It is true that the attendees of the 2011 International Consumer Electronics Show would often display curiosity, happiness, irritation, frustration, flirtatiousness, thoughtfulness, disdain, or disgust, but those were affectations. They were simply overwhelmed, and how could they not have been? Either they were there to meet people — and there were too many to count, or they were there to see the tech products — and there were too many to count.

Welcome to the ZAGG booth! Can I... slightly confuse you?

CES is, in all ways, a sensory invasion. Visiting CES is a little like dropping by the Smithsonian Institution in that it is far too vast for a person to see all in a day. I spent most of my time in the Central Hall, which held most of the larger, more elaborate booths and bigger name exhibitors. Although I was a working stiff for ZAGG Inc. at the show, my responsibilities were such that I was able to look around and take in some of the other areas. Even so, CES is large enough that I still saw just a modest fraction of the show.

There is no dress code at CES, which is very fortunate for some people, and creates an unusual situation where businesspeople in expensive suits rub shoulders with television producers in wrinkled khaki, and shove past hipsters with ironic t-shirts and women in impossibly short skirts. My CES dress consisted of company golf shirts and slacks, which was not uncommon, although by far I saw more people in what could be termed “trade show business casual.” It was the same for men and women: slacks, loafers, a button up shirt, a sports coat, no tie for the men, no heeled shoes for the women, and both carrying a sensible bag. Black was the shade of choice. Women might substitute a t-shirt for the button up, and men might substitute expensive jeans for the slacks, but if there were 400,000 visitors to CES, at least 50,000 of them were dressed like they shopped out of the same catalog.

The always-dangerous Circus Circus, home of $1.99 dysentery

It is appropriate to always hold CES in Las Vegas, Nevada, which is a city built around careful planning and middling execution — an apt description of every CES experience. It is not that the exhibitors at CES are looking to create a mediocre experience for their visitors (just as the city planners and casino builders are not looking to do the same), but any understanding of the nuances, any deeper look, any investigation at all reveals an unsteady organization with disinterested custodians. The gadgets are amazing, the lights are dazzling, but behind it all is a group of people just looking to get by.

There is a strange sociality that exists at CES (and likely at other trade shows, as well, although I do not know) where your status is determined by the color of your entry badge. This color determines your purpose for being there. For example, mine was gray, which meant I was an exhibitor, and the yellow badges were for buyers, and maroon for “industry affiliates,” which was a very broad category that I never quite figured out. The green badges were registered media members, which made them the titled dukes and earls of the show, of course. Purple were tech bloggers, which was a step below the media, but still exciting enough to have in your booth.

The lowest rung on the ladders were the exhibitors, which seemed unusual for a show dedicated to exhibiting technology, but we were the undesirables of CES. Nobody wanted to pitch products or give away their promotional material and corporate literature to another worker drone like themselves. I asked a particular exhibitor for one of her cloth bags, which she was handing out to literally everyone who walked past, and she took one look at my gray tag and tried to disintegrate me with her laser eyes. She didn’t say anything, and she did give me a bag, but slowly, like a gunfighter edging toward a Colt Peacemaker. It must have been the most reluctant bag she gave out all day, because otherwise, that particular person has a near-superhuman repertoire of glares and disdainful glances, and could teach classes on the subject.

The three main attractions of CES: Cameras, Reporters, and Restrooms

Attending CES sounds like it will be entertaining; it is the largest consumer electronics show in the world, and many major tech companies reserve that time for their most dazzling developments. I heard it described as Disneyland for nerds and geeks, and that is apt. But it also suffers from a severe lack of fun, because the vast majority of the attendees are not there on an actual vacation. This is a reasonable misunderstanding. After all, you are in a popular vacation destination, there are a lot of amazing things to see, you can find bright lights, loud music, and shockingly overpriced food. There are whispers of celebrities walking around: 50 Cent and Britney Spears were rumored; Lady Gaga walked right past a friend; I personally saw Bill Walton, Crystal Bowersox, and Rick Fox.

But the big difference is that nearly all of the people there are working. It would be like Disneyland for nerds and geeks if, when you walked through the gates of Disneyland, they gave you a plunger and a wrench and sent you to fix the toilets. Everybody spends the entire show on their feet, talking to people, pumping out information, and with the low-level headache that comes from not eating or using the bathroom for unnaturally long stretches. By the end of the day everyone is glowering at each other like malcontents at an armistice, and the only people who are still happy at that point are paid to be so.

Hey there! We know a TON about car audio!

As for the people who are paid to be happy, the discussion is not limited to just the hired models – the so-called “booth babes,” who are, for the most part, professional spokesmodels and do their jobs well. But also to the smiling media talent, the PR people, and the enthusiastic sales managers, almost all of whom I had direct contact with during my CES experience. However, I did not speak to a single model, as far as I know, mostly because I found them strangely intimidating. A good spokesmodel can help promote products and speak with interested parties, but the plain truth is they exist at the show to draw attention to a product or space entirely because of a singular, primal male impulse (and, when applicable, a female impulse — hey, I don’t judge). It is an old, time-tested trick: savvy salespeople have been using sex appeal for millennia.

ZAGG, the company I work for, decided not to hire models, preferring to let our products (and strikingly handsome young salesmen) tell the story. However, the space next to us had a few booth babes in tight white shirts and tight short skirts positioned on the corners of their space trying to funnel people inside. I avoided them any time I walked past. I like to think it was because of my deep respect for women and their often confusing gender roles, but I suspect it was because I did not want to be the next idiot guy, slobbering over the pretty girls.

However, as is often the case in the complex tech universe, it is the inanimate objects that dazzle at the center. At CES, it seemed to be a toss-up between the actual booths and the technology they were showcasing.

The Central Hall of CES was the primary showcase for the most memorable booths. Every part of the room was tall with massive walls and built-out displays that featured choreographed dancing televisions, performance artists, Cirque du Soleil-esque shows, and interviews with sometimes confusing special guests (like the previously mentioned Rick Fox). Many booths could be measured in multiples of acres and had multiple levels, with meeting rooms or storage areas tucked away above the main floor. Although the booths in the Central Hall were spaced further apart than in the other halls, they were almost all so expansive that there was no visual break in the landscape.

Before CES, Rick Fox thought "tech" was one free throw plus possession.

The other halls had long rows of smaller displays from smaller companies. A few of these were well-designed and staffed with energetic sales people, and many of the others were grim and desolate. The products were often not interesting enough to generate foot traffic on their own, so the staff sat behind their displays, bored and scowling. I stopped to check out a company that was promoting a direct rip-off of our flagship brand; they even borrowed heavily from our descriptive copy, which I can claim with confidence because I wrote most of it. I asked a disinterested rep in a lawn chair — the only person in the small, dark space — if I could take one of their brochures. He did not even glance in my direction and his answer was an irritated grunt that I presumed meant “yes.” Clearly I was disturbing his silent glaring with my question. Why didn’t I just take the brochure and leave him to focus on the frazzled, overworked booth babe across the aisle?

By contrast the major booths operated like luxury car dealerships. Everything was presented in a tasteful and understated fashion. You were allowed to walk around and absorb their displays at your own initiative, with the personnel just checking in now and again to make sure you were doing okay. No prices were on display, as nothing was really for sale. The products did enough on their own that disinterest and pushiness were never problems. Even the models, for the occasional major booth that used them, were dressed in a difficult-to-describe combination of provocative and classy (provoca-lassy?). Everything was designed and presented with careful thought and consideration. To see that full spectrum of booths and personnel, separated sometimes by just feet, was the essence of the CES experience.

Me meeting the amazing Brittney from MRT

But the gadgets were the true story and the reason anyone spent time walking around such a large and unwieldy show. Brittney and Foster of My Reality Tech have already written several fantastic posts about the gadgets, and done a much better job than I could have, so I won’t even venture into those waters. I will just add that the number and variety of gadgets I saw in my short time at CES was overwhelming, as mentioned way back at the start of this.

With so much to see packed together so closely, I have to confess that not much stood out as I consider it. There were several engaging tablet computers, which seemed to be a major thrust for a few big-time companies (enough so that more than one talking head has called 2011: “The Year of the Tablet”). The 3D televisions were an intriguing emerging technology, but I found it in at least five different booths, and I could not now determine which was executed the best. Besides, am I to assume that five years from now everyone will be watching 3D television? I hope not: I had laser eye surgery barely a year ago, and I am not interested in going back to glasses for all of my future television viewing. Although in fairness, I may be missing the point with that argument.

One item did make a genuine impact for me, though, and aside from my home booth, is the clearest memory of CES I still have. It was a very small booth in the main hallway, bright orange under minimal overhead lights, facing away from the main promenade, and staffed by strapping young men in tight shirts. They were handing out free samples of “Reese’s Minis,” a bite-sized version of their peanut butter cups.

CES: the place to go for amazing candy

I am not sure whether the novelty appealed to me or if this is just a massive personal red flag, but I can remember nearly every detail of the Reese’s booth. I think it’s explainable: there was such a massive volume of technology to mentally sort through that a unique experience in the form of a delicious chocolate-and-peanut-butter nugget stands out.

Does that mean I am not excited for the new tablets, cameras, televisions and games? Of course not. But I have been to five different stores in search of Reese’s Minis and not once have I looked into pre-ordering the Motorola Xoom or the BlackBerry PlayBook. Either I was overwhelmed by technology, like everyone else, or I am just a candy junkie. I should probably plead the fifth.

Via: My Reality Tech

Nothing says "vacation" more than a five foot tall mouse in a tropical shirt.

I have wondered before about my source for this compulsion to categorize, hoping, again, that it is not a rare problem. Is it our (my?) attempt to bring some sort of order to the chaos of impulses that assault us from every direction? I doubt my grandfather (and his generation) spent much time wondering which person to put at the top of his “celebrity girlfriend” list, or which was his favorite sports team of any league at the moment. Maybe he did, but I doubt it. It could be a question of spare hours and idle minds, but I don’t consider myself a lazy person with an overabundance of time. I am certain I would be by my grandfather’s standards, though, so perhaps that explains it.

If anyone cared to know which are my favorite movies, actresses, actors, songs, bands, snacks, vacation destinations, cars, cities, animals, video games, television shows, and brands of milk, I could tell them. I have already considered it. Furthermore, within most of those lists are further lists, like the movie category: action, rom-com, drama, and so on. I can pontificate about any of my personal likes and dislikes (I have lists for those, too) ad nauseam. I swear, it is much more reflexive than deliberate. I try hard to keep these to myself, for the most part. Or, at least I think I do. I’m sure the poor Wandering Moose has heard about them more than she cares, though.

Anyway, when Amy and were mulling over a blog update about our 2009 trip to Walt Disney World, I invariably thought about some sort of quick list. After further consideration (more than was necessary, in all likelihood), I decided to just write down the first ten things that came to mind, and leave them in that order. Then I could go through and dash off a couple of paragraphs explaining why each point came to mind as representative of the trip. That sounded great in March of 2009, and was probably a good idea, but here it is May (almost June) 2010, and this is just now being posted. Why bother at this point? I am not sure, except that I enjoy reminiscing, which is almost certainly a function of the whole list-making thing.

So, that is what we have here. My first ten memories of our 2009 Walt Disney World Extravaganza complete with an overlong collection of nonsense that is probably interesting to just me — being posted over a year since it happened. Happy reading.

Disney’s Polynesian Resort: I do not have a great deal of experience staying in hotels, although I have managed to find myself in some very nice places – almost always through the generosity of others (my parents chief among them). The Polynesian qualifies as a “Deluxe Resort” at Walt Disney World, and was one of the original two on-site hotels. The theme of the Polynesian is (surprise!) the South Seas, and the hotel rooms are located in a number of longhouses scattered throughout the property. Each longhouse is named for islands within Polynesia, so we stayed in Aotearoa, which is a Maori name for New Zealand. A main central building called the Great Ceremonial House has the front desk, restaurants, and shops.

The beach; we could get used to this ridiculous luxury.

The Polynesian sprawls on the south shores of the Seven Seas Lagoon, a man-made lake, around which are two other posh hotels and the Magic Kingdom. A convenient monorail runs around the lake, connecting all three hotels and the theme park, as well as a transportation hub. Because Disney World is so mind-bogglingly large, it was a major plus to take a brief, entertaining ride from our hotel lobby to the front gates of the Magic Kingdom.

