Coachean Life

In which we dip back into the audit music queue

2026-06-03T08:43:20.132-04:00

When most people think of Jesse Colin Young and the Youngbloods, they think of “Come Together.” It’s not that I hate the song—that would be impossible, like hating Mom and Apple Pie—but it was one of the most overplayed tunes of its day, back when we were all chained to our radios, and one had heard enough of it long before one stopped hearing it. I prefer to think of JCY&TY as album makers. (Disclaimer: They’re one of the first rock groups I saw live, in 1966. I was slightly younger then.) And when I think of their albums, there’s “Elephant Mountain,” probably one of the most underrated and forgotten albums of the 60s, and also the song “Grizzly Bear.” If GB isn’t on your radar as one of the greatest songs of all time, you need to fix your radar, bo bo dee yo… The guitarist for the group, nicknamed Banana, was Lowell Levinger. (It is possible that the guitarist for the group, Banana, was nicknamed Lowell Levinger.) What brings all this back is Levinger’s/Banana’s album “Married to the Blues.” Very nice acoustic stuff that obviously got me waxing nostalgic. If you’re an old JCY&TY-head yourself, it will do likewise for you.

I have no idea how “Georgia Bound” by Blind Blake made the queue, but “500 Songs” is the likeliest suspect. As you can guess, it’s old blues and rag guitar, and very strong. And he is apparently the composer of “Diddy Wah Diddy,” which is warrant enough to give him a listen.

“Surf’s Up” by The Beach Boys, followed by “Going Public” by Bruce Johnston — There are those who place “Surf’s Up” high in the BB album pantheon. I wouldn’t go that far, but it did rescue the Wilson/Parks title tune from “Smile” oblivion, sung here by BB Johnston. It also has “Disney Girls,” an actual Johnston number, with the great inane rhyme of Fantasy Worlds and Dis-a-ney Girls. It’s a good BB album, always worth a listen. Following this is in the lineup with Johnston’s own solo album was a no-brainer. It’s a good album, kicking off with his most famous number, “I Write the Songs,” which famously is mostly identified with song-writer Barry Manilow who didn’t write the song. Apparently there are more covers of IWTS than there are people to cover it. More power to you, Bruce. BJ has the longest tenure in the BBs after Mike Love, which I wasn’t expecting. Anyhow, scratch a BB and you get a solo album or two in those 60 years or so. Brian’s are the best, unsurprisingly, but the others all get a good one off now and then. As does Johnston here.

Ron Dante, “Saturday Night Blast.” — So we’re sitting around the poker table and an unfamiliar song comes on my oldie playlist, and the Boomer Manque asks “Who is this?” I look on my phone and reply, Ron Dante. “Who’s Ran Dante?” he asks, so I look it up and reply, “The lead singer of the Archies,” to which the Boomer Manque slaps his head and replies, “I should have known that,” to which the only possible response on my end was, “No, you shouldn’t.” No self-respecting Boomer music fan would have listened to The Archies for any longer than it would take to hav changed the AM radio station, much less harbor such a fondness for their lead singer as to know his voice 60 years later after hearing two notes. As for this album, it takes a lot of mediocre pop hits and further mediocretizes them. I guess being the lead singer of the Archies got you plenty of studio time back in the day. Never underestimate the power of bubblegum.

Oregon, "Music of Another Pleasant Era" - Nice jazz, if you’re interested. 'Nuff said.

In which we step down from the altar

2026-05-30T09:48:23.205-04:00

I told Catholic Charlie that I’m pulling out of working CatNats. I have nothing against the organization—I told him I’d be happy to do the virtual Middle School tournament again—or against the actual Grand Tournament, of which I was a fan going back to my earliest coaching days. In fact, some of my favorite horror stories are tales of lost CatNat debate venues beyond the end of beyond, without food, water, sanitation facilities, or breathable atmosphere, where the restaurants closed before the last round, if they ever opened in the first place, and everyone judged all six times on the first day, even though there were only five rounds. Things were much better later on, even before I migrated into the tab room; they got their act together and things now are as smooth as the proverbial goat. That Nationals Saturday remains a tough one for judges, but at least the venues have become safe for human habitation. The last few years, in big hotels in Chicago and DC, has been about as good as it can get. Catholic C says that the upcoming event in Lafayette, Louisiana, will be the best digs ever. I believe him, except for the fact that Lafayette, Louisiana, is, the last time I looked, in Lafayette, Louisiana. You can’t get there from here.

And that, circumspectly, is the reason I’m pulling out. The old bones just don’t have that kind of abuse left in them. Hard travel for endless hours—e.g., from chez moi to chez CatNat last weekend comprised two trains, a subway, and a half hour hike in 90 degree plus heat and/or rain—and way too much rich and expensive restaurant food, the alternative to which would be way too much poor and cheap inedible fast food which, nowadays, is not dreamt in my philosophy, and nary enough sleep to get even a splash of REM going. And yes, I was physically ill from some or all of this by the time I got home on Monday. Weekends in Minneapolis or Lafayette promise only more of the same. (I wouldn’t mind Orlando but I know the closest I would come to that one is Uganda.) Travel tournaments are a younger person’s game. Or maybe it’s just me. When I first started coaching I would go to all the expected venues, by air, land, or sea, and to be honest, I tired of it really quickly. It was fun when it was new, but back then I was living a life of a regular Day Job and a regular Weekend Job and about three minutes a week left over for everything else. I quickly devolved to a menu of basically local tournaments. Nowadays, tabbing, I go as far as Lexington a couple of times a year because I have a special friend relationship with Sheryl, and that’s about it. I’m planning on pulling out of Princeton as soon as I can get Kaz in my place as main advisor in a couple of years. After that, I’ve still got more than enough local gigs between NYCFL in-persons and ODLs to fill up anyone’s dance card. I do this because I want to serve the debate community, a cause I strongly support, not because I want to kill myself. And I know that it’s probably best to put oneself out to pasture before the knackers come along and do it for you. My biggest job is to find my replacement running the local tournaments. Somewhere in the NYCFL universe there’s someone who can do this every week and keep everyone happy, but they have yet to raise their head. And Lord knows I’ve asked for tab recruits. Granted it takes a particular mentality not only to tab, which isn’t terribly complicated, but to actually enjoy tabbing, which is something else altogether. All of us in the Northeast Traveling Tab Room share both the facility for it and the ability to derive pleasure from it, while at the same time quite enjoying one another’s company. All that is rare, and if one of us were to pull out because they’re older than Methuselah, finding a replacement isn’t, as I am learning, easy.

Oh, well. I’m not pulling out of anything else in the foreseeable future. And replacing me in PF tab won’t be hard. Janet knows how to do everything that needs to be done and merely needs a second pair of hands to make it happen, and Charlie and I already have a good idea of who that could be. After all, every diocese has to provide tournament workers, so there’s no lack of helping hands. It’s the local business that I worry most about. There is time, given that although my hearing isn’t exactly what it used to be the rest of me seems to be percolating along well enough. Advancing years have not made me any more demented than I ever was. Sooner or later someone who would like to tab will come along, and I can retire to my rocking chair and watch the bees buzzing about in my garden. If you think you might be that person, please let me know.

In which we get back to listening some music

2026-05-28T17:33:23.822-04:00

I traveled a bit last week, and sort of hated it. I was working a two-day tournament in DC, and I ate too much rich food, slept too little rich sleep, got battered by A) 90 degree heat followed by B) endless rain, and managed to catch the creeping crud (or, more likely, a mild cold) from being held captive in too many small rooms and too many train cars. To be honest, I don’t think I’ll do it again. However, I am back listening to music in the mornings, primarily going through my audit playlist, the one with albums I’ve mostly never heard before. Thank you, Spotify.

The latest update:

“Moving Targets,” Flo and Eddie — The surviving Turtles who became a doubles act (and also at some point, radio DJs) do a decent enough job of keeping the old sound alive, but the songs just aren’t there for them.
“Love So Strong,” Sugar Pie DeSanto — I’ve come to think of DeSanto as my own personal discovery. I have now listened to everything she recorded and loved all of it, and I can’t imagine why I had never heard of her. Peylia Marsema Balinton was a tiny dynamo, a buddy and collaborator with Etta James, a wild dancer who could do standing backflips, and a 2024 inductee to the Blues Hall of Fame. Do yourself a favor and seek her out.
Mhaol, “Attachment Styles” — I went to Wikipedia to learn more about this unlistenable record, and found nothing. That is as it should be.
Duffy Power, “Innovations” — A Brit pop star who never made it big, but he’s good and he lasted forever. He transitioned from attempting basic rock into blues. Definitely worth listening to.
“The Paramounts at Abbey Road” — Another group that never made it over to me from England. This is good, straight-ahead Brit rock of the 60s. Enjoyable, and I grabbed a couple for my main playlist.
The Cure, “Three Imaginary Boys” — I kinda like The Cure. God knows why.
“The White Stripes Greatest Hits” — On the other hand, I need someone to explain to me the attraction of the White Stripes. Lots of people obviously love them. I, on the other hand, am not lots of people, and I find them to be purveyors of amateurish noise. So when you do explain the attraction to me, don’t even begin to cite their playing. My cat plays better than this. And my cat is dead.
Beatles “Anthology 4” — I’ve talked about this before. The first Anthology set had some revelatory tracks, and this one doesn’t. So it goes.
Kes, “On in 5” — Spotify calls them one of Trinidad and Tobago’s most celebrated musical acts. Very enjoyable, lively stuff.

In which we go the the Catholic Forensic League Grand National Tournament

2026-05-26T07:49:26.938-04:00

And then there’s CatNats…

Seeing as the event was in D.C., I arrived a couple of days early to do some touristing. The temperature was in the 90s, which made schlepping around a bit more daunting than one would like, but I got to tour the Capitol, ponder the Gutenberg Bible in the Library of Congress, see a music performance of The Great Gatsby, say hello to not one, not two, but three Vermeers in the National Gallery (not to mention Madame Monet and her son, a Whistler woman in white and a Rembrandt or two), and roam around the History Museum paying homage the wigs of both Harpo and Chico perched beside Groucho’s suit, Judy’s red shoes, the Babe’s signature with the rest of the team on aged baseball, and a whole bunch of other goodies from the Arts and Leisure past. And, oh yeah, I discovered I had forgotten to bring a mouse—I’m an 80s computist and can’t live without one—so I wandered into the nearby Apple Store and plunked down a hundred bucks for the wee, sleekit, cowrie, tim’rous beastie. Granted the Apple mouse is pretty great, but a not-so-great generic mouse off of Amazon is maybe fifteen bucks and does the job almost as well (and without a charger under its butt). I also gave the Neo a shot while I was in the store, and watched it slowly load its icons into the Finder and thought to myself, This slow, in an Apple Store? I think not.

Then it started to rain and it was time for CatNatting.

