Word: homer
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...Tell It Goodbye" celebration at 3COM (ne Candlestick) Park in San Francisco. The folks who brought sushi to the ballpark spent a year praising the faults of their park. They spoke lovingly of the winds that could turn a pop fly into a home run and a homer into a grounder, the need for wool blankets in the stands, the same sort of all-purpose sins of design that stain ballparks in San Diego, Cincinnati, Pittsburgh and beyond...
...There's a Simpsons episode (AABF11, "I'm With Cupid") where Elton John hands Homer a Grammy and Homer chucks it into the trash. Which is how I feel about the awards right now. I suppose I'm expected to say something about them, this being the music column and all, except that I feel award shows naturally tend to reward the middlebrow rather than the spectacular. (Hello, Santana!) And the behind-the-scenes politics of major labels to win Grammys just leaves an odd taste in my mouth. I wonder if record labels send "for your consideration" copies...
Bogart and Bacall. Tracy and Hepburn. Homer and Marge. Rock- well and Conger? It's doubtful that last pair will linger long in the hearts and minds of the public, despite the fact that their entire courtship was broadcast, for our amusement and amazement, on national television. Of all the women in all the world--or at least of the 50 finalists willing to trade dignity for fast money--he chose her. Isn't that romantic...
...advantages over opening constituent mail, organizing dockets or filling in spreadsheets of corporate growth potentials. "You get to know a place in a way you never would otherwise," says Seid. "You get to see some pretty spectacular things. I saw a place that was announced as the birthplace of Homer, which it clearly wasn't. I got to see and cover the Acropolis." In Skagway, Alaska, another r-dub was shown an abandoned brothel. Under the floorboards she found an array of strange and terrible contraceptive devices of the Nineteenth Century. In South Africa, a female...
...York City appearances, which amounted to readings (he would not consent to give a speech). He was courtly and dutiful, but his mind was beating loudly elsewhere. It was dumbfounding to weigh his knowledge, as a naturalist, linguist, translator, biographer, the most evocative writer on the sea since Homer--and, through his stories of Captain Jack Aubrey and Dr. Stephen Maturin, portraitist unrivaled about life at sea, at war, at home and in the shadows of the warmakers of Britain, France and Spain. He was only two or three chapters into the 21st of his series when he died, consigning...