My enjoyment of the Polynesian was comprehensive: I loved every moment of my time there. The rooms were spacious and comfortable, the scenery and the view were memorable, and the shops were filled with tempting merchandise. I suppose I was not overly impressed with the food at their quick service snack bar called Captain Cook’s Snack Company, but the convenience was nice. We did get a chance to eat at both the ’Ohana and Kona Café restaurants, though, and they were great.

Disney’s Polynesian Resort took over the number one spot on my list of favorite places to stay at Walt Disney World during this trip, although considering there was only one other resort on the list that may not be saying much. In fairness, though, I did very much enjoy Disney’s Coronado Springs Resort (and the awesome Pepper Market snack bar) when we stayed there a few years ago. A more significant rank for me would be the high number (#2, in fact) I assigned the Polynesian on my all-time favorite hotel list. I have not experienced an impressive number of hotels or resorts, as mentioned before, but enough to know when I am somewhere special.

The Disney Wonder: As if five amazing days at Walt Disney World were not enough, our 2009 Disney Extravaganza also marked the first ever cruise for Amy and me. We took a four day break in the middle of all the fun, boarded a nautical-themed bus headed for Port Canaveral, and experienced a Disney Cruise. Our ship was the Disney Wonder, and we were headed to the Bahamas.

The Disney Wonder, from the back.

I had heard from anyone who had taken a cruise before how much I was going to love it. I was given vivid and excited descriptions about the food, the time to relax, the interesting ports-of-call, the shipboard activities, and then more about the food. We were advised to take elastic-waist pants. We boarded the ship with a great deal of anticipation, and headed directly to our first buffet – well before leaving the dock.

In retrospect, we should have found it miserable: both Amy and I had head colds, she experienced some sea sickness in spite of trans-dermal patches, and we were interrupting fun at Walt Disney World. However, the opposite was true – we loved the cruise. Our cabin was spacious (for a cruise ship) and we had our own private balcony where we sat at night to take in the moon and the ocean breeze. The food exceeded our expectations, both in volume and quality. The restaurants were fantastic and the service was impeccable. If any detail was overlooked, it did not disturb my sublime experience.

[Side note: Should I ever be asked whether I have sat on a cruise ship balcony watching the moon at three in the morning clad only in the night air, I would not be able to honestly answer “no.” Amy was soundly asleep and did not witness my ridiculous behavior.]

Those who reported late had to sail out on the haunted ship.

We left with sad and tired faces (it was six-thirty in the morning), already looking forward to our next cruise, and hoping we can make it happen before too long.

Castaway Cay: I like weather best when it is mild and cool. I would much rather have temperatures in the 55 to 65 degrees Fahrenheit range than 95 to 105 degrees. Some of that has to do with my copious “natural” insulation that is equal parts nachos, soft drinks, fast food, the afore-mentioned Skittles, and more-than-average body hair. The whole “Lumbering Bear” thing is rather literal in my case.

Because of that, I have never been much of an enthusiast for the idea of traveling to tropical locations, whether in legitimate plans or simple daydreams. I understood the appeal, but would much rather go into the mountains for my escapes. I mention this because the few scant hours I spent on Castaway Cay completed such a jarring paradigm shift within me that I spent the next hour or two after boarding the ship in contemplative silence. Amy was convinced I was mad at her, in spite of my protestations.

So now, thanks to the influence of Castaway Cay and Nassau (read below), I have developed a quiet-but-intense fixation on the Caribbean in general and the Bahamas in particular. I am still not sure what to make of it. I cannot put my finger on what caused this philosophical shift, because I am not convinced it was the travel guide stuff: the weather, the water, the colors, the people, and the tropical breezes. Those were all nice, of course, but also what I expected, and so I don’t believe they would have been sufficient to cause my change of heart.

Beach bums: Mom, Dad, and Grandma soaking in the tropical breezes.

This is the first time I am putting words to these altering, new thoughts, so none of this may hold up to further scrutiny. However, I am convinced there are deep and abstract reasons for my awe-inspiring experience: The thrill of exploring new corners of the world, the appeal of quiet isolation (particularly on Castaway Cay, where I imagined myself working for a season as a maintenance worker, and that fantasy was very nearly as agreeable as the vacation itself), the stimulating sense of being a bit out of place, the mental exercise of deciphering foreign environments, and the desire to fit in where you are uncertain in your surroundings.

This is all probably trying to dive too deep into what amounted to a few hours of time spent, in total. I am impressionable, anyway, and it is not unusual for me to become caught up in new ideas. A little water under the bridge should help me put proper perspective on it. Perhaps I should take three months to think things over.

Nassau, Bahamas: So, I have now returned to writing this lengthy diatribe after a three-month break, and am satisfied to announce that my abiding interest has not faded, although the memories have become less vivid. I am also determined to finish this so I can post it sometime before the one-year anniversary of the vacation. Three months ago I would have laughed at such a concern. Now, I am still laughing, but it is more like a nervous chuckle. [NOTE: Considering that I am posting this well-after the one-year anniversary, I have skipped the chuckle and am now just shaking my head sadly. Follow-through is clearly the key here.]

We didn't stay at the Atlantis Resort, but it seemed okay. You know, for a non-Disney property.

Most of what I have written about Castaway Cay could be repeated here for the couple of hours we were in Nassau. In my mind the two have become inextricably – if incorrectly – linked. We walked around a few blocks of the tourist district with my brother and sister-in-law, poked our heads in a few shops, and engaged in a bit of people watching. I considered more than once that the Bahamas were a favorite haunt of James Bond, which did nothing to diminish the locale for me.

Without question, the scant glimpse of the social engineering project that describes any tourist area did not give me an understanding of the culture of Nassau or the people of the Bahamas. I saw two streets, perhaps thirty buildings, half-dozen shops, maybe fifty cars, and around one hundred people. It could not be called a representative cross-section, not when every person and place was directly involved with the tourist industry.

However, Nassau is where my perplexing philosophical shift (from above) began, and it was not because of the tourist traps. It feels inadequate to accredit it to the “feeling” I had there, or the “rhythm” of the place, or the “vibe;” in particular when we saw so little, and none of it legitimate. I suppose, after several months of consideration, I am still stuck with the deep and abstract reasons. In short, I remain mystified; although pleasantly so. If only all of our concerns could be so entertaining to contemplate.

The Cold Morning: Mild weather is one of the benefits of a February vacation to central Florida. Winter is the time to go, according to all accounts: pleasant days, cool nights, and you avoid the oppressive heat and humidity of the summer months. Tropical latitudes sound very appealing when shoveling snow or scraping car windshields in the icebox of Salt Lake City winters.

Cold? It's central Florida -- I don't even need my coat.

I planned for highs in the 70s and lows in the 50s when packing. I wore a coat to the airport – being winter, and knowing I would need it when we got back – but did not bring so much as a long-sleeved shirt. One might suggest that was out of character for an Eagle Scout, but I was going to a place with palm trees, and I was determined to dress like it.

We arrived in Orlando in the afternoon to reports of an unusual cold snap in the area, which would have been worthy of note had I given them any credence. I chuckled at the sight of native Orlandoans in the airport bundled up against the cold: they had no idea what an actual winter was like. I made a point of ignoring the brisk wind that rushed into the shuttle waiting area whenever the doors would open, refusing to put on my coat. The goose pimples on my bare forearms were no doubt from the excitement of starting our vacation.

I carried that same condescending attitude through the rest of the night and into the next morning. Even as I stood waiting to board a monorail to the Magic Kingdom – shivering in my short sleeves – I kept telling anyone who would listen that it would warm up as the sun rose higher in the sky. The fact that I was nursing a tremendous head cold did not help, but I like to think I was justified in my stubbornness. I was in sunny Orlando, Florida! I should not need to wear my coat to start my tropical vacation!

Being cold and sick at the same time is a great humbling force, however. I lasted as far as the Emporium (which is pidgin Disneyspeak for “not very far”) before I dragged Amy inside to help me pick out a new sweatshirt. Then I spent the next few hours babbling about how much better I felt being warm. Honestly, sometimes I wonder why that good woman bothers putting up with me. Warm weather returned by the following afternoon.

I found out a few days later that the cold weather was so profound it was the leading story on every local news station that day. That fact helped me feel better about things: it had taken an historic cold spell to force a jacket over my shoulders.

Welcome aboard, Stitch: Returning to the subject of lists, it almost goes without saying that I have several for ranking my favorite Disney subjects. I have been considering Disney lists for as long as I have considered any lists, and while I do not have total clarity in all of them, I am certain about some: My favorite medium for Disney stories is comic books, my favorite of the lately-omnipresent Disney Princesses is Belle from “Beauty and the Beast” (she’s smart, she loves to read, and she has a thing for big, hairy guys), and my all-time, number one, very favorite Disney character from any source is Scrooge McDuck.

Even my birthday presents (like this painting from my brother Jake (a.k.a. Mr. Nutz)) have a Scrooge McDuck theme. Which is totally cool and not weird in any way.

I could wax long about why I am such a fan of Scrooge McDuck, but the point is: Scrooge is my man (duck). When I browse through one of the stores at Disney World or Disneyland with Amy, I am looking for anything to do with Scrooge. I have a framed drawing of Scrooge on the wall in my office at work. In fact, Amy used eBay and the online Disney Store to give me a complete Scrooge Birthday this past year, which included a dazzling array of collectibles and curios. I loved every single piece of it.

I mention this because I discovered a surprising interest in the character Stitch, from the movie “Lilo and Stitch.” I found myself amused, entertained, and charmed by the little, mischievous, blue alien after watching the movie late at night in our stateroom aboard the Disney Wonder. I even added him to my short list at once, without any standard waiting period or deliberation.

The funny part, to me, is that I have known about Stitch since the movie came out. I have seen the film before, and I remember enjoying it. Stitch is everywhere in the Disney park stores, as well; he is one of the most popular merchandised characters. Stitch is also one of the favorite characters of my younger brother, who is the most outward, heart-on-his-sleeve Disney fan I know. So it’s not as if I “discovered” something new.

Stitch explaining a few things to some of Donald's relatives.

I can’t explain the sudden interest in Stitch, but I am happy to add him to my list. This was clearly a trip of self-discovery for me, and I will remember it as life altering, even if it only manifest in fun and unusual ways. And while none of this is important or significant at all, it was a fun sort of epiphany that became a memorable detail of the trip for me.

Mickey’s Philharmagic on the last day: It is at this point where I remember the very simple reason why it took me 15 months to post this on the Deep Forest Outpost: I never finished writing it. The last four of ten favorites were left with nothing but a title, and of course my memories have lost much of their vibrancy. All the same, I have decided press on and finish this post. I am nurturing an interest in working on old projects right now.

You would be mad too if you never got to wear any pants.

Mickey’s Philharmagic is the name of an attraction in the Magic Kingdom, which for the time being, can only be found there. The same attraction is also under construction somewhere in the Disneyland Resort; good news for me because it is one of my favorites at Walt Disney World. At Mickey’s Philharmagic you sit in an auditorium watching a 3D Donald Duck undertake an accidental adventure through some of the iconic music and scenes from Disney’s animated movies. Mickey himself makes a few appearances, along with the characters in the various scenes like Jasmine, Aladdin, Simba and Ariel. Even though Mickey is the glamor boy with the reputation and his name on the building, it is the under-appreciated Donald who puts on his work boots and carries the film (a scenario repeated in many of the classic Disney cartoons).

Riding The Tower of Terror with Lexie: Lexie Nelson, a person of unusual size and strength, with a bold nature and outgoing personality, who likes everyone she has ever met, who faces challenges with wild abandon, who seizes the day and makes it her own, and who bears the same indomitable spirit of her mother and calm intelligence of her father, was nonetheless apprehensive about going on the Tower of Terror. Some of her reluctance may have come from the unknown elements and the frightening name; but much of it had to do with the fact that she was only three-and-a-half years old at the time.

There was a lot of supplemental conversation about Lexie riding the Tower of Terror between grandparents and aunts and uncles. Second hand judgments were handed out, like: “just because she is tall enough to ride it does not mean she is old enough (or sometimes “mature enough”) to ride it.” In the end, of course, it was the decision of Lexie and her mom and dad that counted, and they were kind enough to invite us to come along. That was how we found ourselves in line at Disney’s Hollywood Studios for Lexie’s very first Tower of Terror experience.

