Twitter Q&A, pt. 3: The randos

OK, I need to stress again that I’m operating on very little sleep, but I believe it goes something like this: At some point within the next 100 years, we achieve technological singularity. In the subsequent explosion of new advances, the supercomputers building better supercomputers always operate to forward the best interests of the human race, since humans programmed the computers in the first place and the computers exist to help us prosper.

But it turns out people are stupid and weak and need to be coddled, so the ultimate fallout from the singularity is that computers start taking care of more and more of our daily tasks. That’s pretty awesome at first, but eventually technology advances so far that pretty much everything is automated. The computers never become self-aware or turn malicious — fundamentally they must do what is best for humanity — but their plans go awry.

The computers start genetically engineering people — or insisting that people genetically engineer themselves, I’m not really sure yet — so that they’re most efficiently built for the new, post-singularity worlds. Future, computer-controlled people have no need for any semblance of excess fat, musculature, hair or skin tone, so those are all bred out. I don’t know why you can’t just keep having hair, but the whole point is that the computers are way smarter than us so you just have to trust them on this one. Eventually, people pretty much look like this:

Oh, for some reason we also need really big eyes in the future.

Eventually, due to some impending traumatic event, the computers recognize that the now-pitifully weak human race is in jeopardy. But because the future humans are now so unlike their hearty ancestors, the supercomputers have to develop time-travel devices for us and send us back to the U.S. around the turn of the 21st century to find people at their very fattest. By a completely random series of coincidences, all the 21st-century people that get probed for genetic material happen to be insane.

Then the future people go back home and make babies that look like crazy Kansans and feed the benevolent Matrix.

Well, sure: Quantum physics explains the way matter behaves and pitchers are made of matter.

Yodels. Felt like they had the highest frosting/lard:cake ratio of the Drake’s Cakes.

Twitter Q&A pt. 2: Super Bowl stuff

They should sign Prince to a lifetime contract to play every halftime show forever. You said the past, so I’d say James Brown or the Beatles, but truth is the Super Bowl halftime show calls for a more arena-friendly aesthetic that Prince is perfect for. That’s not to say James Brown and the Beatles never could have or did play stadiums, only that Prince’s music has a certain towering awesomeness that lends itself to fireworks accompaniment.

The best I can come up with is an attempted sac bunt that’s accidentally popped into no-man’s land over the head of a charging infielder and goes for a base hit. Not exactly the same thing, but closest I can come up with.

Not even close for me. I don’t hate the Yankees as much as most Mets fans, but I also don’t really hate the Giants even a little. I’m ambivalent toward the Giants and I hate the Patriots, so the choice was easy.

Catsmeat is referring to this series of photos that Tom Brady for some reason posed for. And, of course, this classic. Plus maybe some of his UGG ads and a screengrab from that time he cried when considering how without football he might have been an insurance salesman.

But the answer is no. Hamels is the Internet’s clear leader* in embarrassing photos.

*- non-porn division.

 

 

Twitter Q&A, pt. 1: Mets-related stuff

Have I mentioned that I’m tired? I’m tired. Eli Manning’s all, “OMAHA!”

Here’s this:

Hmm… April 1, a few days before the season starts. This will be an interesting Spring Training for Mets fans, since there won’t be many new faces or last year’s Jose Reyes and Carlos Beltran storylines to distract the focus from the actual, underwhelming team. Still, I imagine some large portion of Mets fans — myself included, because I do it every year — will turn all optimistic in late March and start seeing the ways everything could go right for the 2012 Mets.

And in the Giants, now, there’s a convenient reminder of how everything can sometimes go right fresh in every New Yorker’s memory. There’s even the Philadelphia parallel, since before the season the Eagles looked like a dream team on paper and everyone figured Big Blue’s best hope was to gun for the Wild Card.

Of course, baseball and football are very different, and the NL East has a bunch of teams besides the Phillies that appear likely to be good. But I imagine many of us will be happy to ignore that come early April, when we’re eager to find some modicum of hope with which to approach the Mets’ 2012 campaign.

In 2012, only a pretty bleak one. As has been reported, Wright can void the option on his contract for 2013 if he is traded. So if Wright plays well enough in 2012 that other teams would want to give up prospects and pay his salary for his production, the Mets could — I believe — pick up his 2013 option after the season and trade him then, presumably fetching a larger haul for the full-season of Wright than they would at the 2012 deadline.

