"Crash" - as believable as Sandra Bullock actually hugging her maid

I watched "Crash" last night, mainly out of guilt. I was one of the most vocal fans of "Brokeback Mountain" and like much of the movie-going blogosphere I was flabbergasted by the Best Picture nod going to Paul Haggis's directing debut. And after watching "Crash" I must admit that I'm even more stunned. I wouldn't even put it in my Top 10 of last year. This is moviemaking by committee, as best evidenced by the fight over Producing credits that have landed the funding folks behind the movie in court. There are bright moments - Terrence Howard is singularly powerful, Ryan Philippee (that guy needs to lose a vowel or two) is surprisingly strong and Ludacris is purposely yet truly enigmatic. But there's way WAY too much lumped into this turd. Actually, it's not a turd. It's a B Minus. Matt Dillon didn't deserve even a nod from Johnny Drama (his brother's impressively fake character on "Entourage") for his turn as a racist cop with a heart. Contrived in the most extreme sense. Still, I suggest that everyone should check it out. But don't believe the hype. This movie was a safe choice for an industry scared straight away from embracing the much better "Brokeback Mountain" out of fear that the so-called "culture war" initiated by FOX (faux)News and its ilk might spill over into the mainstream.

Heading up to Seattle tonight for a concerted handful of house-hunting daze in preparation for our impending move this summer. Expect some upcoming pics most likely featuring some of our old haunts - Maya in thriftstore flannel, Maya sitting on Eddie Vedder's lap at the Croc, Maya passing the ball to Shawn Kemp at Key Arena, Maya buying beans at Espresso Vivace, Maya walking around Queen Anne. Hope your own trips down memory lane today focus on the good and look forward to the future. Rock on.

The Bushies' latest sleight of hand - Flip Card

Andrew Card fell on his incredibly dull sword this morning. The Bushies are obviously listening to all the carping about how tired and full of loyalist crap Dubya's inner circle has become. So what do they do? Appoint Josh Bolten, moronically dubbed "Yosh" by Dubya, the Dubber in Chief. Yosh was Card's Deputy Chief from '01 to '03. He's leaving his most recent post as Budget Director where the "heckuva job" he's been doing makes Michael Brown's tenure at FEMA look like Churchill in WW2 by comparison. The "rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic" cliches are flowing. As they should. Yosh is a Harley-riding lapdog. Hopelessly tied to making Dubya happy above all else. But this is most assuredly Dubya's call so the rest of us can only comment after the fact. That fact? That the entire Bushie cabal is circling the wagons to little effect.

Speaking of former Budget directors that got all bonkers spending on the military and led the Nation down a dangerous path, Caspar "formerly Cap the Knife" Weinberger died today. He was 88. Adjusted for inflation thanks to the National debt he helped create, he was 179. I'm sure I won't be the first to remind readers of Bush the Elder's pardon of Cap on Jesusmas Eve in '92, just days before his trial was to begin for lying to the Independent Counsel investigating the Iran Contra debacle. Weinberger promoted a trillion dollars of new defense spending while Reagan's Budget guy. Bolten's overseen the largest deficits in history, a bloated chunk of which has gone to military expenditures. Notice any serendipity in the "This Day in Bush History" connection? I sure as shineola do.

Hope your own promotions today are more based on the ability to get the job done. Rock on.

"Walker, Maya Ranger" premieres - Chuck Norris conditionally commits to an upcoming episode

Time for some fessing up. To those of you that feel I've been slighting the Maya coverage in lieu of all that is so galling newz-wise as of late - my apologies. I offer this blog as a free public service meant largely to serve the Maya-loving public...at least until my team (accountant/web designer/goatee wrangler) finds a way to squeeze some extra pennies from your beloved readership. After which I go "Big Time!" - solid platinum Hummer3, free-range cashmere track suits, Evian enemas, rainforest-wood-fueled BBQ smoker lit 24/7 for beercan bald eagle cookouts. Most days I can't help but comment upon horrible stories such as the U.S. Military in Iraq getting roped into a raid on Moktada al-Sadr's multi-purposed torture-chamber/mosque. Or Idaho's Gov. "Dick" Kempthorne arranging for his fake-wife to be appointed Lt. Gov. of "I-da-ho" when he moves to DC to cover up things in the Interior for the Bushies. But today I'm putting all that and other juiciness aside. After two brief updates...

Tom here in SF (a friend dating back prior to this blog, via college chumminess with Sarah) passed along a follow-up to the Issac Hayes story regarding quitting "South Park" over Scientology. Basically, Chef may have been framed as an unfortunate pawn. Tom Cruise isn't mentioned, but should be. The only point necessary to be drawn - Scientology is the bitchiest, most-clueless cult this side of Amway. Or Oprah's Book Club.