The Unsinkable Lexie Nelson

Besides, Lexie did just fine on the ride. She put on a brave face throughout the entire queue and was a little rattled afterward, but she made it through like the adventurous soul she is. Me, on the other hand; I needed a few moments to cry on Amy’s shoulder before I was okay.

Walking around the World Showcase: I used to think this was the no-brainer choice as the best thing to do at Walt Disney World. You can walk around the world in a day, sampling the culture through food, appreciating the very faithful construction and “themeing,” shopping for authentic products in the pavilions, and meeting the staff that come from the respective countries. It is the international travel sampler platter. Better yet, it is Travel Channel-style international travel, where you get to see and do some of the travel without actually undertaking the inconvenience, hassle, and occasional danger of real travel. Nobody is mistaking the Morocco Pavilion for actual Morocco, but at the World Showcase you can dine on lamb and couscous, buy a fez, and still make it to Germany in time for Happy Hour.

Nothing beautiful or of interest here, move along.

Imagine my surprise, then, when I find out that the World Showcase has plenty of detractors, as well. The very reason why it is appealing to me makes it appalling to others. There is no real local flavor, they say, and the difficulties (and even danger) of real travel only adds flavor to the experiences. The “culture” of Disney World is dull, flat, and bland, in their opinion. One of my friends — the primary source of this opinion, in fact — said he believed that far from being the best experience the resort had to offer, it was probably the worst. He was very belligerent in his opinions, although in fairness, if you know this friend, he is belligerent about everything.

I cannot share his opinion. I even tried, just as an experiment, to scowl at the Cast Members and dismiss the decor as cheesy and patronizing, but I could not do it for long. The patented Disney Magic is just too potent for me. There are places and attractions that I do not care for, but I always admire the thought, work, and skill that go into every corner and facet of the parks.

Food: The last item on the list, the food, is a great place to end. My original plan was to outline (and rank; it is a list, after all) the many enjoyable meals we had and describe the quality of the dining in the parks. Now that it has been much longer than I ever intended, my recall is not sufficient to complete this the way I had hoped. I have mentioned a few things along the way, but three food-related points deserve further mention:

1 — The food on the cruise was amazing. We had heard it from everyone, and we believed them, but the execution outweighed even our lofty expectations. I am already looking forward to the food on our next cruise; the destination is almost secondary.

Good food makes people happy. Exhibit A.

2 — The ’Ohana restaurant in the Polynesian was excellent. We had to wait a bafflingly long time to get in and the waiters seemed to be on fumes at the end of a long day, but their service was still first class. The food is served what we call “Brazilian barbecue” style in some parts of Salt Lake City, meaning that a variety of meat is skewered over open flames and brought to your table. Side dishes were brought in bowls for us to try, and the meat parade was fantastic. It was late when we dined, so the food gave me strange dreams, but it was worth it.

3 — A popular counter service spot in the France Pavilion called Boulangerie Patisserie presented to us the most unexpected food highlight of the trip. We had woken up a bit later than we wanted for our only day in Epcot (a quirky trend of any vacation we take), and as a result we skipped breakfast in order to get our schedule back on track. This sounded like a good plan, but the problem — as Amy warned and I eventually realized — was related to the massive scale of the Walt Disney World Resort. By the time we took the monorail to the transportation hub, transferred to the monorail for Epcot, and walked through Future World and around to the World Showcase, our energy levels were in the red and falling fast. We discussed several of the dining options ahead of us, of which there were several good ones. But weary necessity forced us into the Boulangerie Patisserie, which, I admit, would not have been among my first choices.

This photo is apropos nothing. I have just always wanted to ride one of these things.

I ordered a ham and cheese croissant and a soda, and while the very nice French server was asking me whether I wanted the sandwich warmed in the oven, I spotted the creme brulee on the menu. Now, I have a bit of a soft spot for creme brulee (in truth, it could be said that I am basically one big, walking soft spot because of things like creme brulee), so even though I associate the dessert with fancy sit-down dining, I impulsively ordered one and took it outside to the little table where Amy was waiting.

Not only was it a spectacular ham and cheese croissant, hot from the oven, but it was possibly the best creme brulee I have even eaten. My opinion was swayed, no doubt, by my level of hunger and the abundant Disney Magic, but it will remain one of my very favorite food memories. [In a disappointing final note, I recently checked the menus for the Boulangerie Patisserie online, and as of April 2010 they do not list creme brulee. We have no immediate plans to return to Epcot any time soon, but I do not like to think that I could never again repeat that outstanding food moment. I will keep my fingers crossed for the future.]

One final, bonus point: I planned on the food being the end of the list, but I had to mention one last abiding memory of the trip. Disney broadcasts an orientation video over a special channel in every resort property at Walt Disney World, and I decided it was my job to make sure we had it on for almost every single waking moment we were in our hotel room. The following link is from an older version of the video, but anyone who has watched and enjoyed as Stacey prances her way around Disney World will appreciate it. Warning: it will make you wish you were there. A lot. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Se_7yLlRzeM

The Wi-Fi iPad will start at for $499 for the bare bones device with smallest hard drive capacity (16GB). The Wi-Fi + 3G iPad with the largest hard drive (64GB) will run $829. All other combinations will fall somewhere in-between. Apple will begin pre-selling on their website starting March 12 for U.S. customers (sorry international fans), and questions have already been raised about how many devices they will be able to deliver at launch. It could be a critically uncomfortable first few days for the lords of technology in Cupertino, California.

The revised release date is a few days past their original announced target, and some industry observers are speculating that Apple will still need some luck to reach the new goal. However, that did not seem to scare investors, who sent the stock up significantly on the heels of the revision.

The sunny news about Apple’s next major gadget could have only added to the current scrambling from rival manufacturers. The market might see as many as 50 competing products worldwide this year according to ARM, a mobile microprocessor company. Among the major players and devices are the HP Slate (once a rumored name for the iPad), the dual screen Microsoft Courier, and the tentatively-titled Dell Mini 5.

HP is already positioning their Slate against the iPad by advertising the device’s Flash capability, the lack of which has been an early criticism of the Apple device. The iPad OS is also reported to not allow multi-tasking or running multiple programs simultaneously, which makes that a likely competitive target for other manufacturers.

Based on early reports, Apple’s vision for mobile computing seems to be more simplistic from traditional tablets, and it will remain to be seen whether that style can catch on. However, tablet PCs have not been popular in the past, in part because of their clunky operating systems and input methods. It could be that Apple will do for the tablet what the iPhone did for the mobile phone, which was essentially give the entire industry a different perspective to follow and emulate. Given their track record and popularity with the cool crowds, it is probably best to not bet against Apple.

With anticipation beginning to reach critical mass, the iPad seems positioned for either absolute success or absolute failure, without middle ground. If the iPad takes a critical beating and is not overwhelmingly popular with Apple Fanboys/Fangirls (like the underwhelming release of the Apple TV in 2007), it could spell trouble with the shareholders.

(via MyRealityTech)

The popular online encyclopedia has more than 14 million entries in 270 languages. The information pages are written and edited by an estimated 100,000 contributors, all of them unpaid. Wikimedia Foundation does maintain a paid staff of around 30 people, and that cost, along with operational budgets, makes up the majority of their expenses. Most of its funding comes through private donations.

Over 240,000 individuals have donated to Wikipedia this year, most in small sums. Ebay founder Pierre Omidyar contributed an additional $2 million six months ago through an investment arm.

Wikipedia is often criticized for inaccuracies on their information pages, due to the nature of the service. Any reader can enter and edit information on nearly any of the pages, leading to frequent mistakes and intentional defacing. “We face a number of challenges in our service model, but we believe in the free nature of the Internet,” said an unidentified Wikipedia spokesperson. “Besides, Mark Garlick likes boys and bon jovi rules bon jovi rules bon jovi rules.”

Google founder Sergey Brin proclaimed Wikipedia as “one of the greatest triumphs of the Internet.” The philanthropic donation will cost Google nearly 0.0083% of the cash they had available at the end of December 2009.

(via The Associated Press)

For the 2010 game, the estimated cost was $3.01 million per 30 second spot for advertisers.  Tech companies are among the best positioned and least affected by the global recession (although no market is truly recession-proof this time around), so I was anticipating quite a few tech companies to spend money.  The Super Bowl and its unbelievable global stage is a world-class opportunity for large companies to make a splash.  In a related note, it was reported that advertising took up 48 minutes of the Super Bowl broadcast, which was a new record.

With that in mind, here are the tech (or somewhat tech) commercials and some thoughts on them:

The Boostmobile Shuffle — The first real tech commercial of the Super Bowl was a spoof of the original Super Bowl Shuffle, which was performed a quarter of a century ago by the 1985 Chicago Bears.  The Shuffle has not exactly aged well, so I have no idea why Boostmobile thought it had cultural currency with today’s audience, besides some sort of kitsch factor.  While I loved the original Super bowl Shuffle, I was also 9 years old at the time and still eating my boogers.  It is interesting what 25 years of amassed debt will do to a person’s willingness to sell out, although I don’t think that original team had much personal shame to begin with.  This is not a strong beginning for tech ads; I had a hard time not typing the words “utterly horrifying.”

GoDaddy.com — The domain company has been a regular Super Bowl advertiser for the past several years, and has decided to remove all ambiguity in how they choose to sell their product.  Here we see race car driver Danica Patrick getting a massage from an attractive blond woman who is surprised to discover Ms. Patrick on her table, and yet somehow already has a GoDaddy tank top underneath the shirt she tears away.  I rolled my eyes at this doubtful coincidence at the same time Amy/The Wandering Moose, a trained massage therapist, said disdainfully: “She would NOT be massaging in those high heels.”  I think we both missed the point.

Monster.com — So… a violin-playing beaver?  That’s what Monster.com is going with this year?  At the risk of over-analyzing an advertisement about a musical beaver, this spot makes no sense to me.  If you take the literal translation: why would a violinist beaver need to work its way up from passing the hat in the subway to playing on some sort of high-class stage?  I think the sheer novelty of the beaver would make it an immediate success.  If you take the figurative translation: why would anyone relate to a violin-playing beaver?  What is the beaver supposed to represent?  Is he just an ordinary Joe looking to pursue his lifelong dream of being a violinist?  When he ends up in the hot tub limousine with the blond woman at the end of the commercial, has that ever happened to a real violinist?

Cars.com — This ad is a more over-the-top rehash of a Cars.com commercial that debuted at a previous Super Bowl and has been running since.  The protagonist, “Timothy Richmond,” is confident because of his vast breadth of knowledge, even from a young age.  He accomplishes things like putting out fires as an infant and delivering a Bengal tiger cub while on safari.  I thought the original ad was clever and thought provoking, and I did get a cheap smirk out of this version.  I like the message that everyone is nervous when they go car shopping — even the inestimable Timothy Richmond — so there is no shame in doing research.  The commercial does not teach us anything about the website, which is a calculated risk.  Cars.com wants the viewer to be curious enough to visit the website, but by not describing their service, they may not give enough information to generate that curiosity.

careerbuilder.com — I would pick this as my favorite commercial of the Super Bowl, or at least, the one that made me laugh the most.  While this is every bit as absurd as the violin-playing beaver from above, it makes a good point about someone not being suited for a particular office environment, and does so without being confusing.  This ad was surprising, funny, and memorable with a simple message: Casual Friday does not mean the same thing to everyone.

teleflora.com — This commercial plays on the cliché about a rude, arrogant girl who gets some overdue comeuppance.  It is an old (and growing older by the minute) staple of movies, TV shows, books, and, in this case, commercials.  The story is so familiar to us that there is no need to delve into the rude girl’s personality to understand why she is cruel, and we identify at once with her aggrieved colleague.  While it is a good commercial for tugging at the heartstrings/insecurities of the female Super Bowl audience, my question is: when are we going to stop believing in the “mean person gets what is coming to them” story?  Because that never seems to happen in real life.

Intel — Intel has made some very funny recent commercials under their “Our X Isn’t Like Your X” campaign.  Although I enjoyed this story about a robot overhearing someone talking about Intel’s new processors, it did raise a few questions.  If Intel really had that sort of interactive robot running around their office, why would anyone label a new processor as their most amazing technological achievement yet?  Also, how did the robot come to have feelings in the first place?  Why would the programmer give it feelings to be hurt, and possibly exploited?  Hasn’t anyone seen any of the movies where robots cast off their human masters and take over the world?  Lest anyone accuse me of over-thinking a 30-second commercial, let me offer a reminder that it was Intel’s message to begin with, and I am just asking that they think these things through.  (Pause)  Okay, fine.  I am over-thinking it.  But you are all going to wish you had listened when we are bending to the lash of our robot overlords.

