Mister Faded Glory | misterfadedglory.com

Let me go on record and proclaim Kansas City’s baseball team as the official second-favorite team of Mr. Faded Glory. (Sider: When I was a child, I used to sit down and craft long lists, ranking my favorite teams in order, specific to each sport. This made for inane rankings like the Cleveland Indians at No. 17, or the Golden State Warriors at No. 9, or even the New York Yankees at No. 666. But I digress.)

In any case, MFG wants to congratulate the Royals on a totally meaningless hire today, Buddy Bell as their manager. It’s been said once, twice, but, well, WHO CARES?

It’s so pathetically, well, Royals, to worry about the choice of a manager for a team that is destined to lose 100 games. And it’s so pathetically, well, Royals, to hire a retread like Bell. I don’t mean to diminish Buddy Bell — I’m sure he’s no better or worse than most managers. Still, he’s not exactly groomed for success, here. This team needs a ton of work. So what’s the point in making a big deal of a hire? Why hire a name? Why not a young guy, around to see whatever rebuilding plan through? Hell, why not leave Bob Schaefer to take the fall for this season? He’s respectable enough to do so, and it’s a lost year, anyway. That sound is the KC metro area pounding their heads against their keyboards.

And it’s mainly due to an inept organization that includes a skinflint owner and a heavyhanded GM, reshaping plans daily according to the free talent they can lift off a scrap heap. Sometimes this works out in their favor (Denny Bautista, Andy Sisco, Ryan Jensen), but most times it does not. The front office wants to bemoan the losses of Beltran, of Dye, of Damon, but, you know, they could have kept one of those guys — they just chose the wrong representative of the fab four to lock up long-term.

And as such, they now do not attempt to overpay for talent, as rebuilding teams occasionally have to do – just to overpay for bad talent. So (1) They’re cheap, and (2) they’re clueless. Not the best combo.

I don’t want to harp on the Royals brass here and I don’t want to trivialize the uphill playing field that is baseball’s revenue sharing. But I’m not even a diehard, and I’m sick of hearing it as an excuse.

If the Twins, Marlins, A’s, and, hell, Brewers can win with a lower payroll, than why not the Royals? It’s a halfhearted attempt to reload, and “go young” every year, but a last-ditch attempt to stay respectable, somehow trying to salvage 60 games, and say, “Hey, at least we’re not the 2003 Tigers.”

Well, guess what? The 2003 Tigers are now turning into a rapidly-improving franchise. It happens. Years are lost for small-market teams, but it’s a fact of life. If a 110-loss season would predicate the arrival of actual, young, competent talent, then I’m sure Royals fans could stomach it.

And, as Joe said, as Rob and Rany say, this week the Royals decided to search high and low for an irrelevant manager. When, oh-by-the-way, the draft is coming up. Let’s hope they plan to spend as much time on that.

Regardless, I’m going to be away from the site the rest of this week — and as the only regular poster of the DSV Network, I can’t tell you how saddened I am. Thursday night I’m taking a mini-vacation to, of all places, KC, to watch the Royals battle their polar opposites, the New York F.N. Yankees. Go Royals — but please, please, get a clue.

If you’re counting, this will be three straight posts which do not deal with the Chicago Cubs. My therapy must be paying off. However, I will point you to two postings — one which sums up the problems the Cubs have, now and since 1999, almost as succinctly as I can put it, and another, which delves into the mind of Dusty Baker, giving pretty much spot-on analysis of “managing not to lose…”

In both cases, I agree, though I’m befuddled (and a little perturbed) myself as to why Corey Patterson (or someone) thinks he is a No. 3-hitter in the making.

Two final TV notes:

I’m immersed into Season One of Scrubs, and surprised at how little the show has changed since its inception. In episode four, or somewhere thereabouts, there’s a scene that struck me as wistfully nostalgic and uproariously funny. As such, it directly correlates with my life.

JD and Turk are watching TV, both have been swamped with intern duties. Turk promised the nostalgic JD that they would spend a night ‘tearing it up’ like they used to in college. Turk’s new girlfriend, Carla, is in the kitchen.

Turk: So whaddaya wanna watch? (sips beer).
JD: Fletch.
Carla: Aw, I’ve seen Fletch.
Turk (incredulous): Yeah, but you haven’t seen it with us reciting all the lines!

Aaaaand, scene. In this role, JD was played by moi, with Carla portrayed by a composite of every girl I’ve ever (ahem) dated, and Turk is one of any number of my college (and current) friends. I shouldn’t have to explain any more. Fletch is gospel, and rightfully should be treated as such, in any current reference.

