If I, were the king, of the forrrrest!

If I were in a position of leadership in District 186 - a position that I neither aspire to or am qualified for but why should that keep me from piping up - here is the statement that I would have released to the media upon announcing the expulsion of 13 students for their role in a gang-related fight outside of Lanphier High School:

Lanphier High School will not allow disruptive students to poison the academic environment of our school or jeopardize the academic progress of our students, the majority of whom come to school each day with the desire to learn. Every effort will be made to impress upon these expelled students the importance of education to their future. If and when we are satisfied that they understand and are ready to abide by the rules set forth for every student, they will be allowed to return after fulfilling the requirements set forth in their punishment. Until that time, our teachers will continue to focus on teaching, our students will continue to focus on learning, and anyone else who would see fit to disrupt the vital pursuit of education with their barbaric behavior will expelled as well.

I would think that most parents of LHS students would be comforted by these words amid fears that their children’s school is turning into a cross between the Jerry Springer Show and Girlz N the Hood. They would be reassured that their child’s pursuit of an education isn’t being impeded to ensure that no delinquent gets left behind. And they would know that the school’s leaders have their children’s best interests at heart.

Instead, we get this from Superintendent Rutledge as reported in today's SJ-R: “It was a very sad day for us. We are not proud of that kind of thing.”

It’s a compassionate statement to be sure, and I don’t doubt her sincerity. However it’s incredibly weak-kneed and if the threat of an expulsion is going to serve in anyway as a deterrent then it should not be conveyed publicly that such things are entered into reluctantly and with a heavy heart. Kids sense weakness and are quite adept at exploiting the wishy-washiness of their elders. There are times when being a bit ironhanded is the proper way to go. In other words, when dealing with street fighters, it’s better to sound a little more like Judge Roy Bean and little less like Oprah.

What’s even more troubling is that one school board member was given to wringing her hands over the situation, wondering if the school’s new curriculum might be to blame for these secondary school insurgents turning their backs on scholarship in favor of brawling. An increased emphasis on math, writing, and science has reduced the opportunities for electives and this, she concludes, could be causing students to lose interest in school and “act out.” Euclid, Shakespeare, and Newton aren’t to blame for anti-social behavior, more visual arts classes aren’t going to solve gang problems, and displacing blame only serves to exasperate the ordeal.

Age 14 is much too young to write-off a person’s future, and I don’t expect that District 186 will do so. But it isn’t too young for them to get the message that they need school more than school needs them. Statistics show that not finishing high school is a one way ticket to a life of poverty (Andrew Carnegie aside) with all of the pain and suffering that goes with it. It's a lesson every student should be made to learn.

We don't not need no education

Jim Leach had a very interesting interview on Tuesday with Barbara Strauch, medical science and health editor for the New York Times and author of the book “The Primal Teen.” Her book attempts to make physiological sense of teenagers’ often irrational and perplexing behavior by looking at the brain development and function of adolescents.

While I'm probably misrepresenting her work and I’m certainly oversimplifying it, the crux of her dissertation is that teenagers aren’t stupid, but rather they, like everyone else, are ignorant of many things. Well, some teenagers are stupid, but it’s hard to identify them as such until they turn 30 and we find that they’re still giving wedgies and hitting on high school chicks.

You really don’t need to be a brain surgeon (literally) to understand the frequent synaptic misfires occurring in an adolescent’s head. What sets the teenage years apart from childhood is that teenagers are increasingly asked to figure things out for themselves and to learn from their mistakes, and they just aren’t fine-tuned to do that with any degree of consistency. Erraticism is a sign of lack of development more than dysfunction and rebelliousness arises out of confusion probably as much as it does belligerence. Except for James Dean for whom rebelliousness had no cause.

Many people, mostly parents of teenagers, would probably be relieved if it were discovered that their children’s whacked-out behavior could be tied to some physiological cause they could be remedied with regular rounds of shock treatment. The cure however, in my humble opinion, is much less severe. This may sound hackneyed, but if they stay in school and remain diligent in their studies, they will soon be able to weather life's many storms with the deftness of a well-seasoned captain.

Anyone who has attended a liberal arts college, at some point in their matriculation, probably questioned the requirement that an English major take an economics course or that a math major be required to sit through a poetry seminar. What these budding Flauberts didn’t realize, and what I didn’t realize until well after graduation, is that we were never expected to find much use for Laffer Curves in our daily lives. In a liberal arts education, it is the journey, not the destination that is important.