FloTV — “Hello friends, we have an injury report on Jason Glassby.  As you can see, his girlfriend has removed his spine, rendering him incapable of watching the game.”  I would find this commercial much funnier if I did not identify with it so well.  In related news, I hope Amy/T.W. Moose does not read this part.

tv.com — This commercial is the definition of a “teaser,” where they give you just enough information to figure out what is going on, but not enough to evaluate it.  My impression is that tv.com is a competitor to Hulu, and a quick visit to both websites reveals this to be the case.  In a strange twist, the Hulu and tv.com websites look so similar that it makes me wonder if they are operated by the same parent company.  It makes sense: both websites can “compete” against each other for a few months until tv.com becomes sufficiently large, then they can join forces to become one mega-website in a highly publicized merger that blows any tertiary competition out of the water.

HomeAway.com — The movie “Vacation” came out in 1983, two years before the Super Bowl Shuffle, so this commercial reaches back even farther in time to try and interest an audience.  Although the point of this ad was to drive viewers to the HomeAway.com website, it did nothing to tell us about their service and painted hotels in a bad light.  A clear miss, in my opinion, even if it did have a good line about the bottle of water being “complementary because it complemented the room.”

KGB — This was an amusing take on an interesting mobile service, although I have seen more interesting commercials from KGB in the recent past.  The setup of “Paul” and “Mike” looking up how to say “I surrender” in Japanese made me roll my eyes a bit.  Wouldn’t they both just run away?  And wouldn’t “Mike” repeat what “Paul” said, even if they did stay in the sumo ring?  But, I tend to be a little too literal when evalutating commercials, in case anyone has not noticed.

eTrade — Wow, so eTrade is rolling out a whole new generation of the weird “talking babies” commercials.  I found this reluctantly amusing, and it had the somewhat funny “milk-o-holic” line, but the gag has a very short half-life for me.  In the spirit of full disclosure, I did enjoy most of the previous eTrade/talking baby commercials (as a quite guilty pleasure), but the entertainment level is running low.  It could be the new baby.

Google — Most companies use humor when they want commercials to be memorable, which is why all of the tech ads so far have been funny.  Making us laugh is an easy way to elicit a response, because it does not have to be perfect to be entertaining.  Creating a meaningful and moving commercial is more difficult because it has to be powerful enough to touch our emotions, and yet not so much that it becomes syrupy.  The payoff can be worth the risk because everyone else is still making funny commercials.  This simple ad from Google describes a vacation in France in which a traveler meets someone, gets to know them, develops a relationship, and ends with marriage and a baby, all described through searches in Google. It is both thought-provoking and interesting; the best “meaningful” commercial I have seen in a while.

Roundup — So, I know this is not a tech commercial, but Roundup paid Super Bowl ad money to tell the world about their weed spray?  Spray that everyone knows about already?  A strange decision, I have to say.  Then again, it caught my attention; and what do I know, anyway?

Vizio — If you are the ad director for Vizio and you have 30 seconds of Super Bowl time to let everyone know that your televisions are now internet capable, how would you go about telling that in a compelling fashion?  It is a difficult concept to visualize and demonstrate, and I think Vizio did a pretty good job of it.  This commercial probably did not attract the interest of many older viewers, but Vizio is clearly going for a younger demographic.  The appearance of the mechanical arms dropping Beyonce, zombies, etc. into the Visio box reminded me of the Motorola Droid commercials, somehow.  It was also further proof of the whole robot revolution thing discussed under the “Intel” entry above.  Consider yourself warned.

Audi — Another non-tech commercial, but I really enjoyed this sharp and funny commentary on a hot button topic.  The “Green Police” summed up a certain attitude that has been gaining popularity in the world as the global community strives to become more environmentally aware.  I have not seen much of the Green Police in my home town because I live in a high mountain valley on the western slopes of the Rocky Mountains, and we still love our pickup trucks and SUVs here.  I am sure the revolution is coming, though; particularly when we get tired of periodically having the worst air quality in the United States.

GoDaddy.com — Has GoDaddy gone too far?  Does anyone really care anymore?  Her GoDaddy contract was a good deal for Danica when she was trading just on her looks and nobody knew who she was.  Now she is a rising star and a legitimate contender as a race car driver, and she is too big of a name to be doing ridiculous commercials like this.  It would be like seeing Dwyane Wade in one of those late-night Enzyte commercials: your friends would never believe you, and you would end up convincing yourself it was a dream.

(via MyRealityTech)

The sad truth, though, is that I have a growing collection of unfinished posts that either outlived their usefulness/timeliness, or in which I lost interest because they were not that interesting to begin with. It surprises me that I do not blog more often, because I am always fascinated by my own observations and I never fail to laugh at my own jokes. I am an ideal audience for myself.

Wahahahahaha! Your jokes are so funny!

I hope this post manages to make it all the way to the internet this time, because I do want to get back to a more regular blog schedule. I spent some time earlier this year writing most of a sizable recap of our family vacation to Walt Disney World, but that took place about nine months ago, and so the statute-of-limitations has probably run out. More recently I have been working on an extensive chronicle of my recent trip to Africa as a representative of ZAGG. While I still plan on posting that soon, in multiple parts, I wanted to get something into the digital ether before it really did go past a year between postings for me.

So I decided to repeat an idea I used about a year and a half ago, and post one of my current music playlists with some notes about each of the songs. I hope to get to the end of this before any of my standard distractions (watching television, working on my book, surfing the internet, gaming, etc.) break in. I do hope it is interesting to someone besides me; but believe me, I already love it.

Just a few technical notes before I get to the songs. My device of choice is an Apple iPhone 3G. I mentioned a year and a half ago that one of my favorite features of the latest mp3 players is the ability to create your own playlists, and that has not changed. I named this playlist “Gonzo List V.1” (I am an idiot about naming things) which I intended to mean there were no boundaries when selecting songs. If I wanted to put something from AC/DC with Mozart with “When You Wish Upon A Star,” I would do it, and never mind the conventions. As it turns out, everything I picked falls more or less under the “Adult Contemporary” genre. Not quite in the spirit of Hunter S. Thompson, in other words.

The songs, in random order courtesy of the iPhone shuffle feature:

What’s Going On – Marvin Gaye I like having this as the first song because I think it has some cultural currency and because the last time I posted a list like this it started with Britney Spears. The tragic story of Marvin Gaye is well known: his 19 top ten singles in the United States, his creative clashes with Berry Gordy of Motown and the groundbreaking success that came from it, his tragic battle with drugs and his more tragic ending at the hands of his father. He was unafraid to use his music as social commentary, performed the second coolest version of “The Star-Spangled Banner” since the War of 1812, and is remembered as a pioneer of music and an icon to performers and audiences around the world.

With that in mind, I am touched by the pleas for harmony and erasing violence in this song, but I always think the deeper meanings are out of reach for me because (a) I do not have personal experiences of the 1960s and (b) I am not black. Is it acceptable for a white guy in conservative Utah to hear Marvin singing “brother, brother,” and think maybe, in the world as it is in 2009, I can feel a connection to the message? Probably not, but again, this song is much too cool for me.

On a final note, I enjoy that such a meaningful song begins with what sounds like friends greeting each other at some sort of event. This, as much as anything, convinces me that the real message of the song is escaping me somehow. I always listen for one of the voices to say “Ssssolid!” just before the saxophone starts in.

I Can’t Get Enough Of Your Love – Barry White True story: Barry White, deep-voiced recording star, five-time Grammy Award winner, and one of the smoothest men to ever grace the earth, grew up in the tough streets of South Central LA and served four months of prison when he was 17 years old for stealing car parts. While in prison, Barry heard the Elvis Presley song “It’s Now or Never,” had an epiphany, and upon his release left the criminal life behind and began a career as a recording artist.

Are there any ladies in the audience tonight?

There are many questions left unanswered in this remarkable story and by the untimely passing of Barry White. Was it the message of the song or Elvis himself that encouraged the change? If it was Elvis, did The King inspire the young felon, or did Barry just think he could do better? Also, did Barry bring any of his gang friends with him to the Love Unlimited Orchestra?. However, what is clear about the man once un-affectionately called “The Walrus of Love” is that he never, ever tired of singing about making love to the ladies. A sampling of some of his other popular titles: “I’m Gonna Love You Just a Little More Baby,” “What Am I Gonna Do with You,” and “It’s Ecstasy When You Lay Down Next to Me.” The titular song here is Barry’s finest, and an ideal selection for anyone’s *ahem* amorous, boudoir playlist.

Tequila Sunrise – The Eagles This song is one of my favorites for singing while alone in the car or with an unlucky passenger, most often Amy/The Wandering Moose. I am convinced, hearing myself, that I could be the lead singer for an Eagles cover band (name suggestions: “The Desperados,” “Lyin’ Eyes,” “Takin’ It Easy”), as my voice blends just right with Glenn Frey’s smooth vocals.

The multi-function of the iPhone ruined that dream for me a few weeks ago, however. As I was driving home, singing, a text message came in, which causes the volume to drop to almost nothing for about a second. What I heard from myself in that brief moment was both jarring and sobering. I was aware that I do not have a good singing voice — the dream being just that — but I did not think it was Carl-Lewis-Singing-The-National-Anthem bad. I was very, very wrong. My sincere apologies to anyone who has been subjected to my singing in the past. You did not deserve that.

The Human Touch – Rick Springfield This is an underrated song from an underrated pop-rock performer of the 1980s; and yes, I am referring to THAT Rick Springfield. Rick is more well known for his acting, in particular the long-running role of Dr. Noah Drake on General Hospital, but he is a Grammy Award winning singer with a number of hits under his belt, including “Jessie’s Girl” and “Love Somebody.”

Rick Springfield: not legally allowed to write prescriptions

The problem with this song, and perhaps the reason why it was never as popular as “Jessie’s Girl,” is that it goes into an extended instrumental riff about three and a half minutes in that carries over for the remaining four-odd minutes. There are two reasons why artists do this. Either (a) the awesomeness and fun of a great band jamming together, or (b) the song was written for a movie soundtrack, and the director needed some extended music for a scene. Considering that Rick’s band was probably a collection of good-but-anonymous session musicians, the movie theory would seem to be correct. However, it does not belong to any soundtrack that I can find, so perhaps it was written for one, but never used. Barring that, maybe the answer is (c) Rick could not figure out how to end the song, so he just kept playing until it sort of worked itself out. Which is too bad, because a four minute radio edit of this song might have given Rick another hit.

Lazy Eye – Silversun Pickups I first heard this song on Guitar Hero World Tour and ended up buying it on iTunes because I enjoyed it so much. I have since listened to three or four other songs by the Silversun Pickups and I have to say: I am a little disappointed. But I do like “Lazy Eye,” which is a great song, even if it is a one-hit wonder in the making.

Lyrics have a big impact for me with many songs, and so I am always trying to figure out what is being sung and what it means. When I first heard the portion of this song where lead singer Brian Aubert jumps into dramatic and almost shouting lines (about 2:45), I thought the first words were “lost and lonely,” which gave that section a heavy, heartbroken feeling that I quite liked. Then I came to discover that he really sings “locked and loaded,” a very different sentiment, and it changed my opinion of the song a bit. I still like it, of course, but not with the same interest.

My favorite story about this song is from when I was driving down Logan Canyon with my brother-in-law and his sons/my nephews, and we were listening to this playlist on my iPhone. By way of explanation, the guys in the car with me come from a family environment where rock music is a luxury (one in which they choose not to indulge), but because the women were riding together in another car, we decided to rock out. We spent a lot of time talking and laughing about how some of the male singers on my list “sang like girls” with their high ranges and sweeping falsettos. When this song came on and I revealed that the singer was a man, the lid came off and we laughed for a good five solid minutes.

Maybe you had to be there, but it was awesome.

Let Me Take You Home Tonight – Boston This song was written around the same time Marvin Gaye was pleading for greater togetherness as detailed above, but released about five years later. In contrast, Brad Delp’s amazing, soaring vocals are pleading with a woman who he may have been stalking to come home with him. Not exactly aiming high, but it suited the rock and roll lifestyle. Besides, not every song needs to have a social conscience (or a conscience of any kind), I suppose.

