Thought of posting something about Words with Friends phenomenon (Ellen is an enthusiast) but phone rang and seems I need to liaise with some colleagues and see if we can effect some progress regards the need to task an internal group with incenting more people to concretize the strategies for monetizing in house technology in light of our latest rightsizing of the production processes that was actioned in order to better leverage what remains following the reductioning of overall budgetizing. 

These are the pictograms for the London Olympics events.  I assume this is inclusive and covers them all.  Can't figure out the one fourth row down from top, third from the right (between Karate and Shooting).  Looks like a guy running away from a diving board, but that can't be right... since then I would qualify to compete in London right now. 

http://www.nytimes.com/2012/07/05/opinion/no-medal-for-the-international-olympic-committee.html 

 The history of the International Olympic Committe (IOC) is a juicy one sprinkled with a few dramatic moments filled with more  Machiavellian melodrama than an entire season of The Borgias. But it's all pretty predictable stuff and nothing we haven't seen before from those involved in anything this big with this much money and political influence at stake.  And the Olympics has been really really big money since the Francophile (as in Generalissimo Franco) Juan Antonio Samaranch took control of them in 1980.  That's him (third heiler from the right) displaying his sympathies proudly during a 1974 memorial event honoring Hitler and the fallen Third Reich. Yes, 1974.  Yes, I did say honoring Hitler.  Yes, he went on to become president of the IOC.  His life and times is a dark and depressing tale, made no less disturbing for all the secret deals and power plays that make one of his predecessors--the racist, anti-semite and master-mind behind the (American Jew Free) 1936 Berlin Games, Avery Brundage --look like the Chimney Sweep in Mary Poppins.  And as I dug further and further back into the history of the games, I eventually found myself all the way back to where it all began in...



776 BC.  It began with the stadion race (a foot race equivalent to a 190-m or 208-yard dash). The winner was a humble baker from the Greek city state of Elis named Coroebus (also spelled Koroibos). For the first 13 games, the stadion race was the only competition. At the 14th Ancient Olympic Games, a double race was added.

While the competitors were naked during the games, it is possible that some wore a kynodesme: a thin leather strip tied tightly around the part of the foreskin that extended beyond the glans (to prevent the glans from showing). It was then tied around the waist to expose the scrotum, or to the base of the penis making it appear to curl upwards. 


  Pictured is an athlete wearing such an apparatus attributed to Triptolemos (480 BC).

The hoplitodromos – in which competitors would run 400 or 800 yards in full armor with shields and a helmet or greaves (leg armor). This was introduced in 520 BC. Runners would often trip over each other or stumble on shields dropped by other competitors. In the image here you can see athletes competing in the hoplitodromos – in far more an orderly fashion than was likely.

Ancient Greek boxing was violent, but it was a knitting circle compared to... PANKRATION, the ancient form of mixed martial arts.  These were the rules: no eye gouging and no biting (the referees carried sticks to beat those who violated the rules). Everything else - including choke holds, breaking fingers and neck - was legit. There was no weight division or time limits: the fight continued until a combatant surrendered, lost consciousness, or died.

In 564 BC, Arrhachion of Philgaleia was crowned the pankration victor ... even after he had died:

Arrhachion's opponent, having already a grip around his waist, thought to kill him and put an arm around his neck to choke off his breath. At the same time he slipped his legs through Arrhachion's groin and wound his feet inside Arrhachion's knees, pulling back until the sleep of death began to creep over Arrhachion's senses. But Arrhachion was not done yet, for as his opponent began to relax the pressure of his legs, Arrhachion kicked away his own right foot and fell heavily to the left, holding his opponent at the groin with his left knee still holding his opponent's foot firmly. So violent was the fall that the opponent's left ankle was wrenched from his socket. The man strangling Arrhachion ... signaled with his hand that he gave up. Thus Arrhachion became a three-time Olympic victor at the moment of his death. His corpse ... received the victory crown.*

Lastly, just to prove that they're bad asses, the ancient Greeks then decided to start a pankration event for the paides or youth (boys aged 12 to 17) Olympic games!

*Source: Ancient Greek Athletics  By Stephen G. Miller

I thought this was pretty cool...

