Blog Archives

Yanks go for the series win tonight in Cleveland.

Keep it rollin’, boys, cause the Rays are here to stay.

Let’s Go Yan-Kees!

Interior with a Violin, By Henri Matisse (1917-8)

This record always struck me as a kid. I don’t know, it had a pleasantly depressed vibe about it.

Next week’s theme is a good one: Guilty Pleasure Movies. We had some internal discussion about the definition of a guilty pleasure movie, and as usual in such cases, Emma hit the nail on the head:

“To me, they are movies that you enjoy but CAN’T really defend. A guilty pleasure is a movie that you would NOT have in your DVD collection. I don’t own Deep Blue Sea and wouldn’t buy it. But whenever it’s on TV, I watch-even though I must’ve seen it about four times by now, which is three and a half more viewings than it deserves.”

The general consensus was that the movie has to be bad in order to qualify, but that doesn’t really matter to me. A movie can be well-made and still be a guilty pleasure for me. Like Boogie Nights or Rushmore or True Romance, Sleepless in Seattle, even, those are guilty pleasures for me because overall I really don’t like the filmmakers and enjoy not liking them. So to admit that I can actually watch something by them and even enjoy it, that’s guilt, Dog.

Or self-loathing, or something warped like that. And has nothing to do with the artistic quality of the filmmaking, because like them or not, PT Anderson, Wes Anderson, Quentin Tarantino, are skilled and talented guys.

But if I had to pick a scrubby movie as a guilty pleasure–resisting like all hell not to choose something starring Chris Makepeace–I think this one will do just fine.

Should be a fun week. Let’s all have a laugh, shall we?

The New York Times presents a Peaches Navigator.

Thank you.

In the sixth inning last night, the game in hand already for the Yanks, Alex Rodriguez swung late at a high fastball and muscled a line drive just fair down the right field line. As he slid into second, the bag dislodged and Rodriguez came up with the base in his arms. Then he rolled up to one knee, stood the base up and leaned on it, striking a pose. He tilted his head, looked straight into the Yankee dugout and held back a smile.

A Rod, the goofball. Now, whether some of his teammates were laughing at him and not just along with him, I have no way of knowing, but even if that’s the case (especially if that’s the case), I enjoyed the moment. If Rodriguez has any charm–and their is ample evidence to the contrary–it is that he’s a goofball. Self-aware in a way that’s like a Hollywood Diva–Vogue–but nerdier, the hot chick who gets straight A’s in school. He knows it and when he plays off it with his teammates it makes you think that even if he acts schmucky, maybe he’s not all bad after all.

Rodriguez is pressing at the plate, missing several pitches each game–popping them up, fouling them off, swinging right through them–as he chases career homer #600. There have been articles about how nobody cares about the milestone because it is stained by PEDs, but in New York it makes the back page almost every day. And 600 dingers is an achievement, even if how we feel about achievements in the PED Era has changed, even if it is lessened, because people sit around talking about how 600 homers don’t mean anything anymore. It’s still a topic of conversation. Still the lead story on Sports Center every night.

There will be a sense of relief more than anything else when he finally hits it.

So I’m enjoying it. Makes me feel like a kid every time he’s up, because a home run is all that is asked or expected from him. The announcers rev their engines with every pitch waiting for the big call, dvrs on record at home, the fans snap their cameras–how many thousands of pictures have been erased of Rodriguez not hitting the homer?

He’s in the spotlight and I’ll give him that. He might not know how to manage his star the way Reggie Jackson did, but when he’s on the field, Rodriguez’s talent does have a way of drawing attention.

Probably be the same thing when he’s sitting on 699 if he gets that far. I don’t think he’ll catch Aaron and Bonds but if he stays healthy he’ll beat Aaron for the all-time RBI mark. He’s going to be the most ridiculously overpaid veteran in any sport at any time from here on out. The spotlight will never go away. I’m curious to see how much he’s got left and looking forward to watching how it all plays out.

[Photo Credit: AP Photo/Tony Dejak]

Alex Rodriguez and the Yanks are back at it in Cleveland tonight.

Go git ’em, fellers.

[Picture by Stephen Holland]

What’s up with the Yanks losing to rookie pitchers? Rob Neyer takes a look:

The Moroccans, By Henri Matisse (1915-16)

David Lebovitz, currently living the sweet life in Paris, gives us Candied Bacon Ice Cream.

No use steering now.

Man, Cyd Charisse should have been illegal. Legs for days…

From Mr. Minnelli, a classic number.

From the most cool Anthology Film Archives site, dig this piece of New York home movie history:

Bleecker Street, mid-Sixties (16mm)

[W 8th Street Heading West] from afarchives on Vimeo.

Most cool. The Internet wins again.

The Piano Lesson, By Henri Matisse (1916)

Nice  job by Mike Lupica remembering Vic Ziegel.

Thanks to my man Greg Prince for the link.

I mean you’re not going to put Charlie Parker in with the Rock n Roll, are you?

Rump-shakin’, mind-bending, smile why don’t ya?

I know, I know, we featured grilled corn a few weeks back. But it’s summer, don’t ya know, and I just can’t wait to have some good corn, man.

The Times has the article; Serious Eats takes the flicks.

Just Don’t Touch My Records…Ever.

I’m a great fan of Barry Levinson’s directorial debut, Diner. Love all the talking, all those actors (how Paul Reiser practically steals the movie in a small role).

Here’s one of my favorite scenes, about a young couple that don’t really understand each other. What I really like about it is that you can appreciate where both the husband and the wife are coming from, how deep the divide is between them. Doesn’t hurt that Daniel Stern and Ellen Barkin are in top form.

Man, I love this movie.

Man, I never knew that Mitch Albom was so unpopular in the press box. I’m not surprised but still… But Mr. Albom took it on the chin last week–from Dave Kindred and Charlie Pierce, Tommy Craggs and even the diplomatic Joe Posnanski. You guys read about this? At the very least it’s an entertaining diversion.

The Italian Woman, By Henri Matisse (1916)