Making Cheap Vodka Better with a Brita Filter: It Kinda Works

Recently I heard an urban legend that terrible vodka could be improved by running it through a household water filter. The concept is that top-shelf vodkas are filtered through activated charcoal, which is the same process a Brita pitcher uses. 

This seemed like a fun experiment, so I got to work. First I investigated online. The consensus was that a single filtration made little difference. However, those who filtered multiple times were rewarded with better vodka.

In light of the anecdotal evidence, I was willing to subject the claim to my own trials. I purchased 500 mL of the cheapest vodka in the Wal-Mart liquor store, as well as a mini-bottle of Ketel One.

First I drank the Ketel One to establish a tasting profile for 'good' vodka.

Tasting Notes: Nosing contained slight hints of grain and fresh grass. Taste was neutral. Medium viscosity that coats the tongue. Smooth finish.

No surprises with the high-end brand. Chill it down, wave it at France, and enjoy your martini season.

Next up was Karkov brand. It comes from St. Paul, MN... In a mouthwash bottle.

Tasting Notes: Fucking hostile. I was wincing before the glass reached by lips. I choked it down and shuddered.

Any improvement would be a welcome result.

I poured the remaining vodka through my Brita pitcher. I emptied the pitcher into a Tupperware bowl, and repeated four times, for a total of five filtrations.

The result: Much better. The unfiltered vodka had a harsh industrial taste which demanded strong mixers. The filtered vodka was inoffensive and drinkable. It did not have Ketel One's subtle aromas, nor the warming finish which makes great spirits just that.

The biggest difference was consistency. The filtered vodka was thin and watery. I didn't have the satisfying viscosity of the Ketel One, which is why I do not recommend it for serving Russian diplomats.

However, the filtered spirit was a clear improvement over its original form. It's ideal use is wherever cheap vodka would be called for, namely sugary cocktails made in huge quantities.

All things considered, a successful experiment. 

The Wal-Mart Challenge: Beef Bourguignon a la Sam's Choice

I'm always trying to eat well for less. With that in mind, I've created the Wal-Mart Challenge, whereby I make classic dishes using only ingredients purchased at Wal-Mart. This weekend I attempted a personal favorite: Beef Bourguignon.

After the omelette, this may be the best known standard of French cuisine. What better test of the Wal-Mart pantry, as well as my own skill?   

The recipe:

-1/4 lb. sliced bacon
-2 1/2 lb. chuck roast
-Sea Salt
-2 shallots, roughly chopped
-1/2 cup dry red wine
-2 cups beef broth
-6 button mushrooms, sliced
-1 tsp. dried oregano
-1 tsp. dried thyme
-2 tsp. dried tarragon
-1 tsp. coarse ground black pepper

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees. Arrange the bacon in a single layer on a baking sheet lined with aluminum foil. Bake 10-12 minutes. Crumble the bacon and reserve the grease.

While the bacon is cooking, cut the roast into 1 1/2 inch cubes. Pat dry with paper towel then sprinkle with sea salt. Let the beef sit 20 minutes at room temperature. Pour the reserved bacon grease into a 12 inch cast iron skillet. Heat the skillet to medium-high, then add the beef in batches, so as not to overcrowd the pan (no pieces should touch). Brown the beef, then remove from the skillet.

Lower the stove to medium and add the shallots. Cook until translucent. Add the wine, and cook for another minute. Add the browned beef and the broth. Raise the temperature to high. Once boiling, stir for one minute, then lower to a gentle simmer.

Add the mushrooms, oregano, thyme, tarragon, and black pepper. Cover and cook for 2 hours.

The Result: Decent.

It would have been better had I trusted my ingredients. I assumed my $4 wine would suck, so I added too little relative to the broth. Like most store-bought broths, this one was very salty. In the future, I will take the traditional route and make my braising liquid mostly wine.

However, like all beef stews, this one made for good leftovers. In the United States, Beef Bourguinon is often served egg noodles. I choose a different starch and added left over brown Basmati rice. The brown Basmati is a hearty and flavorful grain which held up to the beef while soaking up the salt. All together, a solid and encouraging outcome.

In the end, this Challenge reflected the strength of French cuisine. Sound technique and systematic decision making made decent ingredients better than they were. The greater test of the Wal-Mart grocery will be Italian cooking, which emphasizes quality ingredients over preparation.

Next up : Cacio e Pepe.   

Deconstructing Derek Jeter's Lameness: A Holistic Perspective

Derek Jeter's career is finally over.

He leaves the game as a banjo-hitting shortstop with negative defensive value on a team that missed the playoffs for a second straight season. His greatest moments happened more than a decade ago. In the last five years, his primary impact on the Yankees has been to block or limit the playing time of their best infield prospects.

So much for going out on top.

The breakdown of Derek Jeter's legacy is already underway. His Hall of Fame case is ironclad, but debate rages on where he stacks up among his contemporaries, as well as past greats.

Informed opinion has never considered Jeter a candidate for greatest shortstop of all time. For the foreseeable future, Honus Wagner will continue to hold that distinction. Even the most sentimental Yankees fans don't regard him the same strata as Ruth, Gehrig, Mantle, or DiMaggio.

As for where he rates among players of the past 20 years, his zero MVP's bear testament to the superiority of Pujols, Bonds, and even... A-Rod. 

In the wake of his sappy farewell tour, It's time to rip The Captain apart point by point.

1. He wasn't as good a player as he's made out to be. 

Here, Keith Olberman summarizes the pure baseball arguments against Derek Jeter's status as an all-timer:

The main flaws in Jeter's game:

-His 3,000+ hits will get him into Cooperstown, but it doesn't change that fact that he was a one-dimensional offensive player. He was very good at slapping opposite field singles. For a time, he was even a useful base stealer. In the end, he grades out as a 1/3-tool player.

-He was probably one of the worst defensive players ever. At shortstop, his sloppy fundamentals, and limited range negated many of the runs he produced at the plate.

-Despite his poor defense, he chronically refused to do the right thing and change positions, even with much better options on the roster. 

2. Jeter's 'clutch' reputation is dubious.

-Despite his reputation as a 'clutch' player, most of his great postseason moments are clustered in the first five years of his career. Where was Jeter's 'clutchness' when the Yankees of the 2000's were languishing through years of early playoff exits?

His 'Mr. November' home run has been replayed ad naseum in recent days, but New York lost that World Series. They lost less than two months after September 11th. With an opportunity to help heal a devastated city, The Captain was key in helping the Yankees blow a lead in the 9th inning of Game 7.

Jeter had his opportunity to stem the Arizona rally when Mariano Rivera made an errant throw to second on a bunt. A 'clutch' player would have been able to field the ball for an out, but instead, Jeter was tangled by the runner. The ball passed into center field, and into legend. It would have taken a great play to make that out, but isn't that what Jeter was supposed to provide in the biggest moments?

Taking a broader view, consider his career numbers.

As his only above average skill was hitting for contact, batting average is useful metric to measure his overall 'clutchness.' His postseason batting average of .308 is essentially the same as his .310 career average. In fact, it's probably propped up by missing the playoffs in his last two seasons, when he limped through age and injuries to hit a combined .223 in the regular season.

For all his late-90's highlights, Jeter was the same player at any point in the calendar.


3. Jeter is not the classiest man alive.

To be clear, I think he's a nice guy. However, the arguments that pin him as the embodiment of 'class' and 'doing things the right way' are overstated. These labels are given with the subtext that, 'he's not Alex Rodriguez.'

Context matters. The Yankees are notorious for stocking their roster with unlikable late-career mercenaries. The high salaries and diminishing (often illegally enhanced) play of men like Rodriguez and Roger Clemens only shone a light on Jeter as a positive, high-character individual.

I don't buy it. Just because he isn't a complete asshole, it doesn't make him the second coming of Roberto Clemente.