Friday is prep day. Not that there’s all that much to prep, but there is the issue of breaking out the folks we can for late rounds so that we don’t get caught with 5 white middle-aged men from Regis in the final. I have nothing against middle-aged men from Regis as a general rule, considering that half the tournaments I run are lousy with them, but CatNats runs on no-repeat-judging and no same-region-judging, and if you don’t play your cards right, you can end up in trouble. The diocesan directors allot judges in advance for all the break rounds, so you have to work with what you’ve got. If you plan ahead, you’re fine, which we learned early on in the process. Friday is for planning ahead.

The tournament itself isn’t particularly difficult. You have a lot of teams and a lot of judges, and the tabroom software runs best when the numbers are large. The work is chasing down the handful of no-shows and tech issues, like the poor woman who took an Uber to the wrong Westin (there’s at least 3 of them—Westins, that is, not poor women in Ubers). Mostly everybody is there to do the job, and they do. We provided ample warning in advance that they might judge all 5 prelims, and many did, and they didn’t come in whining how they can’t be expected to work all day under these conditions as they have in the past. Come to think of it, no matter how many rounds judges are assigned, and how fairly the burden is split, just about every invitational sooner or later has those poor harried neurasthenic judges storming tab demanding with their last breaths to be set free. But as I say, blissfully not this time.

There are various rules and regs that are peculiar to CatNats, some of which I understand, some of which I don’t. Whatever. That’s probably true of every tournament everywhere. In situations where one finds the Rs and Rs unacceptable, one then votes with one’s feet. I’ve been doing CatNats for a few years now, so obviously my feet have voted for the incumbents. I am finding the weekend a bit difficult in some respects, though, mostly because I’m the oldest person there (until Grandma Julia shows up). Traveling to wherever it is can be wearing. At least Chicago and DC offered rewards beyond the tournament; some of the venues, like the upcoming Lafayette, Louisiana, are, well, Lafayette, Louisiana. You can’t get there from here, and when you do get there, there you are. And then there’s the food. My stomach is not exactly delicate, but I probably ate three times as much as I would if I were at home, and not necessarily as healthfully. And what is this “sleep” of which I have heard tell? Okay, I’ll admit it: I’ seriously thinking that this may have been my last CatNats. I mean, I did start going in 1996, back when I had skin in the game, and barely missed a one in my coaching years. I’ve now tabbed maybe half a dozen one way or the other. I even helped out with the virtual Middle School tournament. At some point…

We’ll see.

In which we watch a little television, or more to the point, a little bit of a very big television, this being 2026 and all

2026-05-15T09:04:39.644-04:00

One does watch TV…

First of all, “The Forsytes,” because this requires special attention. When all was said and done I gave this one a Meh rating. The key problem was that it tried to pack too much into too short a time. Every scene seemed to last about eleven seconds and then we would rush to the next scene, and the next, and the next, never getting any traction anywhere. The only sparks between characters were in the final episode for the eleven seconds between Bossiney and Irene. The actors were for the most part perfectly fine and although occasionally miscast, quite up to the job, but the job wasn't there for them. Forty years ago I listened to The Forsyte Saga as a Books-on-Tape project and remembered enjoying it, so I figured I’d give it a read now. The volumes in my home library had type the size of [metaphor for some really small thing] so I downloaded it to the Kindle, and started reading. At this point, I have discovered that the TV show created the matriarch Ann practically whole cloth out of an invalid sister of James and old Jolyon (no doubt to grab the Dame Maggie Smith / Christine Baranski market), subtracted about 30 years and 8 siblings from said James and old Jolyon, replaced a governess with a dressmaker and given her secret children, focused on young Jolyon’s wife who is in fact dead as a doornail for six years long years at the start of the books, made June young Jolyon’s stepdaughter rather than actual daughter, created a completely non-existent Forsyte family business, moved the two remaining siblings into houses next door to one another, etc., etc., etc. These are, in other words, not the Forsytes. They are Forsytian stand-ins at best. Cryptoforsytes? Which raises the question, Why? Here you have a Nobel Prize winning set of novels that, in the past, provided numerous dramatizations fairly successfully, as I understand it. Why take those novels and change practically everything? If you don’t like what Galsworthy did in the first place, why bother with him? Why not just bite your thumb at him and steal all you want and change everything to your heart’s content and then call if something like "The Joneses" or "The Fink-Nottles?" It’s not as if in 2026 The Forsyte Saga is such an extraordinary hook upon which to pull in one’s viewing fish. Find me someone who has read these books who is under the age of 80 and, well, there’s me (assuming I stick with it) and about 123 other English-speaking people in your potential TV audience. So, ultimately, this show is a go-figure enterprise from the get-go, and I can’t possibly recommend it to anyone other than that 123 Galsworthy-worthy types who might want to marvel at the mayhem.
I loved "Shrinking," on the other hand. What a great batch of characters! The third season wrap-up made it look over and done, but the interwebs are promising yet more to come. Good.
“We Call it Imagineering” on Disney+ is an import from YouTube. It goes a little deeper than the usual documentary. Disney has been learning that you don’t have to keep the magic secret; there’s a lot of people out there who think knowing how it’s done makes it even more magical. I’m with them.
“The Irregulars” on Netflix is a totally off-the-wall Sherlock pastiche that will set True Irregulars off into apoplexy. It makes "The Forsytes" look like canon. It’s not great, but the cast is amiable enough. I neither recommend it nor pan it; if you like oddball supernatural stories, well, why not?
Because I loved the movie and never watched the TV show, which was on for a hundred years with a thousand spinoffs, I started watching "Stargate." I’ve only watched a handful so far but I am told that it does find its stride soon enough, and as I say, it was awfully popular. The jury hasn’t even entered the box yet on this one.
“Mr. Wonder” — What the hell was this about??? What a nutty damned show. The episode with Josh Gad stands out especially. Anyone who wants to accuse the Feige Marvelites of the same old same old need to watch this one. Thumbs up? Yeah, why not.
“DTF St Louis” is another oddball show, where there is a dead body at the beginning and then we peel the onion of all the characters to find out why. It is a weird show, but it’s compelling, with a lot of strange behaviors and black humor. The best character is the old detective totally out of his milieu in all the craziness.
Have I mentioned that we've been watching "David Chang Live?" Totally fun, and it's not even foodie-observant. Chang grabs a couple of friends and cooks a meal for them, obviously live to begin with, but streaming now for three seasons. Light entertainment that actually entertains. Recommended.

And that's it for now.

In which we're back listening to music

2026-05-14T08:56:22.893-04:00

It must be Queue Thursday...

“Lullaby of Broadway” from Rod Stewart and Jools Holland — The ubiquitous Holland, who often gets off a good one, and the also-ubiquitous Stewart, who hasn’t gotten off a good one since he discovered and subsequently attempted to lay waste to the Great American Songbook, teamed up for this lively recording of big band hits, proving two things: a lot of people like what Stewart does nowadays, as this was Holland’s first number one UK hit, and the Stewart and Holland combination is not a hell of a lot better than Stewart without Holland. As with Stewart's other albums of standards, that it’s bad is not the problem. I mean, it isn’t bad, it’s just that it isn’t really good either. Search the word “meh” in Google, and no doubt the collected oeuvre of Stewart singing standards will be the first hit. I listened to this because I’ve been listening to Holland. I am happy to put it, and my mother's Rod Stewart—she literally had a couple of his albums, neither of which was "Gasoline Alley"—behind me.
Randy Newman, “Born Again” — Newman is one of those artists I simply run through from the start, and when I get to the end, I start over. I always find new stuff that I like. No doubt there will be yet another Disney soundtrack from the upcoming Toy Story 487. When I saw him in concert a number of years ago, he mumbled something about Disney being very, very good to him. Among the songs he wrote for them is “When Somebody Loved Me,” one of my all-time favorites, so I’d say he’s also been very, very good to Disney. Meanwhile, “Born Again” is solid, with “It’s Money That I Love” as the lead number.
“Live Dead” was, as I recall, their first live album. As a Deadhead before you were born I immediately bought it and proceeded to never much like it. I’ve never much liked any live Dead recordings. Which demonstrates no doubt that I was not really a Deadhead by any true measure. Nevertheless, "Workingman’s Dead" and "American Beauty," which are one album as far as I’m concerned (cf. "Rubber Soul" and "Revolver"), are in my GOATs collection. Again, I'm doing the Dead as a run-through from beginning to end, and no doubt over again after that. Maybe I am a Deadhead!
Rick Derringer, “Derringer” — Why not? He’s fun enough. I'll try more.
Bad Company, “Holy Water” — I’ve listened to a lot of Bad Company by now, and it’s all starting to sound the same. I think they ran out of creative steam before this album. It’s all fine, but we’ve been there before. Song-writing ain’t easy, Pumpkin, which is why the streets are not littered with George Gershwins or Paul Simonses.
Chris Rea, “Whatever Happened to Benny Santini?” — Rea got onto the list by having his obituary appear in the Times. According to Wikipedia: “He was known for his distinctive gravelly voice, slide guitar playing and music style blending soft rock with blues.” There’s not much of that on this perfectly pleasant album, but we’ll see what happens as we continue through the works in order.
“The Original Lost Elektra Sessions” of the Paul Butterfield Blues Band — Exactly what you expect.
Olivia Dean, “Messy” — I can’t imagine who put this into my queue.
Al Jardine, “A Postcard from California” — An original unrelated-to-Brian Beach Boy, Jardine has put out exactly one solo album, this one, in 2010. I’ve listened to it a couple of times now. It’s got a couple of nice originals, plus some interesting retakes with friends, especially the version of “Help Me, Rhonda.” Cheerful stuff.
Elvin Bishop, “Ace in the Hole” — Speaking of Paul Butterfield, I’ve been listening to the full Bishop, and enjoying him a lot. This one tends to have a bit more talking than I would prefer, as in talkin’ blues, but there’s worse things. I will continue on my journey, as this guy makes some great music.
James Gang, “Jesse Come Home” — Their swan song, and it feels like a swan song, and it even has a “going off into the sunset” cover painting. They definitely had run out of gas by this point, but it wasn’t a terrible way to go out.

In which we watch some movies and listen to some books

2026-05-11T09:54:00.002-04:00

Movies: As noted previously, over the years my appetite for movies has lessened quite a bit. There was a time in my youth where I practically saw a movie a day—any movie, thanks to a membership at the Museum of Modern Art. Their daily 5:30 showing meshed perfectly with my 9-5 job in midtown. NYC in the 70s was movie theaters on every street corner, with all sorts of revivals and double features and foreign films: a cinema buff’s paradise. I was there for all of it. So what happened? Age, I guess. And not a lot of movies calling to me to leave home and go through the bother. And when I am at home, there’s plenty of reliable TV fare that as often as not is more engaging than the latest features. So it goes.

That said, two movies got me to leave home recently. First, Project Hail Mary. Loved the book, enjoyed the movie. Not much more to say, except that I did recommend it for my nine-year-old granddaughter. Second, The Christophers. I saw this at the local arthouse, based on a critic’s choice review from the NY Times. It’s a Soderbergh film, and quite good, with two excellent core performances by Ian McKellen and Michaela Coel. I did not know Coel prior to this, but she manages to stand up majestically to McKellen, which is no easy feat for any actor. Highly recommended.

