On Reggie’s Heisman

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I’m no fan of USC, but the fact that he had to do this is ridiculous.

I don’t know what the answer is to the college star problem, and I’m generally in favor of institutions being held to a reasonable set of rules with respect to amateur status and whatnot as long as that’s the fiction we’re going to insist on in college sports. USC didn’t police its team well enough, and they’re paying the price. I’m fine with that.

I just don’t think it’s a good idea to penalize Bush personally for taking the opportunities he did. Will we pretend that there was no Heisman winner that year? Or that Vince Young was the winner? It looks like a temper tantrum by the club to me, a desire to try to hurt him now that he’s beyond the reach of any NCAA sanctions. That looks cheesy to me, and (in my view) makes the Downtown Athletic Club look worse than Bush.

Frankly, it astonishes me that so many are calling for even stricter rules, like lifetime NFL bans for people who do what Bush did. My guess is that, to a man, every person suggesting that kind of draconian sanction grew up with a shitload better financial situation than Bush. He was a standout, award-winning player, and was by popular consensus the best college player around in 2005. Even without the booster’s gifts, he’d have probably played at USC (he’s from San Diego). Did he use his status to benefit his family? It appears so. Did that meaningfully affect his school choice or performance? I doubt it.

College football isn’t amateur in any meaningful sense, not at the top-25 level, anyway. Colleges make millions on the backs of guys like Bush. I say leave him alone. Hounding him to give back this award and remove himself from the Heisman fraternity (a step they’ve not bothered to request of, say, O. J. Simpson) is just shitty.

Things that shouldn’t be true, but are

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It’s totally possible for the freakin’ Coens to make a movie with Brad Pitt, Tilda Swinton, John Malkovich, Frances McDormand, and freakin’ George Clooney, and still have it be an unwatchable mess.

Honestly, this brand of farce — in which terrible things happen to lots of miserable people, and which the Coens clearly love — doesn’t need to be done again after Fargo. And the brothers do much strong work when they undertake more meaty fare, such as their previous high point and the recent adaptation of No Country for Old Men, both of which remind us more of their neo noir debut than broad, grotesque messes like Burn After Reading and Intolerable Cruelty. I have no fear about their upcoming project, but I really hope they stop beating this particular farcical horse in the future.

AT&T Is Still Trying To Fuck You

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So AT&T has this new “microcell” product out, and I think it’s pretty poorly understood. I say that because there’s no way rational people would accept AT&T’s pricing if they understood how it works and what it does.

The pitch is simple: If you put one of these $149 devices in your home, you’ll have better cell service there. This part is true, but the next part is nefarious: AT&T wants to charge you, one way or another, for the calls that are routed over this device.

If you have no idea how they work, this probably seems reasonable, but let Uncle Heathen explain something to you: The AT&T Microcell is an example of the femtocell class of devices. They work by being, basically, a short-range cellular-to-Internet bridge. The device, about the size of a wifi router, works as a short range cell tower that covers (basically) your home, and which only works for certain phones. It then routes the calls placed by those (in-range) phones not over the cell network, but instead over your broadband connection and thence to the AT&T mothership for completion.

That’s a pretty neat trick, obviously, but leave it to AT&T to turn a technology boon into a way to rape their customers one more time. Calls routed via femtocell never touch the AT&T wireless network, and yet AT&T wants to either count those minutes against your allotment, or charge you a monthly fee ($20) for “unlimited” Microcell minutes.

That’s astonishingly brazen, and completely full of shit. An iPhone on another carrier simply cannot get here quickly enough. I know they’re all sociopathic greedheads, but I’m tired of giving this particular pile of jackasses my money.

I’m really sick of this

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Not as sick as I was before, when it came with a host of other policies I found equally repugnant, but the Obama administration’s position on state secrets is just as antithetical to liberty as Bush’s. Frankly, I blame folks like Bush, Cheney, Addington, etc., who promulgated the notion of the imperial presidency so ceaselessly for eight years. Presidents of any stripe are loathe to release power; I noted at the time that such power grabs were likely to be permanent, and this is ongoing proof thereof.

Dammit.

Usually, lists are stupid

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But this list of the 50 worst ideas in sports history is pretty good, especially, including the DH, penalty kicks, Caddyshack II, Boise State’s blue field, sudden death OT, dog fighting, charging the mound against Nolan Ryan, and the BCS, about which they say:

Here’s a good rule of thumb for “how do I know if I’ve got a bad idea”:

If — in this highly politicized world in which professional politicians guard every word they say, intent upon offending no one — the President of the United States is willing to go on national television and say that your system is bad and you need a playoff system, well, you may have a bad idea.