The Yankees have been a splintered and under performing team since the 2009 World Series. For years now, Alex Rodriguez has hijacked the teams headlines. Robinson Cano was scapegoated for the team's failures despite being its best player, by far. Big-name free agents like Brian McCann and Jacoby Ellsbury have had rough seasons, leading many to question the team's focus and motivation.

If only there were some sage clubhouse figure with the clout and reputation to inspire his team in the dugout while having it's back in the press room...

Not anymore though. Not after 20 years as the poor man's Chipper Jones.

My Brain is Still Cloudy, But I Did Finally Finish a Song. Click Here to Listen

In anticipation of my move to the High Plains, I started working on a cover of a Bob Wills song called 'Brain Cloudy Blues.' Some of you will recognize it as a slight reworking of Wills' standard 'Milk Cow Blues.' I prefer the first verse in 'Brain Cloudy' so I covered it.

I've had this one sitting on my hard drive for a few weeks now. I wasn't satisfied with the quality of the takes or the arrangement. Then again, I never am, so there's no reason to wait any longer.

Of course the track doesn't sound great. It was arranged and recorded whenever I had a minute, using a laptop microphone and whatever gear was handy. The key doesn't suit my voice, nor do I have a deep background in Western Swing.

So what? Excuses are for rich women on diets.

It's time to cut myself a break and release it here and now. Here's the URL.

https://soundcloud.com/honkytonkhero88/brain-cloudy-blues

It was while producing this song that I realized, 'Adam Levine wakes up every morning with no reservations about singing in public. Therefore, I have no reason to doubt myself.'

My biggest takeaway is that singing is a confidence game. The history of pop music is littered with those with 'bad' voices or limited technique who still succeed.

Consider one great singer from the past century. She had a brittle vocal tone which only wore down with age. She had no range, poor projection, and a raspy Baltimore accent. Her name was Billie Holiday.

For a contemporary example, consider Sam Smith's American debut on Saturday Night Live. When I saw it, I first thought, "It's cruel that they put Annie Lennox's addled eunuch butler up there to make an ass of himself."

I still think he sings like an emphysemic duck, but I've come to realize how others could overlook this. He makes his voice work for him and his material. His strained phrasing feeds in to his Sad Girl persona, and builds him up as Lana Del Ray with (maybe) balls. Anyways...

In the final assessment:

What I did well:

-The intro is solid. It was fun to write and record, and I think that comes through.
-Everything is generally in time.
-The vocal track is more confident (insomuch as it's less pensive) than my earlier efforts.

Things to improve on:

-The guitar solo should be tweaked. The first few bars were an attempt at dissonance that just ended up sounding out of key. My guitar parts on the last verse are a more successful experiment with this idea. I also should have been more patient and gone for a cleaner take.
-I need to mind my tuning more carefully.
-I will experiment with recording environments. I'm still figuring out the best acoustic setups in my apartment. In particular, my acoustic guitar parts suffer from bad setup. 

My Take on Welsh Rarebit: Add Fried Pickles!

I'm always on the lookout for quick, easy, delicious recipes, and the Season 2 finale of Mind of a Chef (now on Netflix), was a treasure trove. In particular, April Bloomfield's take on Welsh Rarebit, commanded several viewings.

The dish consists of mornay on toast. Despite its ubiquity in Britain, it has always been obscure in the United States. Though delicious, I think its longer preparation time (about 10 minutes), and inconvenient open-faced presentation have prevented it from reaching the popularity of our own grilled cheese.

Having never tasted Welsh Rarebit, I decided to give it a shot. Rather than follow the video above exactly, I rethought the dish/cleaned out my fridge. Here is what I came up with:

 

Welsh Rarebit Americano

For Sauce
- 3 T all-purpose flour
- 3 T unsalted butter
- 6 oz. Samuel Adams Cream Stout
- 3 oz. shredded cheddar cheese
- 2 T Worchestershire Sauce
- 1 T brown mustard
- Salt, pepper, and cayenne to taste

For Pickels
-3 slices of kosher dill pickles
-1/2 cup cornstarch
-1/8 cup all-purpose flour
- 1 tsp salt
- 5 grinds of fresh black pepper
- 1 tsp cayenne
- Canola oil

- You will also need two slices of white bread.

1) In a shallow dish, combine the cornstarch, flour, salt, pepper, and cayenne. Pat the pickles slices dry with a paper towel, then dredge in the cornstarch mixture. Be sure to cover the entire surface. Place the slices on a plate, until there are no dry spots left on the mixture. Then repeat.

While the second dredging is sitting, heat canola oil in a shallow, non-stick pan to a medium-high heat. The amount of oil will vary by pan, but it should coat the entire bottom and be no more than 1/4 inch deep. Once the oil is at temperature, place the pickle slices in the pan. Be sure not to crowd the pan. This means that the spatter from each slice should not contact any of the others. Fry on each side until a light golden-brown. This takes about three minutes per side.

Once the coating is golden-brown all over, remove from the oil, and dry on paper towels. Set the pickles aside at room temperature.

2)  Preheat an oven to 400 degrees.

In a 10" cast iron skillet, melt the butter over medium heat. Once melted, reduce to low, and mix in the flour, stirring until it is fully incorporated. Be careful not to burn it. Next, pour in the beer, and stir until the flour/butter mixture is fully incorporated. Next add, the cheese, stirring constantly until it is fully melted into the sauce. Add the Worchestershire Sauce, mustard, salt, pepper, and cayenne. Stir them in, then turn off the heat.

3) Toast two slices of white bread until dry on the outside, but not yet brown. Once toasted, spoon the sauce over the toast, and spread it until it covers the entire bread. Place the toast in the oven until the cheese sauce bubbles. Finish by placing the fried pickles on one slice, and placing the other on top to make a sandwich. Cut in half and serve.
 
My result was pretty good. Here is the cross-sectional view

What I did well

-Though April Bloomfield uses Guiness, I used the Samuel Adams Cream Stout. It has a sweeter, darker flavor profile (It reminds me of an Porter as much as a Stout) which cuts through the heavy ingredients.

-The pickles were spot on with regards to flavor and textural contrast.  

Where I can improve

- My sauce fundamentals were sloppy. Though still delicious, my sauce was a little thick and slightly overcooked. The butter and flour in a roux should be equal by weight, not volume, but I don't have a scale. If you don't either, it isn't worth fretting; unless you don't want the Ghost of Escoffier haunting your dreams.

- The bread was an overlooked component. This time, I used regular, grocery store sliced bread. In the future I will use a heartier, fresher bread. Also, it should be cut thick to accommodate the dense sandwich filling.   

A Tidy Photo-Scrapbook From the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame

I recently completed my relocation from the great state of Connecticut to the kind of lame but economically viable state of North Dakota. It was a two day road trip that rates as one of the most unpleasant experiences of my life. Having already completed this trip (and its constituent legs) before, there was nothing novel or interesting about 48 hours of driving through boring places, sleeping at rest stops, living on fast food and granola bars, and crackly FM radio.

Anticipating this, I scheduled a detour to Cleveland to visit the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. I had never been to Cleveland, but Lebron James thought it was worth a second chance. I decided to give it a first.

To better learn the city in limited time, I took the side streets from the highway (i.e. I got lost a lot). In this way I learned that Cleveland does not rock. Lebron went back because he is the Coolest of Kids, and wherever he sits is the Cool Kid's Table. Northeast Ohio may be his home, but now it is his personal fiefdom as well. I enjoyed the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, but only go if you have some other reason to be in Cleveland.

With that in mind here my some of my favorite moments from the Hall of Fame:

My trip really began with a stop in Youngstown, Ohio for ice cream at Handel's. It's a mini-chain scattered from Illinois to Pennsylvania. Whenever I pass through, I stop at the original store just off Exit 229 on I-80. The ice cream is fresh and flavorful, with a custard-like texture. The caramel chocolate malt is the best ice cream I have ever had. This time I also tried strawberry, which was tremendous. Here it is being modeled by Michelle. She's the real rock star of this piece.

