The locks are off

July 20, 2006


I could hear Kerrie crying about this from across town. It will be dark day in our household.

A guarantee - Steve Nash cannot win a third MVP without his hair. You heard it here first.

Samson, eat your heart out.

Tags: Basketball, Sports |

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S***

July 19, 2006


Shit.

No. Nothing’s wrong. That’s just the word of the week. It’s all over the place. It’s in the news. It’s on television. The New York Times has, for the second time ever, printed the word, sans censorship, in its hallowed pages. CNN made no bones about allowing it during a news broadcast.

The story, for the privileged few that haven’t been inundated with it over the past few days, is President Bush’s mistimed “shit,” an errant swear word that turned up on tape and is now being broadcast all over the world. What’s surprising is that it’s being broadcast in its entirety. No censorship. It’s right there on CNN. On the BBC. The New York Times. Without apology.

Has it become accepted? Are we suddenly shifting the linguistic landscape into something more liberal, more allowing of the “seven words you can’t say on television?” For me it seems false – at least, as far as certain outlets are concerned.

The New York Times, as mentioned, has done this before. A post from Language Log discussed the system of how a curse word is printed:

As I mentioned in an update to my original post, the late New York Times editor Abe Rosenthal exempted presidential swearing from the newspaper’s ban on shit during the Watergate era. Rosenthal’s obituary in the New York Observer (quoted by a Gawker commenter) tells the story:

When a Watergate tape revealed that Richard Nixon had said, “I don’t give a shit what happens, I want you all to stonewall it,” The Times printed shit for the first time, though only in the text of the tape, and not in the accompanying news story. 
When a Newsweek reporter called Rosenthal to ask if this was a seismic change in the paper’s standards, he replied, “No. We’ll only take shit from the President.”

So The New York Times actually has a system in place, a reason for allowing this in. But what about the BBC? What about CNN? Are they taking journalistic freedom to another level by referring to the word in completeness, spelling it out rather than burying it under a heap of dashes and beeps.

Or is this a handful of media outlets trying to do what they can to seem more edgy, more journalistic, taking The New York Times’ cue and reporting exactly what happened, damn it, and not worrying about what they’re doing as much as what image will come from doing it?

There’s a hint of artificial journalism, as if everyone looked over, saw The New York Times, and decided that they couldn’t be left behind, that they were less of a journalist if they didn’t throw the word in. It looks like it was done more as a reaction, a “look at what the The Times did, I guess we’d better do it as well” response, than anything else.

And really, is it that big of a deal? I’m no Bush fan, but the media circus revolving around this single word is exactly why right-wing nuts claim that the media is biased, tilted toward the left. This is not a big deal. South Park did it. The New York Times has done it in the past. It’s a word.

If you wouldn’t print it in any other context, why bother with this worn down story?

I repeat, this is not a big deal.

Hopefully, it’s gotten out of our system. Hopefully.

Tags: Politics |

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Fame, fleetingly

July 19, 2006


A funny thing happened when I was researching a company blog.

During a short bout of tangential searching, I Googled references of Black Marks on Wood Pulp, as I often do when I want to feel out my worth in the blogosphere. The usual sites were there; referrers, links, etc. But there was one I hadn’t seen before. And it took me by surprise. CBS News.

As I said last Feburary during a self-induced melancholy:

Sure, I’ll never be featured on CBS News, but at least I might be featured in your NewsGator blog list.

It turns out that I was featured on CBS News – just three weeks later. But I never knew about it because, well, they forgot to link to my site.

Yeah. It’s true. Numerous sites linked to my three-headed sports post from March 8th – a quick recap of my broken “home-team success” streak, the new Barry Bonds book, and the passing of Kirby Puckett. I was being circulated through technorati.com as a top source, apparently, even though I didn’t say much about it.