And then, with a free night at home, I watched Sinners. I didn’t really know what to expect aside from vampires, which honestly is not that great a magnet for me; I’m not exactly a horror movie fan. All the accolades nevertheless convinced me to give it a try. And, well, if you’ve seen this movie, you know that it’s in no way a silly horror movie. The first half of the film, culminating in a magical/phenomenal musical sequence at the juke joint, is something you haven’t seen before and won’t forget. And the vampires, when it comes to it, have something more to say than just, “May I come in.” No wonder this movie received so many accolades. I loved it.

I also watched the final Downton Abbey movie. I mean, why not? It's like the TV show, only longer, with Granny gone, and everyone retiring at the end. Downton was always one step down from the gold standard of Upstairs, Downstairs but it was nevertheless watchable. So are the movies. And, finally, there won't be any more of them and we can get on with our lives.

Books: On paper—all right, Kindle—I got to the last of Kate Atkinson’s Jackson Brodie books. All of them are great, but I would definitely recommend reading them in order. After that, another of my favorite authors is Connie Willis, and I went for her first novel, Lincoln’s Dreams. This is an oddball book, genre-busting if you will. It’s not my favorite of hers—that distinction goes to the Oxford time travel series—but I certainly learned more about Robert E. Lee than I was expecting. If you’re new to her, the starting point would be The Doomsday Book. If you don’t like that one, you and I are done.

And on the audio front, a woman who is swiftly joining the ranks of my favorites is H.G. Parry. I finished The Scholar and the Last Faerie Door, and loved it. There’s something about a good away-at-school book that can really grab you. Who doesn’t mix in the narrative fiction with the narrative reality of one’s own school days, somehow wishing that the real had been more like the fictional, which in fact it somehow becomes? I was not a fan of her historical rights-of-magicians stories, The Shadow Histories, but there’s plenty more where that came from. She’s a New Zealander, by the way, and I would expect she has lots more books in her.

Alan Moore's The Great When, on the other hand, was an almost impossible listen. The problem was that the style of the writing requires serious attention that is impossible to give to an audiobook. I gave up after a couple of hours of not really following it. I might try to read it on paper some day. It is not the first book that I've come across on my headphones that just doesn't work as an audio, including most indicatively Mrs. Dalloway and its stream of consciousness. Oh well...

In which we honor Ted Turner Debate

2026-05-07T09:29:00.001-04:00

Correct me if I’m wrong on any of this…

Once upon a time there was high school debate. (My HS time, for the sake of full disclosure.) A team of two debaters argued one another over government policies, citing facts to support their positions. Each team had a shoebox of index cards on which were hand-written the facts they were presenting, collected mostly from magazine articles, discovered through using a library reference book entitled The Reader’s Guide to Periodical Literature (which, BTW, still exists online). Over time, and thanks to Xerox machines, those index cards grew into giant files of 8x10 sheets of documentation; an elite team might wheel four giant Rubbermaid tubs of these files from tournament to tournament and from round to round. In order to use this vast collection of research, speakers had to talk fast. Eventually, at the so-called highest levels of debate, the speaking speed was virtually incomprehensible to anyone not trained in it.

Phillips 66 is a petroleum refineries company that, as many major corporations do, sponsors community activities. For a number of years Phillips sponsored high school debate: let’s face it, it takes a bit of the thing Woody Guthrie called the do re mi to run a national tournament. One year around 1980, the story goes, Phillips execs visited the NFL (as NSDA was called then) national tournament to bask in the glow of all that beneficial do re mi. They made the mistake, apparently, of visiting a debate round, and found themselves in a tobacco auction. Can’t we have something our people can watch and actually make some sort of sense out of?

Thus Lincoln-Douglas Debate was born, aimed to provide an alternative to the existing Cross-X or Policy debate. The goal was to create an event that wouldn’t have all year, including summer camps, to amass evidence, and for that matter, to debate on a more philosophical rather than practical/policy level. Maybe with these changes, perhaps the average civilian could drop into a round and not only understand it, but even adjudicate it.

And it worked. For a couple of decades. But as computers and the pipes of the internet came into our lives, eventually, as with Policy, at the so-called highest levels of debate, the speaking speed was virtually incomprehensible to anyone not trained in it. The content wasn’t exactly orthodox either, as postmodernism and critical theory bubbled up from contemporary academia. (This infected policy as well, and probably first, for that matter.) LD was becoming a one-person analog to Policy. And once again only an expert adjudicator could make much sense of it. None of this is to support a claim that there is something wrong with an extremely parochial forensics event; I am simply reporting the reality. Personally I’m all in favor of all kinds of debate, as long as we keep them in perspective. I’ll defend that position elsewhere (and already have, often enough, come to think of it).

And now, around the turn of the millennium, enter Ted Turner.

Turner was something of a controversial figure in his day; you can read his obituary to get the details. And he was a philanthropist, with plenty of the do re mi to philanthropize with. I do not know the details of how it happened, but one day the NFL/NSDA announced the creation of Ted Turner Debate. Loosely based on the CNN debate program Crossfire, the paradigm of this new debate event was who could make the most persuasive argument. Like the TV show, facts and/or reality were not as important as being convincing. The topics would change every month, so that teams couldn’t amass tubs (or at that point, portable hard drives) of evidence. Since extreme speed was anything but persuasive, that managed inherently to cancel that aspect out. And to put that in boldfaced underlined italics, the audience literally allowed to judge the event was, as much as possible, members of the community (for which read, parents). The people who were presumably responsible for the flaws of CX and LD—the non-teaching professional judges and whatnot, college kids I guess—were banned. Quickly enough Ted Turner Debate became Controversy debate became Crossfire debate, in some order or another. And finally it became Public Forum.

Public Forum has changed a bit over the years, and if you’re reading this, you probably know how. Some topics are monthly, some bi-monthly. There are no longer bans on judging, and parent judging is as often as not the main core of the pool. Which means that at a given tournament a team might face anything from an expert college debater to a local businessperson to a first-time parent in the back of the room, and must adjust accordingly. I think that’s one of the best things about the activity. Flipping for sides and precedence happens sometimes (the NSDA) and not other times (the NCFL). Loosey goosey evidence is still problematic enough, with most of the complaints coming against paraphrasing and bogus strategic challenges. And, say what you will, Public Forum is now the coin of the realm. At least around my region, it is the most popular event on the docket. I would ascribe this ultimately to its accessibility. Any good educator can coach it. Any determined student can master it. Any reasonably intelligent adult can adjudicate it. (Parent judges, as a bonus, do not need to be paid, and can also act as chaperones, a double whammy.)

So Ted Turner, recently deceased, creator of CNN and TCM and God knows what-all, should be honored in our debate circles for being one of the reasons we have our most popular debate activity.

Rest in peace.

In which we get the NYCFL ready for 2026-7

2026-05-04T08:12:00.002-04:00

There has not been Policy at States for as long as I can remember. I think the last time was in Albany, the year Richard Sodikow retired. LD that year was in a bleak high school with virtually no hospitality for the judges or the students. Policy, apparently, made our venue look like a stately pleasure dome in Xanadu. Why Policy went off the boards after that is a mystery to me. They may have rebelled against the State organization, or maybe the State organization rebelled against them. Since then, the shrinking number of Policy schools in the region hasn’t helped. Monticello, Newburgh, Lakeland, Edgemont, even Hendrick Hudson…All gone. In any case, a couple of us were pushing to get Policy back at States, even in its diminished condition. Given that there was no more space at our venue, Bronx Science, why not at least try it as a virtual event on Saturday, maybe live on Sunday for Elims? Or mayb all virtual? Having no portfolio for the NYSFL myself, all I could do was wonder aloud in the direction of Catholic Charlie, a Regional Director.

Maybe next year? I’ll keep wondering aloud.

Business from two directions brings this up now, because I have spent a bunch of time this most recent week working on next year’s NYCFL debate tournaments. First of all, one of the local CX stalwarts was having difficulty figuring exactly what divisions were when in the whole shebang. This was a case of it looking perfectly clear to me, the exhibitor, but not to her, the exhibitee (so to speak). In this situation there are two possible ways to proceed: blame the viewer for not understanding your obviously clear as spring water exposition, or accept that the spring water of your exposition has a bit of mud in it. Putting all the tournaments up on tabroom solves the problem. You can find all the tournaments offered in a circuit, ours being obviously NYCFL, and when you go to one of those tournaments, the events offered are clearly delineated.

(Which, BTW, brings up another issue. I tend to be pretty free in approving tournaments for our circuit. The problem with that is that when you look at our circuit on tabroom, it’s overflowing with tournaments that are not NYCFLs. Given that we run a goodly number overall, between the literal NYCFL and the ODL, I think it makes sense in the future to be a little more discretionary with these approvals to make things more manageable for our membership. If someone is nearby, say the Tri-State League centered in Brooklyn, or the Long Island or NJ events that are heavily attended by our NYCFL folks, it’s one thing. But if I can’t find you on the map, even though you are a friend of ODL, no one from our league is really going to need to know what you’re running because they’re never going to go there even if they wanted to. Sorry about that.)

The other business was a question that arose over the nature of an invitation. I claim, truthfully, that our in-person NYCFL debate events are open to non-members. (The speech and congress events, with I think one exception, are all members-only.) In fact, the more non-members the better insofar as creating a more diverse field. The membership accepts same-school debates as a necessary evil, and we do our best in tab to stir things up as much as possible, but different-school debates are way more desirable. Bringing in outside schools helps that happen. So by me, everyone is invited. But as far as this nebulous everyone is concerned, how do they know that? Once upon a time, pre-internet, we were invited to tournaments because they sent us an invitation in the mail. Or they faxed it (look It up, young Padawan). Nowadays, you post it on tabroom. Which means that my posting of all of next year’s debate events on tabroom not only informs regular attendees of what’s happening, but it presents the information in the most public place possible, the de facto information center. Add to that, literally opening the page for any of these tournaments immediately presents you with the information that you are welcome even if you’re a non-member, plus I’m still working on some main-page language explaining as briefly as possible anything a non-member needs to know. It’s not exactly a mailed invitation, but it acts as one in 2026.

So, two tournament birds, one tabroom stone. Perfect? Not quite. Pretty close? Hopefully.