Here is the Handel's storefront. It hasn't changed since the first time I visited 12 years ago. What has changed is the neighborhood. When I first visited in 2002, Handel's was an oasis on a shuttered and crumbling road. Today it looks like an unremarkable commercial strip. Good for Youngstown.

One of the first exhibits in the Hall of Fame commemorates the great bluesmen. On display are guitars owned by greats such as John Lee Hooker, Freddie King, Robert Lockwood, Jr., and Elmore James. My personal favorite is Muddy Water's '58 Telecaster pictured here. Like other vintage Tele's this one has taken a pounding, yet looks good for many more.

The Hall of Fame also has extensive displays of performance apparel. This includes suits worn in performance by Hank Williams, and Bill Monroe, numerous James Brown jumpsuits, elaborate dresses worn by singers from Etta James to Beyonce, and even John Lennon's Sgt. Pepper's uniform.

This is a hand-tooled leather belt owned by Buddy Holly. It looks awesome yet it wasn't meant to be seen under his jacket. In keeping with his muted, nerdy look, Buddy wore his coolest accessory discreetly.

Though critical in the history of rock, Jimi Hendrix doesn't make for the best museum exhibit. His portion of the Hall is mostly occupied by stage outfits he wore. They are interesting as a whole, but there is no one piece of special importance.

Similarly, his guitars are not of great interest. Though a tremendous player, he plowed through dozens of Stratocasters and other guitars throughout his career. Thus, no one instrument takes on critical importance. This custom painted '67 Gibson Flying V is Jimi's most distinctive guitar, and his most copied. Though rarely played, it captures his fiery individualism better than any other tangible artifact. 

This is Duane Allman's '58 Les Paul in a faded tobacco sunburst. Nicknamed Hot 'Lanta, it was used extensively in the last several months of his life, and features on the album Eat a Peach. Duane acquired it through singer-songwriter Christopher Cross, which almost makes up for every time I've heard Sailing.

Though partial to Fender's during his session career, by the beginning of the Allman Brothers Band Duane had switched to vintage Gibson's, and put together a remarkable collection of late 50's and early 60's Les Pauls and SG's. Today they would be worth seven-figures, even if they didn't belong to the guy who did this.

On the back of the guitar, 'Duane' has been inlaid in used frets. This was done by the Allman Brother's road crew after Duane's death. 

These are Dickey Bett's hand written lyrics to the song 'Blue Sky' from the Eat a Peach album. The Allman Brothers (or their estates) have been very generous in allowing the Hall of Fame to display their historic memorabilia. I could have done a whole post on them.

 

This is Bootsy Collins' Fender Jazz Bass, which, after heavy modification became his famed 'Space Bass.' This is arguably the single funkiest instrument in existence. It was originally purchased for use during his time with James Brown. You can hear it on cuts such as 'Sex Machine,' 'Superbad,' and 'Talking Loud and Sayin' Nothing.'

Throughout the 70's, this bass was the driving engine behind the P-Funk Mothership, powering albums such as The Clones of Dr. Funkenstein, Mothership Connection, and Uncle Jam Wants You. 

This is the original control room from Sun Studios. Featured here is some of the equipment used in some of the foundational recordings of Rock and Roll. Not squeezed into the frame is the studio's piano. Although visually indistinct, it proved powerful and responsive to the touch of Jerry Lee Lewis.

This may be the most expensive two-guitar collection on the planet. Both these instruments are 1959 Les Pauls, which go for about $250,000. The one on the left belonged to Gary Rossington of Lynyrd Skynyrd, and was his primary guitar in the band's heyday (It was used for the bottleneck part on 'Freebird'). The one on the right is one of Duane Allman's. This particular one can be heard on the At Fillmore East live album.

An Introduction to New York Style Barbecue

Given the diversity of the New York food scene, one of its great mysteries is why certain regional or ethnic cuisines struggle to take root.

At any time of day, there are at least two programs about Barbecue competitions somewhere on basic cable. It is now a national tradition, yet New York struggles to come up with a credible joint.

There are many places in the five boroughs that offer southern comfort food. There aren't any good ones. The one exception is Blue Smoke, however, it's too upscale to count as traditional. It's a good restaurant, with a nice selection of bourbon. However, this discussion only pertains to places where you wouldn't take clients.

There are two factors which restrict the growth of barbecue in New York:

1) The ignorance of the local market. The historic lack of barbecue makes it hard for locals to distinguish good from bad. With nothing else to go on, New Yorkers gravitate towards cartoon pigs and hubcaps on the walls.

2) Space and zoning. Proper barbecue restaurants are difficult to introduce in dense urban areas. Whatever slow-smoking device used needs a proper flue, which can be tricky. Also, such restaurants require steady source of hardwood, and space to keep it.

In response, New York has developed its own take on barbecue. This style was created by three local chains, Dallas BBQ, Dinosaur BBQ, and Brother Jimmy's.

When it comes to smoked meat, all three are below average. Pork shoulder, ribs, brisket, and chicken are all served dry, slightly greasy, and under seasoned. Portions are small, expensive, and served with equally lifeless sides.

In traditional southern terms, they are terrible. But to write them off on these grounds is to miss the point. New York style barbecue isn't about barbecue.

The crown jewels of New York barbecue are alcoholic beverages, served as a slush or punch in a lucite goblet with a little umbrella in it. House specials are often named after natural disasters. In New York barbecue, the food is just there to soak up the booze.

In terms of design, these restaurants are meant to satisfy Upper West Side preconceptions of what West Virginia must be like. In a phrase, it's 'Cracker Barrel chic.' This means rusty farm implements and concert bills for old country music stars. In this regard, New York barbecue restaurants were trendsetting. They picked up on the dilapidated barn aesthetic well before anyone in Brooklyn got the idea.

New York style barbecue may not match up with the best America has to offer. But after a fourth Hurricane Sandy Shandy, who cares?

We Do Live in a Golden Age (with Colorful Filling)...

Is Rock and Roll still relevant and viable?

Usually this question is only asked as a jump off to ramble on the decay of American pop culture. It's become the 'back in my day...' speech for younger Baby Boomers and older Gen X'ers.

Talking points include:

-Nostalgic references to bands that were never actually relevant or viable (e.g. The Velvet Underground. That's right Lou Reed, here's the eulogy you always wanted, you overrated poser. I know you'll rest in peace. The grave is a great place to have no real ideas).

-Insinuations that Ariana Grande is responsible for growing belligerence in the Pacific Rim. Yes, we'd all have one less problem without Kim Jong Un, but let's not connect dots that aren't there.

-Vague explanations as to how The Twitter has undermined the character of American youth, aka 'the kids today...' sub-speech.

But getting back to the original question, is Rock and Roll a 21st Century music form?

Yes! The problem is not the music, but the musicians. Since the early 2000's rock has been in a talent drought.

Don't worry, these things happen. Rock and Roll itself emerged partly due to stagnation. By the mid-1950's, two major wars had either killed or derailed the young talent which fed traditional pop. Rather than developing fresh new acts, the music establishment was running on the fumes of Bing Crosby, Cole Porter, and whichever big bands could still scrounge bus fare to Des Moines. The time ripe for hungry young men with a raw, homespun sound.

For whatever reason -and I still haven't heard a good one- we just don't have great rock bands right now. There are several good ones, but none that add up to more than the sum of their influences. For example, Mastodon is very good metal band, but what do they do that wasn't being done 25 years ago? Joe Bonamassa is one of the strongest guitarists of his generation, but as long as his best material is classic rock covers, he won't make the transcendent impact of players like Clapton, Hendrix, et al. Rock doesn't lack a future so much as a way forward.

This brings up the next question: If America's best creative minds aren't making good rock music, what are they up to?

