Hurricane Emily could deliver some moisture to kick off the southwest monsoon. More on that in tomorrow’s newspaper. But the real interesting bit I learned today, blogged at the Journal, involves our perception of how wet it really ought to be in July and August. I was surprised at what the data showed.
Survivor: The Bike Race
I realized this morning as I was watching those ever-present adds on OLN for their replay of the first season of Surivor that the attraction of The Tour is very much like the draw that has made those “reality shows” such a hit.
You have an enduring cast of characters, faced with daunting challenges and the need for both cooperation and competition. You get to know them over the three weeks of the tour, not so much their human personalities as their cycling ones – the plucky Rasmussen, unassuming in his polkadot jersey, alone in the bunch defending his own unexpected success; the mercurial Vinokourov, at once flying up the mountain and collapsing in a self-inflected heap; the regal Armstrong, the man they love to hate; the darling sidekick Georgie, cute and impish and unexpectedly alone atop a treeless mountain this morning in the Pyrenees, the wristband for his old late chum Fabio adorning his arm; the relentless and ultimately tragic Jan, the winning loser, the magnificent talent for naught; the jack Mennonite Floyd, one of the many former friends of Lance with whom the peleton is littered.
I don’t watch NASCAR, but I’m told it has much the same appeal – the same drivers out every Sunday, week after week, shifting alliances and story lines and characters, real and imagined, actual and creations of the storytellers in the media who help it along. Reality TV soap opera.
The Ubiquitous Christopher Leinberger
Back in the day, when I was working in Pasadena, California, there was a local development guru called Christopher Leinberger who was beginning to make a name for himself nationally for his thinking about remaking American cities in a more usable way. We used to quote him all the time, and then he had a cover story in (I think) the Atlantic. We began referring to him, joking, as “the ubiquitous Christopher Leinberger.”
And then, just as I was preparing to move to Albuquerque, there was a big spread in the LA Times about the new breed of uber-commuters who had homes in beautiful places like New Mexico and commuted a few days a week to their home base in LA. And there, in a casa in Tesuque, was the ubiquitous Christopher Leinberger.
After I moved here, a new developer emerged in the downtown Albuquerque scene, and… well, you can see what’s coming.
So here’s my plan. I’m going to move to, like, North Dakota or something. And see if he follows.
Mesa del Sol
Over at Duke City Fix, Coco has an excellent look at the Mesa del Sol backstory.
“Celestial Drops”
Chris Mooney alert! Wacky Republican science!
The Orlando Sentinel reports on an effort four years ago to eliminate citrus canker, a disease that was plaguing Florida’s lucrative citrus orchards:
Researchers worked with a rabbi and a cardiologist to test “Celestial Drops,” promoted as a canker inhibitor because of its “improved fractal design,” “infinite levels of order” and “high energy and low entropy.”
But the cure proved useless against canker. That’s because it was water — possibly, mystically blessed water.
Why the state’s enthusiasm for the “infinite levels of order”?
The initial push came from (Katherine) Harris, now a U.S. House representative and candidate for U.S. Senate. Harris, the granddaughter of legendary citrus baron Ben Hill Griffin Jr., said she was introduced to one of the product’s promoters, New York Rabbi Abe Hardoon, in 2000.
Hat tip Dave Thomas, whose levels of order are substantially less than infinite, but generally more than ample to meet my needs.
Stuff I Wrote Elsewhere
LiveWrong
From cancer to Parish Hilton and a “beach hut made of cash”:
This bracelet and the people who made it are worse than cancer or aids or tsunamis or any of that other supposedly bad stuff. I wouldnt wear it if it was the last piece of clothing left on earth, and it was just me and paris hilton left on a tropical island after a nuclear war. if it was either this bracelet or nothing i would throw it into the sea, and paris and i would live naked on the tropical island and have so many babies. we would live like royalty with pet dolphins and a beach hut made of cash.
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Monsoon?
Looks like we’ve finally got some rising dewponts. Maybe some monsoon rains Tuesday? I haven’t talked to my weather geeks yet, but my amateur reading looks promising.
Chess Players Wanted
“Muddy Gap.” That’s a dateline to treasure. You just don’t run across place names like that every day.
That’s where our intrepid cyclist Johnny_Mango found himself last week, and he’s found an opportunity worth pursuing for you chess players out there: If you can beat the owner of the Deli Express in Muddy Gap, Wyoming, you get a free gelato. As Johnny notes, “that’s a buck an hour job I might go for.”
Words to Live By
From today’s Zippy:
Z-Man: “Remember – Donuts are a natural and delicious sugar and high-fat delivery system! But one serving per day is enough to do the job.”
Griffy: “Thanks, Z-Man! If not for your sensible dietary intervention, I’d have consumed all 24 of those fabulous custardy toroids in one sitting!”