My Hero of the XXX Olympiad, Oksana Chusovitina

This may be first, a follow-up to a previous posting. Four years ago I wrote about the Soviet-born German gymnast Oksana Chusovitina, who at 33 was still competing in elite-caliber gymnastics, when most of her peers were teenagers. I was awe-struck by her story. I rooted for her, and deeply cheered when she took the silver medal on vault in the 2008 Beijing Olympics. Before her set, I vividly remember the announcers commenting that history would be made today. She was an inspiration and left such a mark on me that I was still telling me about her prior to the start of these games. Surely nothing these games, I thought, could top a 33 year-old gymnast.

Except, of course, a 37 year-old gymnast.

Chusovitina is back, at 37, to compete in the 2012 London games - and she's expected to medal. She wants one more, with her son there to watch, before she retires to next coach for Uzbekistan's team. I'll look forward to cheering for her again.

#nbcfail

Give a Christmas present to somebody on December 20th and then there are only two kinds of people: the ones (like me) who will insist, religiously, on waiting until the 25th as Christmas presents are for not until Christmas morning.  Opening them earlier, moreover, will just leave you with one less to open on Christmas, a smaller pile, a little less joy that day.  Isn't the anticipation half the joy?  The other kind of people (for example, Roberta) will without hesitation rip into the wrapping paper, not being able to stand the anticipation, the waiting, the not knowing what the gift would be.

There is an equivalent for Olympic games which are time zones ahead (specifically ahead of me, by the way - it's always local time where the games are).  Atlanta (Eastern Standard) was the last "current" Olympics in 1996, but since then it's been Sydney, Athens, Beijing, and London.  For these, the main events we watch in prime time have already happened.  1996, Atlanta's year, was also the first steps of the Internet age, and I do not recall that the results then being easily available before the events aired.  Now, in 2012, I have to actively avoid most media during the day so that the results are not "spoiled" for me half a day before I'm able to watch them on NBC.  The United States men's gymnastics team is about to compete for gold now.  I"m not even sure I'll be able to stay awake to watch and see how they do.  It'd be nice to be able to grab video online, fast forward through, and see the results.  The results are there, of course, I could know them in ten seconds through a Google search.  I could, but I'm just not that kind of person, remember?

There are times when I would really want to watch online.  Today in women's volleyball the U.S. team beat Brazil and at best I could only follow on Twitter and get score updates every few minutes.  I would also love to see the sports they generally are not showing on television - wrestling, for example.

This isn't possible, this year, due to NBC.  I wasn't expecting how, in this age, live feeds would not be provided (I feel that they were for the Beijing games?).  NBC's website reads "Watch free video of the London 2012 Olympic Games on NBCOlympics.com". Well, not quite.  You need a cable subscription that includes MSNBC, etc., and then on top of that, only, access is free.  To a cable-less guy like me, out of luck.  The pangs of cord-cutting regret I felt on learning only through a cable subscription could I enter the kingdom, "fortunately", quickly evaporated when I heard about how poor the video quality of the are - often very glitchy, if they work at all - though the regular ads that come on it seems have perfect quality.  By the way, this has all been already summarized today already much better than here. A twitter hashtag, #nbcfail, has popped up and makes for fun reading, and gives some sense of revenge against those denying the people their Olympic access.

Anyways, those complaining of tape delay get a reprieve next time around: Rio de Janeiro's Olympics in 2016 will be almost Eastern Standard (one hour ahead in July).  For me personally, however if all goes as I hope, it won't matter: I want to be there in person.  It might be the best chance I have, until Norwalk, CT wins an Olympic big...

What the Candidates and Athletes Have in Common

Aside from a lot of sport, I've realized during the Olympics coverage that I'm also watching a lot of commercials.  Fortunately (or due to the expected audience), many have an almost Super Bowlesque quality.  However, I've also noticed I'm watching lots of political ads.  What cruel timing that years of the summer games coincide with presidential election years.  And I'm in Massachusetts, not even a swing state.  The one playing most often, supporting Barack Obama, features Mitt Romney singing "America the Beautiful" terribly off-key.  How do they expect us to support Team USA with that in our heads?