That answer: They're making cookies.

Today was the first time I realized how many more types of Oreos we have today as opposed to ten or even five years ago. Once upon a time, Halloween Oreos were a big deal. Today at the grocery story, I saw seasonal Limeade Oreos.

Limeade isn't even listed on the Oreo website. But Lemon is. So is Berry, Chocolate, Chocolate with Vanilla Cookies, Peanut Butter, Marshmallow Crispy, and... COOKIE DOUGH!

At the end of the day, there's no crisis at all. Rock music lacks creative vision right now, but the difference has been made up in the Nabisco labs.        

Remembering Tom Watson... The 2009 Open Championship; 5 Years Later

Five years ago, a 59 year-old Tom Watson nearly won a 6th Open Championship. Needing a par on the 72nd hole for the win, he bogeyed. One four-hole playoff later, Stewart Cink was the 2009 Champion Golfer of the Year.

I was crushed.

Tom Watson is one of the 15 greatest players of all time. He made his bones as Jack Nicklaus' greatest post-Kennedy Administration rival. He dominated the Open like no one since Harry Vardon.

Stewart Cink is a talented player and a worthy major champion. In 14 years between turning pro and winning the Open, he defined Very Good. He won 6 PGA Tour events and recorded a Top-5 finish in every major.

He also built a strong candidacy for World's Least Interesting Man.

Cink is the sort of boring, clean-cut southerner who has long filled out the PGA Tour's middle and lower classes. His is the consistent, conservative, uninspired game that golf instructors love.

I wasn't upset that Tom Watson lost. I just would have preferred he lose to another great player, an out-of-nowhere journeyman, Angel Cabrera, or any other opponent who makes for an interesting narrative. The disappointment came watching the tournament be won by someone so uncompelling.

The same year as Watson's Last Stand saw the publication of Mark Frost's The Match. It recounts a 1956 four-ball match in which up-and-coming amateurs Harvie Ward and Ken Venturi took on the aging professional team of Byron Nelson and Ben Hogan as part of a bet arranged at of Bing Crosby's infamous Clambakes. Though only a friendly game, Frost portrays it as a bellwether event in golf history.

The match was close throughout, but the cagey old pros won in the end. As Frost points out, never again would the gap between the best amateurs and professionals be so close. Golf at its highest level was no longer a game of leisure.

At the time, I thought the 2009 Open was a similar end of an era. With Tiger Woods declining fast, the future of professional golf was murky. Phil Mickelson, Ernie Els, and Vijay Singh -golf's last great shotmakers- were aging fast. In a decade on Tour, Sergio Garcia had gone from golf's most exciting talent to a player defined by failure. Despite the buzz around some kid named McIlroy, I assumed he would follow suit.

Turnberry seemed to be a Culloden moment (Smugly dropping references to Olde Scotland is as time honored a tradition as the Open itself).  The bland, consistent, Scottsdale Standard game had won out over the expressive brilliance of Tom Watson. It seemed nothing interesting could fill Tiger's monolithic void.

Five years later, I'm pleased to say I was wrong. Els and Mickelson have captured the past two Open Championships. McIlroy followed a meltdown at the 2011 Masters by shooting the lowest aggregate score in U.S. Open history two months later. Bubba Watson has developed into the player John Daly once could have been. Even Martin Kaymer has reimagined the TPC style of play with his own Teutonic twist.

Hindsight reveals that the 2009 Open was no historic inflection point. Rather, it was the crowning achievement of a deserving professional, and one more story to tell the Watson grandchildren. Following golf is no longer as easy as watching Tiger kick everyone's ass, but that's not a bad thing.

Picking Up the Crumbs of Crumbs

The Wall Street Journal today reported there may be investors interested in resurrecting Crumbs, a chain of cupcake bakeries which ceased retail operations earlier this week.

This makes sense. At this point Crumbs is a good value on paper. One could reason the company's biggest problem was over-expansion. Founded as a single location in 2003, within a decade it had grown to a chain of 79 stores. By 2011, is was listed on the NASDAQ. The cash intensive nature of expansion, coupled with the decline of the cupcake industry are what initiated the financial death spiral.

However, Crumbs had a more fundamental problem. Their cupcakes were lousy.

By volume, a Crumbs cupcake was about half frosting. This made for an unwieldy cupcake that defeated the point of the medium. On top of that, the frosting had no flavor. Though visually exotic, Crumbs cupcakes all featured this same insipid, sickly sweet frosting piled on a dry, flavorless cupcake. Factor in the $3-4 price for a single cupcake, and it's no wonder the novelty faded.

Crumbs may still become a useful investment. For the right price, it makes sense to buy the company and strip it to the bone. However, Crumbs is worthless as a bakery.

Poutine vs. Disco Fries: Everyone's a Winner With This Late Night Recipe

 In the past several years poutine has caught on in the northern United States. This trend has raised the profile of our national analog, disco fries.

Though debate rages about the intricate aspects of each, they share the same three components: french fries, gravy, and cheese.

In Quebec, this means fries topped with a thin beef gravy and cheese curds. Though no one is certain of the word's origin, 'poutine' seems to derive from regional French colloquialisms which have different particular meanings, but generally translate as 'a disgusting mess on plate.' 

Every time I talk to a real French person about poutine, they respond with the same sneering horror. Hence, I favor this etymology over less visceral theories.

Disco fries tend to use a thicker (often instant) gravy and melted cheddar or mozzarella. The best I know, its name derives from its popularity in the 1970's after a long night of booze, Bee-Gees, and blow.

In the spirit of international harmony, I've created this quick and easy recipe which combines the best aspects of both. In lieu of a better name, I call the NAFTA fries.

-1 bag frozen french fries, traditional or waffle cut.
-1 jar of quality beef gravy (Get the good kind. Go on, treat yourself! Or use homemade if you have that)
-1 tsp dried tarragon
-1 tsp fresh ground black pepper
-2 cups shredded sharp cheddar

1) Preheat the oven to 425 degrees. Bake the fries until deep brown, but not burnt. Plate the fries.
2) Bring the gravy to a simmer. Add the tarragon and black pepper, and stir.
3) Cover the fries with the cheddar.
4) Pour the gravy over the fries and cheddar. If desired, finish with a pinch of fleur de sel and a grind of black pepper over the top. 

This recipe combines the superior melt of American cheddar, with the richer flavor of the Canadian gravy. It is best served with a season of House on Netflix at 2 AM.

Ideas for Renaming the Washington Redskins That Acutally Work

With the U.S Patent and Trademark office revoking the Washington professional football team's trademark on the name 'Redskins,' there has never been a better time for owner Daniel Snyder to reconsider his choice of nickname.

Right now nothing is imminent. For one thing, a public browbeating from politicians, writers, and celebrities crying crocodile tears on behalf of the Native Americans is a bad way to convince a proud billionaire who holds all the leverage. Furthermore, it ignores the ramifications or renaming. If not, Redskins; then what? 

The last thing Snyder wants is to undermine the brand equity of his eighty-year old franchise. He knows that the Redskins are more than a name. The Redskins are Sammy Baugh, George Allen, the Hogs, and three Super Bowl victories.

More than that, the Redskins are a passionate, loyal fan base. Much like the Bears and Packers, Washington and its fans value their identity as one of the league's most historic teams.

A new name has to evoke gravitas and local pride. Keeping the burgundy and gold is a must.

In the worst case, a name change brings in an aesthetic fitting an expansion team in a tertiary market. The team's name and on-field look would have no connection to the area. The team would seem like a fly-by-night arena outfit. Washington would be stuck with the second coming of the Jacksonville Jaguars.

It can't be some cheap, trendy, focus-grouped nonsense. It can't be a collective singular. As good as they are on the court, the Miami Heat and Oklahoma City Thunder sound like girls' soccer teams.

Here are a few ideas.