Also, the previously mentioned "Dove Foundation" that I'd wanted to split open like a well-dried gourd. Well, I lost interest the more I researched them. Essentially, they're Mormons with a crazy hard-on for attacking "Hollywood" on behalf of those that believe in "family values" and the need for the curbing of free expression. To give them more ink would be to give them more time than they deserve. As I believe Jesus would say, "those freaks is CRAZY".

So for the Maya-ness some of y'all crave, I've got good news. She's walking. Not to the store, not even downstairs to pick up my morning newspaper - although I've asked in both cases. But walking consistently and true. A weekend in Santa Barbara with the encouragement of Nanna, Poppy, Aunties Becca and Katie, and a number of beloved random visitors got her engine for such activity fully primed. The steps came in bunches. And now that we've back home, she's striding like an Olympic hurdler full of the requisite horse steroids. Given that it's her 13-month Birthday, I suppose that such a signpost is appropriately noted. When she takes her first serious digger, I'll be sure to pass it along. Regardless, she looks happy and hearty in her new mobility. Bicuspids are in, so to speak. Molars on their way. Or at least that's what I saw this morning at breakfast. Hope your own dentistry is formatively focused today. Rock on.

Maya's trendsetting choice for a misty Santa Barbara - stripes!

Maya's trendsetting choice for a misty Santa Barbara - stripes!
Originally uploaded by emaggie.

Maya and Harry exchange fish stories.

Maya and Harry exchange fish stories.
Originally uploaded by emaggie.

We've begun to think that Maya's just screwing with us when it comes to not walking...

We've begun to think that Maya's just screwing with us when it comes to not walking...
Originally uploaded by emaggie.

And "pulling a Munson" gets renamed, "pulling a Morrison". (apologies to the Farrelly Brothers)

Sucks to be anyone who wasted cash buying sporty gear over the last few years for the NCAA Men's Tourney darling - Gonzaga. They lost a heartbreaker last night. And BOY do I mean lost it. The last 11 points of the game were scored by UCLA. The 'Zags were up by 5 points with 40 seconds to go. They lost by 2. And then their strangely talented and just plain strange star (Adam Morrison) had a hissy fit and dissembled onto the floor, weeping face down while his teammates tried to congratulate the exultant UCLA players. Insanely exciting and deranged ending. Exactly why the Tourney is the best sporting event of the year, hands down.

Heading outta town for a quickie weekend down in Santa Barbara. Hoping to get Maya in the pool and on the beach. Pics should be expected herein thereafter. Hope your own Friday getaways last through the weekend and beyond. Rock on.

Today's Chef Special - L. Ron Hubbard Lawyer on a Shtick

With all that's wrong in the World today (Google: "the Bush Administration) "South Park" offered a distraction last night in its Season Premiere. Crappy episode, written out of obvious spite and surprisingly devoid of truly obscene insult to the Age We Unfortunately Live In. But frickin' HILL-AIR-E-OUS! Issac Hayes got scewered like the only sea urchin at a vegan beachside BBQ. Comedy Central bowed to the lititgious pressure from Tom Cruise and his Mothership by not airing an episode concerning Scientology. Issac Hayes even quit to add heft to the Scientology pressure. No word yet on the previously sexy Anne Archer's reaction to the shtick - I always held a candle for her lingering hotness until I saw her ingratiating mug on a poster in the storefront window of the Scientology "Reading Room" in Santa Barbara. Nonetheless, everyone got their lawyers all up in a bunch and made it seem like Trey Parker and Matt Stone were offering up the cultural equivalent of calling Jesus a fag (remember - you heard it here first...but not really). So Parker and Stone puked out an episode that was equal parts personal and awkwardly funny. Kinda like my prom date. Who wins in all this? Who cares. But I'm sure a lot fewer 18-year-olds will make the horrible wrong turn into a Scientology-sponsored seminar in the years ahead. For that, I nominate "South Park" for the Nobel Piece of Mind Prize.

Hope your own adventurist departures today don't leave you on a valley floor, partially devoured by mountain lions and/or grizzly bears. Rock on.