Another category of commercials relays how hard the athletes have worked.  Hitting the pool at dawn, alone with the weights, nursing injuries, etc.  Well, duh.  Honestly, I'm not fully sure of such ads' exact message.  The sacrifice the athletes have made?  Hopefully not that with enough hard work "anyone" could become an Olympic athlete (the more common non-athletic version are variations on "you, too, could be rich").  Certainly not true, that hard work, that total dedication every day over years  is necessary, but not sufficient.  How many unknown unnamed countless others have put in the same number of hours of those who will be standing on the podiums?  They are not in London this week.  Their times may be within seconds of the world record for all we know.  But there are just only so many spots on the national team.

I thought of a New York Times Magazine article a few years ago profiling, essentially, the machine that identifies basketball talent.  It starts with preteens.  Across the country, there must be - how many? - untold numbers of kids, spending everyday shooting baskets at a hoop, hoping its the start of a path that will eventually lead to a pro contract.  For most nothing will ever come of it.  Some will effectively win the lottery,  go the NBA, and will then be able for the camera to recall those long hours alone every day in the gym practicing free throws, and testify how worth it it was.  But we'll never see all the others who took the same number of shots and have nothing to show for a wasted youth.

So price of a even the possibility of Olympic success is, probably, the majority of a hopeful's young life in devotion to the perfection of their sport.

The price of a president campaign?  Presidential candidates spend hundreds of millions of dollars.  Millions even to lose the primary.  You'd better be prepared to spend an obscene amount just to run and most likely, statistically, it will all be for nothing.

For both athletes and political candidates, it's an all-pay auction.  Everyone is putting forward, above some threshold, an exorbitant payment.  Yet history won't remember most, only the few winners. 

The difference?  It's the athletes own time, their loss of a "normal" life.  The political candidates funds are usually largely donated - it's instead someone else's loss.  They're not really sacrificing.

Four Year Sports Famine, Two Week Feast

I don't watch professional sports.  I lose out on a great deal of social currency since I can't talk about how the Red Sox are doing.  Still, I prefer the hours, cumulative days - weeks? months? - of my life I'm saving.

I watch the the Super Bowl for the commercials, I'd go to baseball games only to eat hot dogs, pro basketball is probably fixed, I went to a college without a football team, I watched its basketball team only in what I considered for pay due to my pep band scholarship, golf is elitist - and boring, tennis is also elitist (though less so) - and elitist (though less so), I'm American, so soccer, cricket, rugby....well.....If I ever did I would only watch hockey for the fights, boxing is sleazy, MMA is ridiculous, almost two decades ago I came to terms with pro wrestling being fake, I'd only watch car racing for the crashes, demolition derby races don't seem to come out here, and spectators of professional video game or poker players need to seriously reexamine their lives.


I've regularly worn the apparel of teams for which I couldn't name a single player.


And with a passion I hate the smug, sportscasting analysts who, if they're not reminiscing of their past glory, are selling their product through insinuating your effeminacy if you weren't to buy in, since real men watch sports (specifically, in order: football, basketball, baseball, and sometimes hockey.  Nothing else).

But I love the Olympics, and during the summer games run every four years I make up for all the sports I pass on by completely binging during its two week run.  While there are some criticisms of the modern games, in general I believe they support the amateur spirit and dream of a united world.  It's far more satisfying to cheer on athletes out of patriotism than to give millionaires more money.  Most of all, its largely sports stripped down to their fundemental level, utterly purged of BS.  No abstruse, complicated rules.  See that line there?  Who ever crosses it first, wins.  That's it.

An Olympic Opening, 2012

Tonight, despite thick, under-conditioned air, I finished the 60 minutes at 7.8mph on the treadmill goal I set for myself at the gym.  I distinctly remember wanting to quit at 15, 20, 30, 45, and once I got to 50min, I knew I would finish.  Even at 53min, when my stomach was knotting, I pushed through (I wouldn't really vomit, would I?).  I counted down the last 90 seconds.  I thought of an athlete in the final 10 seconds of their gold medal hope.  When I finally finished, I was so happy I did it.  I immediately resolved to write this so I could read this again.  It's always worth it to finish.

The opening ceremony of the 2012 London Olympics is airing on NBC as I write this.  I've already caught the bug.  I know how I'll be spending the next two weeks.