In which we make another visit to the music queue

2026-05-03T15:35:00.003-04:00

There’s a documentary about “Aja” on HBO-Max that I just watched, part of a series on “Classic Albums.” This is the only one I’ve seen. I became a big Steely Dan fan after they broke up (and before they got back together). It was my assistant at Doubleday, Nels, who first got me involved with them. Nels was a big music fan and performer, maybe a decade younger than me. This was during the period when I was mostly listening to jazz, show tunes, and classical stuff. I asked him to recommend something recent in rock that I would like, and his recommendation was “Gaucho.” And thus began my love affair with the Dan, as Fagen refers to them in Eminent Hipsters, one of the few books on rock that I’ve read. (I think the memoirs by Brian Wilson, Bruce Springsteen, Keith Richards, and David Byrne are the lot of them, but I guess I should include "500 Songs," since I just signed up for Hickey’s Patreon.) The Aja documentary is well worth watching if you’re a Dan fan. They’re a band famous (too famous) for working in the studio, and the program shows the how and why of it on this album. Perhaps a little too inside baseball? But I have a feeling that if you, too, are a Dan fan, you’ll enjoy it.

The March of the Audit: As a reminder whenever I hear of an artist I don’t know that sounds interesting, I throw them into my audit playlist on Spotify, and every day pretty much I listen to an album or so in the mornings in the order in which I attached them. If I like them, I put their next album at the end of the list. Sometimes I even grab a song for my main rock playlist. Other times I might find an album needs more than one listen before making any sort of determination, so I toss it back in the mix. This is the latest listening review.

“Up, Up and Away” by the Fifth Dimension. If you’ve been following me you know I love good harmonies, and 5D does that. I never really listened to them beyond the hits, so this is an attempt to rectify that oversight. The songs here that aren’t hits are very Mamas-and-the-Papas-ish; they even cover “Go Where You Want to Go.” It’s all very pleasant, and they have good taste. If nothing else, I want to be sure to collect all their hits in one of my appropriate playlists, and I’m pretty certain there will be a surprise or two as well. (BTW, if you haven’t seen the movie “Summer of Soul,” what is wrong with you?)
“Asleep at the Wheel” is their second untitled and/or eponymous album. I had a bunch of their stuff on CD, and saw them live for the first time last summer. Bob Wills is still the king.
Traffic, “John B Must Die” — I remember when Traffic's first album came out. One look at the picture on that album and you knew you had to have this record. When they announced their breakup, already sans Dave Mason, hearts were broken among everyone I knew. And then, after Blind Faith—who weren’t as good as you wanted them to be but they were all right—John Barleycorn turned up in local racks. It’s a bit different from earlier Traffic—I’m doing a complete replay of their work in the queue—but a super record. If you’re picking a Traffic album for your GOATs playlist, is this the one?
“Procol Harum,” more untitling/eponymousing — Well, it all sounds like Procol Harum. I still remember the day, sometime in the 90s, when I finally realized that they were saying “that her face at first just ghostly.” I didn’t even have a good mondegreen for it. I used to just “wawawawa” along with it before chiming in with “turned a whiter shade of pale.” Makes sense after the fact. More PH to come. They were more diverse later on.
Chad and Jeremy, “Before and After” — Pleasant folky 60s British stuff. Sweet. I took a girl to one of their concerts when I first started dating.
Sagittarius - “Present Tense” — I listened to them again, and this time felt I had grokked them well enough, pulling a song or two for the main playlist only to find that they were already there. Time to move on. The 60s are over.
The Goldebriars were Curt Boetcher’s first group. He worked with Sagittarius, the Association, and the Millennium, all cited in a "500 Songs" episode, which is why these all run together. This one is pretty uninteresting folk stuff.
The Association, “And Then…Along Comes” — When it’s their hits, they’re great. When it’s not their hits, it almost sounds like their hits, with that rising “ah, Ahh, AAHHH” background. All pleasant, with memorable hits.
The Millennium — When I was listening to this I was thinking of Jared from college. He was a Grade A hippie, a gentle soul at worst, and this was the kind of music he liked that always had me running from his room screaming. No doubt he ultimately became a longshoreman.
Curt Boetcher, also untitled and eponymous. Finally, the man himself. I enjoyed this album, and I think there’s some potential in it. Some of the songs go to interesting places. I threw it back for another listen.
Love, “Four Sail” — As in Cole Porter, "Love for Sale?" Or their fourth album, and they’re selling themselves, and they wouldn’t know Cole Porter from a porterhouse steak? Whichever. Arthur Lee has that unique voice, and their songs, like ‘em or not, are always interesting. A couple of quite good ones here.
David Johansen, “In Style” — Having gone away in the 70s and 80s (and 90s and 00s and 10s and, progressively more obviously, the 20s), I thought I would catch up. After listening to this I guess I’ll have to go back to the NY Dolls. I heard nothing that struck me but I did hear enough to know that I needed to hear more. So I will.
The United States of America— I vaguely remember this album. That cover, and that name, gave off extremely strong “buy me” vibes that, unlike with Traffic, I somehow managed to resist. If I had bought it, I would have regretted it to this day.

Geese, “Projector” — Probably I queued this up from a mention by Petrusich in The New Yorker. It demonstrates, beyond any doubt, that she and I do not hear the same music. I do not have the words—and in general I’ve got words up the wazoo—to describe how I disliked this album.
Joe Ely, the last eponymous album in the list, renewed my faith in music after having almost lost it listening to Geese. Artists who can play instruments? A singer/songwriter with all kinds of interesting things up his sleeve? It was his obituary back in December that led me to him, and I happily look forward to following his entire career from the beginning. This one is pretty country-ish, but I understand he went more rock later on. I’m willing to find out.

In which we bounce off of Spotify's biggest hits

2026-04-27T08:23:00.002-04:00

https://gizmodo.com/spotify-reveals-its-most-streamed-music-of-the-last-20-years-2000750160

My personal listenings, according to Spotify in my year-end wrap-up, didn’t seem like anything I had actually listened to, until I remembered that it included all the stuff in my audit queue, which isn’t necessarily stuff I like and could easily turn out to be something I wouldn’t cross the street for. That said, I would imagine their listing of the most streamed music of the last 20 years would be, well, indicative of true popularity. It should come as no surprise that only 2 of the top 20 artists appear in my main playlist, to wit, Ed Sheeran and Bruno Mars. (And not much of them, honestly, but I like the ones I like.) OTOH, I have listened a bit to virtually all of the top artists except a couple I’ve never heard of (and that there are a couple I’ve never heard of should also come as no surprise). My hit rate does not change with most-played songs or albums, and I have listened to none of their top podcasts. Shockingly, I’ve read two of their big audiobooks, and you guessed them: Tolkien and Martin. (I’ve also read—and enjoyed—Taylor Jenkins Reid, but that was for the Day Job so it doesn’t really count.)

Did you do any better being hip/hep/cool/wired/plugged-in or whatever than I did?

In which we dabble more in the music queue

2026-04-23T11:43:00.002-04:00

Music (Audit division)"

Dan Fogelberg, 'Souvenirs." Lots of folksy stuff in his second album. When I originally came to him, it was a bit later, and he was a bit solider. That stuff that first drew me to him should be somewhere in the queue for the future. This one is not unpleasant, though.
"Pisces, Aquarius, Capricorn and Jones, LTD" by the Monkees is, I think 4th album. And is the predictable collection of hits and forgettables. But then “Cuddly Toy” came on, and I was reminded of the line in the documentary “Who Is Harry Nilsson (And Why Is Everybody Talkin' About Him?)” where someone said, after the Monkees recorded this song of his, that his life would change. It did. I am a big Harryhead, as they say, having come to him late (he was already dead when I came across a greatest hits collection that started me collecting all of his albums) and having never left. "Nilsson Schmilsson," for instance, is in my GOATs playlist. And one of my favorite pieces of trivia is that both Cass Elliot and Keith Moon died in Nilsson’s London apartment (although I’m pretty sure he wasn’t there on either occasion). Anyhow, I recommend the movie. (And I enjoyed this album.)
McGuinn and Hillman’s cleverly named album "McGuinn-Hillman." A couple of Byrds, and I can always listen to anything by any of them. 500 Songs’s Andrew Hickey goes into great detail on Hillman, including giving him credit for much of what Gram Parsons always gets sole credit for. I tend to believe Hickey’s interpretation of things, and am on the hunt for all the Hillman I can get going forward. (I was already tracking down McGuinn.) We’ll see how that goes. Anyhow, this is a very enjoyable album.
"My Life in the Bush of Ghosts" by Eno and Byrne. Electronica. Moby liked it, per the quote on the album cover. I didn’t.
"Working on Time" - Maarten Altena Ensemble. I don’t know why this modern music album was in my list. It quickly went the way of "My Life in the Bush of Ghosts."
The Remains, self-titled first album. This album was released in the 90s, but there was no question of its 60s sound. At first I thought it was some 90s group pretending to be a 60s group—the 90s were the Ironic Era, remember—but it turns out they really were a struggling American 60s group. The production isn’t great, but you can hear some very interesting songwriting despite none of the tracks standing out. When I looked them up I learned their interesting story, which includes opening for the Beatles, and bouncing from record company to record company, and then as artists playing on others’ albums. (Speaking of which, reading Dave Mason’s obituary, I didn’t remember he had played with so many others on their records. RIP.) There isn’t that much more the of the recorded Remains to listen to, but I will definitely listen to whatever there is.
Larry Williams was a fantastic R&B singer/songwriter. He’s the man behind “Boney Maroney” and “Dizzy, Miss Lizzy” for starters. "Here’s Larry Williams" was his first album. It’s fantastic, and it was hard to avoid the temptation to toss literally all of the songs into my main playlist.

In which the NYSFL has its moment

2026-04-21T08:47:00.003-04:00

Right now you are probably asking yourself, I wonder how States went over the weekend? Well, I'm happy to fill you in.

For reasons that will elude me to the grave—in fact, I can see myself on my death bed turning to the love ones around me, gathered there to see me off in some semblance of style, and whispering with my last breath, “Why the fig jam do they do that?”—the 5th and last round of the debate prelims is a flip round, even though in the previous 4 rounds were not flip. And this is both in LD and PF. What is the point? What is it about the 5th round that suddenly the basic business we've been handling the first four rounds is suddenly unacceptable? What were they smoking back in the Eisenhower Administration or whenever when they came up with this wrinkle? By the way, they also do this at CatNats. Go figure.

I bring this up because making this happens requires a switch in the software before round 5 is paired. The switch makes all the rounds, in PF and then in LD, flip-for-sides. This is not a problem when you are then going into elims, which are all traditionally flip-for-sides. But if, in 2025 you have flipped that switch and then never switched it back, round 1 in 2026 is, voila!, flip-for-sides.

Oops.

Fortunately this was only a minor setback, and we probably didn’t lose too much time, since the first round is always rife with confusion anyhow. Still, it was a pain. So it goes.

The good news is that Kaz was back with us, She and I make a good team, and we get things done. One of the most fun parts of the deal is when you actually have to play with something, like balancing judge usage and judge rating in a large double-flighted round. You could just press the button and devil take the hindmost, but good tabbing evens everything out for the sake of the most possible fairness across the board. And, of course, it has to be done quickly. This is where teamwork is essential, meaning a good team is essential. Kaz and I (or any combination of Kaz, Janet, Vaughan, myself, Frank O’Bono, Catholic Charlie) can do this well. I mean, we do it all the time, and we pride ourselves on it: best possible pairings. (The other thing we pride ourselves on is fixing our mistakes quickly; we’re not perfect, after all. But we can see mistakes that may not be obvious, and quickly fix them one way or another. That is also a good tabbing skill.) So, three cheers, us.

