Transylvanian Rhapsody

Sure, Amazon dropped the Kindle down to $299. But why go through the expense, plus the hassle of having it delivered, and then figuring out the buttons, when your e-read can be a free read?

I got an e-mail Tuesday from Barnes & Noble heralding the release of their eReader. All you have to do is go to the website and download it to your PC or Mac. Within two minutes, my virtual library appeared, stocked with six complimentary new books. Well, five plus the Merriam-Webster dictionary. And "new" is a relative term. All are culled from public domain B&N Classics text; the promotion saves you $25 on your e-books and a trip to the library.

It was a dark, semi-rainy night when I signed my soul away to the machine. See, I've been recalcitrent about the Kindle, and not because I'm married to wood pulp and rainforest evisceration. But B&N erased the obstacle of cost. So, anxious to dig in, I clicked on my e-copy of Dracula. A Gothic suspense story seems appropriate when you're not used to the right arrow key turning pages.

I chose single pages at first, then switched to book format (two side by side). But alas, prone to online scanning, the tandem style requires unnecessary eye readjustments. Less strain to zoom back to the top on the same vertical plane. Getting into the tale was brisk; I devoured pages rapaciously, for only so much text fit in the window. Soon enough, we'd coarsed through the forest to the castle, dined with the Count, and become trapped inside his cavernous manse. Meanwhile--I'll admit it--I was trapped, too, unwilling to set it down and go to sleep.

Reading on screen is harder in long stretches, but there's a primal urgency on a PC that's oddly suited to Bram Stoker. Though I'm hellbent on preserving books by not writing in them, there's no barrier here: I highlighted and annotated pellmell, knowing that I could delete notes at any time. The "Look Up" feature was sadly a ruse: what dictionary did I want, it asked me, unable to find any? How about the free one I downloaded, oh wise eReader? I opened it manually (an arduous three seconds) and searched for the unfamiliar word "goitre" on page 59. No dice from Merriam-Webster. But hey, at least there is a page 59! The Kindle, in contrast, gives unhelpful "location ranges" designed, I surmise, to lose your place. Just don't resize your page window if you want to revisit a page, or else it recalculates.

It's not as portable to eRead on your PC as on a Kindle. But I think the bug has bitten me. Oh, wait, those are teeth marks...

I Saw the Sign (and it opened up my eyes)

A collection of humorous signs around Boston that coerced me to whip out my camera.

Here they are:

a & b. I loved that this sign, on the bus, came in tandem with the one beneath it. (Also, that there are Plenty of Fish... yet their deleting policy seems very strict.)

c. Fairy tales come true in Brookline, too. Just with a little revision.
d. In Chinatown, looks like you can pick your chicken the way you choose your lobster.
e. Dude, yeah, you have to work Sunday, but don't take it out on the Bible. (Guess it's not a passage from the Book of Daniel.)
f & g. Don't mess with the North End. They are not joking over there.

h. Life is complete. Boba Fett rides the E line.
i. Lyrics from "Are the Good Times Really Over" (Merle Haggard). Harvard Ave.
j. Don Giovanni, the T has crashed; sing me to safety!
k. The piece de resistance. Men's room, fourth floor of the ICA. Hey, anything for the sake of art.

What's on My Roof?

1. A charcoal grill.
2. A firepit.
3. A camping tent, uninhabited, ready to blow over.
4. An overturned bookshelf (that we might steal...).
5. A pink towel hanging from a clothesline.
   
6. A breakfast room table set for one.
7. A maze with a flowerpot at the center, holding an antenna that points the way to some other form.
8. An Aqua Teen Hunger Force prototype.
9. This guy.
10. More empty bottles than there should be on a roof with no back wall.
    

Why the Emmys Are So, Like, 2008

Here's my beef with the Emmys: they like comfortable nominations. Sure, they throw us off with surprise "new shows," but they've already sanctioned the winner for the next five years. And people get nominated for doing the same thing on shows that never change.

