Friday, September 4, 2009

Number one with a Bullitt

Well, I don’t quite know what to think.

McQueen.

Back.

Inspiring multiple lines of menswear.

The WSJ reports that manufacturers from Dolce & Gabbana to J. Crew are filling retail shops with clothing “inspired” by Steve McQueen’s film attire. Evidently the marketing pitch is along the lines of, “Steve was cool. Wear what he did & you’ll be just as cool.”

Oh, as if.

Still, just thinking about it is a bit of a blast from the past. These people are right—there can’t ever have been anyone as cool as McQueen. That guy grabbed attention just walking into the shot. Put him in The Magnificent Seven, up against Yul Brynner, Charles Bronson, Eli Wallach, James Coburn, a lot of horses & the Mexican countryside—he still ate up the screen. One pink shirt throughout the whole movie.

Or The Great Escape—German uniform or cut-off-sleeved sweatshirt, tossing that baseball against the cooler wall or making moonshine for Independence Day, he delivered his lines with the quintessential American brash insouciance. ("You're crazy, you know that? You oughta be locked up!")

The Thomas Crown Affair, Le Mans, Love with the Proper Stranger, Bullitt, Sand Pebbles…it didn’t matter what clothes he sported, the coolness came from within. It was being the star who gave producers the jim-jams by doing his own stunts with fast vehicles. It was drinking too much but still making morning makeup.

I know this is nothing new, but I’m going to get a really good giggle out of seeing today’s metrosexuals thinking they’ll take on some of McQueen’s persona by wearing a bomber jacket or a pair of chinos or a watch.

It ain’t the clothes on the man, silly; it’s the man in the clothes.

Thursday, September 3, 2009

Madoff update

In case you were wondering, it seems the SEC inspectors—who investigated Bernie Madoff no fewer than six times (in response to complaints) over the course of 16 years—weren't on the take; they were merely extraordinarily incompetent.

That’s according to a report by the SEC’s inspector general released yesterday. It sounds like these investigators were not only dullards of incredible density, but they weren’t capable of following a lead if it was playing Sousa & displaying eight-by-ten color glossy photos with circles & arrows & a paragraph on the back of each one explaining what each one is.

& Madoff managed to turn this ineptitude to his advantage by essentially assuring investors that his operations had been cleared multiple times by the Feds, so of course their money was safe…

Frankly, I don’t know which is worse—having oversight people who are smart but on the take, or just plain too stupid to detect their way out of a paper bag. Either way, we get screwed.

Wednesday, September 2, 2009

Civic amenities

Over the weekend I had to go to my local branch of the Seattle Public Library to return four books & pick up one I had on hold. The forcing function was that as of Monday, 31 August, the entire library system is closed tighter than a tavern under Prohibition. It doesn't reopen until 8 September.

They’ve been announcing it on the local public radio stations (the assumption being, I guess, that if you listen to NPR, you may also read, you know, books). Not only the libraries, but the book drops are sealed. That’s because there’ll be no one there to empty them for eight days.

(They’ve assured us that you won’t be charged a fine for any book due during this period. Yeah, right.)

Even the website & book catalog are dead—just this placeholder announcing the closure in 15 languages.

The culprit is budget cuts.

At least the King County Library System is open. &, from what I’ve seen so far, that system holds more volumes & is better organized than Seattle’s.

Still, for a city that touts itself as the intellectual vortex of the universe, this is a pretty piss-poor state of affairs.

Tuesday, September 1, 2009

Readin', writin', self-justification

Although you wouldn’t have credited either of them with full functional literacy, two recently ex-governors are cranking out self-serving memoirs geared to vindicate their antics in office.

First off the press is the impeached Rod Blagojevich’s unimaginatively-titled The Governor, due out this month. In it he apparently manages to slag off everyone associated with him or the state of Illinois. Frankly, I can’t even follow the summary of all the he-saids/he-saids; but have a go at it yourself.

Then there’s the poster girl for the neo-cons, Sarah Palin. According to her father, she’s knee deep in writing her own memoirs. She’s been emailing him for details about all the fascinating incidents in her past starring herself. No info on title or when that tome will be unleashed, but you know it’s going to be a best-seller.

Of course, the really big question is: who’s supplying these morons the crayons for their literary efforts.

Monday, August 31, 2009

The Program

A few months ago my employer sponsored a free health screening—you know, the vitals the nurse takes every time you walk into a doctor’s office; height, weight, BP, blood work, etc.