Insert your own Katherine Harris boob joke here

Dubya screwed himself yesterday. As Cheney famously said, "Big Time!" Every press organization this side of Anarctica focused on the gooey chewy nugget of "future Prezidunts" will decide when we leave Iraq. I expect this faux pas will make the Dubai ports deal look like an overcharge at your local 7-Eleven. I could add my caustic yet entirely original logs to the pyre being constructed. But I've been there and done that. I'll let the cliched forces for Good vs. Evil punch this one out. I'm more taken with something about Katherine Harris's run for Senate. No, not her vote-gathering, gravity-defying breasts and horrible tendency toward clownish make-up. I'm talking about her latest attempt to draw in the support of religious conservatives with biblical allusions that stumped the burning bush out of me until I did the requisite Googling. Basically Harris claims she will sell all her wealth for this campaign's expected demands. The mention of selling "a widow's mite" was my favorite bobble being vaguely cited. So if you are likewise interested and can't imagine taking the time to search for the sub-references I'll boil it down a bit - Katherine Harris is trying to run as a religious candidate. No word yet on whether her family's monopolistic background in the Florida citrus business (if you've heard of Sunkist, that's them) and her affair with Jeb make her viable from the point of view of the Robertsons and Falwells of the GOP religious attack monkey wing. There are other races in '06 that will astonish. But I salivate while predicting that none will be more salacious than hers. I'm all in on this one, baby. Stay tuned.

Hope your own tight-fitting sweaters highlight your qualifications today. Rock on.

"I wanted to take U Conn. But Turd Blossom reminded me they're from a Blue State. And weak on Defense."

Dubya gave a freaked-out unannounced presser this morning from the White House Press Room. As usual, he was equal parts optimistic, flailingly unprofessional and petulent. The exchange with Helen Thomas is the only thing you need to read or listen to unless you've got, like, no life. As one of the few thousand Americans who was able to watch it while I gave an uncomfortably-teething, seething-with-a-lowgrade-cold, yet entirely submissive Maya her morning bottle, I'm still stunned by the display. For those of you that think I'm always just spouting liberal shtick, I challenge you - watch this guy, YOUR GUY, painfully try to joke around with a roomful of reporters and tell me why I shouldn't make fun of him. Dubya knows he's on camera. Hell, any dork knows how a camcorder works. That's why so many people freeze up and get all bizarro when they see the red light at weddings or family reunions. Yet this is actually important. Still, Dubya feels as though the Prezidunt should make fun of reporters in between questions while the World shakes its collective head at the disrespect. It's so painfully obvious the disdain Dubya and his tired staff of cronies have for the media. On that fact, tons of Americans are with them. That's why the Bushies do it - discredit the critics, play lowball, say the media distorts everything, yada yada yada. Part of the modern American Preziduncy, many would defend them by saying. But their flippance far too often recently (including this past weekend's WashingtonPost Op/Ed ghost-written for Rummy) condescends even further to the claim that "history will decide" and that journalism is all crap. I suggest that this is merely a tactic to buy time. But many more news conferences like this one and, well - history can't wait forever.

Hope your own news conferences today include at least one question about how your NCAA Tourney brackets are looking. Rock on.

"Progress" redefined - as in, "why must 'forward' always be so uni-directional?"

NEWSFLASH: Dubya STILL claims we're "makin' progress" in Iraq! Or, in other words, his speechwriters have absolutely nothing else to say to counter the multitudes of facts smacking the Bushies in the face like junebugs astride a Harley cruising at top-speed on an open country highway. Regardless, this whole PR spin class from the Bushies allows me to look toward those things that instead might inspire. Namely, Maya. And my own childhood back in Wisconsin. Because, after all, both will have about as much impact as Dubya's latest speechifying on our country's security. Or the price of beets in Belarus, for that matter.

Maya's got molars coming in. So she's a total bitch. In the sense of "bitch" being a totally understandable, generally uncomfortable, utterly unpredictable, yet largely encrypted entity for whom a hug seems to break the code of discontent. If she were a TV show, she'd be something like "The Soup" on E! - well-produced and often focused on the trivial. But oh-so-watchable.

Then there's the whole "not-yet-walking-but-thanks-for-asking" aspect of her mobility. Her balance is better than mine. She spills over obstacles like Steve McQueen with a headful of meth. But she's still relying on "the cruiser crawl" thing whenever the gap between handholds is more than a few steps. We need an epiphany to transition her into a full Walker, California Ranger. Regardless, expect the updates herein as soon as it legitimately happens.

To flesh out the mention of my 'Sconi childhood - I got a call from a high school friend yesterday who lives in Neenah, WI (a Chicago compared to the Peoria of our shared youth, so to speak). Haven't spoken to him in what I'm reluctant to admit is honestly 15 years. But my 'rents still live where I grew up and have had contact with his family much more recently. We'd sent out Maya's birth announcements recently (only a year-ish late for those keeping score at home) and I'd included this friend (Donnie) in the bundling. So he called to catch up. And suddenly it was like it was the late 80s again. We were laughing about our shared anarchic small-town experiences. Not that it matters to anyone aside from me. Yet we graduated amidst a class of 40 and this was akin to finding a long-lost sibling. He's a teacher, cool dad, ex-college-football player and current coach. So if he's reading, I just want him to know...you hit like my one-legged sister. If she wasn't even trying.