—

The other show I’ve got a comment on is Cheers, in particular, the episode in which Sam is hired as an executive for Evan Drake’s corporation — yet he is only a ringer, picked to lead the corporation to the company’s league title. A segment of this show is devoted to Sam, in his office, behind a desk, contemplating his duties. There was no computer on the desk, so I wondered:

What, pray tell, did the corporate workforce do before the internet?

The notion is frightening. I can scarcely imagine going 10 minutes without visiting one of my favorite sites, blogs or columns or without wiling away hours reading and writing on my own. Yet, apparently, in the 1980s, people were supposed to work?! Ugh. How boring.

And I’m not simply too dependent on the net, I can’t imagine that today’s drones are less productive than the 1980s, even with a multitude of distractions. The net and multitasking applications have exponentially eased workers’ tasks throughout the 1990s. People do more — but more is easier to do, in my opinion.

Personally, I’m confident that I’m more efficient because of the Internet — I’m a habitual multitasker, often working on several hundred different things at once, minute-to-minute, and I need distractions to relieve my focus. I’m much more productive and responsible with the Net — the responsibilty of having any number of tools and toys actually helps me concentrate in spurts on my work. I’m sure that my computer rings a red-light siren about 100 times a day in the tech department as I check out The Cub Reporter, but I’m confident in my output nonetheless. An informed, relaxed employee is a good one.

But that’s just me. Anyway, if you’re at work, and you’re ready to head out the door — consider this — you, are …

… absolutely the best around (audio). Have a good one.

I want to put the Newsweek topic I’ve belabored at length to its rest today, (no one can beat a dead horse quite like me. Oh, and Republicans) by linking to this hilarious yet pointed and efficient piece describing the scandal. I’ll even block off the quotes I find particularly effective:

No one bitched at the magazine on January 24 of this year, for instance, when reporter Richard Wolffe wrote a slobbering cover profile on the “Bush you don’t know” that was filthy with unnamed sources. An example from the text:

Bush’s leadership style belies his caricature as a disengaged president who is blindly loyal, dislikes dissent and covets his own downtime. In fact, Bush’s aides and friends describe the mirror image of a restless man who masters details and reads avidly, who chews over his mistakes and the failings of those around him, and who has grown ever more comfortable pulling the levers of power.

… [ my edit - j ]

In another part of the article, Wolffe quotes an unnamed “Republican senator” on the matter of Bush’s command of detail:

When he wants to be, he’s a real stickler for details,” says one Republican senator. “When he calls you to talk about a bill, he knows the nitty-gritty. You don’t get the sense he’s been reading the Cliffs Notes guide to an issue.

So you think Newsweek didn’t work hard enough to confirm the Quran-toilet story? How hard do you think Richard Wolffe worked to confirm that George Bush “knows the nitty-gritty”? I bet he burned up the phone lines working on that one.

“We, Anonymous”, from the New York Press by Matt Taibi, Vol. 18, Issue 21, May 25-31, 2005.

Great stuff, stumbled onto through Jay Rosen’s Pressthink blog, a must-read for critics and proponents of journalism. Which I still consider myself, even though I’ve been writing about American Idol for two days. Off to stick my head in the oven.

All right, I’m late in posting today. Judging by the bulk of comments, nearly everyone who reads this site has noticed. And, forgive my tone if it’s more infurious than usual — I’m watching the Cubs anemic offense on Gameday. Five years of this shit, and we still can’t manufacture runs.

Apparently, the official jinx of Mr. Faded Glory was bestowed upon redneck rube Bo Bice last night, who lost out to hick harlet Carrie Underwood on American Idol. Wow, I was sure Bo had it. Boy, is my face red. I also predict the Colorado Rockies will win the World Series. We’ll see how that pans out.

Anyway, no sports, no nothing today except a chapter of TALES OF REBELLION IN CORPORATE AMERICA.

Chapter Seventeen.
Today was a regional meeting for several sales leaders throughout the official corporate HQ of MFG, and I was called on to give a short, light, presentation detailing new marketing pieces surrounding a new promotion. It was a videocast meeting, simulcast at four locations through Kansas and Colorado.

Normally I’m pretty good at this stuff, talking in front of groups. In fact, this is in stark contrast to most of my colleagues — to which any human contact is deemed unfruitful or unnecessary — but I digress. Anyway, I’m on live, in the middle of my talk, a few light jokes here and there, when, all of a sudden…

Eddie Vedder’s voice. Coming from my pocket. “Ohhuhohh, I, I, Ohhh, I’m still alive … “

My cell phone was ringing, loudly, with my custom-ring of Alive, beginning right in the chorus.