Tonight on Facebook I posted Jamie McGregor Smith's feature in the New York Times Lens Blog, from her  work "Borrow, Build, Abandon", on the state of the 2004 Athens Olympics stadiums, which only eight years later have fallen into neglected decay.  How quickly splendid becomes forgotten.  I remembered my Latin, sic transit gloria mundi (thus passes the glory of the world).

Also: the opening ceremony featured Caliban's "Be not afeard" speech from The Tempest.  I love the line "...when I waked I cried to dream again".  I remember December dreams of my youth receiving an 8-bit Nintendo for Christmas, what I wished for more than anything, and what my mother would never buy, only to wake up to the creeping horror that I still didn't have a Nintendo.  So, five years ago, today, my youngest brother Scott died.  Regularly since then (and just again the night before last) I dreamt he was able to somehow "come back" and rejoin us the living.  It didn't usually happen, he said, but it did then, and we could hang out again and I'd be able to savor the second chance we were given.  We'd be able to just hang out again, talk, and I'd have my brother again, and I was so relived and thankful.  But soon I woke up.

It was a dream that was sad to wake up from.  I miss you, Scott.

Treasure in the Attic

When I was younger I had possession of a 1905 nickle, and lost it.  I kicked myself for quite sometime because I thought I had a valueable item.  Actually I just looked up the price and it'd be worth $0.75 today.  I'll no longer be feeling bad.

A 15x increase in value isn't too shabby.  I just turned off the terrible The Great Big American Auction on ABC with that crazy from Home Improvement Makeover.  It's sort of like Antique Roadshow, with the class of public radio.  A good amount of time has folks lugging junk to the appraisers, hoping they've been sitting on a winning lottery ticket all along.  I did get a bit of pleasure in watching several of them them being told that, in fact, their items are junk.  My heart went out to many though, as not all were just looking for a quick buck.  Several were willing to part with what they believed or knew to be quite valuable because of the economy - the rich will exploit their desperation and take their treasure, but isn't that what always happens?

A few years later, an older cousin went to Europe and brought back a piece of the Berlin Wall.  My others and I put it in our fish tank.  When you're 10 it's just a rock.  That piece of history probably has a bit more value, but now, maybe if it's anywhere, it's lying in the rock piles underneath the deck.

A Daily Dose of Scary

"Do one thing every day that scares you" is a call to break out of one's comfort zone, to conquer one's fears.  To actually do it every day - I don't think I could go through a month of scary things before I ran out of "things I'm irrationally afraid of but would be healthy for me to actually try" and was forced into "things I'm legitimately afraid of because they will kill me".

The scariest thing I did today was to watch, then rewatch Gary Oldman portraying an evil dummy singing an equally sinister "Bring Back My Bonnie To Me", filmed for the New York Time Magazine's Hollywood issue.  There goes sleep tonight...

Two Kinds of Christmas Songs

The only song that Santa and Jesus cross is in the final verse of "Here Comes Santa Claus"

"So let's give thanks to the Lord above 'cause Santa Claus comes tonight..."

Otherwise there are two kinds of songs, religious and non-religious, and religious people complain that "Silent Night" is forbidden now from some schools' pageants, so instead it's "Frosty the Snowman".

Merry Christmas, Charlie Brown

Poor Charlie Brown, no one sent him a Christmas card.

Right now I'm watching Merry Christmas, Charlie Brown on ABC.  It wouldn't be the holidays without it.  Charlie Brown is bummed out, as usual, this time over Christmas's commercialization.  At the end of the show, Linus tells Charlie Brown about the true meaning of Christmas, alla Luke, often forgotten in the holly and jolly.

And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night.
And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid.
And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people.
For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord.
And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.
And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying,
Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.

Linus Breaks It Down

The funny thing is that, almost fifty years later, how quaint it seems.  If anything, we in this decade think of the 1960s (when the special first debuted) as a simpler time, when carolers still passed house to house.  If Charlie Brown saw what Christmas has become in 2011, I can guarantee that eggnog would shoot out of his nipples.

Don't Be Rose

To Be Rose (verb): To inconsiderately, self-centeredly, or thoughtlessly complain to someone who is suffering much worse  from the same complaint.