Hope your own friendly taunts are equally productive today. Rock on.

"South Park" hits a ligitious nerve - alert all the John Smiths in Hollywood (watch the credits to get the joke)

Wow. If you have 21 minutes and 40 astonished seconds to blow and care to watch the origins of a total legal shitestorm, you NEED to watch the "South Park" Scientology episode that was pulled from Comedy Central in response to legal threats from Tom Cruise and L. Ron Hubbard's "Church" lawyers. Just for added flavor, Issac Hayes (the voice of Chef over 9 seasons, yet sadly another brainwash victim) quit over this episode claiming that he couldn't tolerate the criticism of religion (translation - "my" religion). If you could hear me now, you'd hear me still laughing from the aggregation of this absurdity. The episode is great. Not as great as the dissection of the Mormons from a few seasons ago. But bloody well brilliant, nonetheless. The internet is seemingly now best used to view just this sort of viral controversy. The poster on YouTube claims to have "found" the video in a rental shop. Whatever you believe, enjoy.

A Nation drowns an awkward Anniversary with gallons of Green Busch Lite

Dubya's "Bring 'em On" War in Iraq began three years ago today. For the most part, the media is skidding across the surface of this story. The USA Today offered up a poll that's worth a looksie - obviously more Americans have been hurt by this folly than we'd previously been led to believe. But most of the other assessment angles read like shallow, obligatory crap. Especially with St. Patty's Day falling on a Friday and thereby forcing the 12% of American citizens of actual Irish ancestry into a boozy struggle for a barstool with 73% of the Nation's goofballs dressed in puke-green plastic hats. No offense to the Irish, but Dubya's forever peed indelible green all over your BoozeFest. In the spirit of poorly-prepared rationales, here's my contribution to the non-Irish part of today's discussion.

3 Years after the start date of some of our Nation's Most Referenced Prior Wars...
War of 1812 - it was over. But surprisingly, it lasted until 1815.
Civil War - the most brutal war in American history was less than one year from over.
World War I (from the point of the U.S. entering the Fight) - it had been over for like 18 months.
World War II (ditto on our entry date) - it would be over in 8 months.
Korean War - over. The TV series "M*A*S*H*", unfortunately, would last for another 8 years.
Vietnam - we were 7-12 years away from the shame of evacuating the Embassy in the fall of Saigon, depending on your agreed upon start date.

So, I speculate. One of those Wars is most like this bugger. Which is these Wars do you think it is?

Hope your own historical comparisons feature equally cute "Sesame Street" sing-alongs today. Rock on.

Daisy Duke stands up to Boss Hogg, at long last.

We all know Jessica Simpson. Hotter-than-hot dumb-ass blonde. Painfully over-exposed by our celebrity-obsessed media. Lived in my garage for a few weeks while dealing with her painful separtion from Nick Lachey. Eats nothing but Oreos, Kettle Chips and Sominex. Full of silicone. Dumb as a post. Y'know - normal American twentyish divorcee. But then I saw this morning how even JESSICA SIMPSON is running away from any association with Dubya. Apparently, J-Dumbo doesn't want to adversely affect her plastic surgery charity (in all seriousness, it's called Operation Smile) by attending a GOP fundraiser tangentially with Dubya. On a morning when the Bushies are trying to emphasize their right to pre-emptively attack Iran and the GOP attack monkeys are trying to rally behind a banner meant to tag the nation's ballsiest living Senator (Feingold, ascending to Wellstone's tragically-vacated position) as a traitor, I doubt that any story will have more impact than this cheesy tartlet's defection. No word yet on what Jessica's believe-it-or-not less-talented sister, um, Stinkifer, has to say about the Bushie agenda.

Hope your own siblings totally, like, sign off on your agenda, like, today. Rock on.