“Let Me Take You Home Tonight” has some great retro lyrics, including Delp trying to sweet-talk his love interest by calling her “Mamma.” As near as I can tell, this was sophisticated seduction language in the 1970s. I recently tried to initiate a comeback of that particular term of endearment with Amy/T.W. Moose by calling her “Mamma,” and let’s just say it went over like a lead zeppelin, as Keith Moon once said. A bit creepy for her taste. Which brings us to…

Houses Of The Holy – Led Zeppelin The good news about Led Zeppelin is that millions of people including critics, other musicians, teenagers of all generations, and stoners the world over, would rank them somewhere in the top 3 best rock groups of all time. On my personal list, they are number one. The bad news is that Zeppelin was well aware of this fact, and so they had no qualms about trying pretentious crap like naming one of their best albums a bunch of odd, quasi-mystical symbols (the so-called “Led Zeppelin 4,” or “Led Zeppelin Signs and Runes”). As a high school student discovering Zeppelin for the first time, I should have rolled my eyes at such windbaggery, but instead I doodled the symbols on nearly every available writing surface during class. Led Zeppelin was a major part of my high school soundtrack.

This song, one of their best simple rock recordings, features another Led Zeppelin staple: weird, incomprehensible lyrics. Consider the first four phrases of “Houses Of The Holy” (and these are by no means the strangest lyrics in this song):

“Let me take you to the movies.
Can I take you to the show?
Let me be yours every truly.
Can I make your garden grow?”

Huh? Like most Zeppelin fans, I happily gloss over the fact that Robert Plant’s lyrics often make no sense at all, and instead substitute vague symbolic-sounding language for an actual message. Bob Dylan fans do the same thing, by the way. If someone like John Mayer put those exact same words in a song he would be called out by the critics and listeners alike. But Zeppelin? It must have deeper meanings, man.

Candyman – Christina Aguilera This song fills the void of Big Band Sound with Ridiculous, Filthy Lyrics left when the Cherry Poppin’ Daddies faded back into appropriate obscurity in the late 1990s. I am not a particular fan of swing era/big band music, so I cannot say this for sure, but I doubt Duke Ellington or Tommy Dorsey ever wrote songs with any combination of the words “tattoos,” “paparazzi,” and “panties.” Just my personal observation. I also tend to skip this song unless I am in a whimsical mood.

Stop – Spice Girls This is my favorite Spice Girls song at the moment, which is not saying much in 2009, but in 1997 it would have been significant for me. Like many others around the world, I had a modest infatuation with the Spice Girls during their heyday. Also like those many others, I only admit as much when absolutely necessary these days.

In case you didn't know, we're British

My two favorite Spice Girls (and, like The Beatles before them, everyone had a favorite) were Posh/Victoria, who went on to become a skeletal fashion icon and marry the world’s most famous soccer player, and Scary/Mel B., who went on to become the best celebrity contestant in the history of Dancing With the Stars. Mel B’s Paso Doble with Maksim Chmerkovskiy during the 2007 semi-finals was the single best performance on that show, ever. Race car driver Helio Castroneves could not have robbed her more blatantly if he had used a gun… or so I have been told. Not that I have ever watched a full season of Dancing With The Stars. I am a guy, after all. Moving on.

Wheel in the Sky – Journey I recently expressed an opinion to my brother that this was the quintessential Journey song, tying their rock past together with their run of success in the 1980s. This song is from the 1978 album Infinity, which is Journey’s fourth, and their first with lead singer Steve Perry, whose powerful, distinctive tenor voice is a mainstay of the band’s most distinctive sound. “Wheel in the Sky” was also written and popular before Journey brought pianist Jonathan Cain on board and they went in an even more pop direction.

The real star of this song is ace guitarist Neal Schon, who is ranked number one on my list of Awesome Rock Guitarists That Nobody Talks About. Among his many other credentials, Neal joined Santana as a guitarist prodigy at the age of 15, having turned down an offer to play with Eric Clapton in Derek and the Dominos (Carlos Santana called first). He dropped out of high school in 1969 and has been rocking ever since. This song makes me feel bad for Neal in a way, as the Journey that would emerge in the 1980s would be memorable for the keyboards and the voice of Steve Perry. Even though the guitar is a component in their popular songs (“Don’t Stop Believin’,” “Open Arms,” “Separate Ways”), Neal and his sound are often an afterthought. For a guy with the chops to have a career like Carlos Santana or Eric Clapton, I always wonder if he did not reach his full potential. That is not to say that the music industry does not appreciate Neal Schon; he has collaborated on an impressive list of outside projects, among other things. But as the third banana in Journey, I do not think he ever got the popular attention he deserves.

I’ll Be Over You – Toto Switching gears with this song (or at least it feels like switching gears, even if the broad “Adult Contemporary” genre still fits here and has with almost every song so far), Toto was a very popular band throughout the 1980s and wrote a number of mellow hits like this one, “Rosanna,” and “Africa.” In fact, and this may surprise some people, Toto only broke up in June 2008, having just finished what would be their final tour.

Featuring background vocals by easy listening superman Michael McDonald (more on him later), “I’ll Be Over You” is an ode to a love interest who broke up with the writer(s) of the song. The breakup is so painful that singer Steve Luthaker threatens he will only be able to get over her “as soon as forever is through.” It comes across as a little pathetic, if I am being honest. He is not looking to get back together with her, though, he just wants her to know that his heart is broken, and he still dreams about holding her in his arms. In fairness, I am a pathetic sentimentalist myself, so I understand where he is coming from.

Look at the sword! This music must be terrifying!

When raising her three boys, my mom decided to use the word “toto” as a kid-friendly substitute word for going Number Two (as in: “Do you need to go toto?”). Heaven knows why, but it sounded nicer to her than the alternatives. A few years later I remember being in a local department store with my mom and brothers, and coming across the album Toto IV. I was only about six years old, and I had just discovered a band with an outrageous name (not being aware that “toto” to replace “poop” was a family oddity), and an album cover that featured rings and a sword. I put it back where I had found it, and hoped my mom had not seen me looking at such things. My impression for the next several years was that Toto was a crazy heavy metal band; after all, who else but an anti-social metal band would have the temerity to name themselves after a bodily function? My eyes were opened in my teenage years, but I still snicker sometimes when I see the name.

Your Love – The Outfield Continuing the strong 1980s theme I have brewing, this song sounds like it should be playing during a movie scene where the popular jock picks on Anthony Michael Hall while Molly Ringwald scowls and hates her life. I do not know how many movies filmed in the 1980s actually used this song in their soundtrack, but I know it is a popular choice for current movies set in the 1980s. In other words, The Outfield managed to write a song that had a prototypical ’80s sound, only it was not commonly used to represent that decade until years later, so what they actually did was make a retro ’80s song — in the ’80s.

I used to think this was a song about unrequited or unfulfilled love, based on the most recognizable line: “I don’t wanna lose your love tonight.” However, a few weeks ago I paid closer listen to the lyrics and found that it is instead about a guy having an affair while his girlfriend is away. That is a big difference I never noticed before because I had never paid the song that much attention. But when Amy/T.W. Moose bought it not long ago, I put it on this playlist because I liked the sound. The rest was a somewhat disillusioning process of discovery.

Out Of Touch – Hall & Oates It is easy to forget this now, but at one time Hall and Oates were one of the most popular bands in the world. A few survivors from that era have become legendary and reputable today, but Hall and Oates are considered dated and lumped in with what we now find amusing about the 1980s. These guys were big enough that they made the cut for the iconic “We Are The World” record (although only Daryl Hall was allowed to sing). For a group with six number one songs on the Billboard 100 and twenty-six (26!) others that charted in the top 50, this is a musical tragedy.

The problem very well could be John Oates mustache, which was spectacular when they were popular and he has since shaved, but could be the most memorable thing, style-wise, from their salad days. True story: I just asked a friend what he remembers most about Hall and Oates, and the first thing he said was: “Well, there was that one guy with the mustache.” Is it more sad or more amusing that a single line of thick, black whiskers could be what kept a great band from perpetual respect and consideration? Answer: more amusing. Still, it is about time for a Hall and Oates renaissance.

What a Fool Believes – The Doobie Brothers A great rock band during the early 1970s, the Doobies transitioned to a more soft rock sound once they brought lead singer Michael McDonald on board in 1976. I am a fan of the blue-eyed, white-haired, big-bearded sound of Michael, but he represented a significant change to the direction and structure of the band, and they were no longer the laid back rockers that had a strong following among local chapters of the Hell’s Angels.

In the spirit of full disclosure, this song came to be in my collection because of the time I spent laughing my head off at the seminal Channel 101 internet video series “Yacht Rock.” It is the central song behind the first video in the series, which hooked me on both Yacht Rock and the music of Michael McDonald. I recommend the videos with a caveat for strong language and frequent profanity. That does not bother me, but I worked around construction workers for eight years, so I am desensitized.

Rarely brings the guitar when he is on missile business

In a final, surprising note, the opening paragraph of the Wikipedia profile for former Doobie Brothers guitarist Jeff “Skunk” Baxter reads as follows: “Jeff “Skunk” Baxter is an American guitarist best known for his stints in the rock bands Steely Dan and The Doobie Brothers during the 1970s. More recently, he has been working as a defense consultant and chairs a Congressional Advisory Board on missile defense.” Is there anything less likely than a rock guitarist named Skunk becoming the chair of a Congressional Board advising lawmakers about missile defense? That sounds like a subplot from a crappy comic book.

Fireflies – Owl City This song is my token nod to the current pop charts, as well as a brief respite from the 1980s. This has a different sound that I like, although it is heavy with synthesizers, so that is probably not much of a surprise. I do not have much else to write about this band or song. Sorry Owl City — come see me when your lead guitarist becomes the country’s leading expert on missile defense.

Suite: Judy Blue Eyes – Crosby, Stills & Nash Some of my earliest memories about music feature songs from Crosby, Stills & Nash, including this one. My parents raised me right, in other words. This song was released in 1969, and was performed by CSN at Woodstock, meaning it has been gracing radio airwaves for 40 years now. While this is not always my favorite song by either CSN or CSNY (it is at the moment, but that changes), I think it is probably their best song. I would listen to counter arguments, however.

That’s What You Get – Paramore Another recent song and another band that I gained an appreciation for due to Guitar Hero World Tour. Well, that is not completely correct, as it was Amy/T.W. Moose who gained an appreciation for Paramore thanks to Guitar Hero World Tour, and before that, the Twilight soundtrack. I got it from her.

Emo bands are on their way to make you sad

The music of Paramore has been described as “emo,” and I have to assume it almost certainly is (I am far too old to judge whether or not something is emo). I found my own reaction to that bit of news alarming, as my first instinct was to shy away from the emo label and not wish to be associated with it. In fact, I even feel a bit strange writing the word “emo,” as it is something that belongs to a younger generation, like I am forbidden to understand it. This must be how my dad felt watching the advancement of rap and hip-hop, or his father’s generation watching the revolution of rock and roll. Is it a rule written somewhere that each new cultural movement has to make the previous generation uncomfortable? When did I start to get old?

Well, those deep and unsettling questions aside, I actually like Paramore and their music, even if none of the kids in the band were in kindergarten before I graduated high school. Never mind, this song is depressing me now, I need to move on.

What About Love? – Heart This song was a crossroads for the rock group Heart. It was the first single from their big comeback in 1985, and it marked a distinct change in direction from their hard rock history. This song was also written and recorded by a Canadian group named Toronto several years earlier (bands used to love naming themselves after cities, but that trend seems to have sadly faded), but was never released. They sold the rights to Heart, who turned it into an international success.

I am not certain if “What About Love?” has ever been attempted on a singing competition show like American Idol, although other Ann Wilson vocals have been generally butchered by wobbly, spike heeled, would-be pop starlets. The only time I can remember enjoying a cover of a Heart song while watching AI was when Carrie Underwood belted out “Alone” in the show’s fourth season, and some of that had to do with the fact that Carrie is a cute as a button and had really big hair for the performance. Competitors should be wary of attempting to cover Ann’s exceptional, powerful singing the same way the judges try to steer them clear of Whitney Houston or Celine Dion.