No. Just no.

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We do not approve of this whisky:

James Gilpin is a designer and researcher who works on the implementation of new biomedical technologies. He’s also got type 1 diabetes, where his body doesn’t produce enough insulin to regulate blood sugar levels.

So he’s started a project called Gilpin Family Whisky, which turns the sugar-rich urine of elderly diabetics into a high-end single malt whisky, suitable for export.

We’re so fucking doomed

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TBogg: Sigh.

It is almost like the terrorists unleashed an unstoppable stupidity toxin into American airspace on 9/11. Yes, I know people like this have always existed. but in the good old days they at least had the decency to stay indoors gorging on Slim Jims and 84oz buckets of Mr. Pibb while watching Raymond reruns.

Lies and the Lying Liars Redux

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Fred Clark over at Slacktivist lays the righteous smackdown on the Liar Tony Perkins of the Family Research Council, and it’s a beautiful thing.

Perkins appeared on Meet the Press opposite David Boies in the wake of the Prop 8 decision a week or so ago. Boies made absolute mincemeat of Perkins’ claims on camera:

“It’s easy to sit around and debate and throw around opinions — appeal to people’s fear and prejudice, cite studies that either don’t exist or don’t say what you say they do. In a court of law you’ve got to come in and you’ve got to support those opinions. You’ve got to stand up under oath and cross-examination. And what we saw at trial is that it’s very easy for the people who want to deprive gay and lesbian citizens the right to vote, to make all sorts of statements in campaign literature or in debates where they can’t be cross-examined.

“But when they come into court and they have to support those opinions and they have to defend those opinions under oath and cross-examination, those opinions just melt away. And that’s what happened here. There simply wasn’t any evidence. There weren’t any of those studies. There weren’t any empirical studies. That’s just made up. That’s junk science.

“… A witness stand is a lonely place to lie. And when you come into court, you can’t do that. And that’s what we proved. We put fear and prejudice on trial, and fear and prejudice lost.”

And that’s where Fred starts going to town:

In response, the Liar Tony Perkins, unable to support his assertions because they were not true, simply reasserted them. To any reasonable observer, this was not credible and the Liar Tony Perkins was exposed, yet again, as the Liar Tony Perkins.

But reasonable observers are not the Liar Tony Perkins’ target audience. “You can fool some of the people all of the time …” Abraham Lincoln said, and the Liar Tony Perkins never stuck around to hear the rest. He had found his calling.

Go read the whole thing.

Dear Mississippi: Please stop making me say “GODDAMMIT!”

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The middle school in Nettleton, Mississippi, has rules limiting class offices by race.

Grades 6, 7, and 8 all have four offices (president, vice president, secretary-treasurer, and reporter). Black students may run for 6th grade reporter, 7th grade secretary-treasurer, and 8th grade reporter and vice president. The other offices are reserved for white students.

(As you might expect, Nettleton is in the ass-end of nowhere even by Mississippi standards, somewhere south of Tupelo. Which is also, come to think of it, the same area of the state that gave us the Constance McMillen/Itawamba prom fiasco. What the hell is wrong with you people in northeastern Mississippi?)

Your Friday Awesome

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This just smokes: Talking Heads, “Born Under Punches,” live performance, from nineteen eighty. That’s Adrian Belew, apparently, on guitar, and “oh my God I can’t breathe Tina Weymouth looks so much like an angel. A gorgeous, muscular, platinum blonde angel” on bass. (Via Merlin, who is also the source of the Tina quote.)

This astounding sort of complex multilayered music is still arresting and unusual today, but compare it to, say, the top records of 1980 to get an idea of how weird it was thirty years ago. Make time for this today, especially if your name is “Frank” or “Mike” or “Rick.”

You knew it was inevitable

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Lady Gaga Kidnaps Commissioner Gordon:

GOTHAM CITY — Supervillain Lady Gaga brazenly abducted Commissioner James Gordon from a charity fundraiser Tuesday, leaving police baffled and the citizens of Gotham fearing for their safety. Known for her outlandish costumes and geometric polygon hair, the criminal madwoman made a daring escape from Arkham Asylum last week and has been taunting authorities by interrupting television broadcasts ever since. “If you ever want to see Commissioner Gordon again, you’ll do exactly as I say,” Lady Gaga said from her secret lair, adjusting her angular yellow Tyvek and spandex dress as henchmen danced menacingly around the bound commissioner. While the kidnapping occurred at stately Wayne Manor, home of playboy jet-setter Bruce Wayne, the eccentric billionaire was not available for comment.