Sidekickin' it with Mz. Johnny Rotten

I'm offering entirely low-impact bloggin' this mornin' - hope all of those that wanted Maya pics appreciate what I threw up herein last nite. I'm trying to get some work done around taking time out to meet a fellow "new Dad" friend for coffee at a favorite cafe in Cole Valley. But I simply must attempt to defame a cheeseball who just came into my frame of reference. If you've ever believed me about anything, believe me about this. Imagine a punk rocker chick. Cute, but not too much so. No offense. Your standard studded belt. Bandanas tied around her lower calf (hey, Axel - your future wife appears to have raided your closet last nite). Platform chunky shoes. Black clothing, shoulders to toes. Poorly-dyed red hair. As she sits down at the table next to me she pulls from her army green sling bag (!) the recent punk rock non-fiction history titled "Please Kill Me" (haven't read it myself, but I've heard good things). All of this sounds in character for a generally-attractive, entirely-standoff-ish punk, I'm sure you'll agree. But then she pulls out her Sidekick and makes a big deal of flipping it open to check her messages - for those of you unaware or uninterested, Motorola's Sidekick is the under-30 Blackberry with a pricetag that is wholly unjustified. And then I noticed that she'd brought in a Venti Starbucks cup. Please excuse the shouting but THIS IS AN INDEPENDENT COFFEESHOP! Unless that's 20 ounces of gin, you're a fraud. I haven't seen this much cheesiness since the Cheddar Carving Contest at the Wisconsin State Fair back in '81. If I was two decades younger, I'd stand up and throw a green tea with just a touch of lemon in her face...

Wait. She left for the bathroom and hasn't returned for more than 10 minutes. I'm going way out on a limb here, but I think she's shooting up in there. Yup - haven't seen her for WAY too long. She's a mess. Gawd Shave the Queen. Whatever you take that to mean.

Regardless, hope your own radicalism has unimpeachable street cred today. Rock on.

Sarah creatively aims to wean Maya off the bottle.

Sarah creatively aims to wean Maya off the bottle.
Originally uploaded by emaggie.

"Green means Mommy food."

"Green means Mommy food."
Originally uploaded by emaggie.

We're beginning to think Maya's continued reluctance to walk is being caused by the 30-degree tilt of our living room.

We're beginning to think Maya's continued reluctance to walk is being caused by the 30-degree tilt of our living room.
Originally uploaded by emaggie.

Maya loves "to kiss". Her aim, however, is still an adorable work in progress.

Maya loves "to kiss". Her aim, however, is still an adorable work in progress.
Originally uploaded by emaggie.

And Number 5, Texas outlaws the use of the word "Allah" unless used in conjunction with the words "have an order of ribs".

Even if you live in the freakishly warm N'East or the broad swath of the country either recovering from tornadoes or fighting wildfires (is this really only March? and does anyone still dispute that our climate is changing like crazy?), there's a terrible chill in the air this morning. Specifically, I'm talking about a story in the NYTimes this morning about how college scholarships created for women and minorities are being flooded by applications from white men. Frat guys, largely. Well, I don't know that for sure, but I bet they've all been on the business end of a beer bong in the recent past and have at least one dog named "Dubya". Regardless, I'm sure anyone with a brain would ask "why?" and "can they do that?" and maybe even "what about gay white men?" Basically, the Bushies are pushing through their grassroots a further dissembling of anything that hints at affirmative action. And just like the utterly illegal abortion ban South Dakota recently decided to have tattooed on its ignorant ass, this movement is more about arrogant over-reaching given the new members of the Supreme Court than anything else, say, rational. Or legal. So I'm going out on a limb here to predict some new "Test the New Supreme Court" initiatives. Admittedly, they're about as likely to move on as my NCAA Women's Basketball bracket's Champion. In that one, I picked the Duke men's team to win. Because if you're going to break down barriers...

1. Maryland's GOP finally gathers the balls necessary to call for a renaming of the State. Their proposal - Herbland. The cross-pollenization from the NORML crowd brings those extremes together for the first (and last) time.
2. Pat Robertson announces plans for a pro-Israel, anti-Jew theme park. He dubs it "Christalvania".
3. David Duke and Ralph Reed begin construction with the money they've illegally raised to construct a wall around the former-City of New Orleans, specifically designed to keep out black and Hispanic people. The Department of Homeland Security re-appropriates their levee construction money to the project, which is being handled by Halliburton's chicken-wire and mesh subcontractor.
4. The College Republicans begin a drive to eliminate sororities for illegal housing restrictions on campuses. They pair with the producers of the "Girls Gone Wild" video series to begin building a vast array of "clothing-not-EVEN-optional" condos/shower-rooms/pillow-fight-dens on the smoking remains of those former houses. The Department of Education moves considerable funding to the new project, quickly dubbed "No Worthwhile Rack Left Behind".

Sound plausible? In Dubya's vision for America, don't be so reluctant to believe I'm onto a series of somethings. Hope your own wild speculation is equally relevant today. Rock on.

I'm back. On second thought, not really...