"My twenty-something, size one, marathoner office-mate was totally being Rose, complaining to our middle-age coworkers that she put on two pounds over Thanksgiving."

-ORIGIN:
From Titanic (1997), where Kate Winslet's character Rose, floating on wood, complains that she's cold to Leonardo DiCaprio (Jack), who is at that time freezing to death in the water.




I've been using this with my girlfriend since at least 2007 after watching Titanic together one night, and we often tell each other now "don't be Rose" when one is complaining of something the other is suffering from much worse, such as complaining of being tired to the one who had to wake up at 5am.  The film's very corny dialogue set-up magnify this action to the absurd extreme.  As I saw from just looking up the scene on Youtube, many others have picked up on Rose's selfishness, and the exchange even inspired a Facebook page dedicated to what Leo should have said.

An Encomium to Martha Stewart

Although I've never met her, I like Martha Stewart.  I like her because she makes a big deal about things.  It's the idea she embodies, acknowledging and immersing one's self in the present season.  When you walk into a room Martha Stewart has touched, it's not just that you see Christmas.  You feel Christmas.

 - Or Thanksgiving, or Halloween.  As I get older I'm increasingly discouraged by the apathy I see in my peers and community regarding the holidays.  Halloween has fallen the farthest.  The sense I get from my friends' Facebook photos are that a Halloween party means a bowl of pretzels on an undecorated table in the corner, beer, and tasteless costumes that only looked good on the model advertising it.  What adults do in their apartment is their own business, I suppose, but I'm disheartened that Only a minority of homes in my neighborhood participated this year.  This neighborhood, new for me, was far more lively than last year, when I didn't get a single trick-or-treater.

Now, let me be clear: no one walking into any retail store or watching TV for more than 15 minutes can really miss it's Christmas.  But all that's more of a drumbeat proclaiming "buy, buy!, BUY!",  The only Black Friday shopping I did this year was to buy picks for a wreath I will make.  I won't even be in my apartment for the last half of December, but it's important to me to make something with my hands, Bing Crosby Christmas standards playing, soaking in the holiday season.  Thoreau told us to "live each season as it passes", and it's healthy to season our lives with something bigger than out daily routine.

Martha is written off as - why?  - a goody two-shoes?  An overachiever?  As she probably does not spend much time herself crafting, a hypocrite?  Maybe.  But that aside, she calls us to mark each holiday with something more than a bowl of pretzels on an undecorated table. To take the time to create something, be it food or decoration.  Indirectly, we'll create richer memories.

To become jaded is to being old inside.  We remain young by retaining our enthusiasm.  Living by Martha?  If there was a touch of doing simple things in our lives, making crafts by hand, marking the time of year, we'd all be happier and have healthier communities.

Thoughts after Jabbing Myself with a Pin

Does acupuncture work?  How does acupuncture work?  Could it be like sensory overload?  Could it be like eating really spicy food, that to compensate for pain your body unloads endorphines?   We call that The Indian Food High.

The numb feeling that occurs when blood circulation stops in a body part - what we call "pins and needles" in Brazil they call "ants crawling".  Which would be worse?  Poked with a thousand needles, or be covered in ants?

At what density could pins be lined together so that a person could walk over them without being punctured?

The booby trap in Home Alone where Marv steps on a nail is one of the more painful (It goes in so deep!).  The worst is when Harry touches the heated doorknob and burns an "M" into his hand.

At the doctors, I'd always preferred a shot in the arm to a finger prick for a blood sample.  Much less pain.

Sharpness is relative to size.  A needle sufficiently magnified would look like a plateau, yet it punctures.  Perhaps it fits 'between' something in the skin?

There's always one last pin in a new dress shirt you just don't see.

And I'm back....

Since last Thursday, I've been writing again.  It's been good to get to write something regularly, and be creative about what I could put up.

I'll hope to keep it up through this holiday season....and let's say the 12th day of Christmas: Three Kings Day

Unappealing Ice Cream Flavors Created on Iron Chef America

• Trout
• Scallop
• Purple Peruvian Potato
• Veal Sorbet
• Bacon
• Turkey Sorbet
• Asparagus
• Sugared Salmon with Beet Sorbet
• Lentil
• Olive Oil
• Vanilla Ice Cream - with Lobster Sauce
• Skirt Steak
• Prosciutto
• Tomato Sorbet
• Balsamic Sorbet
• Bacon
• Coleslaw

Source: My traumatized memory and GSNN.