Stone of the weight lifter Bybon with inscription "Bybon son of Phola (?), has lifted me over [his] head with one hand." 316 lbs., sandstone. Early 6th century BC.
Photograph by Maria Daniels, courtesy of the Archaeological Museum of Olympia and the Greek Ministry of Culture.

The Romans, who conquered Greece, viewed the Olympics as a pagan festival.

So, in AD 393, Roman Emperor Theodosius I banned the Ancient Olympics in part to institute Christianity as a state religion. 

The Olympics was no more ... until it was revived 1,500 years later in 1896.

And much changed during the interim.  Where the ancients competed naked, the modern athlete was now donning...

Marathoner Albert Corey and an unidentified runner race towards the finish line of a 100-mile race from Milwaukee to Chicago!  In those clothes!  In those shoes!   

I Think the old school approach looks like more fun for participant and spectator as in this re-enactment below-- and could make a strong comeback as part of a new reality show.

Bourne Farm.  West Falmouth MA.

Ellen and I spent last three days up in Cape Cod attending my cousin's daughter Caroline's nuptials at the site above.  All was splendid amidst much natural splendor and there's not much that beats good food, drink, family, the celebration of a love fueled life affirming launch into marital orbit and... dancing. And though most of the festivities took place in one of those big tents like the one on right, the feeling and vibe remained an outdoor one throughout.  My octogenarian cousin Ralph gave everyone a lesson in how to stay young in a dazzling display of dance floor stamina while I pooped out long before he even took his first pit stop.                                          

And our good friends Dan and C.L. put us up in their sprawling and spectacular home surrounded by some of the most lush blooms and bountiful edibles this Bronx born drifter has ever seen or consumed. And just about every inch of the place (including a shed the size of a NYC studio apartment) is the product of their own labor. Ellen's appreciation and understanding of the gardening arts runs far deeper than mine ever will, but even my untutored eyes were dazzled by the bountiful wonders they've grown and cultivated.  And to top off an Edenic weekend, Dan gave me some amazing slices, chunks and limbs of red oak and other woods that I'm going to transform into tables and (if I don't screw up) a few other hand hewn items of use.

BTW--if gardening is your thing, you have to check out C.L.'s website:  http://www.gardenlady.com/

...and her weekly radio show is like the gardening equivalent of Car Talk--to wit: thoroughly entertaining and engaging for even those to whom the topics at hand are entirely foreign.   And you can stream it online when it's live on Saturdays.  Check website for details.

He's often wrong, but never in doubt. 

Q. & A. with The Answer Man

Why is 95 %  of all advertising crap? 95 % of everything is crap...and actually it’s 99.9% of advertising that is crap.

Why does the price of gas fluctuate so much from day to day? Because the handful of guys who control the prices are chronic gamblers and misogynists  who are prone to sudden mood swings and they refuse medication.

Who will win the presidential election? The one with the most positive media coverage of the totally irrelevant emotional issue that dominates the final week before election day.

Why do people stand on lines for hours to get into certain restaurants?

Because of all the things they are, the one thing they’re not is hungry. 

Do Guns kill people or do people kill people? People who ask if it’s guns or people who kill people are the people who kill people cause they’re the people who stand in the way of taking the guns out of the hands of the people who kill people. 

What does the expression “ Nothing personal, it’s just business...”  mean?

It means “ Hey, I just won, so don’t make me feel bad about the shit I had to do to beat you.”

  A (not personally witnessed) Times Square moment:  Woman to her male companion “Look, a dead pigeon” And companion said “where?” as he looked skyward.

Tune I've been working on. Three Views of a Secret by Jaco Pastorius.  Love the melody (melodies) and the voicings and though it sounds best as an orchestral work, it's got enough going on with the changes to keep me happy.  This guy is pretty close to my voicings, and if you're interested, check out the original with Weather Report and all the other versions...including a piano one that is all over it. 

 Why I won’t be watching The Olympics...*

The commercials.  If memory serves, there’s about 20 minutes of commercials every hour.  Yes, I know (all too well) advertising is a fact of free market life and it's what pays the way and allows us to see amazing things from around the world that we would otherwise never see...but as in all things...you gotta draw the line somewhere. That’s a third of your time spent watching  Pick-up trucks, Fast food Tacos,  frosty beer cans and repellent men’s grooming products flying, spinning,  and exploding across the screen accompanied by old rock songs you didn’t like when they were new. 