Rumors of my blogging demise have been greatly exaggerated. I just needed to step away for a few days to focus my energy on other pursuits and wait for the news to catch up with me. Sadly, it seems as though we're in a time-warp yet again this Monday. Dubya's prepping a PR cycle to explain just how darn much we're winning in Iraq. Wake me up when he says anything about our "progress" other than "we're makin' good". And with much of the nation gripped by pre-March Madness madness, I'm feeling lukeish. Not Skywalker, just sort of tepid. Barry Bonds is still a ludicrously large-'roid-headed jerk, this weekend's GOP attack monkey straw poll for their fave '08 Candidate generated as much heat as the anticipation of NBC's '06 Winter Olympics highlight DVDs hitting the market, Ex-Bushie Claude Aikens (not the 70s TV star, but the Top Policy Adviser in the White House) is outed for a lame Target scheme that every desperate frat guy in the nation has contemplated at some point, Kirby Puckett is still dead, Edgerin James is headed to Phoenix, and we're all being lulled once again into silence. There's not enough caffeine in the world to make this morning's papers interesting.

On second thought, I'll be better off putting up some Maya pics later today and putting aside the news. Hope you're able to prioritize equally well today. Rock on.

Barry Bonds vs. The Brew Crew - A Nation is asked to decide.

Barry "Give me the Cream AND the Clear" Bonds is this morning's biggest sporty story, breaking like an obviously-forecast 30-foot wave over the previously protected shores of Michigan's Upper Peninsula. Face facts, folks - Barry Bonds is a 'roided-out freak, a complete jerk and the sort of controversial clown that Major League Baseball has dreaded owning up to ever since well before Rafael Palmeiro's balls retracted into his unnaturally-trimmed abdomen. I want "BB" out of the game. Seriously. I want him disgraced and shunned by every sports fan across the Globe. My sentence of having to watch this jerk writ disproportionately-large here in San Francisco has been short. But if the new explosive book from the SF Comical's reporters proves true, Bonds is the most cynical, most scandalously self-involved and most short-sighted character in American sports since Dubya ran the always horrible Texas Rangers even deeper into the bedrock. Boot the bastard, Bud (that's "Mr. Selig" to you poor sorority grrrls working the luxury boxes at Miller Park). If Commishioner Bud was a true baseball man and not just a boot-licking lackey, he'd investigate and subsequently shun this jerk before he broke Babe Ruth's home runs mark, much less that of the incomparably-dignified Hank Aaron. Above all, I worry that Bonds' disgraceful past will distract attention away from the obvious and beautiful future consolidation of America's love behind this Season's Brew Crew. I'll assume that you, Humble Reader, haven't been paying attention. But the Brewers are on FIRE! At least in the Spring Training sense of things. This is a team with low costs but showcase showdown value. In comparison, Barry Bonds is an incomparable jerk with total disregard for the game he plays. The Brewers play in Milwaukee, where (according to my nativist sources) our nation's tradition for sports-fandom was founded. Not sure about the attribution, but you should look it up. Regardless, who are you rooting for America? Me thinks Ned Yost's "Ya Dere Boyz!". Or not - it's a free country, after all. Just make sure you don't root for Barry Bonds. He's SUCH a dooshbag.

Too much? Whatever. Hope your own Hall of Fame balloting is unianimous today. Rock on.

"Yay, Jon Stewart's hosting the Oscars! I hope he doesn't suck!"

"Yay, Jon Stewart's hosting the Oscars! I hope he doesn't suck!"
Originally uploaded by emaggie.

Maya walks the Red Carpet on Oscar Sunday.

Maya walks the Red Carpet on Oscar Sunday wearing jewels from Harry Winston, shoes from Manolo Blanik, phone by Motorola and a doo-rag from friends who've recently visited Puerto Rico. Hip trends throughout.
Originally uploaded by emaggie.

Maya makes her way through Golden Gate Park with her Radio Flyer, trying to ignore her Security in the background.

Maya makes her way through Golden Gate Park with her Radio Flyer, trying to ignore her Security in the background.
Originally uploaded by emaggie.

"If this is upside down, I don't ever want to be right side up again!"

"If this is upside down, I don't ever want to be right side up again!"
Originally uploaded by emaggie.

DeLay fiddles while Houston burns

To beat a horse that doesn't yet realize it's dead, Tom DeLay's the dumbest prick on the planet. Most including myself expect he'll win today's Texas Republican Primary election for his formerly safe seat. Yet he may still face a run-off. Not to mention an unimaginably tough race in the Fall. So how does the Hammer plan to spend the day? At a fundraiser in DC with lobbyists Susan Molinari and Bill Paxon. If you're a Republican, how's that thumb in the eye feeling? If you said, "just fine", I want to reassure you that you've got others coming from DeLay. On the Karma bus, Tom DeLay's sitting next to James Frey. Hope one of them remembered to fill a flask.

My favorite post-Oscars stat of the morning - all 5 of the Best Picture nominees combined grossed less than "March of the Penguins". Sarah didn't have much of a warm and fuzzy feeling from renting "Penguins" a ways back, which I sadly missed because of my weekly baby seals clubbing club. With clubs. Am I still typing out loud?

