Miami Vice and March Madness....

To say that last week(end)’s Winter Music Conference (WMC) in Miami was a Darwinian test of endurance might be the understatement of the year. I snuck in a few afternoon naps over four days, but that was about it. As of today (+3.5 days), I’m still a bona fide resident of the hurt locker. It’s like I’m having a Dorothy moment, longing for somewhere over the rainbow....except I don’t want out of Oz, I just want to leave my bed in the morning with limbs in motion sans spasm. Perhaps too much to ask.

No pity needed. Any future amputations that result will have been worth it. And now, a stream of consciousness recap of the weekend that will probably make absolutely no sense to anyone that wasn't in Miami of conversing telepathically with my brain:

S&D yacht party. “Stardate: cero; hora: dos.” A1A (beachfront avenue). Danny Howells blasting the air horn from the cab at Pawnshop. Thom Yorke’s, “The Eraser” (remix). Big Pink. “I’ve been Zabielaed.” Vodka and Sprite, splash of pineapple. Toby at Space for 11.5 hours. “Just another day on the double decker.” Jumping on my trampoline. S&D at Mansion. Techno-House. “We’re checking out for two days, but we’ll be back on Sunday.” I think I just ordered a $9 Sprite. Ferry Corsten randomly showing up. Trancetastic. I’ll take another buffalo chicken sandwich. My Girl Wants To (P.A.T.T.). “I didn’t ask how much you've slept; I asked how you're doing.” The terrace at Space with Cedric Gervais. Better make that two waters.

I’m sure there were other happenings I should reference, but that’s all I've got from the yellow brick road for now.

Actually, I do need to salute the fine fare of Big Pink (located around the 100 block of Collins in South Beach). Legendary stuff. Their menu includes: breakfast all day, a Myles Davis salmon club sandwich, killer fries, 10 oz. burgers, and strawberry-laden Belgian waffles.

We ate there a couple times.

On the way to the airport we found out that Tony Blair recently had a lay-over in Miami and demanded Big Pink. So in honor of TB and those quenching meals which often served as our only form of nourishment for the day, I will now offer up the first-ever (sure to annualized) Big Pink Awards for Winter Music Conference. And so without further ado:

The Big Pink for Best Random Statement of the Weekend: Brock (I think) who said, “I’ve never been to Miami but I feel like I know this place already -- it’s exactly like the game Vice City.” That might deserve two Pinks.

The Big Pink for the Best Party I Had No Business Being Invited to: Sasha & Digweed Yacht Party. Enough said.

The Big Pink for the Best 10-Minute Interval that Got Us No Closer to Eating: The ten minutes we spent arguing about whether the guy sitting in the corner of the diner was Colin Farrell, while not moving an inch in line, even though there was only one person in line ahead of us (in the end we left without ordering but decided the pony-tailed, corner eater was Farrell).

The Big Pink for the DJ Who Caused My Knees to Sink Through the Dance Floor: Cedric Gervais’ killer session to close the weekend on the terrace at Space. Unforgettable.

The Big Pink for Kindest Gesture from Relative Strangers: Al & Eric, the father and son duo at Sander Kleinenberg who greased not one, but two bouncers, then took us with them to the front of the line. Al and Eric make WMC an annual tradition, trekking down from Freeport, Maine and Washington D.C. (respectively). What a way to host a family get together: impressive.

The Big Pink for Best T-Shirt: The guy at Mansion for S&D with the shirt that read, “I Shaved My Balls For This.” There was serious laughter from the mancave after that one.

The William Wallace Big Pink (for refusing to die or go home): Jason Warth, who didn’t even break stride or contemplate leaving the dance floor AT NOON ON MONDAY when I told him that my time in the heart of darkness was done, and that I was headed back to the hotel.

What a weekend. But give me eleven months before tempting me again.

Elsewhere…..

Kudos to the NBA for disallowing players to enter the draft prior to their 19^th birthday. That rule, in conjunction with the posse from Florida returning to school, has made this year’s NCAA tournament one of the best in memory. After a lackluster first round, the level of play and competitiveness of the games has been off the charts.

UCLA played the best defensive game I can ever remember (at the collegiate level) against Kansas. Was flat out awesome to watch their performance, and equally as wrenching to endure another Bill Self melt-down.

Ohio State did their part to aide the madness by offering us two redonkulous comebacks. The first of which more or less sealed the fate of my brackets. I’ve been an OSU hater all year and actually picked Xavier in the majority of the pools I entered. If nothing else that game will help reignite the rallying cry that numerous fans (including myself) with IQ > 1 endorse: when you’re up by three with less than ten seconds left, YOU SHOULD FOUL.