I’m Not Saying – Gordon Lightfoot I am unable to find an estimate of how many women Gordon Lightfoot slept with during the height of his powers in the 1970s. It makes sense that a gentleman such as Gordon would be discreet in his dalliances, but the simple fact that this song exists proves that the number was large. Impressively large.

The first half of this song is a detailed list of all the things one of Gordon’s lady friends can expect from their intimate relationship, including:

• I’m not saying that I’ll love you
• I’m not saying that I’ll care if you love me
• I’m not saying I’ll be there when you need me
• I can’t give my heart to you
• I can’t lay the promise down that I’ll always be around when you need me
• I may not be alone each time you see me
• I won’t deny you or mistreat you… if you let me have my way
• I’m not saying I’ll be sorry for all the things that I might say that make you cry
• I can’t say I’ll always do the things you want me to
• I’m not saying I’ll be true… but I’ll try

Nothing like lowered expectations from the very beginning, right? My favorite part of this song might be where he throws in the token “… but I’ll try,” as if that is going to make up for the previous minute-and-a-half of disappointing promises. I know times were different in the 1970s with the booming drug culture and the promiscuity spawned by the free love era, but can you imagine any self-respecting woman hearing those terms, shrugging her shoulders, and saying “okay”? But, it almost certainly had to be so. With his beardy good looks, his rich baritone voice, and his smooth guitar playing, Gordon Lightfoot was the embodiment of a ’70s sexual icon. More to the point, Gordon had so many willing partners that he had to write a song just so they could all understood the ground rules of their affairs. True, this is just my theory, but it has the scent of truth.

I am what they call the "total package."

In an twist of irony, Amy/T.W. Moose’s father, my dad-in-law, happens to be Gordon Lightfoot. This is another theory, of course, but consider the evidence: Aside from the obvious physical similarities (both men are head-turning handsome, even now into their 70s), they are both from Canada (Dad became an American citizen not long ago), they both sing and play the guitar, they were born the same year, they both specialize in flirting (here I am making an educated guess about Gordon), and most importantly – nobody has ever seen Dad and Gordon Lightfoot in the same room at the same time. A little eerie, and pretty convincing, if I say so myself. I am a fan of Gordon Lightfoot.

I Will…But – SHeDAISY I am excited to have this song follow “I’m Not Saying,” because it is very similar in nature. This also lays down some guidelines for any would-be paramour of the ladies of SHeDAISY, albeit in a somewhat different spirit from the free wheeling Gordon Lightfoot.

The verses of “I Will… But” describe in detail what not to expect from any of The Osborn Sisters (the band’s original name), and the chorus makes vague promises about what the exceedingly patient love interest will get in return.
Again, the spirit is not quite the same, but the message is clear. A sampling of the verses:

• I will not be bored
• I will not be ignored
• I won’t be your cure-all pill
• I won’t run to fetch the water
• I won’t be your Martha Stewart
• I won’t be your crutch to lean on
• I won’t walk a mile in your shoes just so I know how it feels
• I won’t be the portrait of perfection to adorn your wall
• I won’t be your mamma’s favorite
• I refuse to be the last in line

Then, the chorus:

• But I will be your everything if you make me feel like a woman should. I will be the whole shebang.

In other words, she will be everything to you, her love interest, provided she doesn’t have to cook, clean, spend a single moment un-entertained, try to understand your feelings, be there to support you, get along with your mom, wait her turn in line, or let you do anything besides pay attention to her. So what exactly are you getting out of this relationship, besides vague promises?

In fairness, the message of “I Will… But” is about a woman wanting to be treated right, and I always support that sentiment. There are other, more reasonable demands in the verses, too; I was fudging the context just a bit. But I have to say the demands grossly outweigh the promises in this song.

Say – John Mayer I discovered a recent backlash against John Mayer while discussing music with some friends at work. In the course of the conversation the subject of John and his music came up, and these friends (both men) offered a variation of the same opinion: I like his music, but I don’t like him. I was surprised. When I pressed them on what they don’t like about him, their answers were vague: He’s a jerk.

Dating beautiful women? As a guy, I cannot stand for such things!

It almost goes without saying that both friends are married, because it sounded to me like they were repeating something their wives had said. That was my impression not so much because of their opinions, to which they are welcome, but because their thoughts were unorganized and uncertain. It was like they had heard their wives did not like John Mayer, but had not heard the reason why.

So I did a little internet research and think I discovered why many of his female fans have started to turn against John Mayer: he is tearing through celebrity girlfriends like Barry White through a box of Krispy Kremes (or like Barry White would have, may he rest in peace). Maybe there is more to it, but that is what I could discover in my extensive two minutes of research.

I wanted to take that information back to my friends and put the screws to them: Really? He’s a jerk? Because he sleeps around with Hollywood actresses? Since when has that ever bothered a guy? But, it was late and about time to go home. Besides, I still like John Mayer and his music, and that’s all that really counts.

Ring My Bell – Anita Ward This song — the last one on the list — is a classic of the disco era with a solid beat and airy, engaging vocals. It turns up quite often in soundtracks, either as the original recording or as one of many covers. Anita Ward obtained a degree in psychology from Rust College (go Bearcats) prior to launching her disco career, which must have made for a few awkward conversations with her parents. The disco train came to a shuddering halt not long after this song was released, along with Anita’s career. She still performs “Ring My Bell” for the right audience and the right price, most recently in 2006 in Zagreb, Croatia, prior to a skiing tournament. I did not make that up.

I include this on many of my playlists because it is the only song I know that references household chores and innuendo in the same sentence. Here is the first verse:

“I’m glad you’re home, now did you really miss me?
I guess you did by the look in your eyes.
Well lay back and relax while I put away the dishes,
then you and me can rock a bell.”

It may be that “put away the dishes” means something different from what I understand, or conversely, that “rock a bell” could be something totally innocent. Given the era and the context of the rest of the song, though, I think that is highly unlikely. Which begs the question: couldn’t the songwriter come up with anything that sounded more alluring than “lay back and relax while I put away the dishes?”

With the annual rivalry battle between the University of Utah and Brigham Young University just days away, I thought it would be a perfect time to post a collection of evidence why Utah is more fun to follow than BYU.  My initial idea was to write this a few weeks ago, so fellow bloggers who are BYU fans could post replies. Unfortunately, delays-upon-delays meant that now I only have a few days before the game, which leaves a very small window for a BYU response.  If no one is able to, then I suppose Utah wins by default.  I mean, they would win anyway, but nobody likes to see a forfeit from the other team.

The big problem I encountered when compiling this list is that I enjoy watching BYU football, as well.  I have followed Utah all of my sports life, which began back when it was less of a rivalry and more of a yearly massacre at the hands of the Cougars.  After the tables began to balance and my sports fan tastes matured a bit (so to speak – people rarely use the terms “sports fan” and “mature” in the same sentence) I curiously found myself both watching and enjoying BYU football.  In fact, I even considered myself a legitimate fan of both teams for a while, which was a difficult balancing act, and could not be sustained for long.

Now I am firmly entrenched in the Utah camp, and although I looked over the fence for a while, I realize now that I never really left.  Remnants of my dual identity remain, and although I may draw ridicule from other fans for trying to follow two rival teams, I will always have a soft spot in my heart for the Cougars.  Sometimes it’s a very small spot, but it is there.

With that out of the way, allow me to move on to the primary arguments:

Utah has been as nationally relevant as BYU over the past 17 years. I selected 1992 as the beginning year for this point, as that is when Utah began a football renaissance and began to play at a higher level.  BYU had been at that level for years, winning a surprising-to-this-day national championship in 1984, and featuring Ty Detmer’s Heisman Trophy season in 1990.  I fully acknowledge that if I were writing this in 1991, BYU would be the runaway winner.  Of course, if I were writing this in 1964, Utah would have won 34 of the past 40 games against BYU, with four ties and only two losses.  So, short of considering the entire past, it makes sense to just stick with the most recent era, when both teams are balanced against each other.

Utah’s overall record since 1992 is 134-67 (.667), while BYU’s is 139-71 (.662).  [Ed. Note: My friend Zach recently pointed out that I am an idiot.  Well, he didn't put it in those words - he just let me know that my math in the previous sentence was wrong, which has since been altered to show the correct percentages.  The lesson to be learned here: Math is not my strong suit.  And, I am an idiot.] In that stretch of 17 seasons – including the current one – Utah has finished with a losing record twice (2000 and 2002), and BYU has three times (2002, 2003, 2004).  BYU still leads the Conference Championship debate, with 8 since 1992.  They also have a chance at sharing a ninth championship with a win on Saturday.  Utah still only has 5 Conference championships, counting the guaranteed share this year.

This means that Utah and BYU have comparable win/loss records and total number of winning seasons over the given time frame.  BYU has more conference championships, but in the Mountain West Conference both teams have four, counting Utah’s possible outright/certain share this year.  This point would probably be a wash, then, if not for…

Utah has a better bowl record since 1992. Utah has played in 11 bowls since 1992, with an 8-3 record, while BYU has played in 10, and is 4-6. If we move the comparison back a year, so both teams have 11 bowl games, then BYU is 4-6-1, having recorded a reprehensible tie in the 1991 Holiday Bowl against Iowa.

BYU’s most recent notable bowl game was a 19-17 win against Kansas State in the 1997 Cotton Bowl, while Utah’s most recent notable bowl game was a 35-7 win over Pittsburgh in the 2005 Fiesta Bowl.  Should Utah win on Saturday, it will be two undefeated seasons and two (likely) BCS bowls under two different coaching staffs, and only four years apart.  Even if BYU should win, Utah probably remains the only MWC team to appear in the BCS so far, as BYU would need some unlikely help to get there this season.

Bowl game record is the trump card of the argument.  Each team is approximately equal in record for the past 17 years, each has played and won a nationally relevant bowl in that time, and both have avoided an excess of losing seasons.  The only major difference is in bowl game record, which is important to the program because it gives the team one more nationally televised game that can help with recruiting and poll position the following year.  Provided you win, of course; and Utah is 7-0 in the past seven years.  Ergo, Utah has been the better team since 1992 – point, game, set, and match.

However, I have a few other significant items to mention:

Utah has won the Rivalry Game more often since 1992. BYU has come from behind each of the past two years to win the annual tilt in dramatic fashion.  However, since 1992, Utah has won more often: nine victories to BYU’s seven.  It’s true that this is a small difference like many of the earlier numbers, but the value isn’t in the disparity as much as the fact that it’s close, with Utah even in a slight lead.  Such a thing was unthinkable in the two decades prior to 1992, and further proof that Utah has equaled, if not exceeded, their rivals.

Utah has the Underdog Vibe, BYU has the Arrogance Vibe. BYU fans love to discuss the strength of their national following, and it is a compelling argument.  The built-in fan base means they have interest from all over the country, as well as recruiting power anywhere – although it is pretty limited in most places.  However, outside of that very specific base, interest in the Cougars diminishes.  That is not to say that Utah has more national interest, but which team would have greater appeal to a casual outside observer?  The plucky, up-and-coming team just starting to make noise on the national stage?  Or the established, dismissive former power that is perceived to trade on its slowly eroding tradition?

BYU players and fans have long been seen as arrogant, which is unfair to a point, but earned in large part.  Most of this comes from the tendency of BYU fans to brag about: (1) the high moral standards at BYU, (2) the difficulty in being accepted to study there, and (3) the quality of people who attend because of the first two points.  The problem is most BYU followers either don’t understand or don’t care that arguing that point is perceived as conceited and egotistical by rival teams and fans.

Here is an example of what I mean: I once asked a girl out to a high school dance who was well above my pay grade.  She was a senior, I was a junior; she was a cheerleader, I was on the school newspaper; she was pretty, I was … funny (sort of).  In fact, I only knew her because we were both on the debate team, and in a fit of exuberance and over-confidence, I asked her out to the Junior Prom.  She declined, of course, but instead of a simple “sorry, but no,” or a polite excuse, she decided write me a note with a deeper explanation.  I don’t remember many of the details, save for one line that I have repeated many times – the first few times for shock value and the rest of the times for the undeniable humor: “I don’t date very often,” she wrote, “because I have really high standards.”

The note-writing cheerleader probably didn’t mean to imply that I wasn’t good enough to date her; she was simply informing me of her high standards.  I genuinely don’t believe that she was trying to hurt my feelings.  In fact, she probably thought she was being unnecessarily kind to explain why her expansive dating circle and my limited dating circle (basically just me standing inside my own very small circle) were never destined to intersect.

