Back in action first thing Thursday. Been driving in the fly-over.
Back in action first thing Thursday. Been driving in the fly-over.
Eagles three-time all-pro linebacker Jeremiah Trotter considering retirement? Say it ain't so, Newsday. Or NBC10.
Guitar World picked the greatest solos of all time. City Rag found video of the top 20. (via Clicked.) Pretty lame version of "Layla," essential Hendrix, and Jimmy Page on "Heartbreaker" makes me wish for a Led Zeppelin reunion.
Get paid to read blogs, hear podcasts. A Washington Post piece on a media company that scours the Web to track what people are saying about their clients.
Speaking of going blog wild, we've got a new one: Peter Mucha debuts "Live From ..." at 12:30 today with a visit to the Bulletin reunion. (And speaking of the Bulletin ...)
YouTube to share revenue with those who upload the most-popular videos? The BBC reports that it's got to be your own material, not, say, 24.
Barbaro is gone. The Kentucky Derby winner was euthanized in his stall this morning, ending his fight to survive the catastrophic injury he suffered during the May 20 Preakness Stakes.
Devotion from his cyberfans lasts forever. On Tim Woolley's horseracing site, some comments reflect strangely deep sorrow:
I must admit that on hearing the sad news of Barbaro's passing, the only other times that I have felt so empty and so devastated was when President Kennedy was assassinated, and when the World Trade Center Twin Towers collapsed.
Philebrity breaks into regularly scheduled programming to link Bob Dylan's "All The Tired Horses."
"You Were a Good Horse," says The Phillyist. "May you rest in peace in that great stud farm in the sky."
Philadelphia Will Do wonders how long before the great horse's miracles are documented.
Author Jane Smiley writes in the Washington Post: A horse's hoof is wondrous structure -- the outside horn is lined with delicate membranes and blood vessels that feed and support the bones of the foot. The bones of the foot are analogous to a person's finger tips, since a horse's knee is analogous to a person's wrist -- the race horse carries a thousand pounds at thirty-five or forty miles per hour using a few slender bones supported by an apparatus of ligaments and tendons that have no analogues in human anatomy.
So what's this all about? If you have two minutes, watch this, which could be called, "And here comes Barbaro." One more time, the 132nd Running of the Roses, and his nearly seven-lengths romp. Some horse.
It's been 146 years since a Prince of Wales last visited our fair city. The royal in question was the slight, pale, 18-year-old son of Queen Victoria and heir to the throne of England -- known as Albert Edward, and called Baron Renfrew. Decades later, he would become King Edward VII. (For a naughtier connection between Edward and Charles, kindly click this link; looks like he had thing with Camilla's great grandmother.)
The Oct. 11, 1860 report ran down the left rail of the Philadelphia Inquirer's front page with, in the style of the period, a many-decked headline that tipped busy readers to the main events (sort of an Express of its day):
BARON RENFREW IN PHILADELPHIA
VISIT TO A BOWLING SALOON
PRESENTATION OF AN ENGRAVING
TRIP TO GIRARD COLLEGE
THE PRINCE IN THE COUNTY PRISON
GALA DAY AT POINT BREEZE
THE GRAND OPERA
Etc. Etc. Etc.
What's amazing to this modern reader - other than the fact his hosts would show the future King of England to a bowling saloon - is just how much etcetera they packed into their news back then.
A reporter trailed the prince as he toured America's second-largest city to produce a timely, atmospheric, rambling, and oddly detailed narrative of gifts received, engravings examined, dwellings admired, horse chestnuts planted, and hail fellows, well met.
In short, it reads like a 19th Century event blog.
The Inquirer article goes on for 2,972 words and nearly the only drama is the wind lifting the heir to the throne's hat, and sending it cascading into a nearby garden.
This moment is revisited near the bottom of the account, as the unnamed writer feels compelled to add more names and details and interrupt the narrative flow. (Remember that moving paragraphs required physical labor back then.)