The best definition of a liberal arts education that I’ve heard is that it "teaches you how to learn.” It presents you with subjects that you know nothing about and, in a semester’s time, teaches you how to apply logic and reason to its principles until you have a good enough understanding to pass an exam or write a passable essay. The more you do this, the better your brain gets at doing it. By asking analytically-inclined math majors to explore the visceral world of poetry, the brain is cross-trained and becomes even stronger. The applications for this in daily life are endless.

This type of learning can be honed outside the classroom as well. In earlier times, the ability to quickly make sense of the unknown and derive a favorable course of action was often the difference between life and death. Even today, in a more civilized time, learning is the ultimate survival skill.

That my parents raised 10 children on a single, modest income is a testament of their love, but it is also a demonstration of higher brain function developed as a means to get by. When the washing machine would break down, my dad would fix it, perhaps calling on some of the knowledge he gained fixing the dishwasher the week before or the car the week before that. When the first of seven girls prepared to head down the aisle, my mom made her wedding dress and the ones for those that followed. In today’s dollars, those gowns would be worth in the tens of thousands. In short, they supplemented the family income, probably a hundred-fold, by learning to do things for themselves. This is becoming a rare art.

People today are becoming more and more specialized, both in their professional and their personal lives. This has given rise to a large service industry in this country that has been a boon to our economy, but has stunted our ability to cognitively adapt. We’ve grown helpless in many ways. Not only do we have more plumbers, electricians, and mechanics, we also have professional organizers for those who lack the spatial awareness to arrange a closet or the inventory skills to make out a shopping list. Those with stunted interpersonal skills can seek out a dating service. Even such basic skills as cooking and cooking can be farmed out to someone else. As such, there’s just no incentive to grow beyond our present interests or develop new talents or proficiencies.

I attempt to expand my mind to new ideas by reading books that fall outside my normal interests and by tackling the occasional plumbing problem. But I fall short in many areas. I’ve yet to complete a tax return on my own, I’m befuddled by anything mechanical, and after many years, I still can’t play the guitar very well.

But back to those deranged teenagers, I think that it’s obvious they need guidance and direction to accompany their independence. They need to learn that if they go out and get drunk it isn’t the end of the world, but if they drive drunk it could be. They needn’t be chastised for dying their hair purple, but they should know that a tattoo is forever while Bre’anna’s love may not be. It doesn't take a neurologist to realize what's going on with teenagers, just parents who remember what it was like to be a teenager. But if you must consult a doctor for advice, consider these words from one of the wisest:

So be sure when you step.
Step with care and great tact
and remember that Life's
a Great Balancing Act.
Just never forget to be dexterous and deft.
And never mix up your right foot with your left.

Do you want Freaky Fridays with that?

We talked recently about how McDonald’s sells more hamburgers than any other restaurant despite the fact that they come up short when measured on taste. Their key to success, if you’ll remember, is that they strategically erect stores in such a way that no matter where you are at any given time, there is always McDonald’s within a couple of blocks. You may not be able to find a natural source of potable water in the middle of an arid and unforgiving desert, but you can find a Shamrock Shake provided that you plan your excursion for late February/early March.

Another thing that McD’s does extremely well is communicating with their demographic. They were among the first to realize that children hold considerable sway over their parent’s buying decisions. In response, they created Ronald and a cast of freakish characters to deliver subliminal suggestions that have children to this day shrieking with desire at the sight of the golden arches. In the early 70s, McD's spoke to women as they cast aside their aprons and entered the work force with the pandering but effective tag line: "You deserve a break today." And now they are taking aim to capitalize on two of society’s weak spots: the desire to see every bad movie ever made and the inability to manage credit card debt.

An article in the Springfield’s Business News today reported that McD’s will begin putting DVD rental kiosks in their one billion restaurants, furthering a sinister plot hatched by a secret Hollywood cabal wherein soon you will not be able to participate in a retail transaction of any kind in this country without also having the opportunity to impulsively purchase a copy of Coyote Ugly.

That aside, it’s good to see that McD’s has wised up and gotten off their health kick. Pushing salads and giving away pedometers does not befit a company that has grown fat on the poor eating habits of its customers. Now that Adkins has passed on people can stop counting their carbs and their 10,000 steps per day. McD’s has correctly recognized that their average gastronome would rather spend the post-Big Mac digestion process plopped down on the couch watching the scenes not good enough to make the final cut of Death to Smoochy.

The genius in McDonald's entry into the DVD racket is that they aren't selling them - as every grocer, gas station, and convenience store does these days - but renting them, much as a traditional video store. Customers slide their debit or credit card at the kiosk and, for one dollar U.S., they can choose among the hottest titles of the day. The rental is good for one day, and the customer is charged a $1 late fee each day thereafter until day 25, at which point: "Ba da da da dahhh, you’re buying it!"