The commercials.  If memory serves, they show the same commercials over and over again—so even if you could tolerate one or two the first time , by the ninth time  you're too numb to change the channel and all you can do is sit stupefied while thinking you might  feel better if you ordered in some Chinese food.

The commercials.  If memory serves, there are special Olympic themed commercials that exploit  the jingoistic toxins of nationalist pride--all created with the hope that such patriotic fervor will seduce you into performing your civic duty and applying for a Visa Gold card today. 

The commercials.  If memory serves, in Olympic years in which the race for the White House is entering the home stretch, you'll have a ringside seat as the two contenders slug it out in 30 second bursts of bullshit-- throwing  specious statistical uppercuts and dubious junk fact hooks.  I'm the Drifter, and I approve this message. 

The commercials.  If memory serves, the network covering the games uses the air time to promote their fall line-up of new shows. New bad shows. Which means you'll be watching bad promos for bad shows...and that's not good.

The commercials.  They all stink.  Every last one of them.  Except the one I wrote and produced...that one's amazing.

*except maybe some soccer and maybe some track and field, and maybe the bike road race, and possibly a little tennis, and i do like that white water Kayaking--and maybe some of that synchronized water ballet-- cause now they have cameras underwater where you can see them kickin like crazy while from the neck up they're all  slicked down shiny hair**and frozen ear to ear smiles--but joking aside, I knew a woman who competed in that event and she was the strongest swimmer I ever saw and could hold her breath for over three minutes underwater.   


**The secret to the perfect hair that doesn’t seem to move is horse cartilage. Yep, swimmers buy a package of regular Knox (a.k.a. unflavored Jello), and mix with water--- the key ingredient in the paste is soft equine cartilage  that is apparently quite healthy for the hair. 

FAIRFAX, Va. (The Borowitz Report)—

Saying it was “high time to take action against the number one cause of violence in America,” the National Rifle Association issued a statement today urging a sweeping ban on movies. Tracy Klugian, an official spokesperson for the gun-lobbying organization, said that the N.R.A. had taken this extraordinary step because it “could not stand idly by and watch movies tear apart the fabric of our civil society.”

Read more: http://www.newyorker.com/online/blogs/borowitzreport/2012/07/nra-proposes-sweeping-ban-on-movies.html#ixzz21T4GCDQP

….Where you will find other breaking news stories including:

ROMNEY CAMPAIGN RELEASES FIRST PICTURE OF V.P. PICK...

Taking a Father Brown breather and catching up on some old I.F. Stone (Izzy to his friends and fans)  writings dating back mostly to the late 50s and early 60s. Highlighted a few things  I thought i might post here, and here I am doing just that.

“The only kinds of fights worth fighting are those you are going to lose, because somebody has to fight them and lose and lose and lose until someday, somebody who believes as you do wins. In order for somebody to win an important, major fight 100 years hence, a lot of other people have got to be willing - for the sheer fun and joy of it - to go right ahead and fight, knowing you’re going to lose. You mustn’t feel like a martyr. You’ve got to enjoy it."

“Screw you, you sons of bitches. I may be just a goddamn Jew Red to you, but I’m keeping Jefferson alive!”

“You’ve really got to wear a chastity belt in Washington to preserve your journalistic virginity. Once the Secretary of State invites you to lunch and asks your opinion, you’re sunk.”

“The simple fact that occupying armies, whether allies or enemy, always become unpopular hardly ever figures in official calculation.”

“Honor requires the solider to kill or be killed whatever his scruples. But it is not regarded as dishonorable for the politician to swallow his misgivings and allow the young to go out and die without protest.”

“Those who set out nobly to be their brother’s keeper sometimes end up becoming a jailer.  Every emancipation has in it the seeds of a new slavery.”

The Colorless Color.

Maybe it’s the inescapable daily deluge of inane political and business news, or maybe it’s having to go to too many meetings of upper management decision deflectors in starched white shirts with blue collars, striped yellow ties, Italian leather loafers and $300 brushed suede iPad covers—but whatever the cause, the effect is lingering nausea that seems to increase in direct proportion to the number of white people in the room.

