It's hard to put too much credence in reports like this, but it sounds like there may be another chance for a hockey team to move into the Sprint Center, which opens later this year.
According to the report, a smoky backroom deal during Penguin-gate last year guaranteed a hockey team to William Del Biaggio and AEG’s Tim Leiweke if they backed off of their pursuit of the Pittsburgh Penguins.
According to the report:
…sources said the league, which didn't want to lose a value market in Pittsburgh, asked the Kansas City investors to back off their chase of the Penguins while indicating to the group it would be next in line for an NHL franchise.
It is believed the commissioner and Leiweke, who was in England yesterday, had an informal arrangement that would have delivered the Predators to Del Biaggio and Kansas City had Canadian billionaire Jim Balsillie not stepped in with a richer offer and plans to move the team to Hamilton. Del Biaggio has an agreement with AEG to own and operate an NHL team in the Sprint Center.
The (Canada) National Post previously reported that Balsillie’s deal to by the Predators for $238 million was dead and that Del Biaggio is now on deck for the franchise.
Like I said, it’s hard to get excited just yet. It’s a long way from Nashville to KC. But with this kind of thing it’s sometimes easier to have faith in backroom deals.
You remember the album cover to the Grateful Dead's American Beauty? The art is such that you can read the word "Beauty" as "Reality" (I've also heard that you can read the word "American" as "Alternate" but I've never been able to see it.)
Anyway, that has nothing to do with today's blogthing.
You've Been a Little Ruined by American Culture
Whether you live in the US or not, deep down you're a little American. And there's nothing wrong with loving American culture, but it may have negative effects on your life. Slow down and enjoy what you have. Reconnect with life's simple pleasures. You don't need to be in a consumerist rat race. Life's too short to overwork yourself!
Cast: Peter Dinklage, Bobby Cannavale, Patricia Clarkson
Plot summary: Finbar McBride, a railroad enthusiast living in New Jersey, inherits a remote train depot when his best friend and business associate dies. A confirmed loner, Finbar isn't prepared for the small-town friendliness of rural Newfoundland, New Jersey. My thoughts:
The story is seemingly simple.
A life of being constantly mocked because of his dwarfism has left Fin to prefer solitude to the derisive laughter other people. He takes solace in his passion for trains, a hobby that allows him to keep his social circle small.
So when his only friend dies and leaves him an abandoned train depot in remote Newfoundland, New Jersey, Fin looks forward to an early retirement alone with his hobby.
When he arrives in his new home, he is unprepared for the overt friendliness he encounters. Despite his repeated hints that he prefers to be left alone, extroverted hot dog vendor Joe Oramas perseveres in his overtures for friendship. Before long the two are sharing lunches together in the parking lot of Fin's train depot.
Fin also meets flighty artist Olivia Harris after she nearly runs him down in her SUV. Twice.
Through a series of simple interactions, the three become fast friends. They come to care about each other deeply and even to depend upon each other.
Joe, who can't stand to be alone, depends on the others for companionship. ("Hey listen, if you guys do something later, can I join you?" "We're not gonna do something." "No, I know, but if you do, can I join you?" "We're not gonna do something later." "Okay, but, if you do?" "Okay...")
Fin, who has had very few true friends, learns that not everyone is out to make fun of him, that friendship is possible and that being a friend to others increase his self-worth.
Olivia, who battles depression due to past tragedy, relies on them both to help her come to grips with her loss.
There's no huge, dramatic climax. Sure, we see the characters go through some strife. All friendships do. But they end up better friends and as a viewer I ended up wanting to be their friends too.
There's no coincidence that the name of the town is Newfoundland. Fin finds himself in a new world where he values more than the mere loneliness and solitude that he thought he wanted.
The characters are compelling and believable. The acting is superb, sincere and understated. The writing is real and strong and at times poetic. The entire film is a study in restraint, and it is better for it.
Some have categorized this film as a comedy, but it really defies categorization. It has funny moments, but it's not really a comedy. It's poignant without being cheesy or moralistic. It's definitely one you should see.
My final rating: Definitely see it again AND buy the DVD.
Favorite quote: "You said you weren't going to talk to me if I sat here, Joe. "
I got tagged by Spyder the other day to disclose eight random things about myself, so this is my attempt.
The trouble I had is that random things aren't necessarily very exciting or interesting. I mean, the random stuff that happens to me is mostly "I walked down the street" or "Somebody held the door for me today." You know, boring shit.
