Bud Selig, Twit

budselig2.jpgHonestly, I think MLB’s revised Twitter policy has been blown way out of proportion. I believe this so strenuously I’ve been trying to browbeat any writer who reported the story to change their tune. I even offered a free group interview with MLB Network star Mitch Williams, but no one has taken the bait yet.

The new policy is basically this: MLB.com beat writers can only tweet about baseball. They can only use 127 characters instead of 140, because all their tweets have to end with #sexybudselig. At least until I overtake Justin Bieber as a trending topic, or figure out who Justin Bieber is.

The reason for this policy is quite simple: I don’t want our beat writers using up precious MLBAM resources on non-baseball-related tweets. Especially after our staff went through the enormous trouble of setting up Twitter accounts for all these people. That takes over 17 hours per account! At least that’s the time I was billed for by our freelance IT staff. Why, that’s almost as long as they tell me it takes to perform a Google search!

Penalties for violation of this policy will be firm but fair. Any beat writer who tweets about a sandwich, salad, or any other food item will be suspended for three games. Because neither I nor anyone else could possible give less of a shit about your lunch.

Anyone who tweets about the latest Lost episode will be suspended for 50 games, because I’m Tivo’ing the whole season so I can watch it in one long chunk one it’s over. Don’t think I won’t do it, either. I came down on Manny Ramirez like a ton of bricks when he tweeted about the season finale of Grey’s Anatomy.

However, I will show leniency to any beat writer who can help me do a podcast. Does anyone know how to set that up? Because I think the world is finally ready to hear my thoughts on Battlestar Galactica.

May All Your Borders Be Porous

The current anti-immigration nonsense in Arizona would be funny if it wasn’t so terrible. A state comprised of territory swiped from Mexico in one of America’s most egregious instances of imperialism, and which has a Spanish name, has now enabled law enforcement officials to demand extraordinary documentation from anyone they suspect might be “illegal”. That takes some chrome-plated balls, or some extreme ignorance of history.

irishcartoon.jpgOf course, the rationale behind these anti-immigrant measures is along the lines of, “This time is special. These people are taking over. They don’t want to speak the language or be a part of our culture. They’re not like the people who used to come here.” It is the exact same rationale that’s been trotted out by every anti-immigrant faction against every single group that’s ever come to these shores. It wasn’t true when the anti-Irish Know Nothing Party spewed this nonsense in the early 1800s, and it isn’t true now.

People who think immigrants want to come here just to loaf around, collect welfare, and live high on the hog have no idea what it means to immigrate, to leave the place where they were born and start a new life in a strange land. I think about my grandfather, who left Ireland, his wife, and his two children behind to move to New York all by himself, because he could only afford to come here alone. He worked for two full years until he could send for his family and begin to build a life.

Can you even imagine doing that, for one second? And no, moving from one state to another is not even close to the same thing. People who are lazy and looking for a fast buck don’t immigrate, because such people have neither the motivation nor the fortitude to survive such a move.

My grandfather’s experience happened almost 60 years ago, but I feel like this is still a fairly typical immigrant experience. And my grandfather had the advantage of speaking English (of a kind, anyway) and belonging to an ethnic group that was already assimilated. I can’t imagine what it’s like for someone who doesn’t speak the language, and who can’t help but look “foreign” to most Americans.

We should want people to come to this country from other lands for the same reason we’ve always wanted new arrivals. Because an immigrant is someone who woke up one day, looked at the messed-up world around him/her, and said, “I’ve had enough of this shit.”

They may have felt this way because they weren’t free to say and do as they pleased. Or maybe their homeland offered them no opportunity to rise above the station to which they were born. Regardless of the reason, while everyone else around them said, “I guess this isn’t so bad, I don’t mind living in abject poverty, and the secret police are using softer jackboots these days”, immigrants said, “Fuck this, I’m out.” We should want the kind of people who want better for themselves.

italiancartoon.jpgCountries like France and England agonize over who can truly be English/French. America should be above that. The great thing about being American is it is an evolving thing. Anyone can potentially come here and consider themselves (and be considered) American. A hundred years ago, the idea that an Italian could be an American was ridiculous to many people (as this horrible cartoon should display). Now, every single person in this country eats pasta at least once a week, and there’s few cheap meals that are more American than a slice of pizza. So why are so many people bent out of shape about Mexicans coming here? We already know their food is amazing! 

This obsession with exclusion and purity is both racist and shortsighted. Everything good about our country, everything the world loves about us, comes from the mixture of different cultures. Just think of all the music that was born in America, and how none of it would be possible in a homogenous society. Even the best music from other countries is a result of people in those countries trying to imitate American music they liked. Mick Jagger and Keith Richards trying to sound like Howlin’ Wolf = The Rolling Stones.

It reminds me of a joke I heard years ago (apologies to the comedian whose name I can’t recall). He said races should be forced to mix, for the good of humankind. Because if you get two ugly white people together, you get an ugly white baby. You get two ugly black people together, you get an ugly black baby. You get an ugly white person and an ugly black person together, you get Halle Berry.