30 Rock is now bearing the Overkill Torch previously held by The West Wing and Frasier. It received somewhere around 730 nominations this year, including Best Appearance by a Squirrel on his Lunch Break. Tough category, that: tied with Mad Men, which has as many nominations as cigarettes smoked last season. Both are quality shows, but c'mon, can't we spread the love? Does anybody win if we reward the same people?

Mad Men, at least, is only on Year Two, and neither Don Draper (oh yeah, his real name's Jon Hamm) nor Elizabeth Moss hold a golden statue yet (be generous, Emmy voters!). But see, Mad Men just illustrates how ridiculous the Emmys are this year--and in general:

1. Outstanding Writing for a Drama Series: Out of 5 nominations, Mad Men holds 4. Which to vote for? Worst outcome: they cancel out and Lost wins!

2. Usual suspects abound. If Mariska Hargitay beats out Glenn Close or Moss from Mad Men for playing the same. exact. show. every. week. I will lose faith in television. Is there an unwritten rule that we have to send Julia Louis-Dreyfus, Hugh Laurie, and 2.5 Men to the gala every year? And surely we've moved past "hey, William Shatner has talent!" to reward other worthy Supporting Actors.

3. Seven nominees for Comedy and Drama Series! A harbinger of Oscars to come? In a season of Big Love, Breaking Bad, Damages, Dexter, and Mad Men, who needs old-timers like House and Lost?

4. Reality Program and Reality Competition Program are, in fact, two separate categories. We Generation Y'ers just want everybody to win an Emmy. Except for solid repeat nominees (call them the Lansburys) like Michael C. Hall, Mary Louise Parker, and Neil Patrick Harris.

5. Tina Fey will now be able to win 4 Emmys. She will have so many that Sarah Palin will see them from her house.

In the Tweet, By and By

HarryLimethe3rd. That's my Twitter screen name. (Hold on--is that the name for it, or is there some cute moniker like TweetTag?) Either way, I have joined the Twitter universe.

But I haven't posted, and don't plan to. I am there to stalk; and with class permission. So I tried to keep myself pseudo-quasi-anonymous, as much as can be on the internet (style now accepts lowercase for internet. Am I okay with that?).

Real question: how should I condense my thoughts to 140 characters? The last sentence was already halfway there. Follow-up question: do I even want to? (Simple answer: no. Longer answer: I prefer to spend my free interactive online time blogging, checking e-mail, buying things from Amazon.)

Besides, there's Twitter spam! I mean, who knew? Day one, three girls started following me, and I knew none of them. It's not like when Thomas Jefferson is your Facebook compatriot. Apparently people latch onto newbies like leeches to, a la Facebook, compile more followers. But why? So that complete strangers will read your Tweets?

So I blocked them. And then someone I haven't seen since high school found me on my natal day. Glad it's not spam, but how did they track me down? Oh, Web 2.0, you are one crafty minx.

Oh, snap. All my paragraphs are over the limit. How to adapt to this strange new world? I'll just have to keep stalking Barack O., Ellen D., and Coldplay. (That's right, we're tight Tweeters... Twitterers?...)

And my point is...? Don't condemn me. At least I've learned how long 140 is. If I go all Ashton K., you'll read it here first.

Oh say, can you sing?

I'm slacking on my July posts. But in my defense, Tim came to visit this weekend! We caroused around Boston, chugged down 2 oz. beer samples at Harpoon, climbed Bunker Hill, and, oh yeah, celebrated the Fourth with prime Esplanade fireworks viewing.