"Irony deficiency is directly proportional to the strength of the political commitment or religious fervor. True believers of all persuasions are irony deficient..."

 sorry, can't find the attribution

Scanned the pages of the publishing phenomenon Fifty Shades of Gray.  If this is a sign of where fiction is going, then by 2020 there won’t be anything left to read except the self involved musings of women with the maturity of  neurotic pre-pubescent girls with daddy fixations who crave sexual subjugation at the hands of priapic power hungry narcissists.

In my subjective opinion…such redundancies as the one that began this sentence are particularly annoying to those of us who harbor no doubt as to the subjectivity of our opinions.

Speaking of redundancies.  “He was brave and courageous…”  is how I began a sentence while describing a character in a historical fiction account that I was pitching to a network executive.  No wonder he never got back to me.

Short attention span History Lesson  summarizing the Civil Rights movement and legislation during the 50s and 60s from Supreme Court justice CLARENCE THOMAS…

“Unfortunately, the reality was that, for political reasons or whatever, there was a need to enforce antidiscrimination laws, or at least there was a perceived need to do that.”

Additional quote providing confirmation (did I choose that word unconsciously?) that the dishonorable Mr. Thomas is out of touch with reality…

“I have to admit that I’m one of those people that thinks the dishwasher is a miracle. “

Izzy Stone on Washington lobbyists…

 “Rich people march on Washington every day.”

Above, courtesy of Bob Mankoff, New Yorker cartoon editor and quite a wit himself, and the guy who also penned:

and the classic:

But getting back to the crossword puzzle theme, here's a little gem from another great cartoonist, Roz Chast.  She was the guest presenter of awards at last year's 34th annual American Crossword Puzzle Tournament and the following is the text of her short address prior to announcing the winners:

(got a sneaking suspicion that I posted this previously, but there's no way I'm going back through the many posts to check...besides, if it's good, what's wrong with repeating it--like a good song...or so I rationalize to my lazy self...)

I have to tell you that I was not the first choice for being the presenter. Alan Alda was, but he was on vacation, climbing an arête in the Ural Mountains. They tried to get Eero Saarinen, but he had fallen on his épée, and got a stoma. Luckily his amah had some aloe with her in an etui. Erle Stanley Gardner fell down an adit. And Esai Morales broke his ulna and his tibia while he was in China researching the Chen, Qin, Zhou, Ming, Song, Tang, Qing, Qi, Sui, and Yin dynasties for an epic opera in which he’s going to sing an aria.

Even though I wasn’t the first choice, I’m not at all irate, because I get to stand up here and tell you a little bit about myself. I love Nature. Recently I was on safari and I saw an ecru and onyx oryx, although it may have been an eland or an okapi. I’m not sure. I don’t want to err, or I’d have to atone. I also saw an egret, an emu, and an erne who was building an aerie. The food was a little eerie. We had an olio of dal, agar, eel, and taro. An emir on the trip complained because the poi had been in the oast too long, and an imam cried because he missed his esnes. Afterwards, we traveled to the Aral Sea and took a proa to Etna. I wore a boa. The tsar upped the sartorial ante with his Eton collar. It was aces, but by the end, I couldn’t wait to get home, put some Edam on crackers, eat Oreos, and play Atari. Well, I think that’s enough sharing. Please forgive me for any mispronunciations. I’ve never really heard any of these words before. And now I’d like to announce the winners.

And more from Ms. Chast Apropos...

And I leave you with some random silliness from the Drifter files:

Wonder if there's a word for...

...refrigerated leftovers on the 50-50 cusp of OK and TKO. 

Suggestions:  LeftTurners, Mmmm-Hmmms?

....Social Media site request from stranger desirous of connecting with you.

Suggestions:   Friendshit, Invitashun.

....giving Cashier a $50 rebate card but not knowing if you used it before or how much is left in the balance.

Suggestions:  Indiscreditable.  Centslessness.

...arriving at the office for a very early meeting only to discover it was cancelled (for no legitimate reason) less than an hour ago.

Suggestions: Send the person responsible for the cancellation an official looking e-mail from the Internal Revenue Service with five impenetrable 30 page attachments accompanied by a cover letter requesting immediate response and remittance and a warning about the possible legal consequences of non-compliance. 