Experts say that they don't expect McD's to make much money with the $1 rental fees, but that they'll clean-up when customers return and pig out. It isn't uncommon for retailers to offer loss leaders, items sold at or below cost in an attempt to lure customers into their stores. And I'm sure this is McD's strategy as well. But I also think they'll be reaping a lot of $10 rental fees and selling a good deal on top of that.

A lot of people won't give a second thought to tossing a single dollar atop their colossal mound of credit card debt. There it will be forgotten until it grows by 250 percent, not counting compounding interest. But as a consolation, they will become the proud owners of America's Sweethearts, a DVD that was apparently pressed with the assumption that every man, woman, and child would someday want to own a copy.

It's easy to poke fun at the McD's lifestyle, even while indulging in it from time to time, but I don't believe that there is anything immoral or unethical about what they do. I do think that Morgan Spurlock, the half-wit behind Super Size Me, is a huckster of Geraldo-like proportion. It doesn't take a freak show performance from a film school reject for sane people to realize that eating too many lard-soaked French fries will adversely affect one's health. And if he really wanted to suffer for his art, he'd try to watch nothing but Corrina, Corrina for 25 days straight.

Death to the Twizzler

Good news on the licorice front. The SJ-R reported yesterday the return of the Switzer-brand to candy aisles where it will once again do battle with the King of the Red Twine, Twizzlers.

The reason this is good news, at least for those of us with a tooth for such things, is that Twizzlers is, what is known in boxing parlance, a paper champion. It may sit on the top of the heap as far as sales go and it may demand top placement from rack-jobbers stocking the candy display, but when it comes to the true taste experience, Twizzlers is living a lie.

Twizzlers is remarkable for its distinct lack of flavor. Its taste is certainly unobjectionable and it has a passable pliancy, but ultimately, it disappoints. The return of the Switzer will provide a quality and readily available licorice for those without the means or inclination to partake in boutique brands.

There are other licorice options at most grocers. I recently discovered a brand at Wal-Mart, although the name now escapes me. It comes in niblet form and has a tangy, citrus-y taste that elicits that “can’t eat just one” quality one expects from a good candy. The consistency of this confection, however, is probably too close to that of the "juju" or the "gummy" to be taken seriously by true licorice aficionados.

That Twizzlers remains the top-seller in its category despite its short-comings and the availability of superior alternatives should not be a surprise to those who observe market behavior. McDonald’s is regularly given low marks in taste tests of fast-food burgers, yet it sells billions. Dominoes delivers pies at a Wal-Street pleasing pace despite the presence in almost every town of a quality pizzeria. And while many may swear that Starbucks does have the best-tasting coffee, they didn’t becomes this country’s favorite retailer of stomach-agitating liquids because of the quality of their beans or the superiority of their brewing methods.

The reason that these aforementioned brands have hit it big, and crushed many a competitor along the way, is that they have made themselves available in a way that would have made merchants from an earlier day blush like handmaidens. I read an article recently that debunked the notion that Starbucks success is based on a strong branding campaign, but is instead a result of setting up shop on every downtown block of every major city. Anyone who has ever been to Seattle knows that one wrong turn will likely land you in line for a latte. Given the addictive properties of their caffeine-intensive discharge, this is the equivalent of a street gang setting up a dealer on every corner, pretty soon they’re bound to control the city’s entire drug trade.

This tactic to dominate the marketplace reminds me of a Woody Allen quote: “Eighty percent of success is showing up.” Allen may be the exception to this dictum because despite putting out some truly great films, especially in the 70s, he seems to be showing up lately with some pretty dismal movies that garner but a fraction of his early success. Despite this, there is much truth to be learned from these words.

To entrepreneurs, it says to tarry not with perfection, but to get your wares to market.

As an axiom for the common man, it can provide succor to one with little to offer in terms of skills and intelligence. If that person can be relied upon to show up to work everyday, he should never want for gainful employment.

If you want to get all existentialist about it, then you need only to look to more wisdom from the Wood-man: "I don't want to achieve mortality through my work. . . I want to achieve it through not dying." In other words, every time you draw a breath you’re on top of your Earthly-game.

Although I kneel at the altar of meritocracy, I recognize that ambition often outshines ability. How else can you explain Steven Seagal? So it is our duty to encourage the Switzers of the world to enter the free-market fray and dispose those content to sit upon a throne made only of their own pretension.

Something Noxious This Way Comes

It’s been some time since I’ve critiqued an ad in this space. Today, I can not help but do so.

