Friday, October 27, 2006
Ken Jennings' Final Minutes
Three. Two. One. Zero.
And so went the countdown last week as Ken Jennings' fifteen minutes of fame formally came to an end. It was rather sad to see, the boyish Whiz Kid from "Jeopardy" sitting in a darkened cubicle, among ninety-nine body builders, grandmothers, cheerleaders, etc., after he missed a question about the colors of numbers on a roulette wheel on the new game show sensation "1 vs. 100."
The guy who lasted 75 days on "Jeopardy" went out of the national spotlight with a whimper instead of a bang. But, for heaven's sake, you could hardly expect a good Mormon boy -- who tithed a substantial portion of his winnings and commercial gigs to The Church -- to know whether the number 1 was red or black or green on a roulette wheel. I doubt if he's ever been within 100 yards of a roulette wheel.
And, let's be honest, he never had to be perfect on "Jeopardy." He missed questions there, including some Final Jeopardy ones (but he was usually so far ahead going in that he didn't have to get them right). In the "1 vs. 100" format, he had to get every one right or go home.
So, he's going home to Seattle, probably never to be heard from again. After all, he did lose the Tournament of Champions on "Jeopardy," which was rigged to turn out as the world vs. Ken, and his book for trivia nerds like himself (and, OK, yours truly) probably isn't going to blow the roof off the New York Times best sellers list.
So, as they say, stick a fork in him. He's done. It's too bad in a way. He was congenial enough (but not excessively, especially not when he sank into the depth of that tiny cubicle in a wall of 100 lighted cubicles on a game show so lightweight that you expect it to lift off its set and head for the ozone layer if it weren't for its sister show, "Deal or No Deal," where contestants don't have to actually know anything, except how to recognize numbers, hovering above it -- Ken looked more relieved to be leaving that wall of showboats than disappointed) and clearly an extraordinarily quick study (he ripped through the Potent Potables category when he had to), and now he's three steps into this side of oblivion.
Q: These fifteen-minuters should have preceded Ken Jennings out the door of celebrity instead of staying around to bother us.
A: Who are Paris Hilton and Kevin Federline? (Several other names would have been acceptable, Alex -- Dane Cook, Rick Santorum, James Frey)
Ken surely would have known that one.
And so went the countdown last week as Ken Jennings' fifteen minutes of fame formally came to an end. It was rather sad to see, the boyish Whiz Kid from "Jeopardy" sitting in a darkened cubicle, among ninety-nine body builders, grandmothers, cheerleaders, etc., after he missed a question about the colors of numbers on a roulette wheel on the new game show sensation "1 vs. 100."
The guy who lasted 75 days on "Jeopardy" went out of the national spotlight with a whimper instead of a bang. But, for heaven's sake, you could hardly expect a good Mormon boy -- who tithed a substantial portion of his winnings and commercial gigs to The Church -- to know whether the number 1 was red or black or green on a roulette wheel. I doubt if he's ever been within 100 yards of a roulette wheel.
And, let's be honest, he never had to be perfect on "Jeopardy." He missed questions there, including some Final Jeopardy ones (but he was usually so far ahead going in that he didn't have to get them right). In the "1 vs. 100" format, he had to get every one right or go home.
So, he's going home to Seattle, probably never to be heard from again. After all, he did lose the Tournament of Champions on "Jeopardy," which was rigged to turn out as the world vs. Ken, and his book for trivia nerds like himself (and, OK, yours truly) probably isn't going to blow the roof off the New York Times best sellers list.
So, as they say, stick a fork in him. He's done. It's too bad in a way. He was congenial enough (but not excessively, especially not when he sank into the depth of that tiny cubicle in a wall of 100 lighted cubicles on a game show so lightweight that you expect it to lift off its set and head for the ozone layer if it weren't for its sister show, "Deal or No Deal," where contestants don't have to actually know anything, except how to recognize numbers, hovering above it -- Ken looked more relieved to be leaving that wall of showboats than disappointed) and clearly an extraordinarily quick study (he ripped through the Potent Potables category when he had to), and now he's three steps into this side of oblivion.
Q: These fifteen-minuters should have preceded Ken Jennings out the door of celebrity instead of staying around to bother us.