(Not a new word or phrase, but that's my suggestion)

A Television news story that leaves out the who, what, where, when, why and how...but features three talking heads warning us of the  "...critical crisis looming ahead if we fail to take the necessary steps to bring this dire situation under control." 

Suggestions: Telemotionalism. Broadcrass News.  FOX. 

A Parking Spot just a bit short of accommodating your car, but worth trying anyway.

Fender StraddleCaster, A Huggie,  Unparalleled Parking. 

Funny, and pretty smart city planning too.  And more attention getting than the traditional sign that simply states the height of oncoming underpass. Cost of replacing the sign vs. cost of repairing the bridge (not to mention cleaning up the attendant and unpredictable mess of an accident) makes it a no brainer.  Except you don't see this kind of thing very often. And I wonder what other applications there could be for such similar early warning systems.

Sign as you enter State of Utah:

Welcome to our State of Mind. Turn back if you don't understand this sign. 

Sign in U.S. Congress Restroom.

Employees must wash each other's hands before returning to chambers.

Sign on ATM at Goldman Sachs

Slide Credit Default Swap here and withdraw quickly. 

Sign next to Venti Triple Espresso on menu. 

Warning: You will be awake for next 26 hours.

 New Words in search of definitions. 

Utencell (see illustration)

Mombarrassment.

Deafinition.

Suckceed

Unfoolfilled.

Flabberguested.

Sweethurt.

I'm still reading Chesterton's Father Brown mysteries, albeit only in bed at night where they make for very cosy and often sleep inducing reading.  The pattern is almost always the same, the characters almost always more caricature than not, but the observational and philosophical asides and digressions keep them fresh from story to story as G.K. indulges his unapologetic appetite for salting every dish with his very personal blend of savory satire.

Some savored examples:

“Humility is the mother of giants. One sees great things from the valley; only small things from the peak.”

"To be clever enough to get all that money, one must be stupid enough to want it."

"... journalism largely consists in saying "Lord Jones Dead" to people who never knew that Lord Jones was alive.

“…Neither, I assure you, does a Socialist mean a man

who desires a social evening with the chimney-sweep.

A Socialist means a man who wants all the chimneys swept

and all the chimney-sweeps paid for it."

 "But who won't allow you," put in the priest in a low voice, "to own your own soot."

"Men may keep a sort of level of good, but no man has ever been able to keep on one level of evil. That road goes down and down."

"And it seemed as if, on that particular morning, a swarm of total strangers had been buzzing in his ear with more or less unenlightening verbal messages; the telephone seemed to be possessed of a demon of triviality."

"Surely," said Father Brown very gently, "it is not generous to make even God's patience with us a point against Him."

"Do you believe in doom?" asked the restless Prince Saradine suddenly.

"No", answered his guest. "I believe in Doomsday."

 The prince turned from the window and stared at him in a singular manner, his face in shadow against the sunset. "What do you mean?"he asked.

 "I mean that we here are on the wrong side of the tapestry," answered Father Brown. "The things that happen here do not seem to mean anything; they mean something somewhere else. Somewhere else retribution will come on the real offender. Here it often seems to fall on the wrong person."

 Elizabeth Kolbert in this week's New Yorker wrote piece on Corn crop drought crisis.  Eye opening, informative and a fresh (to me)  perspective on consequences of global warming.  It begins:

Corn sex is complicated. As Michael Pollan observes in “The Omnivore’s Dilemma,” the whole affair is so freakishly difficult it’s hard to imagine how it ever evolved in the first place. Corn’s female organs are sheathed in a sort of vegetable chastity belt—surrounded by a tough, virtually impenetrable husk. The only way in is by means of a silk thread that each flower extends, Rapunzel-like, through a small opening. For fertilization to take place, a grain of pollen must land on the tip of the silk, then shimmy its way six to eight inches through a microscopic tube, a journey that requires several hours. The result of a successfully completed passage is a single kernel. When everything is going well, the process is repeated something like eight hundred times per ear, or roughly eighty thousand times per bushel...

Read more:  http://www.newyorker.com/talk/comment/2012/07/23/120723taco_talk_kolbert#ixzz20zPKckCl