But then if Wright plays well enough in 2012 that other teams would want to give up prospects to pay him $15 million in 2013, there’ll should be talk of an extension — and whether the Mets could afford that type of thing. (Oof.)

My best guess, the way Wright does get traded in 2012 is if he continues playing the good but unspectacular brand of baseball he has produced since the Mets moved to Citi Field, some contending team finds itself in dire need of a third baseman and willing to take on Wright’s remaining 2012 salary, and the Mets find themselves out of contention, ready to move on from Wright and not eager to pick up his $15 million option for 2013 anyway.

When I write it down like that it doesn’t seem all that unlikely. I still don’t think it’s going to happen, but then I’ve been wrong about stuff before.

It’s difficult to come up with great sandwich comps for young players like Thole because a sandwich’s entire lifespan rarely lasts more than an hour. So there are very few sandwiches of which you could say, “Well, I don’t know exactly how good this sandwich is yet.” You get or make a sandwich, you take a few bites of the sandwich, you think about the sandwich, then you know how good the sandwich is.

But I would say Thole is a ham and egg sandwich, because right now he’s sort of a ham-an-egger of a Major Leaguer: He clearly deserves to be there, but he hasn’t done anything to distinguish himself. Since he’s still only 25 though, I’d say he’s a ham and egg sandwich that’s still under construction. And though we’re getting some clues as to how it’ll be we should probably give it some time to see if baseball’s Great Deli-Man winds up adding cheese or hot sauce or ketchup or something to bump Thole up to a higher tier.

I’ll take Pelfrey on that one. Pretty simple: He stays healthy. Santana’s no lock to pitch even a single game in 2012, and we have no idea how effective he’ll be when he does start. I’d guess he’ll be better than Pelfrey when he pitches, but I don’t think he’ll make enough starts to make up the difference in wins (though obviously there’s a massive randomness factor to it all). Plus, if Pelfrey’s pitching well, he could easily be traded to a contender when one of the Mets’ young starters is ready.

Patriots lose Super Bowl

This is a great day for Giants fans. And there’s a real obvious and important lesson about counting teams out when they’re losing a bunch of games in a row or getting trounced by the Redskins or just sort of floundering for long stretches of the regular season. But presumably you slept last night and are more fit than I am to draw those connections.

The important thing to all us long-suffering Jets and Mets fans too bleary-eyed to yet see this as evidence for patience and hope is that the Patriots lost. So hooray for that.

Super Bowl menu

I’m at my friends’ place in Virginia for the Super Bowl, helping break in their new 60″ TV — which is ridiculous. I brought my smoker down for the trip, and the tentative menu for tonight looks like this:

Wild boar and bacon sausage pigs-in-the-blanket
Bacon-wrapped jalapenos stuffed with cream cheese
Macaroni and cheese with bacon
Applewood-smoked baby back ribs
Smoked brisket chili

Plus, you know, chips and stuff. We also have some collard greens and baked beans from excellent area barbecue standby Rocklands but fear not: they’re also loaded up with pork. That’s all for like six people. Tomorrow: Salad.

A fair point

Your blog today, come on man. You can’t lump VA drivers based on Fairfax County. That’s Northern VA… that’s DC-light. It’s transplants from other places. They may have VA tags but their histories and lineage are not Old Dominion. And they may not even be a majority of the drivers on the roads but it’s enough of them that THEY are what you notice.

– Ben from Lynchburg, via email.

This is a fair point. When I said “Virginia drivers,” I should have said “Northern Virginia drivers.” But I promise, it was actually the majority of them that were looking at other things besides the road. I’m only going by empirical evidence and about a 50-car sample, but this is hardly the first time I’ve noticed the area vehicular obliviousness.

Sandwich? of the Week

As if I needed an excuse to eat Chick-Fil-A.

The candidate: The Chicken Biscuit from Chick-Fil-A, which counts as breakfast at Chick-Fil-A.

The construction: A fried white-meat chicken cutlet on a biscuit. That’s all.

Arguments for sandwich-hood: It’s a piece of meat sandwiched between two pieces of a form of bread. You can pick it up with your hands. It is at least as much about the chicken (the inside) as it is about the biscuit (the outside), so it doesn’t violate the bagel/cream-cheese rule.