In that same fashion, most BYU fans probably don’t actually think of themselves as a better class of people, but the message certainly comes across that way.  Times are bound to change, and if Utah keeps winning they will eventually lose the Underdog Vibe.  However, I haven’t seen any signs of BYU losing the Arrogance Vibe anytime soon.  Fair or not, correct or not, it is a part of the rivalry.

Kyle Whittingham is more fun to have as a head coach than Bronco Mendenhall. A minor cult of personality has sprung up around Bronco Mendenhall.  His success as a coach and his image of disciplined leadership has inspired hero worship from legions of Cougar fans.  For the record, I don’t think Bronco is comfortable with this in any way.  He strikes me as a very decent guy who is probably embarrassed by the attention.  However, it is there, and in some ways I suspect it doesn’t let Coach Mendenhall vary from his gruff, straightforward exterior.  He has to be too conscious of his words and actions as he is under a magnifying glass.

Coach Whittingham, however, knows no such limitations.  Although any head coach at a big college program has to be careful about his words and actions, Kyle’s success has made him virtually bulletproof at Utah.  Whether we as Utah fans are less demanding or more understanding, we seem to enjoy the ride with Whittingham, as opposed to adoring his genius, as BYU fans are increasing guilty of doing to Mendenhall.  Kyle has the added benefit of being immune to barbs from BYU fans, because he played his own college football for them.  True, most fans still throw them, but they fear, deep down, that they are still taking on one of their own.

As a bonus point, I have noticed that Kyle Whittingham has rather large, pronounced canine teeth, which makes him look just a bit like a snarling wolf as he is pacing the sidelines.  In fact, “Wolf” would be a good nickname and a nice complement to “Bronco” on the other sideline.  I think we should make this happen.  Wolf Whittingham has a nice ring to it, provided we can clear the red tape with American Gladiators.

Finally, a few more quick ones:

I would rather be nervous about the offense and confident in the defense than vice versa. This one is really just a preference, but it is a reason I have enjoyed watching Utah’s games more than BYU’s games this year.  Ideally a team has both, but until Utah and BYU are getting Big 12 amounts of money every year they won’t get much Big 12 caliber talent.  Utah’s offense can be a frightening train ride, which makes it all the more enjoyable to sit back and watch the defense with the game.  BYU has a fantastic offense with a lot of weapons, but the defense is often quite shaky.  I have watched both situations applied to both teams over the years, and I think I have come to the decision that I would rather have the great defense, if I have to choose.  Of course, next time Utah has a great offense and a bad defense, I reserve the right to change my mind.

Red is a better uniform color for television than blue. It’s true.  Tiger Woods wears red shirts during his final round for the same reason (or so I have read).  Although the competitive advantage of such a fact is dubious, it is the basis of another reason why I prefer to cheer for Utah: better on television.

Utah’s mascot stinks, but at least it doesn’t have Cosmo’s terrifying face. Swoop the Red-Tailed Hawk is irritating and bothersome, the way most mascots are, but on the other hand, I don’t have nightmares about his hideous face.  I can’t say the same after the inevitable sideline camera close-up of Cosmo the Cougar frightening children in the first 15 rows (tip to the camera guy: stay focused on the cheerleaders).  I wish they would pull Cosmo’s old head out of mothballs.  Maybe it would trick some of the more aged fans into believing it was 1984 again.

Singing “Utah Man” versus dancing the Haka. Remember when Utah head coach Urban Meyer started a new tradition of players singing the Utah fight song on the field after home games, and every fully invested BYU fan decided to make fun of it?  Remember the accusations of Meyer trying to manufacture tradition?  Remember the laughter and the pointing fingers?  Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I give you Defense Exhibit #1: BYU’s version of the Haka.

The Haka is plenty cool when performed under the proper conditions, even as a prelude to a sporting event.  The New Zealand All Blacks Rugby Union team comes to mind.  What relevance it may have to BYU has never been made clear.

Incidentally, the Utah players still gather to sing their fight song at the end of home games.  I haven’t seen the Haka lately, and assume it has been mercifully discontinued.  Please let me know if I am wrong.

With that, I would like to invite responses and replies from BYU fans, or arguments in support from Utah fans.  I am pretty certain I know everyone who reads this, so I acknowledge that I am in essence calling a few people out.  Because this is so late in coming, I don’t mind at all if it comes after the game; I just want to hear your points.  I suspect there may be one or two “I’m a fan of BYU because they beat Utah” responses the game doesn’t go the way I hope on Saturday, and so be it.

My final prediction: Utah 31, BYU 21

Zach’s High-Road Rebuttal

Josh’s Epic Defense

Mice grow to terrifying proportions in Southern California

Our original intent for this blog makeover was to have it double as a sort of travelogue for our various adventures, but things haven’t quite worked out that way yet.  I imagine we will try to address that shortcoming soon, perhaps as a potential New Year’s Resolution (which, at the rate of our posting, could very well be the next entry after this), but the result of our laxity is there are now a lot of things I want to write about.  This tends to be an early indication of a blog-disaster for me, because of my tendency to be a bit bombastic.

For example, not long ago I set out to post a few thoughts and opinions following the conclusion of the 2008 Summer Olympics.  I started by outlining my 20 favorite things about the games, followed by my 10 least favorite.  Then, I made a third section of events which I would like to see more in the future, followed by those I felt were over-indulged.

I didn’t think the project was overly ambitious in the beginning, but I began to reconsider after I found myself 5,000 words into it and only halfway through the first outlined section.  I could have pressed on and finished it, but who would ever take the time to read something like that?  It sits in my files waiting for further enlightenment, which will almost certainly never come.

Anyway, I do want to present some token information about the past few months for The Wandering Moose and me, without running to Ludicrous Speed proportions.  This will hopefully also give us the boost we need to become regulars on our own blog again.  One can only hope.  Now, on to the update:

Sasha the Swedish Vallhund

Our most recent post before this was about the unfortunate knee injury our dog had sustained while running in our backyard.  The diagnosis was a torn anterior cruciate ligament, which required surgery to repair if we wanted her to ever walk on all four legs again.  Our veterinarian recommended the procedure, and not just because he was building onto his house again.  Sasha is six years old, and has become a genuine part of our peculiar little family.  She will be with us for many years yet, and should not be relegated to tripod jokes for the rest of her life just so we can save a few dollars.  Besides, she already had the same surgery on her driver’s-side rear leg not long ago (this time was passenger’s-side rear), so she would have a matching set.

As I write this, Sasha is stretched out in her favorite IKEA dog bed near my feet, happily snoozing the evening away.  She walks without any limp whatsoever, and if not for the amusing slow-growth bare patch on her rump, a casual observer would not know she had been injured.  It took a year for her fur to completely grow back last time, so I am not worried about it, but T.W. Moose is nervous.  My actual concern is with winter knocking at the door she will be meandering around our snow-covered yard several times a day to conduct her business without fur to keep her surgically repaired knee warm.  It would seem I’m in for another year of shoveling paths in the snow for her, which I don’t mind doing, but it’s a practice that draws scorn and ridicule from my dad.

In somewhat more recent news, a few weeks after her surgery, Sasha developed a bladder infection that was causing her to “leak” all over her various beds and our kitchen floor.  She didn’t seem to be in physical pain, aside from putting her ears back at the cursing and empty threats that came from me every time I had to clean up one of her unpleasant warm puddles.  Worse still, it happened just before we were supposed to leave on a two-week vacation, and she was scheduled to split time between my parents and my brother and sister-in-law.  Lucky for us, her medicine kicked in quickly, and my family was all good sports, so we were free to go on our extravaganza vacation to points south.

Sasha seems to be in the clear now, although she has decided to start barking to go outside at 4:30 in the morning, which is definitely not cool with night owls like me and T.W. Moose.  Sasha is 10 for 10 in early-morning barking during the last week and a half.  Honestly, I wonder sometimes why we put up with that dog.  Well, not really – I know why we put up with her.  It’s because we are goofy, overly attached dog “parents” who love our fuzzy little princess.  Which is probably every bit as ridiculous as it sounds, but we’re happy with it.

Tenth Anniversary Southern California Extravaganza

T.W. Moose and I left Kearns, Utah on Sunday, September 21st; travelled to Las Vegas, Nevada for a single-night stop; continued on to San Diego, California until Friday, September 26th; and then finished our trip in Anaheim, California for the remaining eight days.  We drove home in one long day on Saturday, October 4th.

We intend on creating a full day-by-day recreation of our vacation, as nothing less would be adequate for our questionable purposes.  But, until that mythical day arrives and we make good on our threat, I would like to share the first few impressions that come to mind:

Las Vegas is Disgusting Outside, Interesting Inside. I’m trying to not sound like a prude, but is it possible to stroll down the Las Vegas Strip (as we did our first night of vacation) without feeling like you have undertaken the visual equivalent of licking a gas station bathroom floor?  I personally struggle enough in avoiding that sort of thing anyway, without it being plastered all over every available surface.  I know Vegas is supposed to be a pleasure-seekers’ paradise, and people are welcome to enjoy themselves however they choose, but between the billboards, the posters, and the people handing out cards, the Vegas Strip is repulsive at street-level.

In Vegas, Lady Liberty is wearing a thong (not pictured)

On the other hand, there is no other experience quite like walking into a big-time Las Vegas casino.  Even if you are only there for sightseeing, there is a discernable buzz that you can sense even just walking through one of those Temples of Excess.  Some of the newest casinos are moving away from the era of theatrical design, but nearly all of the big, famous ones (Caesar’s Palace, Treasure Island, The Luxor, The Mirage, etc.) have a central theme.  In one visit to Las Vegas, you can also immerse yourself in a cultural appreciation (used loosely) of Paris, Venice, Ancient Rome, Pirate Ships, the South Seas, Medieval Castles, Egypt, and so on.  The attention to detail in some of these places is noteworthy, and on occasion even reaches “Disneyan” standards.

T.W. Moose and I are big fans of Disney Theme Parks, as most people who know us are aware, so such a comparison rates highly in my book.  In fact, the so-called “theming” of Disney properties is one of the things we most enjoy about our vacations.  There is an exceptional attention to detail in everything, from the blatantly obvious to the very subtle.  I acknowledge that some people may not get a kick out of such things (or, at least, get a kick out of a cartoon mouse being central to the designer’s palate), but we do.  It’s one of the many things that keep us coming back.

Anyway, as we were wandering through a few casinos our first evening and observing the surroundings, I wondered how many adults in the Vegas party crowd would sneer (yes, sneer) at the idea of having fun in a theme-saturated place like Disneyland, but think nothing of sitting down in front of a Julius Caesar slot machine, in the middle of a reproduction of Roman Architecture, with statues to Roman gods and goddesses around, and surrounded by employees of the facility dressed in quasi-period costumes?  I was not passing judgment on either point-of-view, just intrigued by the striking similarities.

San Diego is Awesome. San Diego was the site of our honeymoon in 1998, and the idea of a sentimental return for our tenth anniversary seemed perfect.  The self-proclaimed “America’s Finest City” seems to always suffer a bit in comparisons to its large neighbor to the north, but taken as a whole, I would much rather spend a vacation in the San Diego Area than the Los Angeles Area.  In fact, removing the Disneyland Resort and a few other minor attractions (Mrs. Knott’s Chicken Dinner being one) from the equation, I would be okay with the idea of not visiting Los Angeles altogether.

Beauty and the Beach

T.W. Moose and I took in the whales at Sea World and the pandas at the Zoo, enjoying every moment of it.  We also spent time in La Jolla with the surf and sea lions, and watching the sunset paint the sky.  I have always loved the stately blending of color as the sun dips behind the Oquirrh Mountains here in Salt Lake City, but there is nothing quite as sublime as sunset over the ocean.

My paternal grandparents met in San Diego.  She was a hard-working recent transplant from Oklahoma living with her sister, and he was a Marine preparing for the Pacific Theater of World War II.  He once told me that she refused his marriage proposal twice before finally accepting the third. Another story, as I have been told, is that when he shipped out he gave her a train ticket back to his home in Salt Lake City and told her to find his family; that they would take care of her.  When the young, anxious, and naturally self-conscious girl arrived at my great-grandparents’ home, they met her with open arms.  They had never met her, but she became a part of their family from the first embrace.