After that first minor setback, we zipped right along, and by the end of Saturday we were right on schedule. Sunday, with three judges in every round, had a realistic enough schedule to give the debaters plenty of time in between rounds. It was tight once or twice, but only because the occasional schmegeggie took forever to fill out their ballot. On occasion we would send our enforcer, Amy from Upstate, to set them on the straight and narrow. (I only ever see Amy from Upstate at States; she would be useful everywhere! What tournament doesn’t need some serious enforcement?)

On Saturday, Mr. Softee (or the legal equivalent) showed up when the sun was shining and the air was warm, and before long he had an endless line for the rest of the day. Catholic Charlie and Rick O’Bono flashed their tab FastPass credentials to get to the front of the line, but when Kaz and I went out, we weren’t under any pressure and were happy to just stand out in the sunshine. And, after all, there was a nice chocolate sundae to be had for the waiting. Sadly, Mr. S (or the legal equivalent) came back on Sunday for a cold, rainy day relatively free of ice cream seekers. Oh, well. He broke the bank on one of the days. That was, hopefully, good enough.

And then it was over, another States in the books, and we were all very satisfied with the weekend as a whole. We’ll see you all again next April, back at good old Bronx Science.

Next up, CatNats!

In which we listen to a little music

2026-04-17T17:42:00.001-04:00

The initial pairings are ready for States tomorrow morning, so I'm using the downtime before dinner to write this...

Music (audit division):

"Wings Deluxe" is a recent compilation, and apparently it’s the definitive one, if the critics are to be believed. I listened to it and by the end realized that Wings had some good songs, but if they hadn’t existed, I wouldn’t have invented them. At least Sir Paul still had his voice back then, compared to his latest recording where he sounds old and raspy because, well, he is old and raspy. More power to him; I’m pretty old and raspy myself. But then again, I haven’t recorded any albums lately.
"Lyle Lovett and his Large Band" has some of his best work. He’s on my constant total-oeuvre replay, and I’ve seen him numerous times. In other words, I’m a fan.
"Another Night" by the Hollies. Yet again the group puts out a couple of really good songs amid a bunch of okay songs. More power to them, too.
Maria Muldaur's "Open Your Eyes" was released in 1979, and somehow I missed it. She’s in my Lyle category; I constantly work through all her stuff, and when I get to the end, I start again. And I’ve seen her numerous times. In other words, I’m a fan of her too.
Next up, Spotify’s playlist of the Essential Gladys Knight. Andrew Hickey, in "The History of Rock in 500 Songs," explains how Knight was, early in her career, poised to be another Aretha. Or vice versa. I don’t remember the details, but his discussion moved me to do a thorough canvass of her work. There’s perfectly good music to be heard, but nothing blew me away. The woman certainly can sing, though…
"With the Beatles," because they too are on my endless replay. I won’t bother to defend my fandom.
Redbone, "Already Here." This group, with Chicano and Native American heritages, would have been a big hit with me if I had known them at the time (69-77). I’ve been enjoying going through all their work chronologically, and occasionally popping a tune over to my main playlist. Solid rock.
Sanseverino X Lise. That is, Sanseverino and Lise Cabaret (whoever she is). I’ve been a buff of this old-fashioned “gypsy” style jazz (apologies for the use of that word) ever since “The Triplets of Belleville,” which led to Django, which led to Stephane Grappelli, except it really started with Grappelli with his great post-Django albums of swing violin from the 70s. (Okay, I don’t know where it started, but I know I started listening to Grappelli myself in the eighties.) Anyhow, that’s where Sanseverino fits in, and I like most of his stuff, although occasionally he gets a little outre for my blood. This was a good one, with a reprise of his big hit, “À l'enterrement de ma grand-mère,” the bounciest dead grandmother song ever.
After that, I ran through another big collection of Fats Waller, because, well, I love Fats Waller. So sue me.
I rewatched the whole Beatles Anthology series on Disney+ when the new episode came along, and then I listened to Anthology 4. TBH, it can’t hold the proverbial candle to the first three sets, which had plenty of truly revelatory music on it. The problem is that A4 covers mostly the same stuff, and, well, the best was already taken. So there’s a couple of interesting tracks of just harmonizing, or the background music, but no real rethinking of songs that make you marvel at how they created what they created.
I saw him rocking away on some TV show, so I figured I’d try Kenny Chesney’s Greatest Hits. It’s pure country pop, and probably as good as country pop gets. The thing is, I’m not a fan of country pop, so I was disappointed. Bottom line: he’s not making music for me, but the zillions of people he is making music for are getting their money’s worth.

And that's it for now. Excelsior!

In which we look forward to States

2026-04-14T10:29:00.000-04:00

And what about States this coming weekend, you ask.

Well, first of all, it looks pretty big. 140 or so LDers, 250 or so PFers, both across three divisions. That’s a bit bigger than last year, which while problematic when it comes to finding tournament spaces, is good news for debate in the region. Keep in mind that there is plenty of debate in addition to those who have States on their calendars, and overall I think we’re in good shape. If I’ve said it once I’ve said it a thousand times, debate is the best thing to happen to education since the invention of the pencil box, and the more of it, regardless of predictably differing views on its execution, the better. Of course, all those debaters puts a little pressure on the tab room, but once again Kaz will be onboard with me, so things should move smoothly.

Most of what we do is straightforward according to Hoyle. Saturday prelims, Sunday elims. 5 double-flighted prelim rounds, 2 presets and 3 hi-los. Breaking roughly a third of each field, which is more than fair. Nothing unusual so far. In fact, the only unusual thing is that, if you have teams in semis, you are eliminated from that judging pool. (Judges are obligated for the whole tournament.) This rule goes back to the Pleistocene, and it’s not terribly problematic tabbing-wise, but it is on the books until the regional directors remember to remove it. More importantly, we do try to free up judges with no one in the late elims if they travel a long distance, from either the frozen Albanyish north or the remote verges of Long Island. If you have a long trip home, we’ll try to make it happen. It’s the locals who will get the final round nod.

To be honest, I can’t remember anything, well, memorable, from recent States. (Stateses?) It was nice when we were down at Hofstra, which was very good with its support of the league, but we lost that over the pandemic. Since then the Bronx has picked up the goodness reins, and I don’t know how we could do it without them. But the tournament itself tends to run fairly hitchless. We pair, we post, we chase down the usual judges who are allergic to Acknowledge buttons, we pair again… With 6 debate divisions, not to mention all the action with Congress and Speecho-Americans, it’s a busy weekend. But I know from my own experiences back in the day, a rewarding one for the students. They have made it to a selective culminating event. They rub elbows with their peers from across the state. They have a good experience and maybe even win a prize. And the tournament is generous to the students, allowing at-larges and not charging an arm and a leg, since all we have to do is cover the usual costs. What better way to end a debate season?

In which we take a little trip

2026-04-13T09:56:00.003-04:00

Journeys: "I once spent a year in Philadelphia, I think it was on a Sunday." — W. C. Fields

Despite being a great fan of Mr. Fields, I disagree with him on the merits of what was essentially his home town. Then again, I think he just liked saying “Philadelphia,” much as he liked saying “cockaleekie soup” or “shades of Bacchus.” I’m disappointed that he never heard of Tuckahoe, but I can’t imagine that one getting past the movie censors of the day.

Anyhow, we just came back from a few years days in Philadelphia, and I must say that I find it a great city to visit. In fact, we’ve been doing so for nigh on to fifty years now. In the beginning it was for the history, and we explored all the crooks and nannies around the Independence Hall and the south side, before and after our daughter was born. Then there were the wilderness years of the Villiger and Penn tournaments, away from center of things, aside from staying in the middle of town for early Penn visits and taking the trolley up to the college. (Once we even stayed at what was, if I remember correctly, a half-hospital half-hotel place within walking distance of the school with a lot of wheelchairs by the elevator.) Lately it’s been for long weekends, this latest one driven by the need to visit the Universal exhibit at the Franklin Institute, and then whatever art we could find in the neighborhood. Given that the strip where we stayed has enough museums to sink a battleship, we had come to the right place.

First of all, as W. C. would probably have been happy to inform you, everything major is closed on Wednesdays. Fortunately we have a penchant for digging up minor sites and found the Museum for Art in Wood which is, indeed, a museum of wood art objects. Definitely worth a visit, even if it wasn't Wednesday.

The next day was devoted to the Philadelphia Museum of Art Philadelphia Art Museum (they recently changed the name because the old name was so confusing and the new name just nailed it, which is very Philadelphian of them). This is a spectacular collection worthy of a major city with some great gems. I made it from pre-Renaissance to post-Impressionism, regularly wondering sticky-fingeredly if they would miss some of the smaller pieces no one was paying attention to. In addition to stuff on the wall, there are a lot of recreated rooms, like the Gilded Age one below. I am a big fan of recreated rooms. That is one of my favorite areas of the Met.

The next morning it was off to the Franklin Institute for their Universal exhibit. It was not bad, but it was all about how they do modern stuff (I get it, it’s a science museum) rather than any sort of historical retrospective, as the Disney exhibit a couple of years had been. I enjoyed it, though.

And then, the Barnes.

The Barnes is an interesting place. You can read all about it here if you’re interested: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Barnes_Foundation Today it is something of a standard museum, but with walls-full of paintings arranged higgledy-piggledy.

The picture is of probably the biggest display room in the place. Most of the galleries are small, with dozens and dozens of paintings up and down the walls. But they have this great app that allows you to point at a picture and get the info on it. Better still, when you get home, there is an email in your inbox containing all the pix you took a shot of.

The Barnes is a place where you go exploring. You could just walk around and look at everything and pick out the pictures you like and study them more closely. Or you can pick one artist and track that one. Or whatever. It’s a far cry from the usual chronological narratives of most museums, but it’s perfectly acceptable. For me, it was mostly tracking down the Cezannes. Between the Art Museum and the Barnes, there are apparently more Cezannes in Philadelphia than anywhere else in the world. Loving Cezanne more and more as time goes on is probably a cliche. I can stare at his work forever. There are probably plenty of other reasons to go to Philadelphia, but none better than Cezanne in both museums. On the other hand, if you can go through the Barnes and not come out wishing never to see another Renoir, your constitution is stronger than mine. Yes, the landscapes. No, the kewpie dolls. Barnes the man was a big collector of both Cezanne and Renoir. I mean, they do each have their unique color palettes that mark most of their work from across the room and down the hall and around the corner. But other than that? Beats me. There’s also a few nice M/a-o/nets hither and thither. You can learn a lot about art history from the Art Museum. You can learn a lot about what you like at the Barnes. And there you are.