Now, if you’ve been a reader of denofsinandvice.com from the beginning, (I know, quit that laughing) you know that one of my first rants railed on someone who had In-a-gadda-da-vida as their polyphonic cell phone ring who worked alongside me. Now, however, I’ve seemingly sold out and come full-circle, and much prefer an actual song ring than a tone. (Anyone know where to find the Night Court theme?) But anyway, I was that guy. I had become what I despised, and I hardly cared. Calmly, but red-faced, I pulled out the phone, bobbed my head a little in time with the music and with a smirk, said,

Pearl-Jam. I kept the knowing smile on my face, acting as though I enjoyed the ring thoroughly, even as untimely as it was. That’s right, everybody, my countenance read, I still f’ing rock.

Since few were under 30 in the meeting, I doubt many even understood that reference. But there I was, cell phone ringing, injecting a little meaningless rebellion into corporate america. That’s me in the corner.

A few things on the desk today – apparently yesterday’s entry was a bit premature.

According to blogger extraordinare John Hill on TCR, Bruce Levine of ESPN’s Score 1000 has modified his story, earlier cited on message boards as an impending trade that included Corey Patterson and a prospect for a slugger and a closer, now echoing a blurb in the New York Post (head-shaking) that LaTroy Hawkins is the faux-reliever on the way out – and presumably, according to TCR, for Cliff Floyd.

Floyd is coveted by Hendry, and the two have college ties. But, alas, these rumors are all just that – rumors. But one wonders – would the Mets please take Latroy for Victor Diaz? Stay tuned.

Anyway, I’d be remiss if I didn’t congratulate Sergio Meat-Tray Mitre for a quality start and the Cubs for a comeback win. Welcome to the rotation, kid. Hopefully the worm is turning, it was actually a fun game to watch last night, and nice to see the Cubs exhibit some patience during their comeback when Astro closer Brad Lidge was wild.

TWO

Apparently the couch judge and official wife of MFG has rendered a verdict for tonight’s finale of American Idol – it’s Bo in a landslide! And, of course, Mr. Faded Glory is going to echo that.

The logic – Ninety-eight percent of the viewing audience of AI are women. (unsupported stat #1). Ninety percent of these women are white (unsupported stat #2.) Ninety percent of these white women are absolute trash, and have become increasingly more smitten with Bo as he covers stock-karaoke tracks each week, sometimes mixing in an a cappella country ballad.

So, in such, these folks are voting for Bo as a sex symbol (Unsupported stat #3.) and the barfly down at the Leaky Bucket scratches his head after covering Harvester of Sorrow on the karaoke machine, knowing his crush on Brandine will remain just that, and wondering if he somehow missed the boat. (Alert! WTE reference!)
So, in the least-landmark prediction of all time, MFG predicts a victory for redneck Bo over hick Carrie. Congratulations, Bo. PBRs and grits for everyone!

THREE
Speaking of unsubstantiated reports (see above), hI ave been reading the Newsweek letters this week, excoriating the magazine for its report, attributed to one anonymous source and confirmed by another anonymous source. Some choice letters even seemed bewildered, assuming Newsweek’s job is to first protect our country and our armed forces.

This is not Newsweek’s job. Newsweek’s job is to report the news. I have problems with anonymous sources – see Jon Alter’s piece – but not at the complete compromise of fourth-estate journalism. Journalism’s first inherent job is to keep public officials accountable, not to simply serve as propaganda. In this case, Newsweek stands by the fact that its source completely waffled and changed his previous tune — in turn forcing a retraction of the story. Sure, the desk at the mag could have been more questioning and diligent, cautious in the endorsement of a small side-piece. And sure, there are beaucoup problems with anonymous sources. But this isn’t solely on Newsweek‘s shoulders.

Anonymous sources are a necessary evil – but the theory that political reporting could survive without them is seriously misplaced. Also, if certain segments of the populace think that Newsweek did our country a grave misservice – perhaps they should revisit the unconfirmed reports of WMD that led us to one war, which, last I checked, isn’t going to end anytime soon.

FOUR
Today is a red-letter date in the history of television. By the time I return home tonight, I will have DVD copies of Scrubs: Season One and Newsradio: Seasons 1 and 2. My cup runneth over!

Though a two-game winning streak holds dynastic implications for this season’s Chicago Cubs, the restlessness that Cub Nation feels is now starting to creep out into media channels, through supposed trade rumors and innuendo — early for this season, to be sure, but perhaps warranted.

The problem, however, is that Corey Patterson is rumored to be the player involved in any of these swaps. As a lifelong Cub fan, even the blockbuster deals that Jim Hendry has swung over his short tenure have done nothing to assuage the nagging fear that we’ll be fleeced in any sort of trade, and I read these rumors with dubious concern. Sure, rumors are rumors, and so far, I have to doubt the validity of all of them — but the mere mention of the departure of Corey Patterson is enough to give me pause.