But CBS found it. And they featured it on their weekly blog round up, Blogophile:

Barry Bonds Drives Bloggers Batty
Blogophile Tracks Hottest Stories In Cyberspace

NEW YORK, March 15, 2006

“I don’t care one way or another about Bonds’ steroid use, but I do care about his denial of everything,” Black Marks On Wood Pulp writes. “Yes, it was not against the rules when he juiced. No, he’s never tested positive for steroids. Yes, this book seems to throw some undeniable evidence at Bonds.”

And just like that, I was a national star. The only bad thing is that in the world of blogging, if you’re not linked, no one’s going to bother coming.

If you’re a reader who found the site through this article (and still manage to keep in touch after four months of blather) let me know. I’d be curious to see what this kind of coverage actually means.

See? I’m still relevant!

Tags: Blogging, Meta |

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Summer cleaning

July 18, 2006


One of the scarier things about summertime, especially during the driest months, is the chance of major fire damage. After living in South Dakota – with the Black Hills just a few hours away – and frequenting Wyoming – where Yellowstone once darkened the sky for months on end – I’m used to hearing about major fires. They’re destructive. They’re frightening.

They’re natural.

Still, I can’t help but be alarmed when something so beautiful – the forests of Yellowstone, of the Black Hills, and now of the Boundary Waters Canoe Area – is threatened. One day, you’re looking at hundreds of years of growth, trees that have stood for nearly a century, which converted the carbon dioxide of World War II and provided the oxygen that has helped the last four generations breathe. The next day, it’s charred, turned into charcoal.

It’s necessary, I know. Many tree seeds don’t sprout unless the older growth has been stripped away, needing extreme heat and a clear sky to prosper, to repopulate and spread like the fire that tore down their predecessors. But there’s nothing as horrifying as staring into a once dense forest to see nothing but black toothpicks, shells of a former living organism – not just the individuals trees, but the entire ecosystem, itself one large living being that provides shelter, food, and supplies for thousands of animals.

My greatest camping memory is of the Boundary Waters. It was a grueling battle against nature at times. My boot filled with mud, and my feet became tired and sore. I went to bed shortly after sundown, and woke up shortly before sunrise. I cycled my patterns with the wilderness, eating dried Thai food and drinking sips of Jameson. I learned a lot about the forest. I learned a lot about my personal limits. And then I shattered those limits.

Now, I’m watching it burn from afar. A 1999 storm knocked down enough kindling to keep the fires raging. The lack of constant population has forced an air of uncertainty over the entire area. No one knows how far the fire has gone, and you’d be stupid to try to find out.

There’s nothing more dangerous than when Mother Nature cleans house. And the Boundary Waters Canoe Area has needed a summer cleaning for a while now. But that still doesn’t make it any easier to watch.

Tags: Outdoors |

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You’re barred!

July 15, 2006


We at BMOWP always love beer commercials. Especially when English twits can’t get thier hands-free phones to work.

You’re barred!

Tags: Advertising and Marketing, Random YouTube |

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I’m back from my World Tour!

July 14, 2006


I can’t believe I forgot about this.

For the past three and a half years – as long as we’ve been back in Sioux Falls, really – Kerrie and I have frequented our local chain pizza joint, Old Chicago. The food is pretty good, considering it’s a multi-location national franchise (everything is made from scratch for the most part), and they have a staggering array of beer choices.

The beer is what first drove us to Old Chicago. Aside from one of our local dive/college bars – Nutty’s – most bars are limited to about ten different taps. Unacceptable, as far as I’m concerned. Old Chicago, however, stocked their bar chock full of brews, and while it’s a franchise and it bucks every “frequent the local restaurants” trend I try to portray, I really enjoy going there.

Our main reason for going back time and time again is their World Beer Tour. 110 different beers. Drink them all, and you get your name emblazoned on a plaque, there to show the world just how much of a drunk you really are. It’s amazing. And we were hooked.

That is, until Tuesday. On Tuesday, I finished my 110th beer (Kerrie beat me by about two weeks, unfortunately, so we didn’t have a celebration party or anything.) It was a 32-ounce Grain Belt, saved for last because, as much as I bow to the corporate monster from time to time, I still have to support the brewery in New Ulm.