One odd note. We had dinner one night at a restaurant called Maggiano’s. There are a few of these in various cities, and they’re very old-fashioned Italian, but pretty good. The one in Philadelphia has a back room for banquets. As we were sitting there over starters, a troop of teenagers marched out of that back room. Ten, twenty, thirty… I reminisced about large groups of debaters at travel tournaments, and still they poured out. Forty, fifty, sixty… By the time over a hundred clowns had exited the VW, we could no longer hazard a guess of who or why. And then the next thing you knew, another army of them came in from the outside and took over where the first army had decamped. As we were leaving we grabbed a couple of this endless stream of adolescence back and forth and learned that California has a habit of shipping it’s teenagers across the country at Springtime to get a view of how the other half lives. They had started in D.C. and would end up in NYC, lapping up all the historical sights along the way. And, apparently , filling up the back rooms of every restaurant they could find that could fit them. Who knew?

All in all, a nice couple of days. And now it's back to the salt mines and getting ready for States this weekend. Onward!

In which we watch a little television

2026-04-06T11:02:00.000-04:00

There are shows I watch alone, and shows I watch en famille. Here’s three of the latter.

The Cormoran Strike series probably shakes all sorts of skeletons in the literary closet, and for that matter just plain skeletons in general. You can’t talk about a Rowling project without addressing the transphobic elephant in the room, but now I just have and we’ll let it go at that. Suffice it to say that I have not embargoed her work, but also have not embraced her cause. Make of that what you will, because I barely know what to make of it myself. I admit to enjoying the Strike books, until they got longer than, say, Dickens, at which point they are decidedly NOT Dickens, and that was the end of that. (Speaking of Dickens and Rowling in the same breath, you have to rank the two of them at the top of character namers; witness Mr. Murdstone or Severus Snape, for example.) But the TV version is spot on. The actors in the leading parts are absolutely perfect. We just finished the latest series on HBO/Max, but I was happy to find that there’s yet another one in the works. Will Strike and Robin get it on before the series ends?

Speaking of HBO and Rowling, the preview of their new Harry Potter series is inescapable. And, from the looks of it, the series couldn’t be any more unnecessary. Given the difference between movies and TV series, sure, there will certainly be a lot that wasn’t covered in the eight movies, but for God’s sake, people, move on! If you must continue in the Potterverse, make new stories, or new Universal attractions, or anything with the word new in it. How many times can you dig in the same hole and still find treasure?

Speaking of treasure—if you know the story you understand the segue—the second of our family shows these days is PBS’s “The Count of Monte Crisco.” It’s not great but it’s far from terrible, and since I have never read Dumas (oh, the shame of it!) this gives me a chance to finally learn what the story is all about. It’s a Masterpiece Theatre production from the get-go. You either like that sort of thing or you don’t. We mostly do.

And the third show, also Masterpiece T, is “The Forsytes.” Ah, that brings me back. My first real dive into audiobooks, back when they were literally books on tape, was The Forsyte Chronicles, the whole endless cycle of trilogies and interludes and God knows what-all. Books on Tape, in caps, was, if I am not mistaken, primarily a project for the blind at the time. And when cassette players started to appear in automobiles, a project for commuters. I listened, and listened, and listened… For dessert I listened to Churchill’s The Gathering Storm before going on to cover the next 5 volumes on paper. Which relates back to Forsyte, because the very first Masterpiece Theatre was “The First Churchills,” which I watched at the time, and the whole MT series was predicated on the success of the BBC’s “The Forsyte Saga.” It’s all related. Anyhow, the latest version is on the edge of watchable, because it has too many characters in too many small bites to get any real narrative juice going. We’ve watched the first two and will stick with it for at least one more, but if it doesn’t slow down soon we may not finish it. Galsworthy wrote enough books to take over a whole couple of networks for millennia; downing them all in one Cliff’s Note seems either unambitious or too ambitious, depending on your point of view. Anyhow, as I say, we’ll stick with it a little while longer. The performers are all fine; it’s the writing that’s suspect.

In which we do not tee off

2026-04-03T11:19:00.000-04:00

I was supposed to play golf today, but we abide by the 50 degree rule: if it’s not over 50 degrees, we don’t play. Golf is supposed to be fun in the sun, not shivering in the damp. Oh, well. We haven’t played yet this year, but I did take a whack at a few balls on the range a couple of days ago, so when we finally do get out there, I’ll be marginally warmed up and ready for action. Meanwhile, if I can’t play golf, there’s always blogging.

Books (audio division): After dumping Bleak House, I went for Jim Butcher’s Dead Beat, which is #7 of the Dresden books. As always, it did the job. In aid of changing the mood entirely, after finishing off the wizard in Chicago, I then went to Judi Dench’s Shakespeare: The Man who Pays the Rent. I found this to be different from what I was expecting, which was some sort of memoir. Instead, it’s an exploration of Shakespeare by a noted player—not, btw, narrated by said noted player—and as such it’s really interesting and, at the same time, a pretty lousy audiobook. With audio I am on the lookout for fast-paced narratives. I listen while I’m walking, which in its own way sets the parameters of what works or not. Slow-paced simply doesn’t make it; one needs the beating of the drum to keep the galley oars ploughing the waters. (And, as noted previously with Bleak House, some idea that the end is in sight before one shuffles off the Mortal C). So Dame J only got an hour before I turned to The Scholar and the Last Faerie Door by H. G. Parry, which got off to a great start. I loved her The Magician’s Daughter, although I didn’t much care for her A Declaration of the Rights of Magicians, which just goes to show that you can’t win them all. She’s quite prolific, and I’m hoping that in the long run I’ll be falling on the like side more often than not.

Television: My general evening viewing usually includes an episode of an hour-long series, followed by an episode of a half-hour comedy. This means that I have watched a lot of half-hour comedies. Now, if you’re watching something that is allegedly funny, it is not out of the realm of possibility that you might expect to laugh out loud on occasion. But, sadly, no matter how good a show is, the idea of LOL is way more likely than the reality. But in the immortal words of the Wizard of Oz, “Not so fast. Not so fast!”

Enter “Vicious,” stage left. This is truly a laugh-out-loud program. It may be one of the funniest shows ever. This week I finished the first season with their Christmas show, and watched the most droll and perhaps longest double-take ever, to which the whole season was building up. Ian McKellen is a gift to humanity. His costar, Derek Jacobi, is no slouch either. I’m mildly reminded of “The Thick of It” as far as the writing here is concerned. The show is available on Prime, and if you don’t start watching it now, you deserve to watch every Trump speech in hell for all eternity. (For that matter, you have watched “The Thick of It”, right? The source of the phrase “as useless as a marzipan dildo”? I mean, seriously, if not, you need to catch up.)

And I don’t think I mentioned that I finished the first season of “The Punisher.” I know I’ve mentioned these second-tier Netflix Marvel shows in general before. They are now part of Disney+, and I’ve been working my way through them methodically, and while I don’t think they’re for the ages, they are perfectly entertaining (if slightly drawn out). I’m now watching the second Luke Cage series (I’m doing them in order, and for the record, already watched Jessica Jones season two out of order before I cottoned to the fact that all the different shows were a set.) I hope to catch up to the recently released Daredevil seasons sometime before the second J. D. Vance Administration.

Gaming: Having given up on Indy and the Great Circle, I went on to the highly rated Astrobot, which is cute but not compelling unless you’re in the mood for that sort of thing. I had fun with it for a little while, and then went on to Pirate Yakuza in Hawaii. I’ve made it as far as having to assemble a crew and collect money by traversing Honolulu regularly fighting, as the game announces boldly, “ASSHOLES!” I got it at a good discount and I might or might not stick with it. I find that if I play daily, games work well for me. If I take too much of a break, they’re hard-pressed to bring me back. But overall, I feel that I get my money’s worth out of them. I know that my granddaughter will enjoy Astrobot when she visits this summer. And I’ve been pointed to a good two-person game for her age group, to wit, Lego Voyagers. This means getting a second controller and, jeesh, they’re not giving away those babies away anywhere. But one seldom weighs the price of amusing a grandchild versus the value.

In which it is a far, far better thing—Oops! Wrong book.

2026-04-02T10:49:00.005-04:00

Books

And roughly a thousand pages later, Bleak House goes back on the shelf.

I guess my main Dickens fondness is for David Copperfield, which I’ve read the most times. But Bleak House is a better book by far, and could easily be Dickens’ best. (Of course, Our Mutual Friend is up there too, so it’s probably a pointless exercise to attempt to pick and choose.) As I noted a while back, I was listening to Miriam Margolyes' reading of it, which is excellent, but at skatey-eight million hours I needed to pick up the audiobook pace, so I picked up the book in my home library and proceeded to read it for myself. I didn’t recall that much about it from when I first read it maybe fifty years ago. The famous line “I saw my mother…” of course, and Esther’s disfigurement (I doubt if that’s a spoiler because something tells me you’re not going to go out and read it just because your reading my take on it). I remember thinking that, like most of Dickens’ heroines, she deserved getting the pox just to knock her off her oh-so-perfect high horse, but still, she is a sympathetic character in the end, when she starts having less than nice thoughts about everybody. She does indeed change over the span of the book; not a lot, mind you—I mean, she’s always going to heaven on the first express leaving the cemetery—but she does grow up.

Anyhow, two things that are interesting aside from the plot. First of all, half of it is written in the first person, Esther’s narrative, and half in the omniscient third person. Dickens of course wrote other books in one or the other, but I think this is his only mix and match. And it may be one of the first mix-and-matches ever: if not, it’s close. As a general rule, I don’t like this approach. In contemporary books it always seems like a cheat, as if the author couldn’t figure out how to do the job one way or the other so it ends up just stitched together as both. When I was reading James Patterson books for the Day Job it seemed like he pumped one of these out a month with some co-writer or other, and they all had this lazy approach. Usually the first person was some sort of psychopath and the third person the good guys hunting them down. But then again, Patterson sold enough books to make the Bible jealous, and Dickens at the very least had done it first, so who was I to judge? (Actually, I was the guy who picked the Day Job books, so I guess that’s who I was to judge, come to think of it.)

The other thing is one I don’t remember noting first time around, that the first person narrative is in the past tense and the third person is in the present tense. Present tense writing can be annoying, as we are mostly used to past tense, and it comes across in modern books as an author being consciously arty. (It was almost an instant NO in the Day Job.) And somehow Dickens pulls it off without a hitch. Then again, Dickens is Dickens and most everybody else isn’t, so that may explain it.