Second time I heard the Pops this weekend. Three times each, over two nights, of Neil Diamond singing "Sweet Caroline" and "America." So I have Two Important Questions:

1. Who exactly is coming to America?

Far
We've been traveling far
Without a home
But not without a star

Free
Only want to be free
We huddle close
Hang on to a dream

It's as if we're entering Ellis Island. But suddenly, Diamond shakes it loose--We are They. You know:

On the boats and on the planes
They're coming to America
Never looking back again
They're coming to America

We are the movers, they are the shakers, and somehow We are the same as They. Maybe We, from seasickness or scurvy on the ships, are developing split personalities. It's such an existential song, right?, with us outside our bodies, staring back from shore as We somehow dock, dream held tight so it didn't fall overboard.

2. Is "Sweet Caroline" really America's favorite sing-along song?

That's what Craig Ferguson announced to the Esplanade Saturday night. We'll rule out patriotic songs, because never fear, we sang all those too. From the redwood forests to amber waves of grain. And the swarms of celebrators crooned "Caroline" with panache. We (or should it be They?) tore it up on the descending "Ba da dum," the key change, and the Rocky Horror fanaticism of "So good, so good, so good!" And I bet the entire country, fruited plain and purple mountains et al., could join in. Besides, after three choruses, you can't avoid knowing it.

But do we all know "Sweet Caroline" better than all other pop songs? It embraces generations, so any contestant to the throne of Sing-Along VIP must be from, let's admit it, our parents' time. The baby boomers might stumble on "Baby Got Back," methinks.

My list of potential challengers:
"American Pie"
What could be more American? Not cheery, though, and eight minutes long.
"Sweet Home Alabama"
Meets the crowd interjections requirement: "Oh, sweet home" and "Boo, boo, boo."
"Imagine"
Written by a Brit, but ideal for swaying lighters.
"We Are the Champions"
In sports arenas, might take the cake. But Freddie Mercury sings so high! (Better inebriated?)
"My Girl"
Everybody connects with Motown. What else could make you feel this way?

Now, c'mon, you've got your two cents. Leave me a comment! America wants an answer!

The fast and the felon-ous

A story I just read for Redivider reminded me of the car chase I watched Monday on the plane. Yes, there was a high-speed car chase, and even cooler, JetBlue's DirecTV service provided me half an hour of live coverage. Anybody else see this? If you missed it--here's the thing--you missed it. Good thing going, and then the final crash, and it's gone from the news. When I searched Monday evening for the aftermath, it wasn't even at the top of Google results for "Dallas car chase."

Granted, Bernie Madoff's 150-year sentence to prison is pretty spectacular and news-worthy. But now I get the appeal of the car chase. Forget Survivor and Extreme Makeover: Home Edition--a car chase is reality TV, full-out. My eyes were glued mid-drive; news stations have no control over what happens, no way to manipulate. Victory, however fleeting, rests on the wheels of the criminal evading the police.

So what did this chase entail (since you didn't read about it)? A routine traffic stop where the car in question kept rolling. Rumors of narcotics, which are enough, according to law, to allow police this type of pursuit. Having a burned-out taillight will not get you national exposure, because the cops can't lay chase.

Because satellite signals are spotty high above the clouds, we lost the signal just after 2:30 p.m. The chase began at one; I tuned in at two. And in those three minutes of black screen, the chase on which all my attention (and several other back-of-seat TVs I could see, plus my neighbor's curiosity) was fixed came to a halt. Ironically, it stopped because the runaway car did not. Tearing through a red light, he met with the front end of a law-abiding pickup truck.

I felt cheated of that moment to which all the build-up led: the careening helicopter shots, the narrow corridors of cars squeezed through. And then cheated once more, when the Jaws of Life came out, and the news anchor advised us it might be graphic. "We'll return later with edited video," he said, but Madoff was too hot for the story to come back. When your fifteen minutes are up--extended here to an hour and a half--the world moves on. But how cool while it's happening, right? It inspired conversations, memories of the legendary OJ chase... and then nothing else.

Update: A similar Dallas chase in July 2007 lasted an hour and was attributed to a pet-lover rushing his ailing cat to the hospital. He said he hoped the police would just quit tailing him.