The Senators: It invokes the memory of Washington's former Major League Baseball team. The connection to the federal government makes good local sense. It's a good, though unoriginal fit.

The Gravers: This is a nod to the Bureau of Engraving and Printing, which operated one of the few major manufacturing facilities in the City of Washington at the time of the team's founding. The name is historic and locally appropriate. It fits in with other old-guard franchises such as the Packers and Steelers, who drew their original teams from the local workforce.

Check out this picture of the plant, circa 1918. A rare example of industrial elegance. 

The Potomacs: What better way to represent all of Washington than to name the team after the river? Like 'Gravers,' it sounds like it could have been the team's name from the beginning. This is my favorite because it represents the city in the past, present, and future. 

It's Been a Week, and No, I Haven't Finished Orange is the New Black

 
Although it was released a week ago, I'm only on the fourth episode of Orange is the New Black. I know I wrote about my excitement for this season last time, but... something happened.

As I was looking down the episode list, I realized that each one ranges from 50 minutes to an hour in length.

And really, who has the time?

This thought reminded me of a 2009 interview with Bitter Old Coot (and occasional novelist) Philip Roth. When asked about his prediction that novels would no longer be read in 25 years, he answered:

I was being optimistic about 25 years really. No, I think it’s going to be cultic. I think always people will be reading them, but it’ll be a small group of people — maybe more people than now read Latin poetry, but somewhere in that range… It’s the print. That’s the problem. It’s the book. It’s the object itself. To read a novel requires a certain kind of concentration, focus, devotion to the reading. If you read a novel in more than two weeks, you don’t read the novel really. So I think that that kind of concentration, and focus, and attentiveness, is hard to come by. It’s hard to find huge numbers of people, or large numbers of people or significant numbers of people who have those qualities.

This is how I'm coming to feel about long-form television. Though I don't have to watch a whole episode in one sitting, Roth is right that breaking focus takes something away from the experience.

A 50 minute episode of OTNB may be only 6 minutes longer than an episode of, say CSI (minus commercials), but that difference is big in a show which requires undivided attention. I can nod off to Royal Pains and not miss a beat, but if I miss a line or two of a Piper monologue, I need to rewind.

Have shows like OTNB doomed themselves to cultic irrelevance? Maybe, but I choose to look at the possibilities the Internet offers. Streaming television undermines the relevance of time formats. Though cheap acting, and no broadcast schedule may invite longer episodes; I think it's a matter of time before some visionary rediscovers the power of concision. My prediction: Netflix's next big hit will run 30 minute or less episodes.

The Internet can be a powerful creative tool if you let it. My current non-fiction project, The Concise Companion to Tax Lien Investing, figures to be around 10,000 words when finished. In the past, this would have been unpublishable. It's way too short for a book. That doesn't matter anymore. With online self-publishing, I can make it as long or short as it needs to be. The shape of media in the 21st Century remains undefined, but this sort of freedom is its greatest virtue. 

'Orange is the New Black' Season 2: Pre-Thoughts

Last July, I wrote that Orange is the New Black has two good seasons in it, and that any more would push the premise beyond its limits. I still feel that way, and we'll see if I'm right on Friday, when Season 2 is released on Netflix.

The show's bold characters are both its strength and weakness. Unlike other recent classics like Breaking Bad or Mad Men in which subtle characters arcs blend and develop over time, ONB places combustible elements under pressure. If the show doesn't explode soon, the whole thing may fizzle.

This is similar to the problem of creator Jenji Kohan's previous show Weeds, which featured eccentric, aggressive characters in extreme situations. Though those characters made strong impacts, they ran out quickly, even as the show plodded on five seasons too long.

Breaking Bad nailed the graceful exit; ending its run at the height of its popularity with a satisfying mix of closure and ambiguity. Hopefully ONB can come close. Working in its favor is Piper's short prison sentence. Her release is a natural endpoint, after which there is no reason to carry on.

Even though I've spent this post burying the show before its dead, I really am looking forward to it. I'll watch it all this weekend, and I'll see you on the other side.

Is Dying Justin Bieber's Only Move?

Bieber Fever is on the wane.

Lost in all the arrests, headlines, and celebrity beeves is the fact that Justin Bieber is no longer a relevant pop singer. His latest album, 2013's Journals peaked at #46 on the Billboard Album Chart, despite aggressive social media promotion.

Once upon a time, Bieber was the Next Justin Timberlake; a fresh-faced sweetheart of a young man with an earnest, lyric voice, and charm to match.

That's all gone. This altercation is just the latest episode in JB's devolution.

Justin Timberlake used his time as a teen idol to build connections and industry goodwill that would become the foundation of a long, successful career.

Justin Bieber can't stop pissing everyone off.

The good news is that there is a way for him to turn things around.

Unfortunately, that way is to die. Tragically.

Elvis is often cited as a singer for whom dying was his best career move. That isn't quite correct, though. By 1977, Elvis was fading, but still commercially relevant.

The better parallel is Amy Winehouse. In life, she was the Next Big Thing whose limited musical and thematic range rendered her a flash-in-the-pan. Then she died. Tragically.

Overnight, her legacy became that of a tortured artist not meant for the world.

Bieber can take the same route. Were he to OD tomorrow, his lukewarm chart performance will be spun as musical vision beyond what the public could handle. His misbehavior will be written off as the anguished writhing of a beautiful mind.

While Psychoeuphorology Today would never actually endorse such as waste of human life, Bieber's management team may want to consider what is really best for their client.

Finally, A Workable Definition of Hipster

Hipster (n): A person who does not understand what the word irony actually means.

This is a broad stroke definition which does not delve into the many nuances of hipsterdom, but provides a baseline commonality.

Hipsters frequently use the words 'irony' or 'ironic' to describe their culture or lifestyle.

For the record: irony (n): 1) the expression of one's meaning by using language that normally signifies the opposite; typically for humorous or emphatic effect. 2) a state of affairs or event that seems deliberately contrary to what one expects and is often amusing as a result.

Hipsters tend to have weak or malformed senses of humor, so the first definition rarely applies. As for the second, at this point, hipster eccentricities have calcified into a rigid orthodoxy of their own. Hence, their is no contrary or unexpected element to who they are or what they do.

In summary, wearing thick glasses is not ironic; it's just a fashion choice.

Me vs. The Spanish Language: The Three Things I've Learned so Far

Continuing what has become a yearly tradition, this Spring I am resuming my study of the Spanish language. Without formal instruction or steady practice, it has been difficult for me to improve. However, I learn a little more each time I try.

Through experience, these are the three most useful insights I've stumbled on:

1) No one actually wants to talk to you

Native speakers are usually impatient to help a novice limp his way through a conversation about the weather. It's understandable. If they are going to listen to something that tedious, they should at least get paid.

When I get the chance to speak Spanish, I keep my words limited and situation. Next time you are at your favorite Mexican joint, order en español. One or two questions may be appropriate (como se dice 'watermelon juice?'), but don't badger them.

2) Learn the vocabulary you want/need

On the advice of an Argentinian acquaintance, I tried to improve my comprehension by watching telenovelas. It didn't work very well, but in reading the channel guide descriptions, I managed to pick up on some common vocabulary. In particular, vengar (to take revenge), venganza (vengeance), and asesinar (to murder) were prominent. As they are juicy, interesting words, I've retained them more easily than I have the subdivisions of the Spanish postal system. Pursue your interests and let the language work for you.

3) Develop consistency

In the past, this has been my weakest language learning skill, which is why I am prioritizing it this year. As with every skill, 5 good minutes of practice every day is better than erratic bursts of study, even if those sessions go on much longer.  

The other component of consistency is focus. I begin each study session by identifying what I want to accomplish that day. It may be a certain vocabulary, grammatical concept, or even a brief translation. 