So Bleak House becomes a lot of things. First and foremost it is a big book bursting with characters and narrative, and it’s one of the best by one of the best authors of all time, so while it may take a bit of one’s energy to get through it, it is time well-spent. It’s a damned good read. But on top of that, if you take just one step further, it’s a bit of a marvel in the complexity of storytelling using different narrative voices from different time perspectives, the happening-now third person and the looking-back first person. And, oh yeah, it’s a man writing as a woman in that first person. (The issue of Dickens women is way too deep for this post—or probably any of my posts—so we’ll leave that alone.) The whole thing is, in a word, a marvel. One of the great shames of modern education is that high schools have no idea how to set students up for Dickens. He is ultimately delivered as an author to be avoided at all costs. If they assign Great Expectations they allow that showing a movie version is the best way to grasp it. This is like thinking the best way to teach Van Gogh is to describe his work in rhyming couplets. Or they assign A Tale of Two Cities, the other hardy HS perennial, which is at one of the furthest edges of typical Dickens (he only wrote two historical) and on top of that has virtually no fun in it. Which is why, if I had to recommend Dickens to a teenager, it would be David Copperfield. It’s often funny, it’s engaging, it has great characters, a good story, and it’s maybe among the least amount of work for a great book. But to be honest, I wouldn’t recommend Dickens, or a whole lot of other great books, to high school students. My goal would be to make readers out of them, not make people who watched the VHS movie version of Great Expectations in the classroom out of them, or worse, Dickens haters by default. High schools should, for the most part, teach short, snappy books that kids will enjoy reading. (Which, by the way, categorically does NOT include Ethan Frome, which may be short but which no teenager has ever understood since the day old Edith put the pen down.) Science fiction, mysteries, enjoyable stuff they can actually read as part of their workload. I remember once having some fun with debate colleagues putting together a list of books for teens that they would actually enjoy and which might kindle a love of reading. But, of course, debate people tend to be interested in real education. Sadly, there’s way too little of this to go around.

Meanwhile, who knows, I may never read another Dickens book again. And then again I might. One never knows, does one.

In which we consider some moldy oldies

2026-03-31T09:59:00.000-04:00

Music

In the news: Two recent obituaries in The NY Times are pretty telling for my generation: Augie Meyers and Chip Taylor. The former was the organist for the Sir Douglas Quintet, and may be most generally known for Sahm’s shoutout at the break in their hit “Mendocino”: “Aw, play it Augie!” This has a special resonance for me because recently my friend the Boomer Manqué recently asked me if I had ever heard of the Sir Douglas Quintet, as he had just apparently discovered them in his endless quest to be ten years older. Needless to say, my reply, which I can’t quite remember, was delivered in an icy tone. No one born in 1948 who owned a radio in the 60s should have to answer questions like this. Ask me about artists from about 1980 onward and I will turn from icy tone to glassy stare. We all have our generations. Anyhow, Meyers did more than just “Mendocino” and I’ve added the Texas Tornados to the queue for further exploration. As for Chip Taylor, the lead in his obit is that he wrote the song “Wild Thing.” When this song was released by the Troggs in 1966 it was widely received as one of the worst recorded songs ever. As it swiftly rose the singles charts, at least one deejay would begrudgingly play it for its fans and, when it was over, break the record on the air in the hopes that it would go away. I mean, let’s face it: at the time, even my grandmother could have played better guitar, and she was deaf, arthritic and slightly batty. Then again, my friend Tom AKA Whippy did a truly emotional “I think you move me” along with the record whenever it came on the radio. Sixty years later it’s still among the most elemental, and popular, rock songs ever—hell, Jimi Hendrix covered it practically out of the gate. And it had a composer, the late Chip Taylor, who, among other claims to fame, was Jon Voight’s younger brother. Sometimes, like this week, it seems that my entire youth is hitting the obits one player at a time.

Sigh…

Oldies: Which brings me to my Oldies playlist. I’m thinking it might be fun to look at these and see if there’s anything worth talking about. The nature of the playlist is simple enough: it’s primarily songs that were considered oldies already by 1966, and then songs from the AM radio from 1966 to about 1971 that were definitely more AM than FM, although a few AOR numbers are there because they were everywhere. There’s also later songs that are sort of fun to listen to on the imaginary radio of a Spotify playlist while driving to the grocery store, plus songs that weren’t hits at all but they sound like the times, usually R&B numbers. Not all the songs are rock, because I’m working towards nostalgia to a great degree, and, say, “A Summer Place” by the Percy Faith Orchestra makes the list because it brings one back, not because one spent a lot of hours doing the frug to it. This will also give me a chance to clean the list up a bit, as playlists do tend to wander if you don’t keep an eye on them.

So let’s look at the first 10.

“1-2-3” is just a good popular hit. One would never flip this song off if it came on the car radio.
“16 Candles” is a good example of a song that was never current but was, to the Boomer ear, an oldie from day one. I also managed to include it in my Donald Trump “Jeffrey Epstein Memorial Playlist” on my ConstToonies blog.
“19th” was one of the songs one longed for to come on the AM radio, as probably the best thing in the top ten at the time. For that matter, the Stones were probably the best thing, period, on the AM radio starting with their first hit. Flipping them off on the car radio was inconceivable, except, of course, for “Satisfaction” at about the one hundred millionth iteration. Even perhaps the best rock song ever gets tired after 50 plays a day.
“26 Miles” is definitely one of the songs on the list for nostalgic purposes only. Were the people who made this a hit the same ones who bought “19th Nervous Breakdown”? One wonders…
The Beach Boys and Paul Simon need no explanation. But “59th,” despite being a Simon & Garfunkel song, was way more of a hit by Harpers Bizarre, hence the latter is here and not the former, but the former is in my general favorites playlist. By the way, it is probably the most famous use of the word “groovy” which, I assure you, was never ever ever a word used by self-respecting Boomers. Not ever, not nohow.
I don’t think I ever heard of “The 81” before it came up on some random album I was auditing, and I thought it sounded perfect as an oldie, unheralded though it may have been at the time. Hence, our first non-hit.
“96” and “98.6” were both hits, simple as that, although they couldn’t be less alike aside from being in the late 90s. ? and the Mysterians—it was not meant to be spelled out—echo our discussion above on the Troggs: garage band perfection. “98.6” is simply sweet and, let’s face it, catchy. It deserved to be a hit.

I don’t know if you find this interesting, but feel free to play along as we go through the scorecard in the future. If you’re of the Spotify persuasion yourself: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5ENNoOXIMMQRuoMzSsF2lj?si=c220993f30d845b8

In which we discuss AI in debate

2026-03-30T12:23:00.004-04:00

And the CFL Middle School tournament is in the books.

Everything went quite well on the debate side (and, I gather, the speech side). I had fears going in about having one pool of judges for both LD and PF, but to be honest, these judges, 95% of them parents, showed up where they were supposed to time after time, and did the job without a peep, and there we were. We asked them to acknowledge ballots and, lo and behold, none of them were too cool to do it. A few asked to be isolated in either LD or PF, and we obliged, and I have definitely suggested separate pools next time. What we’ll probably do is still use one event but allow people to prefer one or the other event if they are so inclined, as long as their particular obligation is covered. That’s easy enough in tabroom using pools.

The only issue that came up, albeit peripherally, is the use of AI in debate. The general position of the various major bodies like the CFL is that it is a tool to be used, personal opinions about it notwithstanding, and so it’s okay, but it cannot be used as a source. That is, your evidence can’t be “Claude says 95% of dentists who chew cud recommend cud for their patients who chew cud” but otherwise, well, who knows?

And that, I think, is a problem.

Admittedly, use of AI in schools is an issue that I do not confront firsthand. I am not teaching a class where most of the students, instead of reading A Tale of Two Cities, or even watching the movie of A Tale of Two Cities, or even reading the bloody Cliff Notes of A Tale of Two Cities, tell Claude to write them a report on A Tale of Two Cities and hand it in as their own work. Given that this is still early days for AI, it is not hard to recognize AI writing when you see it. Better still, there is now software that can make the determination for you. As AI becomes better at it, on the other side AI detectors will also become better at it, so I don’t think we’ll be totally at a loss in the long run. Still, this is dramatically early days. We can have all sorts of opinions on what the future will be like, but the wise person keeps their betting money in their pocket. God only knows, and even that may be giving the deity the benefit of the doubt.

I see AI in debate at the moment as a perfectly decent research tool, which I think is where CFL or NSDA is coming from. I remember coaching in the 90s, and telling students when a new topic was released that one good idea for understanding it would be to find opinion pieces by experts and extrapolate ideas from their writings. I suggested searching the Op-Eds in The NY Times. Go out and find what the best minds are thinking on both sides and use their ideas as your starting point for your cases. I would probably say the same thing today, except that instead of spending hours using Ask Jeeves to implement their searches, they would spend two minutes asking Claude to do the job. And a decent job would be done in those two minutes. This is using AI to kickstart your initial research. Using AI as a research tool isn’t a hell of a lot different from using Google as a research tool. When I debated in the 1960s, we used The Reader’s Guide to Periodical Literature as our initial research tool. Same idea, different means.

One thing I don’t see as a good idea is asking AI to write a case. In fact, I would ban this on my team. I see debate as an educational process, and part of that education is learning to write, to frame arguments. Can AI do this? Probably. Should AI do this? Probably not. If students come out of 4 years of high school debate as sharp writers able to effectively get ideas down on paper, they’ve learned an unimpeachable lifeskill. If they come out able to get Claude to do it? Maybe a useful enough skill, but it’s the difference between the lightning and the lightning bug, to paraphrase Mark Twain. Still, I might want to learn to get Claude to work with me on outlining, say, or maybe there’s other useful aspects of AI that wouldn’t detract from a student’s acquisition of otherwise important skills. That all is on the table at the moment.

There’s plenty of play on this. I could have a case from somewhere, and I could ask Claude to evaluate that case and to suggest rebuttals. This is a step further down the line and needs a steady hand on the human tiller, but I can see it being useful enough. But here is where we get into the dicey area of AI in debate. I am in the middle of a round. An opponent brings up an argument. Can I ask AI, during the round, to provide me a rebuttal for that argument?

We do allow students to look something up on the internet during a round. We do not allow students to go online to consult with coaches or teammates or anyone else during a round. In this situation, AI is a virtual assistant. Should we allow students to employ virtual assistants during a round? I would say a categorical no. We do allow them to work with coaches and teammates at all other times, and I’m happy to allow them to likewise work with virtual assistants at all other times, but not during rounds.

Since as of yet we have not determined the best use of AI in education to begin with, being on the conservative side here is probably for the best. So, yes, let’s use AI. More to the point, let’s figure out how best to use it. But during a debate round? I don’t think so. Debate rounds are for students to learn to think on their own two feet, not on Claude’s two feet.

In which we dress up, listen up, watch a season, and crack a whip

2026-03-27T13:08:00.002-04:00

[I don't think this ever got published, so...]

Art: The Met Gala will be on the first Friday of May. Our invitation (which, to be honest, has yet to arrive) specifies a dress code for guests “to express their own relationship to fashion as an embodied art form and celebrate the countless depictions of the dressed body throughout art history.” As soon as we find a famous painting of someone in jeans, tee shirt, and flannel over-shirt (and our invitation finally arrives) we’ll be ready to RSVP as a “You Betcha.”

