It seems that whenever I begin to see the silver lining of a possible Hillary Clinton presidency, she does something that reminds me of the cloud. This past week it was the video announcing her campaign theme song. It mimicked the final scene of the final episode of The Sopranos, with Hillary flipping through songs in the booth jukebox, chatting with her poor, beleaguered husband while awaiting their poorly-parallel-parking daughter.

Now, never mind the galling impropriety of spoofing dysfunctional mobsters while seeking the office of President of the United States—I just don’t buy the Clintons as a mob family. I don’t. If there were a history of shady financial and land dealings, or of digging up FBI files on political enemies, or of serial adultery on the husband’s part, or of the wife accepting the adultery as long as the husband kept bringing home the bacon, or of numerous close associates in jail, or of close associates who committed suicide under odd circumstances, or of buddies who stole national security documents, or of disbarments, or of contempt of court charges, or of the willingness to say and do absolutely anything to maintain power (never mind your campaign promises), then it’d be believable. But Bill and Hillary are certainly not Tony and Carmela—“Clinton” doesn’t end in a vowel.

And what’s with the glare from Johnny Sack? It’s not like using Pacino or Caan or DeNiro in your ad—they’ve done enough roles that they’re known as actors and not simply the personification of mobsters. The guy who plays Johnny Sack will never be known for anything other than being Johnny Sack—he’s only in there to play up the mobster angle.

If you’re willing to mimic The Sopranos, why not just go for total tastelessness and produce a spot where Barack Obama wakes up with John Edwards’s severed head in his bed?

3 Responses to “Gangsters are bad, Hillary.”

1. gatorbob Says:
   June 25th, 2007 at 10:31 PMIt’s not the lame attempt at connecting with popular culture that turns my stomach, it’s the lousy politics and the incessant triangulating that’s at the core of the Clinton campaign. Throughout my political life, the Democrats have been involved in a vain effort at regaining the “Reagan Democrats,” while there are 50 million potential voters out there who might be tempted into the polling booth with the promise of providing for people’s real needs (health care, education, and the like) and not treating our kids as if they were cannon fodder. Honestly, if it’s Hillary vs. Rudy (vs. Bloomberg even), I’m going Third Party again. Anyone join me?
2. VDV Says:
   July 1st, 2007 at 11:54 AMRest easy, I’ll be 35 by 2012 and you can vote for me then.
3. gatorbob Says:
   July 5th, 2007 at 7:33 AMDone!

Last night’s dream:

After a long day at work, which for some reason resembled an academic museum combined with a commercial mall and a dungeon more than a high school, I go to my dad’s house. My younger sister has flown in from New Mexico and is in the kitchen, baking cookies. The kitchen appears as it did 20 years ago, with yellow linoleum and yellow- and green-striped wallpaper. My dad stands near the pantry, reading a newspaper.

I remember that there had been a strange schedule at school (museum/mall/dungeon) today, which means that some classes were shorter than usual, and other classes were cancelled altogether. So I have to change some of my lesson plans to get those shortened and missing classes up to speed.

While still in the kitchen, I dial the school’s number on my cell phone and put myself through to my own voicemail. I intend to leave a message reminding myself to alter my lesson plans.

Halfway through the message, some static comes over the line, with an elderly woman’s voice in the background. I’d heard of this happening, but never actually experienced crossed wires on a cellular phone call. I am annoyed that my voicemail message is being interrupted.

The static clears, and Elderly Woman is speaking in a weak voice. I don’t want to hang up on a little old lady, so I ask what number she’s trying to call. In her confused answer, she never actually gives a number; she simply refers to someone she’s trying to contact. Each question I ask is answered in such a rambling, roundabout way that I move on to the next question before she finishes.

I am increasingly frustrated, but I notice that none of her answers indicate any awareness that this discussion is being held over the phone, such as “I tried to dial…” or “I pressed the send button…” I am about to give up and disconnect the call, when Elderly Woman finally says something coherent, something that grabs my attention: “I’ve been dead for one hundred years.”

I think: Now we’re getting somewhere.

I am not frightened—just relieved that progress is being made. I say, “Okay. Are you trying to contact someone? Are you buried under the house? Were you wronged somehow? What are we doing here?”

Elderly Woman says, “I have a message for Genevieve.”

I say, “Hold on a second.” I find a pen and take out my notebook. “Go ahead.”

Elderly Woman says, “Mind the bell.”

I write down and say aloud, “Genevieve, ring the bell?”

Then my sister, without having heard any of my phone discussion, nonchalantly corrects me and says, “Mind the bell.”

I say and write, “Genevieve, mind the bell.”