Throughout, facts are gathered like a well-mannered mob.This, from some time spent at the Point Breeze race track:
There was a gentle breeze blowing, and the weather could not have been more desirable. A splendid band of music was upon the ground, and discoursed its strains of melody in the interim between the different heats.
The Prince whiled away the time in smoke a fragrant Havana and conversing with those around him. Among those within his immediate vicinity we noticed Mayor Henry, Hon. Wm. B. Reed, John Rice, Esq., Wm. D. Leis, and other citizens, besides the entire royal suite. The ladies who were represented to the number of about two thousand, seldom cast their glances in an opposite direction to the Prince. Some had opera glasses, which they used during most of the afternoon.
The first race came off at half-past two P.M., between the following horses: "Throgsneck," entered by C. S. LLoyd (F. Morris.). "Irona" five years old, sired by "Register," dam "Black Sal," by "Prince George," with 103 pounds and "Rosa Bonheur," three years old, weight 87 pounds. This was a handicap race of one mile. Entrance $100; forfeit $59; declaration $20. The "Bonheur" won the race - time, 1 minute 47 3/4 seconds.
There's even a classic display of Philadelphia attytood toward the end of the visit, although the reporting gets a little loose here.
"It appears that on the arrival of the Prince at the hotel, in consequence of some slight inadvertence, he was not recognized at the door, and was stopped by the person in attendance with the remark, "No intruders admitted" or something the same effect."
So, things haven't changed that much around here, give or take a few bowling saloons.
(Inquirer photo courtesy of the Historical Society of Pennsylvania, www.hsp.org.)
The CIA's rocking the Facebook to get recruits.
Microsoft hires blogger to tweak details about the company on its Wikipedia page.
Fox subpoenas YouTube to find out which fan of 24 and The Simpsons posted a bunch of episodes online.
Washington is killing the Internet Radio star.
Googling blogs made easier.
On page 31 of the production notes for Catch and Release, the new Jennifer Garner romantic dramedy, the biography of composer BT states that he:
is the creative force currently driving digital songwriting and soundscaping in its evolution into the audio-visual-spiritual art-form that will define and inspire the human narrative of the 21st Century. He is re-mastering the obsolete soundtrack of our late analog planet, reassmbling from the chaos of smashed bytes blurring our sampled lives a new paradigm of beauty for "This Binary Universe" - which happens to be the title of his most recent release.
But can we dance to it?
For this Rocky quiz, you will need to know more than the fact his turtles were named Cuff and Link. Or that he took Adrian ice skating on their first date.
If you're cocky enough to think you know more minutae about the Italian Stallion than any other movie-going mook, stop by The Broadway Theatre in Pitman, N.J. Thursday night for a chance to win $500.
Doors open at 6:45 p.m. The trivial challenge begins at 7:30. A showing of Rocky Balboa starts at 8:30. Admission: $5 for adults, $3 for children and seniors.
Prizes will be awarded to the best Rocky impersonator and the person with the grungiest sweatshirt. We don't make this up.
Here's a pretty shiny bit of Web tech - a site that will search through audio files to help you hear key portions of speeches, broadcasts or podcasts.
To illustrate its product, Pluggd has created the State of The Union Smackdown.
In the red corner is the president, in the blue corner is Sen. James Webb, D-Va.
Let's say you want to know what each said about health care last night. You click a topic (or create your own search) and the HearHere program scans each's speech, highlighting the most relevant portions in red-orange. You slid a bar to hear the portion you're interested in. I just tried it, and it was glitch-free - except that I had to listen to two political speeches.
The whole enterprise is in beta still. The searches of the State of the Union and rebuttal was a demonstration. Down the road Pluggd will offer the ability to search more audio files as well as video. A story in Forbes describes the concept and how a diet of ramen noodles brought it to market.
Need to put a face to the president's proposed change in the tax code so more people can more people can afford health insurance?
Read this post from Scott Wisniewski, written in Young Philly Politics, about the day he found himself terrified, near collapse, at the doctor's office.
He's not sure what was more frightening: a possible diagnosis of mono, or the receptionist presenting him a bill for $80.