It’s chilling that there is a state in the union where police officers now literally ask to see people’s papers, a la Nazi Germany. And of course, despite assurances that there would be no racial profiling under this new law, there were egregious examples of it within hours of its passage, like an American-born truck driver who was slapped in handcuffs because he couldn’t produce a birth certificate.

And yet, I don’t fear for the future. Maybe I’m naive, I but I feel like laws such as this are so antithetical to what America is that they are doomed to fail. Maybe it’ll be in a few months, when someone challenges the law and it’s struck down for being unconstitutional. Maybe it’ll have to wait a few years, when there’s not a racist monster in the governor’s mansion. But it will happen.

I look forward to that day, and to the day when the descendants of Mexican immigrants are seen as just as American as everyone else. And we will all band together as one to keep out the influx of extraterrestrial migrant workers from Omicron Persei-8. Cuz they ain’t like you or me–they got three hearts and antennae!

Once Again, My Brain 1, Me 0

I’ve been ramping up my Comedy Podcast Listenership lately, and one show I’ve been digging a lot is Comedy and Everything Else. Hosts Jimmy Dore and Stefane Zamorano interview funny people at length (often as long as two hours) about, well, comedy and everything else. I got turned on to it thanks to a two-part episode where they grill Paul F. Tompkins and Tom Scharpling. The total running time clocked in at close to four hours, and yet it still left me wanting more. I highly recommend checking it out, unless you hate hilarity.

So like everything else I discover, I’m trying to burn myself out on it as soon as possible by listening to as many episodes in as short a time as I can. Last week, I was listening to an installment with guest Jen Kirkman, and the conversation turned to the heady subject of 9-11 conspiracy theories. It then drifted briefly into the somewhat related territory of Pearl Harbor conspiracy theories. (If you’re not familiar with them, long story short: some folks believe FDR knew the attack on Pearl Harbor would happen, but allowed it to occur because it would pull America into the war as an victim rather than an aggressor and pull the country out of the Depression.)

cinc.jpgAs this was discussed, my mind traveled, as it often does, to a terrible show I used to watch as a kid. In this case, Charles in Charge. Because I have a very vivid memory of seeing an episode of this show in which Pearl Harbor conspiracy theories are discussed in a class Charles is teaching. The reason I remembered this is because it was effing Charles in Charge, which had as much business broaching such a subject as Kim Kardashian does discussing the Goldman Sachs scandal.

Why did I see this show in the first place? Because it used to be on WPIX. If any show was run or rerun on WPIX or WNEW from roughly 1987 to 1994, I watched it. It didn’t matter if it was terrible. It was on. That’s why I have seen the entire series run of Charles in Charge. And Benson. And Good Times. And Small Wonder. And 21 Jump Street and What’s Happening and The Brady Bunch and a dozen other shows. And I haven’t even mentioned any of the hideous cartoons I slavishly watched as a kid.

So I asked online friends (via Facebook) if they remembered this. No one did, with several folks implying that I may have just imagined this. NO, NO, I insisted, THIS IS A THING THAT HAPPENED AND I CAN PROVE IT.

Luckily for me, the entire run of Charles in Charge is available via Netflix Instant. So I scanned episode descriptions on Wikipedia and found one that seemed to fit the bill: “Teacher’s Pest”, from the show’s fifth and final season.

Netflix Instant (mostly) validated my memory. I originally thought Charles was teaching a high school class, but the episode in question had him substitute teaching a college history class (because colleges totally have substitute teachers). He convinces Mr. Powell, grandfather of the kids he watches and a World War II vet, to take his class for some reason. Of course, Grampa’s new preoccupation with college life makes him “neglect” the grandkids, who are supposed to be teenagers and yet resent not being able to hang out with their elderly grandfather. So they beg Charles to fix this mess (despite the fact that they’re all pushing 30 years old by this point in the series).

But the bigger issue is the class’s textbook, which insists (in a way no textbook would) that FDR knew all about Pearl Harbor and let it happen. Mr. Powell is bothered by this assertion, and writes his paper for the class insisting otherwise. Charles–who seems neutral on the issue–asks that he rewrite the paper to reflect the textbook; otherwise, he has to give him a failing grade. Mr. Powell refuses to do so, as it would violate his principles.

The episode ends with Charles telling his class that the guy who wrote the book “needed glasses”, and that it should have stuck to facts rather than “crackpot theories”. Mr. Powell returns in full naval uniform to school the students on what really happened in World War II. Then Buddy Lembeck does something stupid. And, scene.

So I was more or less right, and briefly felt vindicated. But then I realized I was more or less right about a terrible syndicated TV show in which arch-conservative/reputed arsonist Scott Baio acted out some grudge against egghead professors. I don’t think I can call this a victory any more than the nerds on Deadliest Warrior can can declare real victory over anything, except getting laid.

It reminds me of an old Foghorn Leghorn cartoon, where the old maid hen can’t get Foghorn to give her the time of day. So the nameless dog who hates him offers to help the hen by dressing up as a rooster vying for her affection. Driven to jealousy, Foghorn bests his imaginary rival. The cartoon ends with Foghorn and the hen getting married, after which Foghorn leaps triumphantly in the air screaming, “I won! I won!”

Then he stops, rubs his chin and wonders, “There musta been some way I coulda lost…”