The Illinois Licensed Beverage Association ran a full page ad in today's SJ-R encouraging people to oppose a total smoking ban in Springfield. They attempt to do so by telling us that we're better off with smokers congregating in bars than lingering outside of our homes.

If this ad is to be believed, my quiet neighborhood nestled in our modest Midwestern town will transform itself into New York City’s famed Meatpacking District, with trendy club goers congregating outside my house, reveling raucously until the wee hours of the morning, and littering scads of cigarette butts down into the grates that the city apparently plans to install along the street so that street sweepers won’t be able to whisk them away. “For the love of God”, I suppose that I am being enticed to say, “don’t destroy the habitat of these displaced packs of smokers and force them to migrate beneath the window of our son's nursery.”

The one argument against a smoking ban that seems to be holding any sway at all with non-smokers is that businesses should be allowed to be self-determined in such matters. But they don’t pursue that line of reasoning. Instead, they want to try and scare us with a “Night of the Coughing Dead” scenario. Like most horror movies, the effect of this ad is more comical than frightening.

Obviously, a smoking ban in bars and restaurants will force smokers outdoors where they will instinctively and irresponsibly litter their butts. But how is this a reasonable argument against a smoking ban? Allowing 16 year-olds to drink legally in bars would reduce the number of empties that get tossed curbside before the teens return home, but that is hardly a compelling reason for lowering the drinking age.

Another problem with the message delivered here is that it admits that smoking is a dirty, disgusting habit and that no sensible person would want to be around it. Yet on its Web site, one of the groups behind the ad is adamant that smokers and non-smokers can continue to live harmoniously in bars and restaurants.

It's standard practice that when advocating for a certain cause that those supporting the cause be portrayed in a flattering, or at the very least, a sympathetic manner. Perhaps that proved too daunting a task in this case. Still, depicting smokers as a ravenous scourge that would be unleashed upon the city, leaving filth and muck in its wake, is a pretty curious way to sway people's attitudes.

Besides sending a dubious message, the ad itself is of a very poor ilk. The layout looks as if it was done in Word and it contains no design concepts that would make it appealing.

The picture quality is terrible. My first reaction was that this was intentional. I thought that the art director was attempting to visually convey the blurry haze our street corners will be shrouded in once smokers are forced to descend upon the outdoors in mass. Then I went to the Web site mentioned in the ad and discovered that the images are stills taken from a streaming video. I can only assume that the high cost of cigarettes has eaten into their advertising budget, forcing them to run a full-page ad that looks as if it were designed by a first-year receptionist student.*

As I have opined here before, I could be convinced to support some type of compromise on this issue, provided that smokers get a significantly shorter end of the butt. I'm decidedly less inclined to do so after this pathetic little scare campaign. Just as it's hard to find symphathy for the slasher victim who refuses to leave the house despite the carnage that surrounds her, I can't commiserate with those who can't read the "No Smoking" sign upon the wall and threaten the very behavior that contributes to their ostracism in the first place.

*This is by no means intended as a slam against receptionists. It’s just that they aren’t exactly noted for their graphic design abilities and they have been known to create some pretty horrendous Christmas Party announcements using Word and some third-rate clipart.

Damn it feels good to wear a Red Hat

I can’t say that I was surprised to see the letter-to-the-editor in today’s SJ-R complaining about the rude and confrontational behavior from an alleged member of the Red Hat Society. I am surprised that we haven’t been reading more about the notorious group of elderly revelers in Police Beat. History shows us that it is only a matter of time before this rapidly growing and increasingly influential band of frivolity seekers turns anti-social and bloodthirsty.

I’m not suggesting that the Red Hat Society was organized as a criminal syndicate. Their mission to bring golden years of fun to women across the world is admirable and true. But any sociologist worth his salt will tell you that such clubs, gangs if you will, are a breeding ground for organized crime. If I’m not mistaken, the mafia started out as a bocce ball league and the first pirates were fishing buddies who grew tired of dropping a line and sought more lucrative booty from passing merchant ships.

The signs are certainly pointing towards the Red Hat Society following down this path to infamy. The group’s growing popularity is one such indication.

Senior citizens, in particular women of this age group, often feel marginalized in our society. This is a generation that largely missed out on the empowerment that came about from the feminist movement of the 60s and 70s. Associating themselves with such groups as the Red Hat Society or the jack-booted thugs of the AARP buys them increased social status, or “juice”, out on the streets. In time, they become more emboldened and turn to menacing behavior to feed their insatiable desire for more cred and respect.

