Stuff Worth Mentioning With More Than 140 Characters

Twitter

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Donovan) — Thu, 16 Jul 2009 01:42:00 +0000

I last posted to this blog two months ago. In that time I have discovered Twitter, as have many others. I forget when I first heard of Twitter, but I remember thinking that the idea of it was kind of dumb. After all, I already got enough "Jane is eating a ham sandwich" breaking news stories on my Facebook front page. In fact, according to the site itself, "Twitter is a service for friends, family, and co–workers to communicate and stay connected through the exchange of quick, frequent answers to one simple question: What are you doing?"

So though I was a little skeptical, I joined Twitter about two months ago. I realized pretty quickly that my skepticism was actually quite unfounded, because people rarely actually answer the question "What are you doing?" and seem to be more inclined to make observations about the world around them, be it sports, music, politics, entertainment, or what-have-you. So it turns out that Twitter is essentially a perfect forum for what this blog initially was intended for: to mention stuff. So while I am not shutting this baby down, I do recommend that you sign up for Twitter to and follow me at cm_donovan (according to Feedburner, there are 5 of you who subscribe by RSS to this blog, and I am pretty sure I know who at least three of you are, and those three are already following me on Twitter, so I guess I am not expecting to exactly crash Twitter's servers as a result of this recommendation). If I can, I am going to try to rename this blog "Stuff Worth More Than 140 Characters" or something of the like. I don't know why this paragraph is bold, it just is and it won't change.

Until next time

Insert your favorite “Manny is trying to get pregnant” joke here

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Donovan) — Fri, 15 May 2009 14:41:00 +0000

As a devout Red Sox fan, I was required to start hating Manny Ramirez about midway through the 2008 season when he became a “cancer” in the Boston clubhouse. Before that, he was a hero of mine. Along with Nomar, Big Papi, Pedro, and Schilling, Manny was one of the greatest Red Sox players of my lifetime. The “two” in the one-two punch known as Ortiz and Ramirez throughout the 04, 05, 06, and 07 seasons, Manny put on a show for all of us Boston fans and we loved him for it. He was instrumental in two World Series victories in four years, winning the MVP for his role in the memorable (to say the absolute least) 2004 Classic. He was a clown, too. While the media grossly overplayed the “Manny Being Manny” thing to the point where they said it practically every time he did anything (“Ramirez just couldn’t quite get to that fly ball, I guess that’s just Manny being Manny!”), he did provide a much appreciated element of comic relief.

So as much as I loved Manny Ramirez, I was not surprised one bit when I heard the news about his testing positive for a banned substance. Why would I be surprised about that? We should all be so desensitized to steroid revelations by now that this should not even be a big story. Bonds, Palmiero, McGwire, Tejada, Clemens, Canseco, Pettite, Rodriguez, Giambi, I could go on. When a name like Ramirez is added to that list it should not come as a surprise, just like it shouldn´t be if the names Pujols, Ortiz, Griffey, Howard, and others appear on it. As disappointed in Manny as I am, I am not surprised at all.

The big question is of course, “what about the records and World Series victories by these players?” The answer is the same. “What about ‘em?” There are facts and there are speculations. The facts are that Barry Bonds holds the record for most home runs hit in a career as well as a single season. That is quite certifiable. What is speculation is how much his use of performing enhancing substances contributed to these marks. Probably some, probably enough to push him over the top, but this is not fact. Barry Bonds is the statistical home run king, and if we start changing history by altering these numbers there is no telling where we will stop. As for Manny, the Red Sox swept both the Cardinals and the Rockies on their way to their two championships this decade. If you can figure out a way to 1. Prove that Manny was on the juice then (I am not arguing that he was not) 2. Show exactly how much of Boston’s success was attributed to Manny’s juice (I am not arguing that none of it was), and 3. Show that the Sox would not have won one or both of these series had Manny’s juice not been present. This cannot be done, so the record books must be alone.

Definitely did not plan on talking about Barry Bonds, and I hate talking about steroids in baseball, so I will stop.

Pirates

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Donovan) — Tue, 14 Apr 2009 13:16:00 +0000

On the right is Captain Richard Phillips of the MV Maersk Alabama, who spent several days in a "lifeboat" as a hostage of Somali pirates. US Navy Ships arrived on the scene about a day after Phillips was captured, and thus began a standoff. Eventually, the pirates with guns were dumb enough to all stick their heads out at the same time and BOOM BOOM! BOOM! One shot each from three Navy SEAL snipers, three dead pirates. Excellent work boys. I am quite sure that not I nor anyone reading this could make a shot of 300 yards from one bobbing ship to another, in sync with two other shooters who must all hit their targets while avoiding the hostage. Incredible stuff.