Now, as I’ve said, I’m Corey’s biggest fan. You will find no one else who watches his at-bats with the same intensity as I do, and who desperately wants him to succeed as I do. I am one of a scant few (apparently instructor Vince Coleman is the other) who believes Corey is a bona fide leadoff man (Hel-lo! He’s the fastest F. N. player in baseball!), and I’m encouraged when his game opens up — as it did in the ninth inning Saturday, when he looks to go the other way, and did so, with a double. Suddenly, his stroke has begun to emerge again. Corey’s got issues, and he’s 25, and we still don’t know exactly what type of player he’ll be — but know this.

1. In trading Patterson, we absolutely have to get a CF. Burnitz cannot play CF for the rest of the year.
2. In trading Patterson, the player in return should represent a downturn in strikeouts, and an upgrade in power.

This is not a one-or-the-other proposition — both of those qualifiers must be fulfilled. In fact, I view this as an extraordinarily bad idea. I still think Corey can be a leadoff hitter, and even an all-star. But in this case, the Cubs are not served well trading him for some player who doesn’t fit exactly what they need. As rumored, the trade supposedly involves CP and one Cubs reliever or a minor league prospect — for a power-hitting OF and a major-league-ready closer. Examining trade possibilities, team-by-team, we’ll see how fruitless this is.

1. Reds — for Junior Griffey/Austin Kearns/Wily Mo Pena and Danny Graves. I expect that this is the target, but I can’t imagine the Reds parting with anyone except Griffey — and this trade still does nothing to diminish their glut of outfielders. Griffey has more power than Corey, sure — but he’s also 11 years older. Not exactly what we need. I do like Austin Kearns and Wily Mo Pena — I just have the feeling Cincy loves ‘em, too, and Kearns can’t play center, and Pena also strikes out a ton. Both are somewhat injury-prone.

2. Rockies — for Preston Wilson and Shawn Chacon. Cubs scouts have been watching Chacon since last year. He is still awful. Wilson is older than Patterson, a downgrade defensively, slower, and strikes out just as much. A ridiculous idea.

3. Mets — for Mike Cameron and Braden Looper. Cameron, again, is still riding two good “fantasy” years he had with the Mariners in 2001-2002. Again, Cameron strikes out a ton, and has stunningly similar stats to Patterson. He is not as good a fielder and is older than Corey. No way.

4. D-Rays — for Aubrey Huff and Danys Baez. The most attractive idea out there — Huff has supposedly been Hendry’s dream left-fielder since the Sosa exodus. But again, who plays center field for the Cubs? An outfield of Dubois, Burnitz, and Huff would be the worst all-time defensively. We’d long for Sosa, again. And, rest assured, pie-in-the-sky GM Chuck Lamar is banking on a deal including Patterson and Angel Guzman. He’s nuts.

5. Pirates — for Matt Lawton and Jose Mesa. The elder Mesa is not the stopper our combustible bullpen needs. Lawton would be serviceable, he has always filled up a stat sheet credibly, but again, he’s not an upgrade over Patterson defensively, and only minimally offensively. At this point, I’m fine with an OF of Patterson, Dubois, and Burnitz.

6. Phillies — for Billy Wagner and Pat Burrell/Kenny Lofton. This one’s been picking up steam on the message boards, and it is a truly awful idea. I would take Patterson a thousand times over Lofton, even though Kenny has some good history with us. He’s pushing retirement, and the idea of getting equal value for Patterson and a prospect goes out the window unless Lofton is a throw-in, with Burrell and Wagner. I don’t think the Phils are giving up on Burrell — and I also think acquiring Wagner in a contract year is a mistake waiting to happen. Stay away from these guys.

7. Royals — Mike Sweeney and Jeremy Affeldt. The Cubs have dispatched scouts to watch Affeldt before, and this idea doesn’t really have any steam. Where would the Cubs play Sweeney? Left field? Ugh, this would make the Dubois-King Jeromy-Huff combo look like the freakin’ Cardinals.

8. Padres — Ryan Klesko and a young pitcher. I don’t really know who the Pads would include — I do know, however, that they can’t replace injured Mark Lorretta’s production by jettisoning Klesko for Patterson. That doesn’t make sense.

9. Astros — Lance Berkman and Brad Lidge. I don’t think the Astros are in full-bore fire-sale mode yet. And I doubt they’d let their only two serviceable commodities go, either.

10. A’s — Erubiel Durazo or Mark Kotsay and Juan Cruz/Chad Bradford/Huston Street. I’m just naturally afraid that since Billy Beane is able to convince seemingly any journalist that he’s a genius, soon some GM will fall prey.