The transformation from fun-loving octogenarians to garden-variety hoodlums is slowly taking place and experts predict that businesses that cater to the group are especially vulnerable to being victimized. Restaurant owners, shopping malls, and tourist sites see the red hatted ladies as a desirable demographic to court. Seemingly well-behaved with a reasonable amount of disposable income, the women are often catered to and given preferential treatment by these businesses. Soon, however, they begin to see the special accommodations and extra niceties as their due propers. And should a business become delinquent or unforthcoming with these tributes, things can get ugly fast.

That’s why I wasn’t surprised to read that one of their members went mad dog when the letter writer crossed her out on the streets. Members feel that by displaying their colours they are giving notice that they are on their turf and they set the rules. Any show of disrespect is dealt with swiftly and harshly. Today it was a verbal assault and an obscene gesture; tomorrow it will likely be a beat-down or worse.

Stories of irate, white-haired women breaking up tea rooms are going largely unreported in the mainstream media. Editors are hesitant to run with such reports due to tender feelings towards their own mothers, a transference of emotion that red hatters exploit to maintain their genteel reputations amidst a rash of covert rabble rousing. This same affection makes police hesitant to seek charges when some street-hardened Aunt Bea-type is found tagging the back wall of the local Presbyterian Church.

For their part, the police should treat the Red Hat Society as they do any other gang. When detaining one, they should take note of society-related tattoos or any other distinguishing marks that would help ID them in future crimes. Police should also keep track of aliases. Agnes Wittenberg might be known on the street as La Psycho Rojo or Mama Redd Dogg. Law enforcement must become familiar with the Red Hat culture if they hope to curb the inevitable lawlessness the group is about to throw down.

As for the public, they are advised to steer clear of these red-topped cut throats. Better to give up your place in line at the museum then get jacked-up in broad daylight by a mob of ill-tempered grandmothers.

In a skit from their television show, Monty Python keenly portended the existence of gangs of hyper-matriarchal seniors who wield hand bags like blackjacks and walk around with chips on their shoulders the size of marble ryes. Most took it as satire, but it now seems eerily foretelling of a scourge that is both inflicting our communities and placing a blight on what is considered the Greatest Generation.

When you say Tap Water, you've said it all!

Anyone who has every visited Penny Lane has probably gotten a chuckle out of the little notices attached to certain paraphernalia that state they are intended for tobacco use only. There’s something quaint about such blatant misrepresentations when made by brain-charred head shop owners, who hope only to make enough money to keep the Microbus running and Mountain Girl turned on.

When a billion dollar corporation tries this same tactic, as Budweiser attempted to do by claiming their Bud Pong game is intended to facilitate the consumption of water for fun and sport, it comes across as patronizing. Their feigned amazement that people in a bar were actually playing their drinking game with - gasp – beer, stretches the limits of spin. Their assertion that this was never their intention is . . just plain stupid.

A more honest approach would have been to say something along the lines of this:

Upon receiving word from some of our distributors that Bud Pong may be indirectly responsible for some isolated instances of irresponsible drinking, we have decided to immediately recall all game kits. In their place, distributors will receive official Budweiser Beer Bongs, which are intended strictly as a transference mechanism in the performance of do-it-yourself oil changes. (Some nursing mothers have also found that, in a pinch, they can be useful as crude breast pumps. Be sure to thoroughly cleanse away all 10W40 before using it in this manner.)

Equally upsetting to me is that Budweiser’s pathetic act of obstinance has marred an otherwise fine and worthy sport.

My friends and I began playing beer pong back in the 80s, before corporate interests turned it into yet another bastion of ego and greed. Marked by fierce competitiveness, its aggressive, anything-goes set of rules made it perhaps the very first Xtreme sport. Of course we had no use for those trendy marketing labels back then. Like our forgotten brethren who went before us in baseball’s Negro League, we played for the love of the game.

The rules for beer pong are simple. Cups of beer (or Kool-Aid if you prefer) are placed approximately one foot from the edge of each side of the table. The object is to either hit the cup with the ball or get the ball to land in the cup. The defender can not return volley until the ball has passed the cup (no shot blocking.)

It is here where our version of the rules break even more significantly with traditional beer pong etiquette:

• Play is not dead until the ball comes to a complete stop, usually in the corner of the room, under a couch, or under the foot of a spectator who has unintentionally trod upon it.
• As long as the ball remains moving, a player is required to hit it, as many times as necessary on as many bounces, until the ball crosses the net.
• In doubles, the recommended form of beer pong, a player retrieving an errant shot can pop the ball up to a teammate who can then take a shot.
• Diving recklessly and throwing paddles at unreachable shots are the hallmarks of a great player.