Counter-arguments: I’m not even sure. I guess that it’s on a biscuit, and a biscuit isn’t regular bread? Also, it’s not called a sandwich

How it tastes: Pretty good, though not quite up to the standards of the regular Chick-Fil-A chicken sandwich, if you ask me. The biscuit, while amazing, is so buttery and rich that it actually sogs the chicken cutlet a little, so the fried part of the cutlet doesn’t really maintain any of its chicken-fried crispiness.

The breading instead just sort of attaches to the biscuit and thickens the outer layer of soft, greasy breadstuff, which doesn’t do much for diversity of texture. There’s a salty, mushy, buttery outside and a piping hot, moist, chickeny inside. It’s great, don’t get me wrong, and it’s fantastic that someone has decided I can eat this for breakfast. But the straight-up chicken sandwich provides so much more. Like pickles.

What it’s worth: $4.85 including tax with a large coffee and hash browns.

The verdict: This is definitely a sandwich. I’d love to indulge the people who believe otherwise by paying some mind to the counter-argument, but I’m not sure I even understand what it is. Because it’s on a biscuit?

“Biscuit” itself can be a pretty vague term, and are we really going to distinguish between the way the bread product for a sandwich is prepared when the ultimate effect is clearly sandwich? And if we’re excluding sandwiches on biscuits, how many other obvious sandwich-meat delivery vehicles would we have to exclude?

No, it’s a sandwich. Meat between two pieces of bread, regardless of what the bread is called. Don’t overthink this.

Virginia drivers

I’ve discussed this before: There’s no shortage of bad drivers anywhere there are drivers. But after years of research, I believe there are clear regional tendencies in bad driving styles.

I have no idea why this might be. Maybe it has something to do with intricacies in state-by-state traffic laws, the ways in which various local police departments enforce those laws and the long-term effects. Or perhaps certain bad habits just become socially acceptable in some places due to years of lousy role models and impotent driver’s-ed instructors.

It was a gorgeous day for a drive yesterday and for some odd reason, traffic along the northeast corridor mostly obliged. But I was coasting along about 12 miles per hour above the speed limit in the middle lane of a three-lane highway with very few cars on the road when a silver compact car pulled up right behind me and started driving maybe 10-15 yards from my tailpipe. I maintained a consistent speed and he could have easily passed me (on either side, no less), but he stayed there for minutes, making me nervous: What’s he up to? Why’s he chasing me? Is this some sort of unmarked cop car about to pull me over? Does he even see me or is asleep at the wheel and just plowing forward?

Finally, he lost patience and whizzed past me on the left, only to speed forward to the next small crop of traffic down the road and do the exact same thing to some other car in the middle lane. As he passed me, I took a look: Kid in his early 20s with a baseball hat slightly askew, a decal for his college occupying the bottom half of his rear window, a factory spoiler and New Jersey license plates. Classic Jersey driver.

Later on the drive, the Mazda Tribute in front of me in the left lane slowed from about 78 to 60 despite no traffic ahead of it and no obvious obstructions in the road. The car’s break lights never lit; it looked like the driver simply, suddenly took his foot off the accelerator in the left lane on I-95. As I craned to see what could be going on, the car veered toward the shoulder then jerked back into the lane. The driver, a salt-and-pepper haired man with glasses, turned his attention back to whatever it was he had splayed out across his steering wheel.

I looked at his plates: Virginia, of course.

No state I know of breeds more oblivious drivers. I’m staying with some friends in Fairfax County and I walked to a 7-11 on Lee Highway this morning. At an intersection, I tried to judge how many of the passing motorists were occupied by something other than the massive two-ton, fuel-filled steel machines hurtling around them in every direction and the ones they were themselves charged with piloting responsibly.

I would guess — and this is no exaggeration — that 75 percent of the people on the road were paying attention to something besides the road. Mostly their smartphones, but also their clipboards and knitting projects and novels and rosary beads. It was kind of beautiful to see, actually: People of all ages, shapes, races, and creeds unified by a cavalier disregard for all the dangers beyond their dashboards.

It rained today, and maybe 50 percent of the cars did not have their headlights on. People still don’t know about that! Does it not often rain here? Don’t many new cars do this by default now?