Ooh, Slow First Day Back at the Gym

Two realizations on my strength and I get older:

1. How much less I've got, and
2. How quickly it goes

Yesterday was my first day back to the Planet Fitness gym after the week off for Thanksgiving, and I was seriously sucking wind.  In times past, I would return from an occasional week off reinvigorated and have a really good work-out.  Yesterday I couldn't finish my usual warm-up.  OK, it was a warm-up 5K on 8.2mph, but still, it's only been a week.

It could be that this break involved a steady diet of Stew Leonard's cheese bagels and ice cream sandwiches with an all-out Thanksgiving gorging, coupled with mostly a lot of lying around on the couch.  Hopefully yesterday I was just working the last of the tryptophan out of my system.

It does concern me that a more rapid loss of gains could be part of a larger downward trend.  I'm definitely sure I can't lift as much as I used to.  The hard thing is that the memory lasts longer than the body.  Years ago I met my thesis adviser at school's gym one morning just getting back into it (guy was probably only a few years older than I am now), and he lamented to me that "you can remember what you used to be able to do", but if you start with that weight again, you're straining out the second rep.

Heading back today of course for some cardio - consistency is the key - my muscles weren't too sore this morning so I think it's mostly my stamina that went.  December is a weird month and I'm already looking at the calendar for when I'll have to miss - it looks like I'll be back home for the last third of the month in the same routine as last week.  It's sad to think at best now at the gym I'm only lessening what the December holidays are going to do to my body.  Playing for keeps starts in January.

Hiding What I'm Reading

The book I am currently reading, London Fields by Martin Amis, contains a fair amount of naughty bits.  I'm only a third of the way through, enough to know the movie version would be rated R for language and sexual situations - today the protagonist of the black comedy insouciantly justified rape.

I'm painfully self-conscious and worry even about the options of complete strangers.  So it was only after I was assured my seatmate was sufficiently conked out that dared to crack open my book on the Amtrak back to Providence this morning.  There's a lot in there that'd be easy to take out of context.

Several years ago I sat down on a plane to read a book entitled White Man's Burden (by Bill Easterly) for an economics class.  Guess who sat next to me?  A non-Caucasian, let's just say that.  If it came up I could have explained that the book was actually about identifying effective development strategies - a noble goal, of course - but it coming up at all means digging myself out of a hole so I simply buried the spine (displaying the title) in my lap until we departed the plane.

Amtrak coach is cramped enough that it's easy to read over someone's shoulder, and books cannot accommodate privacy screens.  Computers can, but no one bothers with them.  On the train home last Monday I couldn't look up without looking straight into the movie some college kid was watching on his laptop (this morning those same college kids were mostly asleep).  All was pretty tame.  The person in front of me watched Captain America, to my right, Titanic.  So, no one's media choice revealed their perversions, only how boring they are.

Now, back when I was in college - on a trip to the NCAA basketball tournament I ended up sitting next to the mascot on the plane.  On his laptop, in loop, he played the scene in Road Trip when Amy Smart takes her shirt off on loop, pausing it at the most obscene point when the the flight attendants passed.  Maybe you don't have to worry about shame when you hide inside a giant foam head.

It was this memorable plane ride I recalled when I heard how over this most recent Thanksgiving travel period a flier was in arrested in Boston after other passengers noticed him viewing child pornography on his laptop.

Certainly, such a gross episode makes all other questionable viewing seem strictly PG-13.  But, I still retain my self-consciousness.  I wouldn't reveal to my mom what I was reading when she asked, lest she seek the book out, read it herself, and confirm my exposure to the F-word (Fiction, Adult).

A New Mass Begins Today

Today, November 27th 2011 is the first Sunday of Advent, the first Sunday of the new Catholic liturgical year, and the first Sunday a new English translation of the Catholic Mass is being implemented.

The purpose is to move the mass nearer to the original Latin.  A widely cited example (likely because it occurs within the first five seconds of mass) is that when the priest greets the people with "The Lord be with you", instead of "And also with you", the people now respond "And with your spirit".

