Gimme a shot of Draper. And keep 'em comin'.

The summer has entered a strange middle passage.  Post-vacation, pre-kindergartenpalooza, all sorts of family and personal plans bumping up against each other like big crates in an untethered hull.  But everything's got the right momentum.  With the possible exception of falling into the cliched trap capturing so many not-so-new modern parents - over-scheduling the offspring.  Amidst her usual social calendar and classes, Maya's mid-way through her third (and final) summer camp.  Two home (in Seattle) and one away (in Santa Barbara while we were there as a family).  Granted, they were/are for only part of the day.  And I am of the political orientation that thinks varied input can only add flavor to the soup.  Yet I had to pause yesterday after Maya told me she had the most fun going to the chilly, rocky shore of Lake Washington than anything having to do with camp at the Woodland Park Zoo where they have lions and tigers and bears (oh my!).  That's why today I'm taking her out for a donut at Top Pot after the Zoo to test my unformed hypothesis.  I don't expect to answer any big questions.  But their maple bars rawk (just ask the Seattle Seahawks).

On the subject of rawking, I'm surely in a legion of fans completely enthused to have the new season of "Mad Men" underway as of this past Sunday.  All the way through, that show has been a must-see.  Now it feels like a must-discuss.  Jon Hamm as Don Draper is a rare, transcendent role delivered by an actor with real chops (seeing him host on "Saturday Night Live" made me a believer, as if I needed a verification given what he does here).  And now that he's turned far darker yet substantially more knight-like,  I think the storyline is stronger than ever.  If you hate new entertainment and think you can categorize all art without actually experiencing countless, massive troves you've never touched (I'm looking at you Stephen Metcalf), don't watch.  This show is for those of us that let loose naturally at Roger Sterling's howlers (the Ad Age reporter joke in the beginning is one of his best ever) or yearn for challenging confrontations with real history (was the actual Jantzen Swimwear family actually that prudish?) or just want sexy TV to not dumb it down.  My rating of this season's premiere - a strong A-minus.  The final scenes of the episode set a higher than ever bar.  That's why we watch.

Hope your own camp is all theatre, no bugspray today.  Rock on.

Who's next up after Tucker and Delay? Easy - Fred Thompson.

I'm drenched in shame by the admission, but I watched the clip of Tom Delay on "Dancing With the Stars" last night. It was worse than a car accident. No one tries to immediately joke about a car accident. And the choice of "Wild Thing" was such an inarticulate nod to bad taste that I hope he gets a letter of reprimand from Tony Perkins and all those Family Research Council peckerheads. Everyone knows that the only barely permissible use of the horribly overused "Wild Thing" was to accompany Charlie Sheen's laughable presence in the movie "Major League" - a true blue guilty pleasure of mine with the only pairing ever on celluloid of Bob Uecker and Pete Vuckovich. Vuke plays a Yankee. Uecker plays himself, as usual. No one does it better.

Speaking of Uecker, I'll be in Milwaukee on Sunday at Miller Park for the last Brewers home game of the Season. It will be part of a larger trip to Sconnie for me. Expect lots of details later.

One last quickie pop culture mention - if you don't watch "Mad Men" because you feel like you need to start from the beginning, I say hogwash. Catch a re-run of Sunday's episode whenever you can. It will spoil nothing and even though it isn't anywhere near the top of this glorious show's arc, there is one surprise that will shock each and every one of the initiated or otherwise. I won't say what it is. But you'll know what I mean when you see it. Gruesome hilarity.

Hope your own bags are packed with lots of gifts and a Polaroid camera for special shots, too. Rock on.

And the Swedish Chef only won twice...

Two reviews for a Monday - not a bad way to start the week. Locally, I went to the Capitol Hill Block Party on Saturday. The CHBP is your standard issue cool city outdoor fest in the summertime. 5 stages, none of which are denial or grief. My primary draw was The Hold Steady, who regular readers will recognize as one of my faves. But I gotta say, I'm sadly kinda over them after Saturday. They're still a great show. Fun anthems. Goofy, engaging band members who can play the crap out of a song. Especially the lead singer, Craig Finn. Who, by the way, I randomly saw walking down a bordering street 5 hours before his band's set began, looking like a dentist heading to Starbucks in the same shirt he wore on stage. I worked the crowd like a zen master to get a great vantage point for their set - back a half-dozen rows of people, front and center. They played basically everything everyone wanted to hear with glossy verve. But the thing that threw me was fully half of the people surrounding me and an equally well-schooled friend were obviously teenagers. I'm not saying that to be a grumpy old man. It's just that I can't imagine a 16-year-old kid with a $300 digital camera has any idea what they are talking about when it comes to careening, albeit hook-filled, audaciousness. My rating - a surprisingly bored B-minus.