As you can see, drinking is secondary to the all-out, wall-to-wall action that makes beer pong such an exhilarating sport. In fact, many beers are upended in the course of a game, the viscosity of the spilled liquid creating unpredictable hazards that further test a player’s skills.

The origins of our game can be traced back to too many parties where the girls failed to show up. Absent their reasoned presence and the need to maintain a measure of comportment as required by the mating ritual, we reverted to our primitive instincts and turned a low-impact recreational activity into an aggressive match of male dominance.

I’m not sure what the rules are for Bud’s version of the game. It’s obvious from all that nonsense about using water that their lawyers had a hand in writing them so they probably dictate a full complement of protective gear and a pre-game CT scan from a licensed cardiologist. They don't want anybody getting hurt before it's time to drive home from happy hour.

Get Back, Conde Nast

Advertising Age this week announced that People is the recipient of their 2005 Magazine of the Year award. Based on the Ad Age article, People carried the day based on the fact that they are the most profitable magazine being published. They were also given props for their efforts to include eight pages of Katrina coverage just hours before the deadline for their annual “Best and Worst Dressed” issue. I didn’t see that particular issue, but I hope they weren’t too snarky commenting on the fashion choices of the flood-ravaged, it can be exasperating trying to find just the right thing to wear to an evacuation.

Other than the aforementioned, Ad Age doesn’t really offer much glowing praise for People’s content, just it’s ability to stay ahead of their celebrity gawking competitors. I’m not much of a People-person. I’ll peruse it from time-to-time in a waiting room, but absent a broken bicuspid or a faulty fuel pump, I’m usually not inclined to look in and see how Julia and the twins are doing.

I tend to go for magazines that provide in-depth coverage of subjects and aren’t necessarily sensitive to any news cycle. Magazines such as this fit nicely between the immediacy of newspapers and the leisureliness of books. They also fit nicely in that small space between the toilet and vanity.

Smithsonian is among my favorites. I discovered it for the first time on my honeymoon, a fact I’m hesitant to mention lest I seem bookish and unromantic. But we were in a bed and breakfast in Seattle, not the Casanova Inn in Reno, so a little quite reading time didn’t contrast with the milieu.

The best thing about Smithsonian is that you’ll find yourself reading about things that you never would have thought interesting – pipe organs, C-list sea creatures, artists whose work didn’t make the cut in the board game “Master Piece” – and come away not only entertained, but a little wiser and more worldly as well.

The New Yorker is good for adding a little cosmopolitan flavor to your reading list. Famous for its cartoons, those little commentaries on contemporary mores, it also has excellent feature articles. And despite the skewering they took from Seinfeld, the cartoons are usually pretty funny, in a smart, non-Beatle Bailey kind of way.

Newsweek is my news weekly of choice, although I’m growing increasing bored with it. I much prefer the content on Slate.com for this type of thing. The writing is a little edgier on Slate and the online format gives them move leeway as to the variety of topics that they cover. Unfortunately, there isn’t room for a computer between the toilet and the vanity so Newsweek still serves a need. If anyone can recommend a good news magazine that doesn’t sway too far to the left or right, please let me know.

Although my interest in sports has waned over the years, I still enjoy Sports Illustrated. I receive this magazine third-hand and often a month or more after its publication. It’s just as well because I really have no use for the pre-game analysis or post-game reports. You can usually count on at least one good feature article each week. One of my favorites was a story on the perilous world of deep-sea diving. It was utterly fascinating and led me to the book “Shadow Divers”, a riveting true-life account of divers who discovered a sunken U-Boat. Even if you’ve had no prior use for divers or U Boats, I recommend giving it a read.

As a contrast to SI, there is ESPN the Magazine. I once had the misfortune of turning back the cover of this hyperactive rag. It was like experiencing the fever dreams of an ADD afflicted music video director – and this in a static medium. There simply wasn’t a coherent thought to be found in the entire issue.

A common problem among many of the more popular titles is that they’ve determined what their demographic wants to read about and they refuse to stray from the formula. Women’s magazines are notorious for this. The same basic information is repackaged and reused issue after issue. Every cover is filled with teasers such as: “10 Ways to be a Better This”, “30 Days to a Slimmer That”, “50 Tricks for a Wilder . ..” Well, you get the point.

Men’s Health, which I take, suffers from a similar lack of fresh ideas. Not every workout can be the ultimate path to more powerful pecs and I swear that certain foods alternative monthly between being the key to a healthy heart and a one-way ticket to colitis. But the magazine does help one keep focused on health and exercise even if it does little to stimulate the mind.

