From the Wikipedia: Burj Khalifa

Because it exists.

From the Wikipedia: Burj Khalifa.

Burj Khalifa is a skyscraper in Dubai, United Arab Emirates. At its highest point, it is 2,717 feet tall, just shy of 1000 feet higher than the next tallest building in the world. By architectural detail (ie not including antennae), it more than twice the height of the Empire State Building. Burj Khalifa is named for UAE President Khalifa bin Zayed Al Nahyan, who lent support to the project when the economy went south. It is a mixed-use building, with a hotel, residences and corporate suites.

The building opened on Jan. 4, 2010. When it did, it became the tallest skyscraper ever built, the tallest structure ever built, the tallest extant structure, the tallest freestanding structure, the building with the most floors and the building with the highest occupied floor — the 160th. Burj Khalifa can boast the world’s highest mosque, the world’s highest swimming pool, the world’s highest nightclub, the world’s highest restaurant, and, I like to imagine, the world’s highest guy, a bit lost and just sort of stumbling around all like, “bro, this is a really tall building.”

The Wikipedia says Burj Khalifa was built “to put Dubai on the map with something really sensational,” and that makes sense. Obviously this and this and this weren’t going to cut it.

The tower was designed by Skidmore, Owings and Merrill, which is basically the Yankees of architectural firms. It is reminiscent of The Illinois, a mile-high building proposed for Chicago by Frank Lloyd Wright when he was an old-ass man and everyone figured he had lost his mind. Its design is also supposedly derived from elements of Islamic architecture and inspired by the Hymenocallis flower. Basically, Burj Khalifa is a prism through which you can see pretty much anything you want; that’s what happens when you build something so tall the human eyes and brain can’t really process it. (I assume. Man, I really need to get to Dubai.)

Obviously a building of this magnitude requires quite a feat of window-washing. Burj Khalifa has a horizontal track at levels 40, 73 and 109 that holds a bucket machine that moves horizontally and vertically. There are $8 million worth of Australian robots to clean to top 27 tiers and the glass spire. It takes 36 workers three-to-four months to clear the entire facade of Burj Khalifa.

Outside Burj Khalifa is a fountain that shoots water 490 feet into the air. There was a sweet fireworks show when Burj Khalifa opened. People like to BASE jump off Burj Khalifa.

Boycott Fort Wayne, Indiana

Please follow my lead in continuing to avoid the city of Fort Wayne, Indiana. The mayor announced that the new government center will not be named for longtime area politician Harry Baals despite overwhelming support from the Internet. Instead, it will be called “Citizens Square,” which, without the possessive, seems to imply that Fort Wayne citizens are themselves square. They probably are, because they’re not cool enough to storm the mayor’s office and demand he pay tribute to the legacy of Harry Baals and the whims of the Internet. Hat tip to Terry for the link.

Don Giovanni Carmazzi

Harris is not alone in making the switch. Opera singers with a football past include Ta’u Pupu’a, a lineman drafted by the Cleveland Browns; Keith Miller, a former Arena League fullback who appeared in two bowl games with Colorado; the former Harvard players Ray Hornblower and Noah Van Niel; and Morrison Robinson, who played on the offensive line for the Citadel….

Physical training, breath control, stamina, discipline, focus, teamwork, a sense of the dramatic — all part of the sport — translate well to opera, he said.

Karen Crouse, N.Y. Times.

Enjoyable read from the times about football players who have taken up opera singing.

The opera part of it is a little surprising, but it’s no shock to me that football players would make their way into performing after finishing with the gridiron. Football was such a huge part of my life and identity from elementary school through high school that when I stopped playing, I spent a lot of time looking for a way to fill that void. I ultimately found it — or something close, at least — playing music in college, since it required the same sort of discipline, inspired a similar camaraderie, and allowed for public performances.

Even more noise and other disturbances

As one of the only rational Mets fans left, I just had to vent to you re: a line from Danny Knobler on sportsline.com this morning regarding the state of Mets camp: “It has been that kind of spring, a spring where most of the news is bad, and even the good news doesn’t feel that good.” Is it only me, or has the mainstream media just stopped trying? Yeah, yeah, yeah. Madoff and Johan. I get it. In my view, this spring has been overwhelmingly positive. New front office, new manager, nice young talent, low expectations.

Greg, via email.

These are trying times for Mets fans. Pick up any paper, click to 90% of Mets blogs, listen to any sports talk radio, and everything is doom and gloom. Wilpon this, Madoff that, MLB loans, fire sales, short ticket lines, shut-down aces, looming injuries, Luis Hernandez.

Noise, noise, noise.

Thing is: How much of what we read is true? How much of it matters to the Mets’ success? Every negative story is met almost immediately with an equally negative counter-story, rendering it difficult to draw meaningful conclusions.

Do we yet have any actual evidence that the Wilpons’ finances have affected the Mets’ roster any more than the failures of the last front office did? Why would a lack of walk-up ticket sales mean anything other than that fans would rather buy online than brave the cold? How can anyone — Johan Santana included — hope to understand and accurately interpret every blip in the long, hazy timeline of recovery from major shoulder surgery? Why would a Major League Baseball team hand a starting job to a middle infielder with a career Triple-A OPS below .600?

And mostly: Who cares?

Maybe you do. Sometimes I do. Some of this stuff seems really important. But sift through the layers of nonsense and winnow out the actual incontrovertible facts and you’ll wind up unsatisfied. We love having terrors to fear and bugaboos to blame, but the most frightening thing to me is how many conclusions we draw from so little substance.

That’s because, I am almost certain, little of substance is happening. Grapefruit League results are meaningless. The Mets have one everyday position to fill, one regular with a nagging injury, and a couple of decisions to make about the pitching staff. That’s really it. They have no real reason to need to settle any of it until March 31. But there are blogs and papers and airwaves to fill, so everyone runs wild with even the tiniest morsel of information, however sketchy. And the Mets have suffered through two straight losing seasons, so all of it is interpreted as negative.

There is a light at the end of the tunnel. A shiny beaming, glistening, spectacular light. It is real, meaningful baseball, and it starts, for the Mets, on April 1.

Some of the sideshows will continue thereafter, for sure. Santana certainly will not be recovered by then, and maybe not Beltran either. The Wilpons will still be embroiled in a lawsuit.

But who knows? My bet is if the Mets actually win some games, it will be a lot easier to tune out the noise.