And then there was the classic Georgetown vs. UNC reunion game that allowed CBS to offer elder Ewing and Thompson the most camera time they’ve seen since the Jack Tripper era (and yes, you'd better believe he qualifies as an era maker). Still, in my mind Georgetown’s miraculous comeback will be overshadowed by Roy Williams’ kamikaze effort to give the game away. I’m still in disbelief that UNC didn’t call a single timeout in overtime. Not after they’re down four or six or eight points…..not after they miss their first eleven shots. Even more difficult to fathom when reminded that UNC’s overtime lineup included four freshmen or sophomores -- underclassmen who might get a little rattled???

Maybe it’s already time for the next ex-player/coach/rodent in the fabled UNC family to assume the helm. I bet Clifford Rozier is available. Now that would be funny.

Anyway, the Final Four awaits in less than twenty hours and greets us with two monster games: a rematch of last year’s final (Florida vs. UCLA) and a show-down between two seven-footers (Oden and Hibbert) with Ohio State and Georgetown. I still think the Buckeyes are overrated so I’m going down with the ship. Give me Georgetown by eight.

In the second game I will stick my head directly into the noose and pick UCLA to upset the Gators. In actuality I don’t have much confidence in Afflalo and company, and I think the Gators are the real deal. But the Bruins remind me of the Duke squad that beat the invincible Running Rebels (also defending champs). So I’m picking the Bruins for nostalgia’s sake (trust me, nostalgia ranks higher than some of my previous rationales). If nothing else I think it’ll be a close game, and this way I get to cheer for the underdog.

In the end, the outcomes are of secondary importance anyway. The primary consideration is that Whit’s girl is out of town, and we get to watch the games on the 50” in HD. Now I just need to gain control of my motor skills in time to snag a six-pack of Bud Light and mosey on over there. I've got fifteen hours.

Cross your fingers.

Movies and a Prelude to Miami....

I might have a date tonight. I might eat something other than frozen pizza for dinner. Both scenarios are about even-money at 3:30 pm.

If the date comes together, it will likely involve a movie. The St. Patty’s Day weekend took a toll and the virtually extinct, "sober date," is likely to see action as a result. My dilemma then becomes which film to recommend.

I’ve already seen Volver, Pan’s Labyrinth, and The Queen. In other words, most of the good movies (note to readers: remember their country of origin). Breach with Ryan Phillippe and Chris Cooper would be a solid option, but it’s not playing within a moon shot of my apartment. Anecdotally, if Chris Cooper were a golfer he’d be the “best player never to have won a major.” The man can act, and yet he often goes unnoticed.

Back to the subject matter at hand: where are the good, home-grown movies? The only native production I can remember seeing is Little Miss Sunshine, and I'm still having trouble believing it got nominated for Best Picture at the Academy Awards. Yes, it was an enjoyable film; more so because we’ve all had neurotically memorable family road trips. But worthy of an Oscar? Perhaps 2006 was merely a featherweight year for domestic movies, and there weren't any alternatives. That scenario seems believable to me.

The “coming soon to theatres” listing also looks bleak -- topped by the Taster’s Choice film, Reign Over Me, featuring Adam Sandler and Don Cheadle. I mean, is this for real? Happy Gilmore Does Sentimental Part III (following Spanglish & Punch-Drunk Love)? In earnest, Adam Sandler seems like a genuine and likeable guy on and off the screen. But the words “type cast” will forever apply. Let me know if Bob Barker shows up for another bout in Gilmore II, but until then, hit me with another preview.

Admittedly, I'm a sucker for a good, romantic comedy. Unfortunately, there’s something about the current headliner featuring Hugh Grant & Drew Barrymore in a sing-along (Music & Lyrics) that makes my blood start to curdle. Oh wait, I know what it is, Drew Barrymore makes my blood curdle. Next.

300 would be a possibility, but in the pantheon of relaxing, Monday night options I’m not sure an “epically graphic” fight to the death between 300 Spartans and the massive Persian army is going to win top date billing. Another time.

So where does that leave me? Looking outside the mainstream yet again. Mira Nair’s lasted film, The Namesake, looks promising. Any film that garners a 75% “Fresh Rating” on Rotten Tomatoes (www.rottentomatoes.com) is worth a look. Moreover, the film is based on the novel by the immense talent, Jhumpa Lahiri, who also wrote Interpreter of Maladies. This could be the one.

Alternatively, we have The Lives of Others which took home the Oscar for Best Foreign Language Film. Almost a shoe-in to be worth the price of admission. Still, subtitles are risky with a new dating prospect. Nonetheless, if The Namesake isn't playing at a convenient time, Others might be worth a roll of the dice.

The overarching theme here, a lack of domestic movie options, isn't new. Over the last few years I've been going to more international films without west coast representation. Maybe my tastes have changed, but I'm placing most of the blame on the formulaic output of the major production studios (Spiderman I - V, anything involving Will Farrell and a sidekick, movies that reinvent CSI episodes, etc.). I’d still go see Denzel in a role that didn’t involve a sociopath, cop, or time traveler. I’d also pay $10 to see Tom Hanks in a non-animated part -- assuming it wasn't a Dan Brown character. I'm just not counting on having those opportunities in the eminent future.