So I've tried to edit out the most boring stuff from the list below, which I guess violates the definition of "random." But then I thought, is anything really random anyway? I mean in the grand scheme of things? Don't our best scientific minds believe that all matter and energy behave in certain ways and that if we could account for all of the variables we would be able to predict that behavior?
Aw hell, my head is really starting to hurt. Here's the list:
I've been using the same computer keyboard at work for the last six years. It's a little dirty but well broken-in, like a pair of comfortable old sneakers.
About seven years ago I tripped over a stack of lava rocks while helping a friend rebuild his house. It tore off the top several layers of skin on my lower left calf. I still have scars.
When I was in gradeschool, my best friend and I killed a chicken with a BB gun. We thought it was so funny to shoot it in the ass and watch it jump and run around like a... well, like a chicken with its head cut off. I think it must have finally died of a heart attack, because a BB couldn't actually kill a chicken. Could it?
I've got a major headache right now. We're talking migraine. I guess karma is a bitch.
I was once a member of the Liberal news media. Literally. I worked for a news outlet in Liberal, KS.
I've never seen a dead human body that wasn't in a box.
I used to wear a tie to work all the time. Now? Not so much. Not sure why because I'm generally pro-tie.
The worst thing I've ever had thrown at me: A cat.
To me, it seems inconsistent for someone to be in favor of the death penalty but against abortions (and vice versa for that matter).
Earlier this month, BBC World launched a billboard campaign heralding their arrival in America.
Some have called the interactive billboards innovative. The billboards feature a text message response number that allows viewers to vote between two interpretations of a news item. Here are the samples (click to embiggen). So the audience can "vote" via text message on the characterizations that are presented. This kind of audience participation is what some consider "innovative" (though so-called reality TV shows like American Idol have been doing this for at least five years).
The problem I have with the campaign is that, as if we weren't doing a fine job of it ourselves the BBC is now contributing to the dumbing down and polarization of the American public.
These ads encourage people to think in absolutes. Illegal aliens, for example, are either "criminals" or "citizens." There's no middle ground.
I'm pretty sure this falls into the realm of the logical fallacy of the complex question. They presuppose a set of circumstances that haven't necessarily been proven or accepted.
The problem of course is that very few questions are as black and white. Framing questions the way BBC World has in the above campaign strips the nuance out of the national discussion.
If we're not careful, we'll end up with half the country thinking one way and half the country thinking the opposite way. I know none of us want that. Right?
I've gone toe-to-toe with the occasional hornet's nest in the kid's swing set. I've fended off the aggressive licking and butt sniffing or our friend's overgrown Weimaraner. I've chased off the elusive urban raccoon. And regular readers are familiar with my complete destruction of the harmless Steatoda triangulosa.
Hell, I've even ventured into Westport after dark before.
So yeah, I considered myself a pretty tough dude. But then I read about Florida senior resident Dale Rippy, a veritable latter-day Daniel Boone.
Dale Rippy says he was acting on instinct when a rabid 25-pound bobcat attacked him on his porch in this central Florida suburb.
My instinct would be to get the fuck off the porch. Maybe barricade myself inside the house by piling up couches, chairs and other furniture by the door, cartoon-style. But not Dale "The Ripper" Rippy:
Rippy, 62, endured the bobcat's slashes and bites until it clawed into a position where he could grab it by the throat.
Then he strangled it.
That's right. Strangled it. The rabid freakin' bobcat! With his BARE HANDS!
Rippy said it was clear the crazed bobcat had to be stopped.
"I was bleeding everyplace," the Vietnam veteran said of the May 30 attack. "If that cat had attacked a child, it would've been really bad. It wouldn't have quit."
Tests showed the dead bobcat was rabid. Rippy was treated for exposure to rabies, and several bites and cuts.
Authorities praised Rippy for clear thinking under pressure.
"We give this guy a lot of credit for what he did," said Pasco County Animal Control Manager Denise Hilton. "The man was definitely using his head when he did that. If he let the cat go, we could have had more victims."
I don't know how long Rippy has left on this earth. Clearly as a veteran of Vietnam, he's been through "some shit" as they say.
But I can tell you, based on this story, that I would rather have one 62-year-old, tough-as-nails geezer like Rippy at my back with the shit hits the fan than a hundred crying, overly sensitive, overly coddled, whining emo boy hipsters.