A: Who are Paris Hilton and Kevin Federline? (Several other names would have been acceptable, Alex -- Dane Cook, Rick Santorum, James Frey)
Ken surely would have known that one.
Monday, October 16, 2006
Stupidity Test, Part 9
9. There are more gay Republicans in the closet than there are gay Democrats in the closet.
A. True
B. False
C. A is correct because gay Democrats feel a helluva lot safer coming out of the closet than do gay Republicans (see: Foley, Mark), or because, once out, gay Republicans find themselves a lot less uncomfortable under the Democrat "tent" than under the Republican one (which isn't any wider than the closet itself) so they switch, so to speak
A. True
B. False
C. A is correct because gay Democrats feel a helluva lot safer coming out of the closet than do gay Republicans (see: Foley, Mark), or because, once out, gay Republicans find themselves a lot less uncomfortable under the Democrat "tent" than under the Republican one (which isn't any wider than the closet itself) so they switch, so to speak
Friday, October 13, 2006
Miracles Mostly in Eye of Beholder?
Miracles sure come cheap these days. My definition of "miracle" was always limited to events that could not be explained by any means other than some sort of divine intervention.
Apparently, a lot of people in general and the Catholic Church in particular have lowered their expectations of the miraculous to new lows. Take the case of the second miracle attributed to Mother Theodore Guerin, the 19th century nun who spent a lot of time in Indiana and is being sainted this coming weekend.
Basically, the second "official" miracle for Mother Guerin involved an Indiana man with a swollen eye who was probably facing cornea transplant surgery. The man, not a Catholic himself, prayed for his eye, and, as an afterthought, asked Mother Guerin to put in a good word for him with The Big Guy. Then, the next day, the swelling in his eye went down and, in the end, he didn't need the corneal surgery.
And, voila, there you have a miracle, at least in the minds of those who were campaigning for sainthood for the Hoosier nun and eventually in the minds who run the Catholic Church. What? I'm sure the Indiana man was quite relieved he didn't have to have surgery, but how did his episode rise dramatically above that of an unexpected and pleasant surprise to a full-fledged miracle?
I mean, it's not like millions of people haven't had the same experience, almost all of them without appealing to a saint or a saint-in-waiting. Sometimes without praying to anybody or anything. People sometimes get better without doing anything. I have. Surely you have, too.
Certainly, I'm happy for the guy, and I'd never argue against the idea that, sometimes, somehow, praying becomes a form of self-healing (or even group-healing).
Doctors around the world can tell you stories about patients who have "miraculously" recovered from things far worse than an infected eye. The Indiana man's own ophthalmologist stopped far short of calling his patient's turnaround a miracle.
Even I, who doesn't believe in praying -- we're on our own, I figure -- have had at least four incidents in my life where, on hindsight, I was fairly convinced that I had narrowly avoided almost certain death, or at least severe injury -- one of them involving a pilot-less jet plane flying into a hotel lobby -- but I never, ever called them miracles.
To me, a "miracle" has to involve some pretty heavy divine lifting. Loaves and fishes. Water into wine (without a professional magician being involved). Walking on water. A burning bush (well, at least in the days before matches were invented). Jonah. Lazarus. But a swollen eye that gets better with a good night's sleep? I don't think so.
Maybe the Catholic Church -- not exactly the most flexible of institutions -- needs to rethink its whole position on miracles. Shouldn't it be enough for a person to lead a saintly life to attain sainthood? Never mind if they laid their hands on someone and suddenly they could see (or hear or get it up for sex) where they couldn't before. Why should Mother Guerin or Mother Teresa or two of the past three dead popes have to be supported by proof that they once cured a eye infection or a hangnail?
I don't expect the monolithic church in Rome to change, on this or anything else that is more appropriate to the 21st century than to the 14th century, like, say, abortion or contraception or female priests. But it should think about it.
Maybe I'll change my opinion when the prayers of thousands are answered and the Indianapolis Colts make it to the Super Bowl, or the Cubs win the World Series. But I'm not holding my breath (after fifty years of cigarette smoking, that would be a miracle in itself).
Apparently, a lot of people in general and the Catholic Church in particular have lowered their expectations of the miraculous to new lows. Take the case of the second miracle attributed to Mother Theodore Guerin, the 19th century nun who spent a lot of time in Indiana and is being sainted this coming weekend.