In the interim, my local art-house theater will get a few extra bucks. Let’s just hope that any would-be dates like subtitles.

Other random stuff……

My cell phone has been making sporadic, chirping noises ever since I dropped it in the snow in January. I would get a new one, but I’m a little too fiscally conservative to throw away a functioning piece of equipment just because it sounds like a sparrow.

My girl Sabrina Sloan got seriously hosed on American Idol. $50 says that Sanjaya has a call-center in India setup to pad his weekly votes. How else can you explain his AI immortality? 60 Minutes, if you ever broadcast a segment entitled, “An Idol was Bought in Bangalore," I'm expecting royalties.

Bill Simmons’ (aka the Sports Guy) running journal on the NCAA tournament has to be the funniest thing currently in print. Anyone with this much affinity for a broadcaster named Gus earns a special place in my blog. My favorite passage from these NCAA entries is Simmons’ prediction that Long Beach State will reach the Sweet Sixteen accompanied by this rationale: “Sorry, had to pick the Beach to win two games. I've been a Long Beach supporter ever since Dre' and Snoop brought Compton and the LBC together in The Chronic. Which reminds me, how much would you pay for a March Madness sequence where a Long Beach State player dunks on a fast break, followed by Gus Johnson losing his mind for a second and screaming, "Long Beach in the motha****** house!" I think I'd pay $750.”

Classic.

Finally, I’m bound for the Winter Music Conference (WMC) in Miami on Wednesday with about ten other merry-making friends. If you've never heard of the WMC, you should Google it at your leisure. For now I leave you with an email exchange from two of my co-travelers. I think it does a fine job of representing the ballyhoo which can be expected and the potential for future blog entries:

Friend#1: "I sprained my freakin' knee this weekend. Just my luck!! Got x-rays yesterday and thankfully my leg is still functional. I just can't bend it much but at least I can walk!! I certainly don't want to be anyone's physically challenged sidekick. It's not my intention to slow anyone down!! But i'm going to Miami and still going to try and do most of what I planned on. If I can't walk, I can certainly float. So just throw me in the pool with some floaties, a helmet, and a mojito: I'll be on cloud 9!!"

Friend #2: "I say we start a fund raiser to get (her) a pimped out wheelchair. We can chrome it out, get lots of lights and glow sticks, and a special cup holder that fits a bottle of Patron perfectly. Then we get special tires that low-ride at the flip of a switch. Miami....something for every man, woman, animal......and cripple."

You have been advised to stay-tuned.

Where is your third-place?

I was reading the NY Times last weekend and came across an article referencing Howard Schultz’s vision for the ascent of Starbucks. It’s a familiar formula to us now: friendly baristas, aromas of freshly ground coffee beans, and an inviting, leisurely décor. From the onset it was more about the environment than the coffee. Mr. Schultz wanted to create a communal gathering place as a respite from both the office and home -- a self-described “third place” for his customers.

I think it’s safe to say he succeeded.

By itself the Starbucks’ article wouldn’t have led me to the keyboard. However, when combined with another occurrence, it got me thinking. As it happened I was recently at a bar talking with a collegiate friend that I hadn’t seen in years. After a few hours conversing about memories & people of yore, it was time for us to part ways. Then, in anticipation of her question yet to come, I went ahead and referenced my next destination for the evening: “it was great seeing you; I’m headed to Vision.”

Her reply: “Vision????”

For those of you not local to Chicago, mere mention of Vision Night Club is likely to raise an eyebrow (or two…or three). If Vision made its way into a Tolkien tale, it might be the late-night hangout in Mordor. In truth, six nights a week Vision wouldn’t appeal to me even if Frodo was hosting a meet & greet with The Ring. But if you like electronic music, on Saturday night, Vision is often THE place to be.

Thankfully, I’m not alone in the electronic music fan club. Vision is the Saturday standby and Cheers equivalent for a decent percentage of my closest friends. Confessedly, the venue may be too large and dark to draw visual comparisons to the cozy, Boston pub. Nor is Vision a likely congregation point for ex-ballplayers and mailmen who live with their mothers. But Mordor comparisons notwithstanding, on any given night I’m likely to come across several familiar faces who always offer me an enthusiastic hello or embrace (“Norm!”).

In short, Vision is becoming my “third-place.” .

Admittedly, I’m not sure a third locale alone warrants ending the list. Einstein’s, with their darn good coffee, and Barnes & Noble would certainly deserve consideration for the fourth and fifth slots. Still, neither is on par with my affinity for Vision. They are appreciated, weekly stopovers. Not ordained tertiary homes. I could do without my Asiago-bagel egg sandwich for a fortnight and still operate within a standard deviation or two of my mean.