Furthermore, I have bookmarked the homepage for El País, a Spanish daily newspaper which covers the entire Latin World and beyond. Every day, I read one article. Considering my limited access to Spanish speakers, this is one of my best methods for building vocabulary, and exposing myself to real Spanish.

2014 NFL Draft Preview: The Obituaries

We're less than 48 hours from the start of the NFL Draft. By now, you've heard hours of analysis and insight about this year's prospects.

But any analyst can tell you about a player's prospective draft position and potential as a professional. Here at Psychoeuphorology Today, we project a player all the way to the grave.

Here is a mock Top-10, told in brief obituaries.

1. Houston Texans: Jadeveon Clowney (February 14, 1993-March 18, 2076)

Former NFL defensive end Jadeveon Clowney died in his sleep in his Charleston, SC home last night at the age of 83; so bringing him the only peace has known since his late teens. Clowney is best remembered as a draft bust of the Houston Texans. Despite his peerless physical talents and deep technical mastery of the position, he never lived up to expectations. 

Over the course of a 16-year professional career, he struggled his way to 187 career sacks, while making only 9 All-Pro Teams, and limping to a lone Defensive Player of the Year award in 2019. To cap the disgrace, Clowney was made to wait the standard five years before his induction into the Hall of Fame; only confirming his sheer averagness. 

After his playing days, Clowney returned to his native South Carolina, where he served as head football coach of West Ashley High School in Charleston. No doubt motivated to escape their coach's cautionary legacy, West Ashley would go on to win four state championships during Clowney's 35-year tenure.

Jadeveon Clowney is survived by his three children, all of whom refuse to be identified for this piece. 

2. St. Louis Rams: Johnny Football (December 6, 1992-February 16, 2028)

Johnny Ballertime Football (born Jonathan Paul Manziel), died from complications of Chronic Traumatic Encephalopathy today. He was 35. He is remembered as the infamous, Heisman winning quarterback of Texas A&M from 2012-2014, as well as for his bizarre, but effective NFL career. 

In a stunning draft day coup, the Seattle Seahawks traded their entire 2014 draft, plus first and second round picks in 2015 to the St. Louis Rams to pick Johnny Football second overall. In an even stranger move, they then packaged him in a three way trade with the Oakland Raiders which sent him to St. Louis.

The gambit worked, as Football (who legally changed his name after the draft), proved to be the perfect fifth column Seattle needed to undermine a budding division rival. In his rookie season, he built a reputation as a mouthy backup whose habit of calling personal press conferences at local strip clubs proved corrosive to team morale. 

Given the chance to start in 2015 following the release of Sam Bradford, Football's average arm, erratic mechanics and willingness to force plays that weren't there made him indispensable in Seattle's run to another NFC West title. 

Released following the 2016-17 season, Football found his true calling as an Arena League barnstormer, roaming the nation on one game contracts, and deriving most of his income hustling high schoolers at 7-on7. 

As his neurological symptoms worsened, he was briefly seen as a poster boy for the dangers of football. Critics of the game pointed to his early dementia, loose inhibitions, and erratic judgement as proof that football was too dangerous for America's young men. However, a review of his medical records, going back to earliest childhood proved he was always kind of like that. 


3. Jacksonville Jaguars: Blake Bortles (December 16, 1991-August 4, 2072)

Former Jacksonville Jaguars quarterback Blake Bortles died today from a heart attack at age 80. He is best remembered for his unsuccessful stint as the starting quarterback of the Jacksonville Jaguars from 2014-2017. 

At the time he left the University of Central Florida, he was considered by many to have the highest upside of any quarterback prospect in the 2014 NFL draft. He never panned out as a professional, with analysts citing the extreme jump in competition from the American Athletic Conference to NFL as too much for him. 

Though he never betrayed his feelings to the public, friends and family attributed deep ennui as the root of his struggles. Leaving Orlando -the cosmopolitan center of American intellectual life- to play a bloodsport in a blue collar backwater never suited him. 

Retiring after just four seasons, Bortles returned to Orlando, where he devoted his life to a five volume history of the Great Disney Princes. In his words, "As Plutarch did for the leading men of antiquity, and Vasari for those artists behind the second birth of man; so will I do for the finest rulers of our own day." 

The work was unfinished at the time of his death. And written in crayon.  

4. Cleveland Browns: Khalil Mack (February 22, 1991-April 9, 2068)

Khalil Mack passed away yesterday due to complications from heart disease.

Highly regarded going into the 2014 Draft, Mack had all the tools to be the next great Cleveland Browns draft bust. Coming out of a small-time program at the University of Buffalo, he put up big numbers against middling competition, and rose up draft boards thanks to the extra month the NFL gave teams to overthink and second-guess their way to ruination. 

However, Mack never won over the Cleveland coaches or fans. His solid, mindful style of play, marked by high effort on and off the field jarred a football community used to cozy mediocrity. 

He was released by Cleveland after three seasons, and signed with the Pittsburgh Steelers. He was critical in returning that franchise to prominence, highlighting his career with a game-sealing interception in Super Bowl LV. 

After his retirement, he spoke fondly of his time in Cleveland saying, "they gave me my first break in the league. Even though things didn't end great, I'll always be in debt to them for picking a kid out of Buffalo fourth overall." This statement stung the people of Cleveland, who hoped for him to reveal some personal failing that would cushion the blow of losing him. To his dying day they yearned for some admission of criminality, or at least racially charged taunting. Something, anything...

5. Oakland Raiders: Sammy Watkins (June 14, 1993-July 30, 2014)

Former Clemson Wide Receiver Sammy Watkins disappeared into the Black Hole today. He was 21. 

Though talented and well-liked, with a promising career ahead of him, life dealt a cruel blow when he was taken fifth overall in the NFL Draft by the Oakland Raiders. Despite knowing he only had a few months left on this earth, friends and coaches say he remained upbeat to end; immersing himself in strength and conditioning, as well as position specific drills and film study. 

With the commencement of Raiders training camp, he was finally claimed by the little-understood gravitational phenomenon which has disappeared talented football players such as Randy Moss, Darren McFadden, and Charles Woodson. 

Though his demise is tragic, physicists speculate there may be hope for Watkins. Through an inobservable boson field known as 'the trade market' a career once lost to the Black Hole can reacquire mass by passing through known wormholes located in New England, Green Bay, Denver, and Seattle. 

6. Atlanta Falcons: No selection made. Thomas Dimitroff trades the sixth overall pick, a conditional second-rounder in 2015, plus his soul to Satan, so that Tony Gonzalez may be forever young.

7. Tampa Bay Buccaneers: Mike Evans (August 21, 1993-October 15, 2017)

Tampa Bay Buccaneers wide receiver Mike Evans died today, succumbing to wounds suffered from a accidental discharge of Raymond James Stadium's naval artillery. 

Since being drafted in 2014, Evans had become an invaluable part of Tampa Bay's offense, where his combination of speed and size made him a constant big-play threat. These talents were on display during Sunday's game against the Carolina Panthers, when he caught the go-ahead touchdown on a difficult back-shoulder throw. 

Landing awkwardly on the play, Evans was slow to clear the field. Unaware of this, Captain Fear, Commander of the Buccaneer Cove Surface Squadron ordered a celebratory volley. Evans was struck 7 times by grapeshot from the pirate ship's 32 lbs. carronades. Though no major blood vessels were severed, EMT's were unable to stem the profuse bleeding and vital organ damage. He was pronounced dead on arrival at Royal Tampa Hospital. 

In the days since the tragedy, Evans is already being viewed as a martyr for cannon safety in the United States. The Evans family will be donating the remainder of his 2014 salary to the American Federation for Sensible Heavy Ordinance Policy. The group has already renamed a draft of it's controversial cannon control legislation 'Mike's Law;' and would restrict civilian sales of antique artillery to culverins and demi-culverins.  
  