It was quite interesting—they had machines that gave you the cholesterol and glucose readings in just a few minutes.

However, the results for me were…eye-opening. Not one single number was anywhere near healthy. (Well, can’t do much about height; but the rest were really borderline appalling.) I’m attributing it to the effects of this area on me, but regardless, clearly something had to be done.

I talked it over with my doctor and decided to follow a program at my gym. Things were in such a state I just knew I wasn’t going to be able to deal with the situation without someone monitoring me very closely. The program (like the screening) is sponsored by my employer so I have to pay only about 25% of the costs. It’s called 20/20 Lifestylesand it involves highly structured diet and exercise components.

For the past seven weeks I’ve met with a nutritionist once a week and a trainer three times a week, so I’m never far from scrutiny. In addition, I have to keep an online food log, documenting what I’m eating (for now, only what they tell me to) and wear a pedometer that uploads data on how many steps I walk per day and work out on my own two to three days per week.

On the exercise side, I have a terrific trainer. Penelope at the Pro Sports Club started me out with about 15 minutes on the treadmill (which was all I could manage), plus 45 minutes of strength training. Now I’m doing 25 minutes on the stairmaster, that machine from hell, and 35 minutes of weights. On my off days, it’s 30 minutes each on the stairmaster and the treadmill. She’s got me doing crunches about twelve ways from Sunday, in addition to working my biceps and triceps like I don’t think they’ve ever been before.

I’m so jazzed by how I feel that every couple of weeks I go in on Saturday to do an extra workout, which rather scares even me.

(Using the pedometer is interesting: turns out that when you know you’re being tracked you go out of your way to rack up the steps. You become purposely inefficient: instead of looping picking up a printout from the copy room with getting a coffee at the kitchen next to it, you make two trips. When folding laundry, instead of stacking it up and making a single trip to the dresser or closet, you do each piece one by one.)

The nutrition has been equally enlightening. The program starts you on nothin’ but protein (in the form of rather unpalatable protein shakes and lean fish or meat) and berries for the first week. The theory is that you’re detoxifying your system, and I have to say that—although boring—it’s bearable and did seem to do the trick.

The second week you get vegetables, then non/low-fat cheeses. In week 4 comes FROOOOOT, which was just gorgeous. (Turns out that ripe peaches with Greek yoghurt are about as good a dessert as you can get.) I went rather overboard in buying it, because it was early August and fruit was hitting its peak around here. For a while my kitchen counter looked like I breed monkeys, it was so full of fruit.

But here’s the thing—for seven weeks I’ve ingested not a trace of alcohol (no Pinot Grigio—in the summer!). No sugar, no bread, no cookies. No butter, no sauces, no chocolate (since you can’t count the shakes that are allegedly chocolate, but taste more like cardboard). Not even so much as a Caffeine-free Diet Coke (even fake sugar gives you a taste for sweets). And it hasn’t bothered me.

The program takes a boatload of organization. Not so much the exercise part; after you've got used to getting up at 0430 to meet Penelope at the machine from hell at 0500, you just do it. It's the food you have to round up. There's breakfast, lunch, snack and dinner; seems like every time you turn around you're eating again. And you have to have your meat/fish, your veg and your extra protein (yoghurt or cheese) with fruit. If you've not planned for it all, it's hard to pull the whole thing out of your pocket on the fly.

My birthday earlier this month was the first one in…well, living memory…that didn’t involve champagne. And my big treat for myself was to buy some new gym clothes.

The worst part of the program is the videos you have to watch (on an exercycle) after each training session. These are educational pieces, starring Dr. Ego, the founder of the program. Basically they’re just a chance for him to pontificate onscreen while stating and restating the blindingly obvious. And they don’t take into account people who don’t learn well from pictures, but do better with words on paper. To tell you the truth, I give each one ten minutes, then I turn off the screen and hit the showers.

Well, I’m almost halfway through Phase I (weight loss) and am feeling much better than when I started. Not down to my skinny clothes yet; but the fat ones are loosening up.

Phase I starts in October, when I’ll be able to have the occasional glass of wine and maybe a cookie. At that point I train with Penelope twice a week and see the nutritionist every fortnight. That's where the rubber meets the road, so to speak, since you're managing your behavior more on your own.

So far I’ve been happy with my progress, And I’m looking forward to seeing what my numbers are when I have my blood work redone in five weeks.