Awkward, but I'm no writer.  My first thought upon hearing of the coming changes was sympathy for the all the 80 year-old priests, old dogs who have to learn new tricks after decades of a particular litany ingrained deep into their brains.

As with the rest of us.  My own personal concern was that I would feel somehow an obsolete Catholic.  I do not have a perfect attendance record by any means, but have gone enough that I can get by through motor memory of my mouth.  Certainly not anymore.  Worse, I am also concerned I will feel a disconnect with the Church I grew up with.  It was comforting to have an unchanging continuity, to go to mass for an hour and hear the same unchanging words, anywhere I went, as I did when I was eight.

I slept in this morning but my mom went and told me even the priest was reading off the card.  The people, she said, recited a mix of the new and old.  She felt the new translation is a step back.  When she was young and the mass initially changed from Latin, she said there was an similarly awkward, almost too literal translation.  She preferred the version I grew up which had a more common language usage, which she found more accessible.

I'm not sure how other languages handle their translations from Latin.  At Columbia, our Polish chaplain criticized English (or the American version, anyway) as the only translation to begin the Nicene Creed with "We Believe" - the Latin is Credo, "I believe" - because "Americans think they're special".  I liked our version, it gave a sense of community.  Unfortunately, he won: the Nicene is changed because to  "I believe" in the new version.

I'll be interested to see the faces of the Christmas/Easter Catholics this Christmas when the mass gets going.  Will they worry they've walked into the wrong building?

Epicurus on Happiness (and Shopping)

Did you enjoy your retail therapy, America?  Did it make you happy?  I would guess not in the long run.  Gift-giving and charity are supposed to bring joy, but sadly Black Friday is becoming increasingly about getting a great-priced HDTV for one's self.

Almost five years ago, Christmas 2006, I was home and bummed having ended a long-term relationship.  Flipping channels, I came across Alain de Botton's Philosophy: A Guide To Happiness on PBS World, right at the beginning of Socrates' episode.  It was a heaven-send, and greatly consoled me through the pain I was feeling and brought be comfort.  It was so good, that I stuck around for the next episode in the series, featuring Epicurus and his perspcription for happiness.  It was a different subject-matter, though similarly helpful:

The issue is this: we want, for example, friendship, which everyone agrees brings happiness.  Knowing this, advertisers display a group of friends laughing in camaraderie around a television.  The implied subtext is that if we had that TV, we could have parties, and the socialization and good cheer that comes with them.  So, we buy the television as a means to an end: friendship.  Epicurus reminds us that if we want friendship, the television isn't necessary.  Moreover, if the TV was ever necessary for those others to be spending time with us, then as our mothers would agree, they were never really our friends.

So, most of our problems are due to that we're confused on how to attain happiness.  Friends are free, or they should be.  I found Epicurus's philosophy encouragingly optimistic and accessible.  Part 3 of Epicureanism's simple Four-Part Guide for Happiness states:

What is good is easy to get...

Also from the video, I found it interesting that a wealthy devotee of Epicurus had plastered a local market with reminders of such teachings.  What if everywhere in our local malls were posted: "Go ahead and buy, but it won't make you happy".


------------------------------
Incidentally, the documentaries are based on de Botton's excellent book, The Consolations of Philosophy, which I borrowed from Norwalk's public library the very next business day.  Stumbling across that documentary was an awakening and I count it as a turning-point in my life.

The Time Costs of My Thanksgiving Television

About five years ago I gave up cable TV and never looked back.  I've saved hours on my life, countless brain cells, and upwards of $50 each month, so let's say between $2,000 and $3,000 - oh Jesus - and counting.  Between Hulu.com, ordering entire seasons through Netflix, and the TVs at the gym I still manage to get a satisfying programming fix.  About ten TVs play simultaneously at the gym, and I'm always revlived to confirm that there really is nothing on aside from Law & Order episodes and a seemingly daily marathon of Kim Kardashian's wedding, which even her divorce isn't stopping.