Hope your own grosses are commodius today. Whatever that means. Rock on.

My notes from the Oscars, since I'm sure no one else was watching

"Crash" won the Best Picture Oscar last night. In a media-driven spectacle that rarely surprises, this one left buttloads of people breathless. Or angry. Hopefully not at my cheeky "buttloads" half-assed attempt at a joke. As much as I want to comment on the comparison, I'm in a bad position since I haven't yet seen "Crash". Damn. I wanted to get a reach-around joke in that last sentence. Still, as soon as "Crash" comes out on video, I'm all over it. But I'd like to thank the Academy for giving me the opportunity to make light of homophobia by instead invoking racism. And of course I'd like to thank my agent. And my goatee designer. And my Second Grade teacher, Ms. Lindholm, who gave me the courage to be a budding class clown and still be taken seriously when it came to number-writing time.

Sheesh...I have no idea what I'm saying. I made some notes last night while watching the Oscars. I wish some of it was genius. Just like I wished Jon Stewart would be genius. Both of us were middlingly successful. I'd give us both a rating of B-minus. Let me know what you think.

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It's Oscar Time, America!

• Ryan “Not even my Wife knows how to ACTUALLY pronounce my name” Phillippe talked on the red carpet of having their 6-year-old at home staying up beyond his/her bedtime “watching Mommy and Daddy on TV” for the first time. They then looked to the wrong camera (even with Billy Bush’s Spielbergian direction) and said hello. They live on the West Coast. That was at approximately 5pm. Those poor kids hate them. No wonder they’re in marriage counseling.
• With TiVo watching my back, I got to watch our fireplace light up the otherwise dark living room while Maya finished a bottle before heading to bed. The hardwood logs crackled with perfectly-timed glee, emitted a crazy stream of gas and collapsed. Maya stole a glance my way while tugging on my ridiculously-long goatee. I got verklempt thinking of spending last Oscar Sunday in the hospital on the day of Maya’s birth watching “Million Dollar Baby” bring home the major awards.
• Dolly Parton is the most altered woman currently alive. And the resemblance to the woman from “Soap” in “Brazil” is striking.
• Those adorable Wilson Brothers. I met their parents at a café in Dallas in 2000 the day after seeing “Shanghai Noon”. Their mom was wearing a denim oxford shirt bearing the film’s name and I struck up a conversation, assuming they might be associated with the famously Dallas-raised Owen and Luke. The ‘rents were cooler than liquid nitrogen. Oooh - icky. The Boys just introduced animated characters for a bit of canned Oscar bunk. I bet the entire Wilson family hit the bar harder than anyone alive afterwards.
• Love how the “small” categories get the “get off the stage” music even BEFORE they start talking.
• Jennifer Aniston named 5 nominees for Costume Design. Our local over-the-top nerdball video store (Le Video on 9th) only had 4 on their Oscar ballot. Remember, you heard it here first.
• They CUT OFF the make-up co-winner! How seriously unfair. Howard Berger (her co-winner) hogged all of their precious seconds by starting in with a lame George Clooney joke. Berger's the biggest douchebag of the evening. Speaking of Clooney jokes - how many Clooneys does it take to screw in a lightbulb? Answer - what's the lightbulb wearing?
• Morgan Freeman’s SOOOO drunk.
• Lauren Bacall makes me sad.
• Charlize Theron’s dress looks like it’s masking a deflated parrot on her shoulder. Great reflective fabric, nonetheless.
• LOVE THE FRENCH DUDES winning for “March of the Penguins” and taking the stage with the stuffed penguins. Immediately thereafter, HATE THE J. LO!
• I just spied U.S. Rep. Edward Markey (D-MA) in the audience. Just thought the World should know.
• Honorary Oscar to Robert Altman presented by Lily Tomlin and Meryl Streep. Silliness as bliss. They both are astonishingly funny. Robert Altman rocks like old school AC/DC. I saw him once at a symposium in Seattle saying that he got his inspiration from smoking pot on this great porch he has. The guy’s more honest than Ghandi. Altman’s acceptance speech is the most brilliant I’ve ever seen.
• Best Acceptance Speech of the Night – Obviously, the Three 6 Mafia for Best Song. Hill-AHR-i-mo-fockin-osity!
• Jennifer Garner’s post-baby boobs almost tripped her up on the way to presenting the Oscar for Sound Editing. Almost.
• Most Real acceptance speech – “Tsosti” dude.
• Was Hillary Swank wearing a painted-on dress? Yes.
• John Travolta’s hair gets weirder every time he’s let out of the Scientologists’ compound. I don’t want to see him again unless there’s a humongo tranquilizer dart in his neck and I’m somewhat assured he won’t make a break for it. Not really sure what that means.
• “CRASH” WON! Boy, do I wish I was in the Castro right now to join in the open rebellion and looting.
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Lots of other stuff in the World worth digging into, but I gotta get down to some real writing. Thanks for reading. Hope your own awards ceremonies today feature glorious swag. Rock on.

