait, that's 'bouffant.' Never mind. Quip disallowed.
MOVIE REFLECTION OF THE DAY:
The other night, I was somehow persuaded to see "The Devil Wears Prada" --essentially a two hour Sex and the City episode. Before the movie I saw a trailer for this new movie about the 9/11 attacks entitled "World Trade Center." While I never saw more than the trailer for the Flight 93 movie, I somehow didn't find the idea of that cinematic effort totally objectionable. But there is something about the presence of a movie star (a creepily mustached and outer borough accented Nicolas Cage), that makes this movie feel obsene and exploitative-- a bit too produced and Spielbergian in its efforts at pop redemption and communal healing. The presence of a star somehow makes you acutely aware of the Hollywood machine and the egos that grease it. Flight 93 had no recognizeable actors and so was able to function as a transparent window onto these awful events. But, here, the window is inescapably smudged by celebrity and ego-- or at the very least is somewhat less than perfectly transparent, bearing as it does the reflection of the actors and director behind it. Alternatively put, in a Hollywood pic, a star never merely serves the story. The story also serves the star (his career, his rep, his aura). And in a case like this, it feels unseemly. Perhaps even a desecration.
I am also struck by the irony of a movie about a reality that felt--as it was unfolding--like a movie. (Remember how many people kept saying "It doesn't feel real or it feels too real. Like it's a movie.")
Frankly, I can't imagine what sense of insane egotism or misguided humilty or insistent blandishments of Oliver Stone led Nicolas Cage to agree to make this film. Probably the same misguided instincts that convinced him to marry Elvis's daughter.
WIMBLEDON COMMENTARY OF THE DAY:
One has to love the excruciating awkwardness of the family box at the championship match. The perpetual battle between emotion and etiquette on display for all to see.
Why does the Chair umpire get a trophy? He didn't play anyone.
And what was Celine Dionne doing in the aforementioned family box with the uncomfortable family members?
OBLIGATORTY GOLF QUIP OF THE DAY:
Not surprisingly, the Cialis Open featured some stiff competition.
MEDIA QUOTE OF THE DAY:
"Kobayashi is probably the greatest athlete in the world today."
--Quote made without irony by the ESPN color commentator for the Nathan's Coney Island Hot Dog Eating contest, after extolling the wonders of Kobayashi's 8 dog per minute pace and after seeing a graphic comparing him to Babe Ruth in terms of setting an unprecedented standard for his realm of endeavor. Speaking of which, I'll bet the Babe could have given this strange little dude a run for his money at Nathan's.
SPORTS TERMS OF THE DAY: (From the same broadcast).
"Jaw fatigue", "hot dog management" and "the spray zone."
And just a little more from that broadcast, since stuff like this is just too good to pass up: "Let's go to the highlights..look at that jaw work...a great eater...a credit to his country ...trying to put his name up there with the great Italian athletes...Andretti, Dimaggio...just a credit to his people and his sport."
SPECTACLE OF THE DAY:
Lingering on the competitors after the closing bell as they labored in extended and agonized fashion to swallow all of the dogs they'd managed to cram into their pie hole. (Evidently if they spit them up they don't get credit for them and the contest was so close that a single act of oral expulsion might have altered the outcome.) It looked like some medieval imagining of one of the outer rings of hell--except for the sleeveless t-s, the bling and the sunglasses.
QUOTE OF THE DAY:
"I was flawless" --Roger Federer, in an assessment that was in no way hyperbolic or boastful after beating Jonas Bjorkman 6-2, 6-0, 6-2 in the semi finals of Wimbledon. What was remarkable was not merely the staggeringly high level of his play but the fact that that quotation came across as in no way hyperbolic or boastful. It was simply a matter of fact. Essentially indisputable. Like God saying "I could do no wrong" or Charlize Theron saying "I was gorgeous."
HEADLINE OF THE DAY:
On AOL.com, I saw a headline that read: "Sherryl Crow on Cancer, Lance Armstrong."
And, I expect it to continue, "and on which one is worse."
NEW HAND GESTURE OF THE DAY:
Name: The Steady Shaky. Aka the Calm Crizazy.
Description of Gesture: A calm hand, flat to the ground as in a classic "smooth sailing" gesture...except in this bi-polar variant, the smooth sailing motion is repeatedly punctuated by a brief interval of frenetic shakiness (like the sensors on a lie detector machine during a blatant untruth)--with the schizoid alternations of the two modes creating the net impression of a panicky anxiety erupting though a cool calm exterior.
Try it out. Impress and amuse your friends. Again, experience the delights of pushing a gesture towards its all but inevitable cultural tipping point...and the pride that will come with being able to tell your grandchildren that you were once part of something bigger and grander than yourself.
TEDDY VEGAS UNBRANDED QUESTION OF THE DAY:
Who has done a worse job of leadership: Bush/Cheney or Dolan/Thomas?
CARTOON WITHOUT ILLUSTRATION OF THE DAY:
Two bombs falling through the sky, one has "We apologize for the inconvenience" written on it. The other has "No Carbs!"
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Posted on 7/10/2006
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