8. Minnesota Vikings: Jimmy Garroppolo (November 2, 1991-May 17, 2055)

Jimmy Garroppolo died in a single car traffic accident last evening. He was 63 years old. 

He is fondly remembered as the former quarterback of the Minnesota Vikings. Holding the eighth pick of the 2014 draft, the Vikings had several options to choose from. However, General Manager Rick Spielman happened to see Garroppolo's episode of Gruden's QB Camp, in which the beloved broadcaster referred to him as 'the Italian Stallion.' Enamored of the nickname, Spielman had his man. 

Over the course of his playing career, Garroppolo would live up to his fictitious nick-namesake. At least the part about taking savage beatings, and retiring due to brain damage. 

9. Buffalo Bills: Jake Matthews (February 11, 1992-April 17, 2080)

Jake Matthews died after a short battle with pancreatic cancer at the age of 88. I think he was Clay's brother or something... Anyways, no seems to have much to say about him, so he must have been a pretty good left tackle. 

10. Detroit Lions: Yoshi (November 21, 1990-January 18, 2019)

Beloved Nintendo character Yoshi died suddenly yesterday at the age of 28. He was best known for his appearances with the Super Mario, Mario Kart, Super Smash Brothers, and Detroit Lions franchises. 

Bored and unfulfilled in his other competitive endeavors, Yoshi entered the NFL Draft in 2014. Having spent years acquiring Matthew Stafford, Calvin Johnson, and Reggie Bush, the Lions took Yoshi 10th overall to complete their video game offense. 

Yoshi's flutter jump, and sticky prehensile tongue made him an impossible cover for human defensive backs. Though the Lions never won a Super Bowl, they did set several high scores. 

Though cause of death is not yet established, it is believed to have been caused by a poisoned melon.

My Next Great Restaurant Concept: Wager

The dining scene in this country has never been more popular or competitive as it is now. Almost a decade into the Top Chef era, and nearly 20 years since Iron Chef (the REAL one) blew our minds, America's culinary literacy has never been higher.

That doesn't mean we are more sophisticated about food. We just think we are. As a result, we respond to concepts that play to this vanity.

Take food trucks. They're like fast food joints with the ambiance of a dirty street corner, and sit-down prices. The convenience and value are dubious, and the hours are erratic. However, for those who like their pozole served by a white hipster in a $1,000/sq. ft. neighborhood, there's nothing like buying it from a running truck (don't these people pride themselves on eco-awareness?) to make them feel like edgy barrio dwellers.

My new restaurant concept is all about harnessing ego.

It's called Wager, and the menu is nothing but dishes one would only eat on a drunken dare. Here's a sample tasting menu:

Appetizer: Raw radishes garnished with our house habeñero salsa.

Soup: Geoduck stew

Entree: A 72 oz. sirloin, cooked so as to just take the chill off.

Dessert: An 8 oz. bar of 98% cacao chocolate.

This menu plays to the full range of drunken bravado. The appetizer is actively hostile. The soup is made from something that looks like a giant penis. The entree is a classic challenge food. As for the dessert, consumers have come to equate high cacao content with quality, and hence, will claim to like the chocolate, even though it tastes like ass.

Wager's hours will run from 10:00 PM-4:30 AM. The decor will be minimal, and bolted down. If you finish your meal in under an hour, it's free. Best of all, the maitre d will double as the house bookie, and will take bets on what your fellow diners can scarf down.

I think this could work, if only as a pop-up.  

Another Double-Shot of Revisions to the American Vernacular

Over the summer, I posted a double-shot of revisions to the American English Vernacular. They were well received, so I'm back at it. First, a word to be dropped from the lexicon.

Selfie

Selfie is a newish term used to describe a self-portrait taken with a smartphone camera; frequently for the purpose of posting on social media. It has come into particular vogue after incidents such as Ellen Degeneres' mass-selfie-of-the-stars from this year's Academy Awards, and David Ortiz's photo-ambush of President Obama.

I don't like the term 'selfie' because it's pointless Photographic self-portraiture is almost as old as photography itself. This is the first 'selfie' ever taken:

The man pictured is Robert Cornelius. He took this daguerreotype of himself in 1839. When the Oxford English Dictionary named 'selfie' its Word of the Year for 2013, it traced the first known usage to an Australian online forum in 2002. That is a span of 163 years in which no distinct term was needed. What changed?

The obvious answer is social media, which provides an easy outlet for amateur photography, so making self-portraiture a popular form of expression. With popularity comes the desire for contraction, hence 'self-portrait' becomes 'selfie.'

False novelty is one thing. My greater issue with the word is how juvenile it sounds. Anything that ends in a hard 'E' reeks of faddishness. Self-portraiture is a timeless art form, and the language that describes it should reflect that. 'Selfie' needs to go.

A word to be added:

Reaganbeat

This is a word to describe popular music in general which dates to the Reagan Administration. Today it's known as 80's music, but that term is too bland and non-specific.

The foundational artists of Reaganbeat did all their significant work after President Carter left office, but before the fall of the Berlin Wall. This means acts as wide ranging as Madonna, Prince, Huey Lewis and the News, Motley Crue, Run-DMC, Luther Vandross, Whitesnake, Wham!, The Go-Go's, Frankie Goes to Hollywood, Duran Duran, Hall and Oates and many others can be considered Reaganbeat.

However, there are artists with a Reaganbeat sound do not qualify. The greatest example is Michael Jackson, whose creative prime ran from the late 60's with the Jackson 5 to Will You Be There? from the soundtrack to Free Willy. For this reason, he transcends the confines of Reaganbeat, despite his deep stylistic influence. Van Halen and U2 are not counted for the same reason.

Despite the current 1989 cutoff, I may yet add the first Bush Administration to the Reaganbeat era. This would include acts such as Warrant, Winger, and Paula Abdul. While most of their success came after the Reagan Administration, their work is based on, and bears no stylistic distinction from those big-haired innovators who composed the score to Morning in America.

This passage highlights the descriptive advantages that 'Reaganbeat' has over '80's music.'

Though once ridiculed as superficial and excessive, Reaganbeat has proved influential on popular music in the last 25 years. Lady Gaga's style is indebted to Reganbeat pioneers such as Madonna, and the Eurythmics, while Bruno Mars owes his vocal approach to SDI-era balladeers such as Peabo Bryson and Terrance Trent D'Arby. On the hip-hop side of things, MC's are rediscovering and integrating the techniques of Reganbeat rhymers like Grandmaster Flash, Public Enemy, and even The Fresh Prince and DJ Jazzy Jeff. Though President Reagan is no longer with us, the music of his Administration carries on like a Thousand Points of Light. 

Eat your heart out, Peggy Noonan.

Oh, and enjoy this Reaganbeat classic. 

My Life As a Small-Time Musical Genius: The Quest for Cosmic Bass

The lowest recorded frequency in the universe was observed in 2003 by British astrophysicist Andrew Fabian using the Chandra X-Ray telescope.

It was produced by the electromagnetic rumblings of a black hole at the center of the Perseus Cluster. The 1.6e-15 Hz note is a B-flat 57 octaves below middle C (252 Hz).

That's some serious low-end. As a musician who struggles to find new dimensions of heaviness, introducing black hole bass into my compositions could drop them to a yet uncharted Level of Hell.

Theory has its limits, though. The lower bound of human hearing is about 20 Hz. Frequencies below this threshold are known as sub-bass. Though inaudible, their pressure waves pack a solid thump, which is why they are popular in EDM genres.

Unfortunately for Perseus' prospects as a hit maker, its wavelength is 1.87e+23m. For comparison, the average distance from the Sun to Pluto is a mere 5.91e+12m. Talk about a slow jam...

The good news for terrestrial musicians is that bass is more than just pitch.

Take a close listen to this Motown classic for an example of how bass changes everything, even in a light number.