11. Red Sox — Johnny Damon and Matt Mantei. Now, hold on here, this idea has some legs. Damon is in a contract year, and it’s been rumored the Red Sox aren’t too thrilled with his, uh, VH1-like lifestyle. Boston and GM Theo Epstein also covet Corey Patterson. (I’ve said a million times — if he goes to Boston to hit, he can win the freakin’ Triple Crown. They are to hitting coaching what the Cubs are to strikeout coaching.)

Though Damon is more accomplished than Patterson, I wouldn’t be willing to forgive the five years he has on Corey, or to assume Damon’s stats are light-years better. He brings more star power, that’s it.

12. Tigers — Bobby Higginson and Ugueth Urbina. Urbina would actually, in my opinion, be a welcome addition, though I can’t see the Tigers parting with him. They’ve been shopping Higginson for about a billion years, I can’t imagine the Cubs are the lucky buyers.

13. Arizona — Luis Gonzalez and a relief pitcher not named Brandon Lyon. This would be a possibility, if you assume that Dusty is pulling all the strings. I don’t think he is. But still — what’s Gonzalez have left, four years at max? This is silly.

14. Mariners — Raul Ibanez or Randy Winn and Eddie Guardado. Easy Ed must be the attraction here, although Winn and Ibanez do nothing to excite me. Winn plays CF, not as well as Patterson, and I could easily foresee similar statistics from either Ibanez or Winn as they both attempt to play in the NL. Both are way older than CP, too.

15. Orioles — Sammy Sosa and BJ Ryan. Oh, wait …

The toughest thing about establishing a culture of winning is the maintenance when the talent well is a little dry. The Chicago Cubs, for instance, have hit dire straits.

I’m on record everywhere I’ve written as saying the toughest yet most satisfying thing about sports is the establishment of a culture of winning. Where everyone, including the players, management, manager, coaches, and fans expect to win, or have the chance to win everyday, and do not panic with every drop of a baseball. Expect to win every game, every day. And bounce back from the losses, because there is always a game tomorrow.

This is the crossroads the Chicago Cubs find themselves in this year.

They’ve taken several steps to try and emerge from perennial mediocrity, and even the last two seasons have been competitive in every game — even rising to the level of superior or equal competition (2003 series vs. Yankees, Cardinals, 2004 vs. Angels, A’s, Astros, etc.).

However, the litmus test is going to be this season. Everyone involved with the Cubs is under fire, a rabid fan base is looking for blame (hint: everyone) and the crosstown Sox are suddenly the type of team the Cubs appeared to be building in 2003, expecting in 2004, and hoping in 2005.

And as fans, what can you do? Blame Jim Hendry? (Trading Sosa and letting Alou and Clement walk must have removed some swagger from this team), Blame Dusty Baker (rising pitch counts and bonehead lineup decisions), blame the bullpen (Latroy could never work the ninth with the Twins, either) or blame the offense (We’re still waiting for Corey Patterson to arrive in center field).

Players have to make plays, and the ones currently in house simply don’t. Oh, sure, we’ve got some promise — expect Zambrano and Prior to be locked up by next season long-term, but after that, where do you go?

Columnists exhort Hendry for failing to find bullpen help. It ain’t that easy. He was right to pass on Troy Percival and Armando Benitez, but similarly, the same group of retreads (Hawkins, Leicester, Fox, Borowski, et. al) isn’t inspiring, either.

Fans are enraged at Dusty — and admittedly, he is thin-skinned at best and arrogant at worst. His players will run through a wall for him. The same can’t be said of Grady Little, who the Cubs confidently say is waiting in the wings. (Note: New blood needed. After Baker walks, don’t hire some retread like Little, Valentine, or Davey Johnson. Hire Steve Stone. Hire Harold Reynolds. Hire someone young and eager to manage. Not some fogey who is more concerned about their rep.)

Prominent whipping boys have emerged throughout the lineup. Hawkins is a bullpen bust, to be sure, but sadly, Corey Patterson appears to be the target of fan abuse. It’s rough for a player with such potential. Admittedly, I’m a Patterson apologist, and I would hate to see him go. He is my favorite Cub, favorite player, and he’s shown flashes of brilliance. Some say he can’t learn plate discipline, and, well, maybe they’re right — but batting him third and sixth isn’t the way to teach that. He is a leadoff hitter. He’s got speed, and he’s successful when HE LOOKS TO HIT THE OPPOSITE WAY. What’s wrong with finding a batting coach who can help instill that? It ain’t Dusty. It ain’t Sarge. It ain’t Gene Clines. It ain’t anyone affiiliated with the free-swinging Cubs. In fact, I know of one name. Jeff Pentland of the Royals is under fire in KC. He taught Sosa to walk in 1998 and 2001, and to look the other way. Why not turn to him now? The point is, when Patterson walks away this season, and emerges with the Boston Red Sox, he will become a star. You heard it here first. You cannot excoriate a player for failing to walk when he’s being asked to hit for power, and you cannot damn him as a leadoff hitter because his OBP suffers from hitting third. Patience is a virtue none of us Cub fans have, however.