There are many magazines that I've parted ways with over the years, but still remember fondly. Life. National Lampoon. Entertainment Weekly. Others left me while I still had feelings for them. Brill's Content comes to mind.

Often, magazine choices will reflect a certain point in a person's life. I first picked up a Rolling Stone in high school before switching to Spin after being exposed to alternative rock in college. After alternative went mainstream and lost its edge, I turned to Option to stay hip to the true indie scene.

Here at home, Springfield Magazine, to which I was a regular contributor, kind of lost its way when it attempted to become Illinois Magazine and then disappeared altogether. I’m not sure if Abe is still publishing.

Springfield could use a good magazine, if only to provide me with some freelance work. If there are any venture capitalists reading who want to play Rupert Murdoch and start a little media empire here in the Land of Lincoln, I’m ready to sign on.

Illinois Lottery: Have a Lawsuit!

The Illinois Lottery is feeling heat from the National Football League after using copyrighted materials in a promotion for a new game that features a trip to the Super Bowl as a prize.

I don’t blame the Lottery because really, why should the NFL even care. In fact, the Lottery probably didn't go far enough. Their ad agency should have scanned in a picture of Donovan McNabb and his mom, Photoshopped the soup spoons out and put in some lottery cards instead, and, presto, they’d have themselves a winning promotional campaign with none of those pesky endorsement fees to fuss with. Or they could have found an old tape of Kurt Warner or Phil Simms doing their post-Super Bowl spots for Disney and dubbed in the words “I’m going to Super Game XL. Thanks Governor Blagojevich’s Illinois State Lottery.” I don’t think that the quarterbacks’ agents would mind, theirs being such a philanthropic profession to begin with.

Wait a minute, Super Game XL? Apparently I’m being facetious in the preceding paragraph and Lottery officials are being a tad bit disingenuous when claiming ignorance to possible copyright infringements. As the SJ-R reported, Lottery ads used the term “Super Game” instead of “Super Bowl” in some print ads and drowned out the word “bowl” in some radio spots. Obviously they knew all was not fair game in their little ticket promotion. And if anyone there had been paying attention at all to the business side of sports in recent years, they’d realize that the suits are growing increasingly teenager-y about letting people use their stuff without asking first.

In 2000, the Illinois High School Association formed a limited liability company with the NCAA that has the power to assign rights for the use of the phrase “March Madness.” Last year, the Cubs were demanding a cut of the action from some of their Wrigleyville neighbors who were using their rooftops to peak over the ivied walls. WSCR, a Chicago-based sports talk radio station, is reduced to calling the Cubs and Sox the Northsiders and Southsiders in their promotions, presumably because that honor goes exclusively to the stations that paid for the right to broadcast their games. I won't even start on those litigious scoundrels over at the International Olympic Committee, except to say that your kid's preschool better think twice before holding a hamster Olympics.

It all sounds a bit silly to the common sports fan, but its serious business to those who want to squeeze every last cent out of their investment.

Most people can understand a team wanting to profit from the sale of their official merchandise – caps, sweatshirts and what not - but how many people would be willingly shell to out for this: 22-32-0-191

Those aren't winning lottery numbers as selected by your psychic friend. Those are Peyton Manning’s stats from last night’s victory over the Rams and there are some NFL executives who are of the opinion that they are the property of Peyton and the league. If those fantasy football geeks want to avail themselves of these numbers, the execs reason, then they better get out their credit cards.

The NFL is already raking in money because of the fantasy football craze. More people are watching more games which means the networks can charge more for advertising which means that the NFL can charge the networks more for the broadcasting rights. But you don't get to me the most successful sport's league in North America without shaking the loose change from your loyal fans.

The prevailing judicial opinion on this matter is that statistics aren’t intellectual property and are thus not eligible for copyright. If it is ever ruled to the contrary, then I plan to seek remittance from insurance companies every time they analyze Illinois traffic statistics, since my driving patterns, much like Marvin Harrison's pass patterns, are figured into those stats. Silly, I know. And of course they’d just raise my rates. You can’t beat the insurance companies.

Getting back to the Illinois Lottery, I think that most of their troubles can be traced to the fact that they are a sells-driven organization rather than one that is simply charged with preserving a budget, what state government-types are more instinctively given to do. They seem to lack the proper business acumen to operate in such an environment and that may be why they find themselves in precarious situations. Perhaps it would be best to outsource the whole operation to a private contractor.

Until some changes are made, might I suggest a special World Concatenation scratch-off to honor the Southsiders as they make their first championship appearance since 1959?