It occurs to me that “Genevieve” is what my parents had originally planned to name my sister.

The oven timer dings. The cookies are ready. My sister pulls out the cookies.

I say, “Is that it? ‘Mind the bell’? I’ll pass it along,” and hang up just as she’s starting to ramble again.

I wait for the cookies to cool off and eat two. Despite having just spoken to a ghost–who has my cell number–I’m irritated about having wasted my minutes on her. Then I’m a little embarrassed about having been so dismissive to her.

I still have to call my voicemail and remind myself about changing my lesson plans.

…

In real life, my cell phone rang just after writing “dings.”

The Anaheim Ducks’ Stanley Cup championship provided a bit more support for my belief that “bad uniforms will make teams play worse.” The evidence is statistically weak but anecdotally strong, and it allows me to add “stupid team names” to what makes teams play worse.

The Team With The Silliest Name in Professional Sports, the “Mighty Ducks of Anaheim,” wore these undignified kiddie jerseys from 1993 to 2006 and even used this monstrosity as a third jersey for a season or two. During that time they had an overall record of 409 wins, 451 losses, 107 ties, and 37 overtime losses. That works out to earning 47.9% of all possible points. In a league where over half the teams get into the playoffs, they only had four playoff appearances in their first twelve seasons. (In fairness, they were a game away from winning the Stanley Cup back in 2003.)

In 2006, the new, non-Disney ownership jettisoned the duckified hockey mask logo, and went with plain, boring, yet dignified uniforms and logos. They also removed “Mighty” from the team name, creating a little more distance between the team’s identity and a series of children’s movies. Result? The team’s best season ever: 48 wins, 20 losses, 14 overtime losses, 67.1% of all possible points, a 16-5 playoff record, and their first Stanley Cup title.

Hopefully teams such as the Minnesota Wild will catch on to the idea.

2 Responses to “The “Cardinal rule” revisited.”

1. gatorbob Says:
   June 9th, 2007 at 11:35 AMUnfortunately, American soccer franchises have always been the worst offenders in this regard. MLS have followed the dubious legacy of NASL teams such as “Chicago Sting” and “New England Tea Men” with a series of silly monikers such as the late lamented Dallas Burn and San Jose Clash. My least favorite habit is the tendency to try to ape traditional European team names without any knowledge of those traditions. Thus, we have D.C. United with any apparent merger of teams, F.C. Dallas and, worst of all, Real Salt Lake, which begs the question – “Who is the royal family of Utah?”
2. VDV Says:
   June 9th, 2007 at 3:37 PMMLS ruins my observation, because in a league full of terrible team names, somebody still has to win the title. That said, it could be argued that the silly unis and team names turn off potential fans, and make MLS even less popular than it already is.

   However, they are open to improvements: “Kansas City Wizards” is an improvement over “Wiz,” “FC Dallas” is an improvement over “Dallas Burn,” and San Jose Earthquakes was an improvement over “Clash,” until they moved to Houston (who had their own little naming controversy with “1836″).

   I dislike the name “Fire” for Chicago–naming a team for a city’s worst disaster? Please. I dislike “Revolution” for New England; it’s too abstract. “Columbus Crew” sounds like a Sunday league team, not a professional team.

   I think the worst offender in MLS’s brief history was “Tampa Bay Mutiny.” Is that supposed to inspire loyalty?

   There should be a “Rename everything in the MLS” contest.

This Atlas of the Universe just might be a precursor to a real-life Total Perspective Vortex, except that it failed to shatter my mind. If anything, it made me even more secure in my lack of interest in seeing any part of Europe outside the immediate vicinity of restaurants and soccer stadia.

Today I am a little less proud to have been born in New Hampshire. The state legislature passed, and Governor Lynch said he would sign, a ban on smoking in restaurants and bars.

I do not smoke and generally prefer not to be near smokers. But I would like to think that if I chose to open a bar or restaurant, I could allow or forbid smoking on my property as I saw fit. Silly me.

I hope that Lynch remembers which state he governs and vetoes the bill. If not, then the restaurateurs of New Hampshire should remind him by painting “Live Free or Die” on “No Smoking” placards and mailing them to the State House.

2 Responses to “State mottos shouldn’t be ironic.”

1. Que si Says:
   June 1st, 2007 at 9:47 PM. You want more irony? The New Hampshire licence plates (bearing the state’s motto) are made by prison inmates.
2. Andrew Jackson Says:
   June 2nd, 2007 at 3:50 PM. I guess that means no more restaurant dueling for me in NH. What do they expect to come out of the barrell of a pistol after you fire a bullet into a miscreant? Daisies? I think not.