(And, of course, yesterday, he needs to make that catch on Konerko’s hit. I know it was stunning that he got there, but, well, big players make big plays. Sosa makes that f’n catch.)

The offense is brutal, it has been for years. At times it can manufacture runs, at times players look utterly lost at the plate. Jerry Hairston Jr. was lauded as a savior, he’s not. Mike Barrett’s line-drives should start falling in, they’re not. Burnitz has performed well, but his bat alone doesn’t make up for the absence of Sosa, Alou, and our $40 million man, Aramis Ramirez.

Ramirez is nothing. He is the worst type of player, and cannot be reached even by master motivator Baker. He played well in 2001, his contract year with Pittsburgh, then when signed on the cheap, he was always hurt, and terrible in the field. They were relieved to ship him to the Cubs for nothing.

And now the Cubs are finding out why. Ramirez had a solid end-of-2003 and an okay 2004 (somehow he was above all Cub fan criticism, even though he rivaled Alou in GIDPs) that turned into a 2005 with a 4-year massive deal. And the city of Pittsburgh laughs, as Aramis boots grounders, misses every other game, and does not hit anything but warning-track flyballs and first-pitch double plays. We laud Hendry for acquiring this guy, but, come on, he was dumped on us. Soon we’ll have to do the same.

In any case, this is the bed we’ve made. There’s problems with the Cubs up and down. I think Hendry is an efficient GM, but he is not in the mold of a Brian Cashman, Brian Sabean, Theo Epstein, Terry Ryan, or even Bill Stoneman. There is a lot of work to be done here. Batting coaches up and down need to be replaced, certain players need to be let go. In 2003, no one thought we were ready for prime time, and every single break seemed to go our way. In 2004 injuries doomed us. In 2005, the luck’s wearing out, the offense is anemic, and the future is uncertain, at best.

I still believe that the Cubs can establish a culture of winning. The Yankees and Braves don’t fret when they lose a string. The Giants don’t panic when they’re a few games out in May. The Twins don’t even perk up until August. And the Cards win a boatload of games they shouldn’t.

Yes, there’s a ways to go. Hopefully our current assemblage can help the Cubs get there. And, as a fan, there’s nothing I can do right now, but hope.

Yes, I attended on de facto opening night.

Yes, I am aware of all the intricacies between the Star Wars characters.

Yes, I watched Empire Strikes Back like a bajillion times when I was a kid. Yes, I had like 1000 Star Wars action figures.

Yes, I bought tickets on the in-ter-net.

And, yes, I stood in line and dressed like Darth Vader – okay, wait, I didn’t.

The point is, I like Star Wars movies. They’re part cheesy, part overblown, part comic-book, part exuberance, and all hype — yet I find them fun and entertaining, and please, I’m not a geek. In fact, I saw Star Wars III and had sex within the same 24 hours of each other. Tell me any earthbound Jedis that can say that!

But I’m here to report, save for insipid acting (again!) from Hayden F. N. Christensen – Star Wars III is – am I saying this? – a great movie. It is. I thoroughly enjoyed it.

Like the first three, the storyline and the characters were developed enough that I could overlook some of the flaws, such as terrible love scenes, heavyhanded dialogue when Darth Vader is born, and even the aggravating performance by Samuel L. Jackson. (There must be another movie with a reverse-murderer’s row equivalent of Sam Jackson, Natty Portman, and Hayden — but I haven’t yet found it.)

Anyway, the battle scenes are well-done, the Emperor gives another slick, slimy performance, Frank Oz is good as Yoda, and Ewan McGregor is given a little meat to his Obi-Wan portrayal, mimicking the elder Alec Guinness with some camp yet all reverence. At its best, the Star Wars saga is great escapism – a slick, somewhat deep (more than Spider-Man, less than Batman) comic-book tale – and this movie lives up to that. It’s up there – not with Empire, but with the original, and with Jedi, and with that, we’re done.