My mother still subscribes to cable, and when I visit during holidays it's a chance to catch up on what I've been missing (for some reason when we watch together the intersection on what everyone can tolerate is HGTV renovation shows).  Fortunately, during the holidays there are always lots of good movies.  Since Wednesday I've watched four classics: Gone with the Wind, Snow White and the Seven Dwarves, Miracle on 34th Street, and The Godfather last night.  Although The Godfather is really really good I found I increasingly dreaded the coming commercial breaks.  This was especially due to these very bad Walmart commercials that kept playing.  Often during the same commercial cycle Walmart took out multiple Black Friday ads.  The more I watched the more annoying they became.  I covered my ears to avoid the torture.  I felt I was being brainwashed.

I don't usually watch so much TV, and I wanted to figure out how much of my life I was giving up to commercials to watch these movies.  The metrics are easy.  Take a typical sitcom, slotted 8-8:30 (30 minutes) which is well-know to only be about 22 minutes of programming.  Nothing is for free, and so even analog users "pay" to watch the shows by sitting through 8 minutes of commercials (cable users pay twice, via commercials and cable bills).  In a sense, each minute of commercials "buys" 1.4 minutes of sitcom programming for the viewer.

I calculated the minutes of movie purchased by each commercial minute for the four movies I'd watched.  The slotted times were easy to remember or look-up from yesterday's TV listings.  In terms how that time divides into movies and commercials, I discovered that when you enter [movie name] running time into the Google search bar you are given an estimate of the film's running time, pulled from wikipedia.org, amazon.com, fairly reliable sources.  Of course there could be further editing for TV, but I ignore that for now.

The results are below.  The abbreviation "mb" stands for number of "minutes bought" of the movie by each minute of commercial.

• Gone with the Wind: Slotted for 300 minutes, Run Time 222 minutes - 2.8mb
• Snow White and the Seven Dwarves: Slotted for 95 minutes, Run Time 83 minutes - 6.9mb
• Miracle on 34th Street: Slotted for 120 minutes, Run Time 96 minutes - 4.0mb
• The Godfather: Slotted for 240, Run Time 175 - 2.7mb

Longer movies are clearly much more time expensive - The Godfather was 2.5x more so than Snow White.  Each minute of commercial break during Snow White bought almost seven minutes of movie.  My interpretation is that longer movies allow the advertisers to fit more commercials in.  There's no volume discount here.  On the other hand, a minute of 30-minute sitcom commercials only buys 1.4 minutes of programming, the most expensive of all.  A more complete analysis would account for more characteristics - all else equal, programming with more desirability (perhaps prime-time sitcoms vs. cable movie reruns) should be more time expensive.  There is also already an existing price mechanism in how much advertisers pay for the privilege of airing commercials - it would be interesting to see in what cases that cost is shirted to viewers or borne by advertisers.

Lastly, the quality of commercials was not accounted for here, but makes a big difference, too.  The Walmart Black Friday commercials last night were particularly tedious, and unfortunately more frequent.

Holiday Overlap

When Santa Claus arrives at Herald Square later this morning in Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade, it represents the utmost visual concurrence of two holidays.  It is simultaneously both Thanksgiving and Christmas in the most natural sense of the intersection.

In the holiday season we rapidly progress from Halloween to Thanksgiving to Christmas to New Year's, without well-defined delimiters.  Cashier isle magazines have already been changed to their Thanksgiving issues before Halloween even arrives.  Fortunately Halloween and Thanksgiving both contain elements of harvest festivals and so the blend is natural.  I view pumpkin pie has having the greatest cross-over appeal.  It is a kind of final stage of the pumpkin cycle - evil Jack O'Lanterns redeemed into sweet dessert.

Much has already been said of Christmas creep.  I think it nothing to hear Christmas music in the malls mid-November.  But now Christmas has increasingly cannibalized November, so that preparations for decorations in stores have begun before I've even put my pumpkin out.

I endeavored to identify items with a foot in both Halloween and Christmas.  I thus present, to the best of my knowledge, the overlap of Halloween and Christmas:

• Tim Burton's "The Nightmare Before Christmas"
• B-Horror film "Jack Frost"
• The Ghost of Christmas Future
• Sexy Santa, Ms. Claus, or Elves costumes
• The song "Linus and Lucy", featured in both the Halloween and Christmas Charlie Brown specials
• Late October in many stores

Happy Thanksgiving!!!