This super-funky bass line was laid down by Motown session ace, James Jamerson. Considered one of the greatest electric bass players of all time, Jamerson's playing was fearless and inventive at a time when common practice was to turn it down and sheepishly plug away on roots and fifths.

Unfortunately, the legacy of James Jamerson is hard to find on the charts today. Derivative four-on-the-floor rhythms rule Top 40. Modern rock bass is watered down to: 1) Buy a 5-string. 2) Tune it down. 3) Sling it low. 5) Bang away like no one can here you (because they can't). Musical sophistication in hip-hop and R&B has been undermined by decades of sampling, and the emergence of crude 'beats' over real instrumentation.

At this point it's only fair to mention the exceptions. Here is a list of some great contemporary bass players who make the last paragraph look stupid: Victor Wooten, Billy Sheehan, Gary Willis, Richard Bona, John Myung, Sharay Reed, Bryan Beller. There are many others, but this will get you started. No Stu Hamm and Marcus Miller, you don't make the list, because bassists with shaky timing are useless. 

All this said, I still haven't solved my original problem: how to develop heavier music. Bass guitar isn't the only route. As a natural baritone, my own voice presents an answer, but my limited vocal fundamentals make for erratic results.

My working hypothesis is that the answer is in rhythm. Much as James Jamerson countered Little Michael's high, smooth vocals with churning eight and sixteenth notes, my own goal as an arranger is to flesh out the rhythmic spaces in the song, and the let the harmonies develop from there. It's not a new insight, but pulling original jams from ancient ideas is the backbone of great music. At least until we can harness the power of a black hole.

If I ever do record the heaviest song ever, you, my readers will be the first to hear it.  

PT's Pick for Throwback Jam of the Spring

As the weather gets warmer, the hype grows for this year's "Summer Festival Season." Anchored by events such as SXSW, Bonnaroo, Coachella, and Lollapalooza, SFS is an old-fashioned way for musicians and their labels to profit in an age when all the good songs are on YouTube for free.

As the music industry has grown more seasonal, content producers and consumers alike have become fixated with what this year's "Song of the Summer" will be. Traditionally, this is an upbeat, light-hearted arrangement, with a rythmic, sturdy hook.

Of course it is. Summer is a simple season of simple pleasures and has songs to match. 

What interests me is why other seasons don't have "Songs." Winter is the closest, but usually it's a novelty track from a celebrity Christmas album. Picking songs for the other three seasons is difficult, which is why Psychoeuphorology Today is taking up the challenge.

After all, no gets Michelin stars for cooking a nice ribeye.

For spring, I've chosen to go with a throwback jam. After all, most of the recent releases have summer in mind.

I've picked the 1998 classic, Back That Azz Up by Juvenile.

Like spring itself, the song is subtle and forward-looking. It marks the first significant exposure for a teenage Lil' Wayne. Furthermore, the video is prescient in understanding the democratization of music which would mark the coming decade.

By setting it at a local New Orleans-area concert, it anticipates the renewed emphasis on massive live spectacles that underpin the festival concept.

Furthermore, though Back That Azz Up was released in during the Golden Age of Video Ho's (1915- Present), the video features local women of varying attractiveness in street clothes, united in their desire to Back That Azz Up. Furthering Juvenile's feminist heroics is his use of consensual syntax. He asks of women, "won't you back that azz up?'

This aspect is poignant on the heels of Blurred Lines, in which Robin Thicke suggests he likes to date-rape models.

Back That Azz Up is a song for today and every day. Oh, and in case you missed this in all the high-mindedness, it's kind of a banger.  

The Huskies Win!/ Were Karmically Rewarded for Honestly Reporting their Academic Shortcomings.

During the post-game celebration last night, University of Connecticut point guard Shabazz Napier caused a stir by announcing to the crowd,

"Ladies and gentlemen, you're looking at the hungry Huskies. This is what happens when you ban us. Last year, two years, we worked so hard for it..."

Speak for New England, Shabazz!

Thought his boldness can be written off as empty emotion, what Napier said summarized the anger, and now vindication that the University of Connecticut and its fans have felt in the past two years.

Last year, Connecticut was banned from the NCAA tournament due to its poor Academic Progress Report (APR). This metric aggregates classroom performance and graduation rate amongst a program's athletes to judge whether they're meeting off-court standards.

It was an embarrassment for a state the values education, and a university with a strong academic reputation. 

Connecticut deserved the sanctions. However, those who follow college basketball tend to ignore the deeper implication: The University of Connecticut is an honest when it comes to its athletes.

By now, its an open secret that big-time college basketball programs take advantage of lax regulation and complicit faculty to boost the grades of middling students. In the past month, the University of North Carolina has come under scrutiny following the release of a juvenile, 146-word 'essay' on Rosa Parks, which contributed to one student-athlete receiving an A-minus for an introductory course in African-American Studies. 

In fairness to the NCAA, it did drop the hammer on UNC's football program in 2012. Though the salient violations were for impermissible benefits, they did include one count of academic fraud.

The program was not punished for poor grades; it was punished for lying.

In a twisted way, Connecticut was punished for telling the truth. Rather than create an academically bankrupt program meant to perpetuate the NCAA's myth of the student-athlete, UConn held its players to real collegiate standards. Connecticut does things the right way, even when that means admitting wrongdoing. Its players are real students, and for this reason, it is a worthy champion of college basketball.

Shabazz Napier was hit hard by last year's sanctions, but that frustration fueled him to work harder. One year later, he has a second national championship, and a legitimate degree in Sociology to show for it.

Can the Uconn Huskies Really Win This Thing? Yes!

Despite being an imbalanced, undersized team that over-relies on its best player, the University of Connecticut Huskies are only two wins away from their fourth national championship.

Coach Kevin Ollie has done a fine job playing to his team's strengths. The Huskies have fielded a strong defense all season thanks to the rim protection afforded by the center tandem of Phillip Nolan and Amidah Brimah. Having an athletic 7-footer on the court for most of the game allows an otherwise small team to pressure the ball, and disrupt plays before they develop.

On offense, the versatile scoring of DeAndre Daniels and Ryan Boatright, and underrated facilitating from Niels Giffey have made it difficult for opponents to key in on the team's centerpiece, point guard Shabazz Napier.

On top of this, the Huskie's superior foul shooting makes them a tough out late in games. Several years ago, the coaching staff adopted an unusual approach towards practicing free throws, inspired by Steve Nash. In their last two games against Iowa State and Michigan State they are 41-44 from the foul line. That comes out to 93%, right around the 90% career average of the Greatest Living Canadian.

How do you make the Final Four against heavily favored opposition? Just learn to do this. 

Though these factors contribute, the Huskies will win a national championship because of Shabazz Napier. Just not for the reason everyone thinks. 

Though Napier's scoring has carried the team, he is an imperfect offensive player. He is still developing as a passer, and sometimes forces plays that aren't there. His lack of size and athleticism makes him inconsistent around the rim, despite his long highlight reel. In an eerie parallel with Kemba Walker's championship season (2010-11), Napier only shoots 43% from the field.

What Napier really brings is confidence and maturity. At the college level, mental discipline is a premium skill, most common in third and fourth year players. Observers chalk this up to experience, but the cause is more profound than that.

Players undergo tremendous brain development from their late teens to their early twenties. By their senior year, many players have acquired advanced mental skills such as foresight and impulse control that are well beyond those of even the most talented freshmen.

In this regard Napier is a superior player. His approach is consistent, regardless of the score, or his own performance. He attacks the rim, because drawing fouls has an impact beyond one possession. Most of all, he sets an example that his team can follow.

Upperclassmen like DeAndre Daniles, Niels Giffey, and Ryan Boatright are not as consistent scorers, but they don't let cold shooting take them out of their game. More importantly, it does not deter them from playing tough, active defense, often against larger players.

This is the Shabazz Napier's biggest impact. Like Kemba Walker before him, he has his team playing like young men, not jittery teenagers.