He had just moved to Philadelphia, having left college and its health care coverage, with enough money saved to pay the deposit on his lousy apartment.
He wrote yesterday:
For the first three weeks I lived in my unfurnished hole, I subsided on ramen noodles and a cabbage. Why a cabbage you may ask? I accidentally mistook it for lettuce and couldn’t afford to throw it away. I did quickly find a job working retail in a small store downtown making 8.50 an hour and working 45 hours a week, I worked a second job in the winter so I could buy Christmas presents for my family. It’s not a sob story, I don’t think, I lived within a community of people my age who were in the exact same situation, working retail, and pursuing other goals, just trying to make ends meet. There were so many of us that it seemed almost normal to not have health care. Looking back, I realize it affected me in more ways than I knew.
Within months of ... moving to a new city I was sick. I had terrible allergies, and my dry, dusty apartment didn’t help at all. When the weather turned colder, I caught some sort of mutant bug that wouldn’t go away. For nearly two months, I lived in a state of virtual exhaustion, feeling congested, getting frequent headaches, and altogether beaten up. On the very rare occasion of a day off from work (which usually came every 14-21 days) I would sleep for literally 15 hours.
Finally, in late February, I decided that I would go to the doctor even though the bill would nearly bankrupt me. I went in hoping that he would find something wrong with me, but terrified that I couldn’t afford the medication to make it right. When I did finally get there, after a thorough exam, he said that he couldn’t find anything wrong, but he thought it necessary to test for Mono. Realizing that I could barely afford the “February Blues” diagnosis that he eventually gave me, I knew there was going to be no Mono test. As I sulked my way to the office door the Receptionist informed me that my bill for the visit would total $80! I can’t ever remember a feeling of being so thoroughly sunk. I almost broke down in the office; I was still sick, exhausted, terrified of the suggestion of Mono, and would have to either bounce a rent check or find a way to avoid paying this bill immediately. The receptionist must have sensed my desperation and with a hand on my shoulder told me that she could put the bill in the mail, delaying the inevitable confrontation with my depleted bank account. How embarrassing; I’m nearly crying over an $80 doctor’s bill and still have no clue why I’m sick. Oddly enough, that bill never showed up at my door, and when I called the doctor he pretended he never treated me. I still get a knot in my stomach thinking of the generosity of that Doctor (or receptionist), but cannot help but feel a little resentment for having gone through it at all.
I feel fortunate to have survived that period of my life without serious illness or injury, (that I am aware of). A broken arm or even bronchitis would have been financially catastrophic. But I did incur small injuries that I couldn’t afford to treat. The stubborn discomfort in my hip that never really healed, colds that wouldn’t subside, the untreated flu, a stomach virus that eased minutes before acceding to both dehydration and an emergency room visit. During the summer of 2002 when I got pink eye and spread it to my girlfriend (also without health care), she had to participate in an independent medical study to get eye drops, and then used them on both of us (luckily we didn’t get the placebo). I still worry that because these things weren’t treated immediately that they will have long term effects on my health.
Only adding to my stress is the mental strain associated with not being able to diagnose a problem when it arises: strange looking veins on my leg that I spent months worrying about, mysterious chronic headaches, and heartburn all became the worst diagnoses in my mind and there was little I could do about it but hope it disappeared. For all of these aches and pains, I actively sought home remedies that I could afford; herbs, aroma therapy, and diets with varying results. In the end nothing can supplant proper health care. There is no amount of library books, Google searches, or asking friends of friends (who may or may not be a nurse), that one person can do that will give you the same relief as a diagnosis of a certified medical doctor. I feel fortunate that I was able to stay out of the Emergency Room. But it was only that, luck, and I spent nearly 5 years fearing the ramifications of a possible injury or illness. There is something inherently wrong in a system when a person fears the emergency room more than they fear the emergency. I can’t think of addressing a more important political issue.
Eight months ago he found a job with health care benefits. Until that point it had been five years since he'd seen a doctor or a dentist. He still hasn't seen a dentist, for fear of what they'll find.