I’m not sure I could say the same for Vision.

Vision is not for everyone, but it’s the ideal late night spot for me. It feels right every time I walk in the door, especially in the company of friends.

The overarching point to emphasize here is that Mr. Schultz is onto something. It’s healthy and therapeutic to have a peripheral locale to set up shop. A place away from home that nonetheless feels homey, in whatever connotation you need it to afford.

Perhaps your third-place is the gym. Perhaps it’s Starbucks. Perhaps it’s a nook or cranny yet undiscovered by the masses. The specifics aren’t important. If you’re like me, you’re merely better off because it exists.

Historical Returns and American Idols....

Is anyone else concerned that the stock market is over hyped as a viable strategy for long-term investment/saving? And when I reference the stock market, I'm talking across the board -- including the most stalwart, conservative bellweathers you can find. My trepidation would also extend to mutual funds which diversify holdings across multiple sectors and risk profiles. In short, any way you skin this cat, I've got doubts.

I chose this topic for three reasons: 1) the Dow Jones industrials experienced their worst weekly performance in over four years last week 2) people born after 1970 have little (if any) faith in Social Security and therefore correlate their retirement planning to private investment opportunities (often the stock market) and 3) I recently endured one of those dreadful broker pitches which repeatedly referred to the all-but-guaranteed "historical returns" of the stock-market.

First of all, when someone references a historical period of time, my mental compass rewinds to dates before the Ford Model T and Seabiscuit. Secondly, I'm pretty sure brokers and financial planners are starting their "historical" analysis after Black Tuesday (October 29, 1929.) So in essence they are excluding THE crash, referencing data for the next seventy years, and then downplaying the last seven. Even if you include the lethargic years of recent memory, does this snapshot really offer us enough data to evaluate all things (returns) to come??? Wasn't Jonah hanging out in the belly of a whale for a longer interval of time than we're examining here?

At the time of this entry the Dow is hovering around 12,050, a mere 700 points higher than March of '00. When compounded, that is an annualized return of less than 0.75% and says nothing of inflation or real purchasing power. Speaking of which, a terrific overview of the Dow's performance in relation to other asset classes and purchasing power can be found in this recent Money & Markets newsletter article: http://www.marketoracle.co.uk/Article356.html.

I haven't even touched on the precipitous decline of the NASDAQ Composite Index which has shed over 50% of its value from a high of 5,132 in 2o00 (currently trading at 2,340). Needless to say, if some broker has been touting tech revitalization stories to you for the last five or six years, you're ROI is probably hovering around ground zero.

Do I have any answers? Not necessarily. Just because I've got gold bouillon buried in my closet, it doesn't mean that you should. But in an era when healthcare inflation is holding steady at 10% and residential homes are overpriced in many regions of the country, you'd better be looking to invest somewhere (overseas?). One thing is certain: our generation will live longer than any before it and we will pay exponentially more to do so. Those voting baby-boomers with Medicare bills and social security payments will be on our tab for decades to come.

In other news.....

I'm kind of hooked on American Idol. Yes, I said kind of. Even if that term underwhelms, I don't think I could ever acknowledge a full-fledged addiction. Just like the East German judge that must leave room for a more perfect triple axle, I too await more icing on my reality TV cake.

In all seriousness, with Idol you do get a nice combination platter. Namely: 1) some actual talent, as opposed to other reality shows 2) three interesting judges which, in my opinion, give pretty accurate (albeit sometimes difficult to stomach) feedback and 3) the great unknown: America's vote. Admittedly, the results mystify me at times. How Sanjaya made it this far I'll never know. Then again, when I view any montage of celebrity A-listers, I'm often a little dumbfounded by their ascent.

Still, I can't help but feel this crop of 16 remaining contestants is split pretty acutely down the middle. Half of these contestants could sing psalms to lift any building's rafters. The other 50% seem more qualified for high school talent shows or local, boy-band auditions. A little unnerving that we couldn't find more depth amongst the throngs who auditioned.

But unlike my earlier subject matter, here I'm willing to make a prediction. The guys of Idol are, by in large, a rather mediocre lot. Certainly the same can not be said of the ladies. And while Lakisha and Melinda appear to be the front runners, I'm going out on a limb. My prediction: Sabrina Sloan will adorn the next Idol crown.

I think she's got the look and the voice to win America's heart over in the end. On TradeSports.com, an online trading/gambling exchange for everything under the sun, Sabrina is currently listed at approximately 12-1 to win Idol. This, compared with 4-1 for Lakisha and Melinda, makes her a darn good value play in my book. Not to mention, Sabrina heralds from Studio City, CA -- that's got destiny written all over it.