During my World Beer Tour, I’ve sampled beers from countries that I didn’t realize even brewed beer. I’ve had beer from Italy, China, France and Japan. I’ve tried an oilcan of Foster’s Bitter (in the blue can!) and have learned to appreciate Stella Artois, the entire line of Sleeman beers, and Lowenbrau. I consider myself a connoisseur now. A beer connoisseur.

So yeah – my name will be on the wall. I’ve completed the World Beer Tour at Old Chicago. Roughly $500 worth of beer (not including food, tax, tips, etc.) garnered me a bottle opener, a handful of coozies, a small cooler, at least three t-shirts, and a sweatshirt with a stitched World Beer Tour logo.

I have to say, I’m a little proud.

Of course, now we can start drinking somewhere that has cheaper beer. Nutty’s, here we come!

Tags: Vilhauer |

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An American Master

July 13, 2006


“Woody is just Woody. Thousands of people do not know he has any other name. He is just a voice and a guitar. He sings the songs of a people and I suspect that he is, in a way, that people. Harsh voiced and nasal, his guitar hanging like a tire iron on a rusty rim, there is nothing sweet about Woody, and there is nothing sweet about the songs he sings. But there is something more important for those who will listen. There is the will of the people to endure and fight against oppression. I think we call this the American spirit.” — John Steinbeck; quoted in Joe Klein, Woody Guthrie: A Life

Kerrie and I sat transfixed to a great show last night on PBS – the American Masters documentary of Woody Guthrie. To say that this man lived every inch of his music is obvious – another in a long line of great musicians that took everything outside of their craft for granted and poured every ounce of their life into creating music that still carries on today. Music that can still seem relevant today.

Guthrie was an amazing man – a real innovator in folk music. As he rose, the genre rose. As he fell, so did his contemporaries. Guthrie was one of the first to openly play with and befriend African Americans (this is during the WWII period, when segregation was still strictly enforced) and was a leading voice in union and pro-labor songs. He was the voice of his generation’s working class.

He championed socialistic views and rallied against he exploitation of workers. He wrote songs about living life on the road, about the American dream, and about the unions that were making changes throughout the country. He wrote an album based on John Steinbeck’s Grapes of Wrath, and the song “Tom Joad,” based on a main character, caused Steinbeck to wonder how Guthrie could so perfectly sum up his entire story in 17 stanzas when it took him two years to write the book.

Guthrie loved his music, and he loved his children. He wasn’t the same after his daughter died after a household fire accident. He withdrew and was never the same again. But the damage had already been done, so to speak. Guthrie had laid the groundwork that would keep folk alive through a tumultuous time of popular, issueless music. And his seeds sprouted into a new generation of folk musicians, including Bob Dylan as well as his son Arlo Guthrie, that worked to continue the legend that folk music had become.

Woody Guthrie told us that this land was our land. He explained the need for unions, and lamented on the losses during hard times in the Midwest. He wrote children’s songs. He wrote ballads. He changed a generation’s thinking about what it was like to be American, to live in the Free World and have to work for every dollar.

Woody Guthrie died of Hutchinson’s disease. Near the end of his life, Guthrie couldn’t even speak – he could only wink once for yes and twice for no. Both Kerrie and I wondered how it was that a man who lived for words, who wrote constantly, throwing the pages to the floor in a hurry to start another, who crafted songs that still stand the test of time, that show the true meaning of living during the Depression, in the Dust Bowl, working for a union and fighting fascism, how a person who was built up on language, who loved through language and fought for language and lost through language, could die not being able to say a single thing, too sick to write, too sick to speak.

After all he had lived through, what would Woody Guthrie’s last words have been? What would he have thought of Bob Dylan? Of the Mermaid Avenue remakes by Wilco and Billy Bragg? What would he have thought of this world?

His silence, unfortunately, continues on. Except in his music. That, thankfully, is still alive today.

Tags: Music |

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