Now that being said, I just want to make sure that the Navy knows that there are several kinds of pirates, not all of whom ought to be shot in the head.

Cartoon pirates: Not necessary to shoot in the head. While often cunning, they tend to be rather clumsy and/or unlucky and if you wait long enough (usually 80-100 minutes), you will find that they will be taken care of either by a reptilian foe or a band of youngsters, or both. Be aware that while the threat from the cartoon pirates may seem to have subsided for a while, they may return in a live-action sequel.

Pirates based in the Caribbean but who also tend to venture beyond it to the Far East and even to the End of the World or as they call it "World's End:" Also not necessary to shoot in the head. It is more likely that they will die in a maelstrom, or in the jaws of a supermegagiant squid, or at the bottom of the sea with a cannon strapped to their bootstraps. While they dress like they want to steal all your gold and women, they usually will only fight against other, worse pirates and of course the British Royal Navy and East India Company (who are of course evil).

Music Pirates: Normally I would say definitely not necessary to shoot in the head, but use your discretion with this particular one.

Somali Pirates: Wait, these are the guys that are giving us so much trouble? These are probably the same assholes who shot down Ari Gold's helicopter in Mogadishu and tried to kill Josh Hartnett and Eric Bana (I'm talking about Black Hawk Down if that was too obscure a reference). By all means, fire away, boys. These are the kind of pirates that give pirates a bad rap. So unromantic.

3 continents down, 4 to go

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Donovan) — Sun, 12 Apr 2009 10:40:00 +0000

That is unless you believe the Spanish, who claim that North and South America are one continent, in which case I have only 3 to go. So I just got back from an amazing trip to Morocco. Here are a few of the highlights:

Travel: A group of 50 or so students, all studying in Spain in International Studies Abroad programs in Granada, Málaga, Madrid, Salamanca, and Santander were packed onto a bus for between 45 and 60 hours, depending on where in Spain they started. Granada being in the south of Spain, my group and I lucked out and "only" spent about 50 hours in 6 days on the bus. The roads in Morocco are not at all similar to those of the U.S. or even Spain. They are narrow, winding, and rather bumpy, especially when you get down to the southern half of the country. Because we spent close to 10 hours on the bus every day, we were able to watch quite a few movies. Here are a few quick movie reviews.

300: I don't need to spend a lot of time on this one. Lots of awesome CGI and death, not to mention some pretty badass one-liners (This is Sparta!) (Then we shall fight in the shade.) Bolt: Pretty average Disney/Pixar film about a dog who plays a superdog in a TV show and really believes that's what he is. If you like Disney movies then you have already seen it, and if you don't like them then you don't need to see it. Before Sunset: Easily one of the dumbest movies I have ever seen. Now I didn't say worst movies, I said dumbest. The acting and all that crap wasn't terrible, but unless you want to watch a guy and a girl yammer on about a night they spent together 9 years earlier for an hour and twenty minutes, do not waste your time. Vicky Cristina Barcelona: A let down. I had heard good things about this movie, especially of course Penélope Cruz's performance. I am not saying its not worth seeing, I just wasn't that impressed with it. I am not sure Cruz deserved her Oscar either. The Man From Earth: Phenomenal. This movie takes place almost entirely in one living room, and all it is is a conversation between 6 or 7 people. Towards the beginning, one man asks his friends what they think a Cro-Magnon man would be like if he had survived into the present day, having never aged in physical appearance but lived a life of 14,000 years. As they talk about it, he reveals that he is the man who he is talking about. The conversation continues as the others question John relentlessly, trying to find a crack in his story, but there are no cracks. I highly recommend seeing this movie, it is a real thinker and very worth the effort. Snatch: Again, not much needs to be said. British-accented black guys, Brad Pitt talking crazy and punching people, a big diamond, all kinds of crap going on in this movie.

So anyways, back to Morocco. The trip started around 4am on April 10th in Granada (it should have been 3am but the bus was enjoying some prisa mata). We got to Algeciras on the Strait of Gibraltar around 7:30, put the bus on the boat and crossed the strait, got back on the bus and drove about 8 more hours to Fes, a city of about 1.2 million.

The bus during one of our breaks.