I'm all lost in the supermarket

After commenting yesterday on the vacuous trends that pervade our culture, I thought that I would continue the marketplace dialogue by offering my take on the trend’s more virtuous cousin – brand loyalty. While trends live in the superficial world of such places as bars and malls, customer loyalty can be best viewed in the sterile and unassuming environs of the supermarket.

A survey commissioned by the Grocery Manufacturers of America (GMA) indicates that 76 percent of consumers consider a product’s brand before pulling the trigger on the buying decision. At first glance, this might not seem that much different than the roots rockers cum copier salesmen who insist that theirs be a Pabst Blue Ribbon. But it is different. You aren’t on display when you’re traipsing down a grocer’s aisles, and neither are the contents of your cart. A trip to the grocery store is really a quest for sustenance and nobody has time to check out the other gatherers (hunters being unnecessary in a place where the meat is already dead and quartered..) Consumers are so confident in their incognito-ness that even the most prissified or dandified among them will show up on a Saturday morning sans makeup and with hair mussed. So what you buy is your own business, and also a reflection of what you hold dear deep inside.

Wonder bread. Crest toothpaste. Oscar Mayer bologna. These are just a few of the many name brands that have won the undying affection of shoppers. They earned it by being steady and always available. In return, they only ask for a little extra out of your weekly grocery budget, a trade that many consumers are willing to make. But others, like myself, have grown a little cold to the deal.

My loyalty to name brands first began to be tested when my weekly grocery bills started to consistently land in the triple digits. As my family grew, my eye began to wander to the modest store brands sitting somewhat less decorously next to their titled betters. Their lower prices shyly began to beckon me. I discovered that the ingredients were usually close to the same, give or take a heavily-consonanted word or two. In time, my taste buds would no longer notice the difference, but my pocketbook* would.

Soda, or "pop" to you Ohioans, was one of the latest allegiances that I broke with a name brand. For years I had played the field between Coke and Pepsi, but once the soda price wars ended a couple of years back and you could no longer buy a twelve-pack for under $2, I made the inevitable move to store brand soda. I’ve found that Meijer brand diet lemon-lime is a passable alternative to 7-Up, although it lacks the Uncola’s crispness. The Meijer caffeine-free diet cola, on the other hand, has a unique berry taste that has genuinely won me over.

I still patronize some name brands. Although my mac and cheese days are largely behind me, my palette having evolved as an adult’s will, I refuse to rain indignity down on my children by serving them anything less than the Kraft brand. I’ve found that there really is no alternative. My wife, who believes that cleanliness surpasses godliness, insists on Lysol-brand cleaning products to use during her weekly immaculation process. For these, I will pay a little extra.

In the GMA survey, 76 percent of respondents admitted to "chasing a brand" to a different store if it wasn't available at the initial store they visited. This is what most likely prompted grocery stores to seek some unconditional love for themselves by issuing loyalty cards, those credit card-like pieces of plastic that earn the consumer special pricing on select items.

I know that some have philosophical differences with the use of loyalty cards, believing that the very act of entering a store with the intent of exchanging cash for goods entitles one to the store’s best price. I don’t disagree, but I also don’t have a problem participating in their little game. Just as I don’t see the threat to my personal freedom through the use of traffic cameras, electronic voting booths, or DUI roadblocks, I really don’t care if Jewel wants to get a handle on my frozen pizza preferences. I suppose if the local methamphetamine task force breaks down my front door some evening because I purchased more that my allotted share of allergy medicine at Osco then I might change my tune. But for now, I’ll use their little cards. They just shouldn’t expect my loyalty.

At the risk of seeming a cad, I must confess to a brief and meaningless tryst that I had with Cub Foods recently. Flashing my Max Card like a megastore lothario, I picked up five gallons of skim milk and unabashedly took advantage of the seductive sales price of $2 a gallon. I was single-minded in my pursuit and purchased nothing else. Not only that, just the day before I had wantonly done my major grocery shopping at Meijer. I’m clearly not the type of shopper a grocery store wants to get serious with. But if they’re going to brazenly flaunt their sales items in the Sunday paper, then they have to expect guys like me to start hanging around.

So I suppose that the pursuit of brand loyalty can be just as cheap and tawdry as chasing the latest trend. Despite the ugliness inherent in rabid consumerism, I’m a big fan of our free market society. I don’t want to have my goods allotted to me by some "glorious" state-controlled cooperative. Besides, grocery stores are a great place to check out women.**

*I don’t really have a pocketbook, but if I did I would carry it in my waistcoat.

**So I learned when I was single, but a practice that I’ve since discontinued in deference to my beautiful wife.