Basically, the second "official" miracle for Mother Guerin involved an Indiana man with a swollen eye who was probably facing cornea transplant surgery. The man, not a Catholic himself, prayed for his eye, and, as an afterthought, asked Mother Guerin to put in a good word for him with The Big Guy. Then, the next day, the swelling in his eye went down and, in the end, he didn't need the corneal surgery.
And, voila, there you have a miracle, at least in the minds of those who were campaigning for sainthood for the Hoosier nun and eventually in the minds who run the Catholic Church. What? I'm sure the Indiana man was quite relieved he didn't have to have surgery, but how did his episode rise dramatically above that of an unexpected and pleasant surprise to a full-fledged miracle?
I mean, it's not like millions of people haven't had the same experience, almost all of them without appealing to a saint or a saint-in-waiting. Sometimes without praying to anybody or anything. People sometimes get better without doing anything. I have. Surely you have, too.
Certainly, I'm happy for the guy, and I'd never argue against the idea that, sometimes, somehow, praying becomes a form of self-healing (or even group-healing).
Doctors around the world can tell you stories about patients who have "miraculously" recovered from things far worse than an infected eye. The Indiana man's own ophthalmologist stopped far short of calling his patient's turnaround a miracle.
Even I, who doesn't believe in praying -- we're on our own, I figure -- have had at least four incidents in my life where, on hindsight, I was fairly convinced that I had narrowly avoided almost certain death, or at least severe injury -- one of them involving a pilot-less jet plane flying into a hotel lobby -- but I never, ever called them miracles.
To me, a "miracle" has to involve some pretty heavy divine lifting. Loaves and fishes. Water into wine (without a professional magician being involved). Walking on water. A burning bush (well, at least in the days before matches were invented). Jonah. Lazarus. But a swollen eye that gets better with a good night's sleep? I don't think so.
Maybe the Catholic Church -- not exactly the most flexible of institutions -- needs to rethink its whole position on miracles. Shouldn't it be enough for a person to lead a saintly life to attain sainthood? Never mind if they laid their hands on someone and suddenly they could see (or hear or get it up for sex) where they couldn't before. Why should Mother Guerin or Mother Teresa or two of the past three dead popes have to be supported by proof that they once cured a eye infection or a hangnail?
I don't expect the monolithic church in Rome to change, on this or anything else that is more appropriate to the 21st century than to the 14th century, like, say, abortion or contraception or female priests. But it should think about it.
Maybe I'll change my opinion when the prayers of thousands are answered and the Indianapolis Colts make it to the Super Bowl, or the Cubs win the World Series. But I'm not holding my breath (after fifty years of cigarette smoking, that would be a miracle in itself).
Wednesday, October 04, 2006
Stupidity Test, Part 8
8. Which of the following has come the closest to eliminating Osama bin Laden?
A. George W. Bush
B. Bill Clinton
C. Typhoid Mary
Well, unless the recent rumors involving C are true, B is the correct -- and provably so -- answer. It was Clinton who okayed the bombardment of an al-Qaida training camp -- where bin Laden was rumored to have been -- after two American embassies in Africa were blown up. Didn't get him, but it remains the closest the U.S. (or anyone else) has come to eradicating His Supreme Craziness.
(It should also be noted, as columnist Ken Bode, formerly of CNN, recently did, that it was also Clinton who ordered the missile attacks on Sadam's nuclear facilities that basically persuaded the Windbag of Baghdad to give up his WMD aspirations -- too bad it didn't deter George W. Bush's).
A. George W. Bush
B. Bill Clinton
C. Typhoid Mary
Well, unless the recent rumors involving C are true, B is the correct -- and provably so -- answer. It was Clinton who okayed the bombardment of an al-Qaida training camp -- where bin Laden was rumored to have been -- after two American embassies in Africa were blown up. Didn't get him, but it remains the closest the U.S. (or anyone else) has come to eradicating His Supreme Craziness.
(It should also be noted, as columnist Ken Bode, formerly of CNN, recently did, that it was also Clinton who ordered the missile attacks on Sadam's nuclear facilities that basically persuaded the Windbag of Baghdad to give up his WMD aspirations -- too bad it didn't deter George W. Bush's).