Deciphering the benchmarks as we stumble our way into Year Two of Parenthood

Like most parents, we decided to get Maya a series of immunizations and a dollop of pediatrician-delivered guilt right after her First Birthday. Maybe that's a bit of an overstatement. Our pediatrician's a good doc. Smart woman. Sarah appreciates her suggestions. But I always leave feeling like we've been keeping Maya in the crawlspace under the stairs and occasionally poking her with hot sticks. As if. I've NEVER heated up one of those pokey sticks and it's less of a crawlspace and more of a pile of Costco goods. But I'll let y'all judge for yourself how Maya looks with the latest Tale o' the Tape:

Height - 29 1/2 inches
Weight - 22 pounds, 10 oz.
Headsize - not measured, but she's around a 4 and a 1/2, if you're ordering her this season's Brew Crew hats. Actually, make that 7 and 5/8ths - she prefers to wear my hats. And, yes, that's my noggin size these days - damn you syphillus!
Hemoglobin, or hobogoblins, or the helloGollum mark - 12.9 (the East German judge terribly underscored her @ 11.6) If you know what these numbers mean, your next appointment is waiting, Doctor.

As we were reassured, Maya's cranking on the development curve. Doing handstands and juggling (4 balls!) helped pad her scores. But apparently we're not forcing her to choke down enough fresh fruit or broccoli or dirt or, um, petroleum products...I kinda zoned out after trying to discern what effects all the lead paint chips that I've been mixing into her yogurt might have on her development. In all seriousness, she's doing great by all measures. And while getting her immunizations including a few extra for our trip to Mexico in May, Maya only ripped one tiny artery from Sarah's neck. So her fine motor skills are advanced, and she doesn't freak out at the sight of copious bloodflow. DoubleBonus!

Time to move onto some other things. I'll respect the ludicrously conceived chestnut of "don't criticize the Prezidunt while he/she is abroad (no pun intended, ladies)" by waiting until next week to call Dubya's trip to Asia a vapid boondoggle staged by retarded monkeys. Because I respect the office, doncha know. I'm sure you'll want to check back for that. Hope your own goodwill tours today take you to places other than consignment shops. Rock on.

You're calling this a "surprise visit"? You CANNOT BE SERIOUS!

In typical fashion, the Bushies are wedging their asses into the headlines this morning by saying that Dubya chose to make a "surprise visit" to Afghanistan on his way to India. That's like claiming "yea, I was headed to a Yale alumni reunion but decided at the last minute to stop off at Mineral State Junior College new student mixer". Can the Bushies and the sychophantic media please call THIS one straight, puuu-leeeze?! As I heard half-emphaized on "Morning Edition" this morning, the Bushies have been planning this for 8 weeks. The only "surprise" in all of this is that no one bombed the crap out of the grandstands during the photo-op, which reside in the only well-defended city block within hundreds of thousands of square miles of shitestorm. Ya wanna real "SURPRISE!" - try landing Air Force One at Baghdad Airport these days. But unlike the Bushies, I'm going to go out on a limb here - this trip to Central and Southern Asia will end in another "surprise" announcement about, um, "noo-q-ler" proliferation or the "Warrer on Terr". And you've all got permission to leak to all your secret media contacts that you heard it here first.

But my real subject this morning before I try to do some actual work is to plant a seed of a future story that I hope will draw you back. Namely, I got a telemarketing call yesterday from a scandalously-concealed Mormon charity that briefly raised my temperature to an unhealthy degree. Here's just a taste....

Just after I did the hand-off with our actor/nanny Megan and began to settle into playing with Maya's new Birthday toys, the phone rang and the greeting I received was, "may I speak to the LADY of the house (my emphasis added)". As Sarah and every other person on the Planet that knows me will testify, I'm a complete bee-yatch when it comes to unwelcome telemarketing or piss-poor customer service that impedes our otherwise decent lives. Yet aside from the 1950s manner of address, this call set a new standard of deceptive, incompetent and misinformed stupidity. It was from "The Dove Foundation", an organization looking to poll me and solicit donations to promote "wholesome family entertainment". Don't Google them - I'm already giving them more hits in my initial research than they will ever actually deserve.

In all seriousness without totally showing my hand, I think I've got a live story on the line here. Please check back. Seriously. This one's a stinker. Hope your own stories are well-sourced and utterly legit today. Rock on.