Fes: A pretty important city in Morocco, the third largest in terms of population behind Casablanca and the capital, Rabat. Its most interesting element is the Medina, a huge market in the center of the city. 600,000 people live in the Medina. They do not pay taxes to the government, and they get nothing from the government. We spent 5 or so hours in the Medina and I did not see one policeman, post office, or garbage worker. That said, it is not a dangerous place, save for the many pickpockets (the local trick is to ask a tourist if they have 10 Dirhams to trade for one Euro. The answer should always be no, because they just want to see where you are keeping your money.) We didn't see a lot of the rest of Fes, but we did stay in a 5 star hotel.

The Fes Medina

The Sahara: If you have a preconceived notion of what the Sahara desert looks like, chances are you are right. There are endless dunes everywhere you look, some of them several hundred feet tall. There are caravans of camels that go by every once in a while. The sunrises and sunsets are absolutely stunning. The stars are plentiful, even with the full moon (which made navigating the dunes at night a breeze). And of course the sand gets everywhere. In your shoes, eyes, hair, tent, bags, camera, food, nose, ears, fingernails, everywhere. It is by far the finest sand I have ever touched. It is almost like a liquid. The temperature in the desert ranges incredibly from night to day. At noon it was probably about 85F (this is early April remember, the locals said it gets to about 50C or 122F in the summer). At night it dropped to probably less than 40F. We drove out to the campsite in some pretty rugged Land Rovers. Our driver was pretty nuts, considering we stopped in town to get gas and still beat the rest of the group to the camp by 5 minutes. The camp itself was actually quite comfortable in my opinion. There was one big tent for eating and smaller tents for sleeping. The bathrooms they set up were a little lacking. For some reason they set up normal toilets that did not flush. Hmmm...Where does all the poop go? They set a shower up, but few people used it. Just outside the camp, locals would hang out and wait for us to venture out and try to sell us things. This brings me to my next point.

Land Rovers

The Locals: The locals where we camped were almost without exception Berbers. The Berbers are the original inhabitants of Morocco and Algeria, before the Arabs arrived in the late 600's. These people are absolutely amazing. First off, many of them speak 4 or 5 languages. Almost all speak Berber, Arabic, and French. In addition, many speak a combination of 2 or 3 of Spanish, English, German, or some other language. The most amazing part is that with the exception of the 3 main languages, they learn the rest just by interacting with tourists. I talked with a 14 year old kid named Said who has never had a single Spanish class, but yet his Spanish was every bit as good as mine. (Side note: Said told me that the name Christopher in Berber is Hassan. I don't know how that translation works but I have decided that someday I am going to buy a dog and name it Hassan.) The one that takes the cake on this is Ibrahim, the owner of the campsite. He said that he spent only 4 years of his life in school, from age 7 to 11. The guy speaks 8 languages. Two varieties of Berber, Arabic, French, English, Spanish, Portuguese, and Japanese. Count 'em, eight.

In addition to being amazing with languages, these people must be the nicest on the planet. They have almost nothing of material value. Few cars, their houses are very small, their diet is not exactly wide-ranging, and they have obvious medical and dental care issues. That said, they could not be happier. They love to just hang out on the dunes and watch the sunset, or play music (bongo and guitar) and dance (the camel dance is a favorite, where they actually get a camel to dance with them, its really funny). The second night we were there, I watched the sunset with two Berber guys probably a little older than me named Omar and Mohammad. No, I did not just make up those names because I couldn't remember theirs. Neither spoke English or Spanish, just French and Berber and some Arabic. Despite this, we talked for probably close to three hours, teaching each other words in our respective languages. This of course was aided by drawing pictures in the sand and the fact that I was able to remember a good amount of French words from high school. While they taught me most of the words in Berber, I honestly can't remember any of them. The language seems even more foreign to me than Arabic. Because they know French, they were a lot more adept at picking up my English and Spanish words.

The camel dance

Chillin'

Sunrise

After leaving the desert campsite, we had essentially a 25 hour ride back to Granada, plus of course the night spent in Meknes (which is nothing compared to the 12 extra hours the Salamanca kids had on the road). We spent the night in Meknes, a city not far from Fes, where there is another ISA program. I am pretty sure we drained the showers in that hotel dry, because just about all of us had gone 3 days without. It felt pretty good not gonna lie. The ISA program in Meknes has 16 kids, one of whom is my friend Kaitlin from UNH, who are the only American students in the city.