And it’s the freakin’ little things that make this movie, too. The retro-sets in the same bright-white and minimalist structure as in Star Wars I, the replica home of Luke Skywalker, the spaceships taking shape in the form of destroyers and cruisers, and of course, James Earl Jones’ voice, hired for precisely three orgasmic sentences. It was adventurous in special effects – but they did not detract from the story, which delved into the characters of Obi-Wan and Anakin (always the most interesting) and took the audience on a dark, twisted journey.

My only lingering complaint is the sheer snub of the orchestra version of the full-bore Star Wars Death March (Denh, denh, denh, denh-da-denh, denh-da-denh…) which only played once or twice throughout the entire six-episode saga (once in Empire, and several times a muted, understated version could be heard…). By stunning coincidence, it played before every home basketball game my senior season. Go Clear Lake!

And, in fact, I submit that for the DVD repackage, they just slit this movie into three parts, because it’s patently obvious that the incoherent ramblings in Phantom and Clones were only placed on celluloid just so the geeky George Lucas felt justified in making this one. In fact, it’s not like you learned anything from those jumbled stories. All the questions that predate Star Wars were asked and answered here. This is his piece de resistance – at least until Episode VII. (Yes, it’s coming. 2019.)

Anyway, so maybe I am a geek. This movie doesn’t seem like it should be up my cynical and introspective alley, but I like this whole saga, it’s a success. And, there’s no way any movie, however, could get me to stand in line with freaks and geeks on a Wednesday night at midnight. Ok, that’s not true. Maybe this one.

Sweeps month is winding up, and with it dwindle the shelf lives, seasons, and respective eras of certain reality TV shows. Not to fear, Mr. Faded Glory – sometimes through no choice of his own – has kept tabs on all sorts of disgusting fare throughout the year – and here’s the wrap:

American Idol – The Godzilla of all reality fare, Fox’s baby is getting ready to dole out its fourth-ever trophy to either Bo Bice (representing redneck America) or Carrie Underwood (representing hick America — guess what AI’s key demos are?!), both of whom have delivered stirring, karaoke-inspired renditions of such classics as Air Supply’s Nothing at All (snore) or The Rolling Stones’ Satisfaction (barf). Is this show not a rip-off of Star Search? Yet everything it touches becomes infused with a celebrity legitimacy.

Bo is no different than the drunk stoner at your hometown dive singing Friends In Low Places to a raucous crowd before last call. And Carrie is every girl you ever knew in high school who didn’t leave home – she can sing and pretties up plain ballads with virtually no discernible flair at all. But now they’re celebrities. For good.

And I’ve even gotten sucked into some of this garbage – Fox’s presentation turns the audience into armchair judges, lambasting some for missing notes and noting personality injected into versions of Shania’s Man! I Feel Like a Woman. It’s like any other karaoke night at the Fraternity House, only it’s live and sold out and presumably here to stay

Tune in next week –as the hideous Bo (somehow) becomes America’s next heartthrob – even though he has a voice that doesn’t really fit rock, pop, soul, or country – but man, can he do an acapella ballad of some shit you’ve never heard! Who would know if he did a good job?!

The Apprentice – They’re actually having a one-hour finale tonight, after the three-hour pomp and circumstance of last December’s crowning alienated some viewers.

This show is hardly watchable anymore, and the lame Street Smarts vs. Book Smarts theme has worn on everyone. How can they let Book Smarts win? That would end up insulting the entire balance of their idiot audience furrowing their brows in futile attempts to understand the situations, as these wannabe businesspeople attempt to jump through ridiculous hoops week to week.

It’s stale, it’s old, it’s no longer anything but product placement. And one thing that’s always bothered me about the show – the final task is little more than an event-planning stunt. Doesn’t necessitate creativity, leadership, or drive – just a chaperone-like presence throughout some hopelessly choreographed event. I know, I know, just like corporate America.

Somehow, however, I stay tuned into this show. I actually think it’s filmed pretty well – the intended comedy with Trump acting businesslike is priceless – and in this case, I feel somewhat comforted watching smug, arrogant, inflated CEOs in training receive their comeuppance from Trump, who called out an arrogant law grad two weeks ago, departing totally from an earlier line of questioning and talking circles around the jurist before firing him. And even for the Detached Donald, there had to be some pleasure in that.

America’s Next Top Model. – Somehow, someone won this last night. Some waiflike bitchy girl who could dance on cue at Tyra Banks’ ridiculous beckon. Somehow I was able to avoid this monstrosity. Next!