One thing that isn't boring at all is the hunky new star of HBO's killer summer mini-series, "Generation Kill". His name is Alexander Skarsgard (son of the actor Stellan). He plays Sergeant Brady Colbert, based on a real soldier thanks to the reporting of Evan Wright who was embedded with his Marine unit. Skarsgard is actually Swedish (voted the five-time Sexiest Swede of the Year, beating my crown by an astonishing four). Yet his American accent is flawless. He will be a HUGE star. "Generation Kill" was written and produced by the same geniuses that did the same with "The Wire". Thus far we're 3 episodes into a 7 episode run. My interim rating - B-plus with an upward trajectory. Watch it. Even with the wall-to-wall military lingo, there's something special going on there.

Don't know what to say about last night's premiere of the second season of "Mad Men". I oozed praise constantly for the first season. But after this first date, I'm not thinking I'll go all the way this time.

Hope your own summer isn't spent in the desert scandalously shooting camels. Rock on.

Today's bonus rating - if "Mad Men" ain't on the A-List again this season, I'm totally voting for Goldwater

For a Friday, here's a few glancing blows.

Barack Obama isn't taking public financing. For those that find offense in this, consider the last time you filed your taxes and refused to donate the $3 to said public financing system. This issue is, thereby, less than moot.

Scott McClellan has been testifying this morning before the House Judiciary Committee about the Valerie Plame outing. Can't say I care, mainly because I've seen where this bread gets buttered from way back when. But the fact that he's out there has to piss off those loyal Bushies and that's worth something to the nation. So kudos, Scotty.

On Father's Day I caught a matinee - "The Happening". My rating - a pissy C-minus. Dumb concept, horrible marketing, just dumb dumb dumb crap that no one should feel obligated to see. Spoiler alert! There's no surprise ending. Consider yourself warned.

Hope your own weekend plans get you nowhere near a multiplex showing "The Love Guru" (I haven't seen it, but my rating is a D-minus). Rock on.

The grill awaits, yet I'm still here...

I'm way off my usual game. New house distractions abound. And for those that have voiced discontent in my intermittent posting, I agree. I am losing focus. So before I put together our new grill (!!!), I want to weigh in on a few issues...

Dubya's speech to the VFW this week was without overstatement THE BIGGEST TRAVESTY IN THE HISTORY OF REVISIONISM. As the most famous draft dodger in the history of our Nation, you'd think he'd shy away from trying to tell us what we all missed in that debacle. In all honesty, I've been so pissed about his speech that I've purposely not posted anything the last few days. So at least he's got that going for him.

Robert Murray (the disgraceful coal baron that has had more underserved media exposure than a boatload of Paris Hiltons) is about to be served up like a retreat-mined turkey. This guy had me mad at "hello". And as soon as you can say "heckuva job, Brownie" the recess appointment of Richard Stickler is looking like yet another moment where all Americans should be shaking not only their heads in reaction to what the loyal Bushies are doing to phuck with everything before their last 17 months in power are left to History to deride. Speaking of which, it's now legal to blow up mountains in Appallacia and let the crap rain down on the rivers. Woo-whee!

Michael Vick should hereafter be doomed to starring in "The Longest Yard" sequels. He'll have time enough to do a bundle.

For those looking for reviews, here's a few quickies. "The Simpsons" was hilarious, but at best a solid B. "Mad Men" is far and away the best new show on the TeeVee (solid A rating). The Milwaukee Brewers are lovable but should be almost unassailably doomed were it not for the collective crappiness of the Cubs and Cards. Barack Obama is becoming the shallowest man in politics (although I still support him). The newly downsized NYTimes is too small for me to read comfortably on an elliptical trainer at the gym, so it sucks. And even though the American real estate market is more phucked than Lindsay Lohan's insurability, we love our new home. Hope y'all can visit sometime soon, if you call ahead and get a cavity search. Rock on.