We left Meknes early the next morning for the 10 hour ride to Ceuta, the Spanish controlled city on the Moroccan coast, where we crossed the border back into Spain. From there we crossed the strait and it was just three more hours until I was back in good old Granada. To top it all off, while we missed most of Semana Santa while we were away, there was essentially a recap of all the processions on Saturday. This does not happen often, in fact the last time it happened was 100 years ago! Here is a picture, and its not what you think it is. Semana Santa in Granada predates the KKK by almost 400 years.

Another long, cold summer for Cats hockey

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Donovan) — Mon, 30 Mar 2009 10:35:00 +0000

I will focus this inaugural post on the happenings in the past two days of UNH Hockey. You may be asking "but chris how can u kno ne thing about unh hockey, ur in spain lol." The answer is I have harnessed the power of internet radio on Yahoo! sports, where you can listen to any Wilcats hockey game. Unfortunately they do not have video feeds even as a paid option, and EPSN360 is not available in Spain.

While the game is somewhat difficult to follow without being able to see it, this method is infinitely better than sitting around wondering how the game is going or watching a gamecast if you can even find one. I have to say that by the way it sounded, the game against the North Dakota Fighting Sioux on Saturday was ~~probably one of~~ the best UNH hockey games played since I became a fan. I can't do a game recap because one, I did not see it (did I mention that I did not actually see the game?) and two, I do not have a high enough hockey IQ. What I do know is that the lead changed four times. And while the Sioux seemed to have taken control of the game with about 10 minutes to play in the game, UNH proved they would not go away when Greg Collins scored to bring them back within one goal with 8 or so minutes left. As eight minutes turned into four minutes, and four into one, and one minute into 5 seconds, it seemd that the Wildcat seniors had laced up togehter for the last time.

However...

With the clock at five seconds and a faceoff in the North Dakota zone coming up, coach Umile called a timeout and said to his team "Okay here's the play. Fortney, you will win the faceoff and send it back to Kapstad at the point, who will then cross it to Sislo at the opposite point, who will one-time it wide of the goal. Pollastrone will then dig it out of the boards, center it in, and pray. Fortney will then answer Pollastrone's prayer by being in exactly the right position to sweep it into the net with literally 0.1 on the clock." The Wildcats executed hockey's equivelent of the hurry-up offense to dramatic effect, tying the game at 5 apiece. I could not believe what I had heard. The first thing that I actually thought of was Dave Roberts when he stole second base in game 4 of the 2004 American League Championship Series. These are both moments that give you a huge dose of "Okay this is the year." Forty-five seconds into overtime, Peter Leblanc confirmed to me that the Wilcats would win the 2009 NCAAs.

However...

A little over 24 hours later the Wildcats season came to an end at the hands of Boston University. I had been looking forward to sneaking past the number 1 overall seeded Terriers and subsequently overusing the phrase "Sucks to BU," but unfortunately my plan did not unfold (Besides, who would I have said that to in Spain?). I of course hate BU as much as I hate any of the other elite Hockey East teams, and that makes it all the more frustrating. Although on paper the Terriers were the favorite, I felt like it was the Wildcats game to lose going in. They had just come off an electrifying win, they had had plenty of rest as that game had been an afternoon contest, and the game was being played at what is essentially the team's second home, the Verizon Wireless Arena in Manchester.

The game proved to be a defensive matchup, as going into the final minutes of play the score stood at 1-1. It looked as if the game might be another overtime thriller, when James van Riemsdyk was called for hooking with 45 seconds on the clock. Hooking with 45 left in a playoff game? These teams have played their butts off for 59:15 and this ass-clown of a ref decides that his input is still needed by showing UNH's best player the penalty box? Admittedly I did not and have not seen the play, but come on. Hooking?

I knew it was coming, and when I heard it I was not at all surprised. Thirty seconds into the powerplay, and with 15 left of the game clock, the puck trickled across the line and into the Wildcats goal. An extremely cheap, no skill, incredible-stroke-of-luck-for-BU type of goal that would likely only happen on powerplay. I hope Jerry Pollastrone, whose glove the puck bounced off of and into the goal, does not dwell on this moment when he remembers his career as a UNH Wildcat, because he has throughout his time been as solid as one can ask a player to be.

Great photography, not such a great picture.

I suppose the only thing left to say about that is there is always next year, except for Jamie Fritsch, Kevin Kapstad, Greg Collins, Alan Thompson, Jerry Pollastrone, and Thomas Fortney, the seniors that while never winning a national championship, they did win two Hockey East regular season championships, and have made UNH Hockey a lot of fun to watch.