Real World/Road Rules Challenge. Okay, I’ll admit, this one’s grown on me. And it proves that a reality appearance on MTV’s Real World or Road Rules is in itself a career. Mike (The Miz) and CT are lifers on this show, each one leading a squad of Good Guys or Bad Boys as the two teams square off, in some form of contests, trying to avoid the “inferno.”
And really, who wins isn’t important. Who flips out is. MTV goes out of its way to select the most dysfunctional group of meatheads and faux-lesbian teases and sticks them in a small pueblo with all the alcohol they can handle. This year’s season has so far been capped off by Brad’s tirade after a druken wedgie by the Miz: “Congratulations, you’re a meathead, son, now get your hands off my underwear.” Apparently the drunken Brad, ashamed of his underwear being pawed, cared not about flying off the handle but attacking a van with pants around his ankles. Don’t ask. Somehow, this is TV.

Britney and Kevin: Chaotic
We have sunk to a new low, however, thankfully, the long 15+ minutes of Britney Spears may be up. With this show, she leaves behind actual, celluloid proof that:

Just the type of people who should reproduce!

Yeah, that’s right. There’s just one problem.

I plan on attending tonight’s showing of Star Wars, Episode III, encouraged by reviews of the latest flick. That’s me, a slave to the hype machine.

In reality, I’m actually hoping that the movie turns out to be as good as reviewed. But then, with the Star Wars franchise — few critics ever really came out and blasted the last two movies. Mostly, they give a lukewarm thumbs-up even to such drivel as Attack of The Clones. Quick, one-sentence reviews of all movies!

Star Wars — Banal dialogue doesn’t detract from fanciful story!
Empire — Provocative saga unfolds, darker than predecessor.
Jedi – Would be an instant space-classic without those damn Ewoks
Phantom — You will never forgive yourself for standing in line for this.
Attack – And you really should have learned from the last one.
Sith — Please be dark and brooding, none of us ask for much.

But what really bothers me about the Star Wars second-generation prequels isn’t the overdone special effects, the wooden acting, the insipid dialogue, or the halfhearted storyline. It’s the base request for all of us to accept that Natalie Portman is actually married to Hayden Christensen/Anakin. (Is her name Padme? I think it is. ) Anyway — consider this:

1. Phantom Menace unveils the character of Padme as an already-ruler (Princess or Queen, probably queen, because she’s Leia’s mom) of some planet somewhere, presumably she is around 20 years old, Natalie Portman’s actual age at this time. At most she’s 25 and at least 14. Given that the character is laid out as a competent, even an insightful and fair ruler, we’re probably buying that she’s around 20.

1a. Anakin is introduced in this movie, as a kid, (they probably voice his age, but I was already drunk and ready to walk out by the time they went to Tattooine) anywhere from 4-9. I’m guessing he’s about 8 years old in the film, extremely precocious. In fact, Padme even meets him. We don’t know yet if she’s hot for his prepubescent self.

1b. Obi-Wan is presumably about 21 as well.

1c. I’m going to venture a guess that Senator Palpatine is about 40, and this is an extremely conservative estimate, since the same actor played in Return of the Jedi.

2. Now, we’re flashing forward 13 years, I assume, for Clones. Anakin looks to be about 21, Obi-Wan would clock in at about 34, and Padme – not showing any sort of age at all – is at least 27 and at most 38. (Would a 38-year old really flaunt her midsection as Natalie did in this movie?)

Using the age of 20, she’s about 33 now, and is smitten with Anakin, summarily robbing the cradle and marrying the moody bastard. Palpatine is now 53 years old.

3. In Revenge of the Sith – Anakin and Obi-Wan have been fighting in the Clone Wars a while, at least three years, I’m told, and more accurately, probably about 5. This would make Padme 38 with the face of a 25-year old, Obi-Wan 39, and Palpatine around 58. Conservatively.

4. NOW, flash forward to Star Wars, in which Luke and Leia are about 17 years old,. Assuming a real-time trend, Luke is 23 by Jedi. So that makes a 23-year layoff between Sith and Jedi, in which the emperor clocks in at a robust 81, and is killed by his protege, Darth Vader, at 49 years old.

Now — I guess this is all believable, but the versimilitude is stretched quite a bit. Are we reeeeallly supposed to believe that Padme and Anakin hook up? I mean, really?

And with Anakin, ObiWan, and the Emperor, they all go through changes — Natalie Portman stays her same youthful, attractive, yet wooden self. Is Padme some weird, immortal creature? Is she not human? Are any of them human? Why do they speak English? Why does she fall in love with a young boy? She’s royalty, for crying out loud! Obi-Wan isn’t a tough enough Jedi for her?

Yes, this is the problem with Star Wars that bothers me. The possibility that superyoung Anakin could hook up with a Queen three times his age. That’s the only problem. I’ll buy talking droids, ridiculous spaceship contraptions, sheer disregard for all light-speed physics, but not this.

Sheesh. Reality TV part II coming later today — sorry for the delay.