I am certain there are many similar stories from that great and terrible era of world history, but that one has always helped me understand, in a very small way, the sacrifices of those generations who fought for the very fragile liberties I often take for granted.  Standing with my sweetheart in the same places they stood, I tried to imagine their hope and faith, as they embarked on a new life, together and yet not together.  I like to think that I possess enough courage to have fought aboard an aircraft carrier or in the jungles of Guadalcanal, but I don’t know.   I also like to think that I am brave enough to board a train to an unfamiliar place, leaving behind everything I know, for an uncertain future; but again, I cannot tell.  I do know that I will be forever grateful for two people who were brave enough and courageous enough; and that love and admiration, more than anything, is how I feel when I think of my grandparents in San Diego.

I Could Live at Disneyland. Eight straight days at Disneyland may sound like a Herculean feat to some, but it was just a good beginning for me and T.W. Moose.  I completely understand that The Happiest Place on Earth is not for everyone, and I actually promote that idea.  Because the lines are long enough as it is.

At least someone is happy at Disneyland...

I am not a parent, so I don’t know how endearing (or difficult to ignore) the pleas of children can be, but I always feel a bit melancholy to see irritated parents hauling their kids around Disneyland out of a sense of obligation.  These are the people who spend their time in the park in an exasperated huff because they think it’s too expensive, or because the lines are too long, or because in their very refined opinion, it’s stupid for adults to be there.  Again I disclaim having direct parental experience, but why not just spend your vacation time and money somewhere else?  It seems to me that a day full of complaining about Disneyland with your children in earshot won’t help anyone enjoy their time there.

I witnessed this phenomenon several times during our many hours in the park, and it was unfortunate each time.  The parents detested every moment and the kids weren’t having fun, because, in a sense, they didn’t have permission to.  Who can genuinely enjoy themselves with a guilty conscience?  If someone is being told, in essence, that the whole family is only here at this STUPID place for YOU, even though I want to be home watching the NASCAR race, so you had better have FUN spending MY MONEY because what I want clearly doesn’t MATTER in this family… well… that’s quite a burden for a little spirit.  I watched these families shamble by with a small twinge of sadness.

But just a small twinge – I was in Disneyland, after all.

Well, this update is already running long, as I feared, so I think I am going to end it here.  There were a few more items on my outline, including notes about our family deer hunting trip, and something I had already tentatively titled: “It’s The Most Wonderful Time of the Year (For Sports).”  It’s safe to say that a few bullets have been dodged today.

How could anyone resist this face?

Our posts to this blog are seasonally sporadic, by which I mean they are sporadic in the summer, winter, spring and fall. We are trying to be more frequent in our efforts, but we are also both busy enough that it is assigned a much lower priority than we may otherwise like. Besides, it’s not like anyone we know relies on this blog as a source of news about us. I was going to use this post as an opportunity to write about the new Batman movie, but an event in our lives has trumped all else, and it’s only proper for me to describe that, instead.

The story actually starts in 2005 when Sasha, our pet dog (and child substitute), tore the anterior cruciate ligament on her left rear leg as she was running in from the backyard. I watched it happen: she stepped in a gopher hole, let out a little yip, and came hobbling toward me on three legs; her ears were back in pain and worry. That misstep led to a visit to the vet, followed by X-rays, surgery, hiding antibiotics in treats, and weeks of recovery. We spent more than a few worried hours, laughed a bit, cried a bit (figuratively speaking – I don’t remember shedding actual tears, and it’s safe to say that if I didn’t, The Wandering Moose didn’t either), and lightened our bank account. It felt like a long and frustrating experience, although ultimately everything worked out fine and Sasha made a complete recovery. She even grew back all the fur on her hindquarters after a year or so, which was nice because they shaved her entire leg and hip for the surgery, leaving a bare turkey-leg shaped patch of skin. T.W. Moose had been very pessimistic about total regrowth ever happening, but it did.

That meant we had a little better understanding of what it meant when she pulled up into another three-legged hobble a few weeks ago. Once again, she was running in from our backyard (which is apparently much more dangerous than I realized) when she stopped at our deck stairs in obvious distress. I did not see it happen this time, but the leg held up close to her body – the right leg this time – and pinned back ears were telling. A visit to our veterinarian the next day confirmed it: another torn ACL, so she would have a matching set on her rear legs.

We had been told the first time that ACL surgery was pretty common in dogs, and now we found out that if the first one should go out, it increased the odds of the opposite leg tearing in the future. Sasha is a Swedish Vallhund, which is a rare enough breed that most people have either never heard of it, or they pretend they have and we don’t believe them. We are not certain if knee problems are common with the breed (from our experience: yes) but she has an unusual physiology. Swedish Vallhunds have thick, muscular bodies with short legs, and were initially bred for herding cattle and riding on Viking ships. One could build a fairly accurate model of Sasha by taking a large bratwurst and two toothpicks, then breaking each toothpick in half and sticking them in the bratwurst as legs.

Anyway, the surgery was scheduled for a week later (something about letting the blood drain from her knee); it went very well, and we brought her home the same day. After her first surgery we struggled with keeping her bandages in place because of the rather drastic taper in her short legs. It was no different this time, and she had her wrappings off before even leaving the animal hospital. We probably should have taken this as a bad omen, but Sasha had been good not to bother the surgery wound the previous time, so the vet decided she would be okay to go home without bandages.

I swear, I wasn't playing with that toy.

Almost at once she was busy licking her newly shaved leg and trying to “investigate” the stitches. But, it was still the first night, and she was a bit strange and unsteady after the procedure, so we hoped it was just an effect of the anesthesia. Regardless, we found some bandages and covered her leg ourselves, hoping for the best.

Everything went okay for the first two days. We were each coming home from work for lunch, so she was never alone for more than a few hours. She always managed to remove one layer of her bandages, but there was a final, untouched layer that was keeping her from the area. Then, on the third day after her surgery, T.W. Moose came home to find all the bandages gone and the stitches completely torn out. To complicate matters, our vet’s office is closed on Thursdays and, of course, Sasha had thoughtfully chosen a Thursday to commit her crime.

Now, there may be someone reading this who can’t believe the stupidity of T.W. Moose and me at this point for not putting an “Elizabethan collar” or “E-collar” (one of those cone things) on Sasha so she couldn’t bother her leg. They probably figure that we are too indulgent of our dog and don’t want her to be unhappy with us, so we leave it off. They would probably tell us that we simply have to make her wear it and tolerate her bad mood, because tearing stitches out is too great of a concern. I suspect this is true, because we have heard as much before, from several different sources.

I will admit that T.W. Moose and I are guilty of over-indulging our dog, and treating her too much like our child. We don’t make her do much she doesn’t like, with the irregular exceptions of being bathed and having her claws trimmed. However, she will not wear an E-collar. I know, I know – we just have to square our shoulders and tolerate the sad looks, right? No, I mean she will simply not wear it, for two reasons. The first is that her unusual body shape means she tapers from her neck down to her nose. After her first surgery the vet assistant tried to fit her with an E-collar, and I told her I didn’t think it would work because she could get out of collars without any problem. The assistant gave me a patient little smile and told me that I just had to tie the collar tighter than I would expect, but not to worry because dogs had tough necks. I told her that I knew dogs had tough necks, but Sasha was tapered like a torpedo and wouldn’t keep it on. Not believing me, she demonstrated by putting the collar on Sasha with a soft band to tie it in place, and showed me with great care just how tight to make it. The assistant stood up to admire her handiwork and give me another patient smile, and then Sasha reached up, and with a single swipe of her paw, knocked the collar off and onto the floor. It was on her neck for about a second-and-a-half. It was one of the rare occasions where I was actually happy that Sasha had misbehaved, and it took a great deal of willpower to not do some sort of victory/I-told-you-so dance. (To her great credit, the assistant apologized at once for not believing me, and was even a bit embarrassed. It was awesome.)

The second reason is: even if we can get the collar to stay in place, Sasha does not tolerate it. I don’t mean she hangs her head and looks sad, but she tears around and throws herself against walls trying to get it off. It is quite scary to watch as over-indulgent dog “parents,” because it looks the entire time like she is going to hurt herself even further; keeping in mind that she only has three good legs to work with. It may be that if we could just leave it on she would learn to tolerate an E-collar, but because both of us work, we have to be able to leave her alone for a few hours at a time.

You will suffer dearly for this injustice...

So T.W. Moose found herself with a bit of a problem. Not only had Sasha pulled off her bandages and torn out her stitches, but she seemed to have eaten the bandages, and the vet’s office was closed. She called our vet’s emergency contact, which is a different facility called Central Valley Veterinary Hospital , and explained the situation. Fortunately, Central Valley was able to get us in before their Extended Care hours, which ended up saving us a bit on the bill.

From this point, the story takes a happy turn. The people at Central Valley were fantastic, and very helpful. The doctor there put a dozen staples in Sasha’s leg, which they could do without having to put her under, and told us about a product that would make all the difference: a BiteNot Collar. It functions like a whiplash collar for a human and simply restricts her from moving her head from side to side. There is an additional buckle system that straps under her forelegs to keep everything in place, negating the “torpedo effect” so Sasha can’t pull it off. It looks uncomfortable, but I don’t believe it is, because Sasha is tolerating it surprisingly well; certainly much better than an E-collar. We keep it on her night and day, and she gives us dirty looks from time to time, but it provides us with peace of mind when we are sleeping or at work (and contributes unexpected comedy relief to the whole drama).

We also found a little clump of digested tape and gauze on the lawn last night, which resolved our last major concern. The vet believed the amount of tape and gauze she ate could have created a blockage in her intestines that would have become a surgical emergency. But, fortunately for Sasha, all of her systems seem to be working properly, she is living in patience with her restraining collar, and the staples come out in three days. Sasha’s ACL surgery has been a very different experience this time around. We worried less, perhaps, but had more frustration and greater expenses.

The moral of the story: Sasha is never, ever running in our backyard again.

A few months ago, I had never tried Gelato. I had only heard about the mysterious Fine Italian Ice Cream in Italy and The Venetian in Las Vegas, but never had the opportunity to know for myself what it was all about. Fortunately, some good friends of ours opened a Gelato shop a few months ago not too far from my work called Bellissimo Gelato. Before visiting, I didn’t know what to expect. I thought maybe they would have four or five flavors; chocolate, vanilla, berry something or other, maybe a caramel marble swirl or something, but I never anticipated seeing a freezer case containing dozens of flavors! Luckily they have little plastic spoons so you can taste test and make an educated decision before ordering.

On my first visit, I must have tried about 20 different kinds, some of which were: Wild Strawberry, Peach-Mango, Cinnamon, Green Apple, Chocolate, Mascarpone, Watermelon, Forest Berries, Cheesecake, Peanut Butter and Jelly, Caramel, Lemon, Lime, Papaya, Banana, Pineapple, Kiwi, and Coconut. And then I found out you could do a combination of two in your cup, so you didn’t have to just pick one flavor. It took me at least 15 minutes to decide what my first official order was going to be. Finally, I decided to get Wild Strawberry on one side and Pineapple on the other. It was SO fantastic; smooth, delicious and nothing like I had ever tasted. It’s something much better than ice cream ever was. And to know that all my life I had been missing out on this delightful treat!

I ended up going back the next day to try some more; I did another combination and chose Forest Berries and Cheesecake. Again – fabulous. A few days later I tried Lemon and Chocolate. Delectable! I was hooked. I’ve been back more times than I care to admit and have tried all their flavors. (They keep making new ones too!) Recently they added Almond, Peach, Peanut Butter & Chocolate, and Mango. All delicious. In fact, now they have a few Sugar-Free flavors (Chocolate, Raspberry and Custard) and they are every bit as tasty as the others. (I’ve tried them, surprised?) You can get a small, medium or large in a cup, as well as pints and quarts in nifty containers that keep it cold for a surprisingly long time. They now offer “frequent indulger” cards that can be punched with every order. I’m already well on my way to free Gelato, what could be better?!

Visit Bellissimo Gelato at 5500 South 900 East, Murray UT. You won’t be disappointed. All their machinery for making and storing the Gelato (made daily) is imported from Italy and they use only the freshest ingredients. From now on, if there’s ice cream around I’ll be wishing it was Gelato from Bellissimo. I’m a changed woman. I crave Gelato. Ice cream is so 5 months ago!

If you’d like to read another review on Bellissimo Gelato, click here.