To tell you the truth, the ensuing spring fashion exhibition looks interesting: “Costume Art” pairing a couple of hundred artworks with items from the Costume Institute. A while ago there was an exhibit at the Met pairing famous paintings with the actual clothes in the painting, including the Manet portrait of Morisot below. More of this? I’m game. It makes things you thought of as ethereal as quite tangible. See that dress? It’s the real thing. That very same thing. Presumably the exhibition will be in the new fashion gallery on the main floor, the one that has thrust the gift shop into the third stall from the left of the men’s room.

Music (audit division): Speaking of high fashion, those doyens of haute couture The Grateful Dead came up in my audit cue with “Anthem of the Sun,” their second album. Most of it is noodling with occasional stop-offs at recognizable songs. At the time it introduced the uniqueness of the Dead for those of us who didn’t live in San Francisco. It was enjoyable despite its occasional sidestepping into dissonant noise (deliberately, I’ll point out). It was also hard to tell where one song ended and the next one began, except when you had to get up and turn the record over. It’s still enjoyable, albeit as much for its nostalgic value as anything else. It was certainly a step up from their wishy-washy first, eponymous album, but it wouldn’t be until their third album, “Axomoxoa,” where they learned to put together tracks that were both intact songs and Dead music. It’s been said that when all is said and done, the Dead were for live consumption only. Sadly, the one time I saw them, they sorta sucked, which is always a possibility with a troupe of ad-libbers. Sometimes musicians are on, sometimes they’re off. At least a record captures them theoretically at their editable, let’s do another take, best. The joys of live music far outweigh the negatives, though, as most big name live performers are polished pros, and we still do live concerts half a dozen times or so a year: not a record-breaking amount, but enough that, every now and then, you’re in the room when somebody gets off a good one.

TV: I finished season 2 of “Fallout,” which has to be one of the nuttiest shows on television. Gory, funny, thought-provoking, well-acted, gorgeously produced—what more could you ask for, if you like dystopian SF? I await season 3 with bated breath.

Gaming: For the record, I probably got through about two thirds of “Indiana Jones and the Great Circle.” It’s a good game, don’t get me wrong, but after a while, as with most games, I got sort of tired of it. There’s only so much originality a game can offer before it starts being more of the same. I don’t finish most games I’ve started, with a few exceptions. I finished both Kal Kestis Star Wars games, for instance. The narratives kept pulling me through. And there have been others. But I don’t regret not finishing anything I’ve spent many dozens of enjoyable hours with, such as “Great Circle.” I’m far from an avid gamer, but I consider that the hours I spend / With a controller in my hand are golden / Help you cultivate horse sense / And a cool hеad and a keen eye…

A pourri of pot

2026-03-27T11:13:00.000-04:00

Some updates on this and that while waiting to work the CFL MS tournament.

TV: Finished the Apple TV series “Down Cemetery Road.” It’s based on a book by Slow Horses author Mick Herron, and it shares that show’s nuttily interesting characterizations. In this one, it’s the bad guys that take the cake, namely Adeel Akhtar, Darren Boyd, and especially Fehinti Balogun, but the two leads, Emma Thompson and Ruth Wilson, are perfect as well. In all, very likable.

Movies: “Project Hail Mary” has been garnering mostly rave reviews, and it is unquestionably a fun couple of hours at the movies. I had heard that there were marked differences from the book (which I loved), but aside from the fact that movies are different from books, that’s not at all an issue. This is a fun movie, and on top of that, it’s family-friendly. Definitely worth seeing on the big screen.

Music (audit division): Catching up on a lot of albums…

Sheryl Crow, “Evolution”—Crow is always reliable for some solid rock tracks, and this recent album is no exception.

The Millennium—Wikipedia pegs this as sunshine pop. Yep. In one ear and out the other.

Sagitarius—Also sort of sunshiney, but much higher quality. I think that I would have liked this album back in 1967.

Joe South, “Don’t it Make You Want to Go Home”—1968 Country stuff from the mind behind “The Purple People Eater Meets the Witch Doctor.” Perfectly good if you want 1968 country stuff.

McGough & McGear—A comedy album, British music hall stuff, in the wake of Bonzo Dog from Paul McCartney’s brother. This is why McGear is forever known as Paul McCartney’s brother.

Eire Apparent—Directed by listening to "500 Songs" on Jimi Hendrix, this album was produced by Hendrix. That’s its claim to fame, and it does not otherwise stand out. The cover art is emblematic, in any case: these guys look like a 60s rock band, say what you will about them.

Soft Machine—Frankly, more jazz than rock. So if you’re a jazz rock enthusiast, as good a place to start as any. Mostly, I’m not, so I won't be starting.

Fat Mattress—Still on that Hendrix riff, this band was started by Hendrix bassist Noel Redding. Redding wanted to be Traffic when he grew up, and Chris Wood is even tootling up a storm on one of the tracks, but nothing here really breaks through, and the group did not last very long.

Delbert McClinton and Glen Clark, “Blind, Crippled and Crazy”—I have no idea who Glen Clark is, and I will track down his other music. Like virtually every other Delbert McClinton album (and there’s a million of them), this one has plenty of straight-ahead rock that I immediately threw into my main playlist.

Santana, “Zebop!”—Another artist with a million albums, all of them with good stuff on them. Santana is one of the most reliable players to emerge from the 60s, from his first album to his latest. If you don’t consider him one of the top rock guitarists of all time, why are you reading this blog?

In which we build you up, buttercup

2026-03-25T10:05:00.003-04:00

Music:

I was born into AM radio. The first time I heard Elvis sing “Hound Dog” was on the radio in 1956, driving in our new turquoise Chevy BelAir. Cars all had radios, and they were all AM radios. That’s all there was. The hits they played on the radio were available for home play on 45s. Then in the mid-60s or so, FM radio came along, with the mandated need to play something other than what the AM stations were playing. Album-oriented rock was born, the kind of music available for home play on 33s. Cars started coming with FM radios, too, but in the late 60s, which is ground zero for a lot of what has become known as classic rock, it was still usually AM on the car radio and FM on the home radio.

This meant there was a dichotomy in the listening of the average baby boomer. Maybe as often as not you listened to AM and FM in equal measure when it came to the radio, depending on where you were listening. There were certainly still plenty of good singles, but you probably spent your money on albums. Car radios had buttons with preset stations, and you would bounce around from station to station to find a good song amongst: 1) the ads, and 2) the tripe. I have always wondered who, in 1967, made the single of Frank and Nancy’s “Something Stupid” a number one seller. I mean, who bought that single 45 rpm recording? No one I knew. (I’ve read somewhere that it was Frank’s biggest hit. Oy!) Anyhow, a million years later, the boomers have two separate tracks in their brain. One is the AM music they listened to, and the other is the AOR music they listened to. There is occasional overlap—e.g., the Stones and the Beatles—but mostly they’re separate, and they sound different. I don’t think of “Strangers in the Night” as a Sinatra song, as loosely connected to my collection of his great 50s albums. I think of it as an AM radio song that I couldn’t press the button fast enough to hear something—anything—else. Listening to the Turtles recently started me thinking about this: they were an AM band in spades. That doesn’t mean I don’t love some of their songs, not because of nostalgia but because I think they’re really good songs. It just means that I would hear them only on the AM radio. I never once bought one of their albums. I don’t know anyone who did.

It’s hard explaining the AM/AOR dichotomy to people born after the boomers. If you came to music consciousness in the disco era, if one of your primary music sources was MTV, or if you were plugged into rap culture… None of that seems to play across the same canvas. Perhaps “Build Me Up Buttercup” encapsulates the problem perfectly. I have a younger friend who thinks it’s a great song. More to the point, he thinks that I think it’s a great song. Its “greatness” may be arguable—feh!—but its position as an AM and not an AOR song is unquestionable. And, I guess, one man’s cornball is another man’s greatest hit. (I do rather like Baby Now That I’ve Found You” by the way, so I'm not totally anti-Foundations. What can I say?)

I do have an oldies playlist. If I had to define it, I would say it’s songs I originally heard primarily on the radio. AM radio. Way back when. It explains itself through listening better than I can explain it on paper.

In which we flip for sides

2026-03-24T09:12:00.002-04:00

Debate: Catholic Charlie threw at me yesterday that I am giving opening remarks to the judges this coming weekend. Oh joy. Oh rapture. Given that these are mostly parents of Middle School kids, with online debate experience I can only imagine, the more I think about it the more I drip with excitement. I mean, experienced people in the High School arena who know theoretically what they are doing stumble about at virtual tournaments, and I have no idea if these MS judges know, even theoretically, what virtual is all about. To forestall the worst tech problems, I will be advising them to test their setups in advance at the NSDA site. The last thing I want to do Friday is try to get round one started with a whole army of MS parents who can’t link their devices to tabroom breathing down my neck. Holy Theophilus Moly!

One interesting point. Lately at our local events we’ve set up PF, for which we rule CFL-style that there is no flip, to have Pro going first in rounds one and two, and Con going first in rounds three and four. The stated purpose of these events is educational. In a normal—if you want to call it that—PF event, a team could flip Pro and go first in every round. We’ve seen it happen. And it means that they get experience doing exactly one thing all tournament. Out approach forces the issue of putting students through their paces on both sides of the resolution, and at both positions at the starting gate. We feel this better educates them, even so far as training them for events where the flip can put them anywhere. With our training, they’ve already been everywhere, and they have experience handling it.

So I suggested this for the MS CFL, not giving it much thought, simply out of habit. Word came down from on high (the Pope is very involved in NCFL business) just to have no flip and pro always going first. I can’t say I have strong arguments either way for this tournament, since this is really a competitive-first event that is only educational by inference. But it does raise the age-old (well, couple of decades old) question of how we do PF. I’m not quite sure, but I think the endless flip came about in the origin story as an attempt to simply differentiate PF from the other debates, and to keep it, for lack of a better word, honest. NSDA adapted it straight away. The CFL, on the other hand, didn’t think it was a great idea, and they didn’t adapt it (except, curiously, for the fifth round of Nationals, but only for side and not position). I gather that there are regular plaintive cries across the land at NSDA meetings to drop it, with regular plaintive cries back of Treason! and Kill the Beast!!! I do personally prefer the idea that people could debate not merely both sides of a resolution but both in the first and second position, given equal time frames for all the speeches. Why not? In the end, what we get at least around here is everyone doing it almost every which way. National $ircuit events tend to go NSDA rules, believing that the watchful eye of the TOC Advisory committee is ready to pounce if they vary from the orthodoxy even slightly. And regional and local events as often as not go CFL style thinking that it is more educational, which it probably is, but where is the point where a competition realistically prioritizes competition over education? Touchy stuff. For anyone in an academic situation to claim that what they are doing is educational and, by default, what you are doing is NOT educational, is pretty dangerous territory, but that is what people do who claim that they are doing it right and you are doing it wrong. Mostly we're just doing it differently, with equally good intentions. Is there a best way? Ten years from now, if we're only doing it one way, that question will have answered itself. Ditto if we're not doing it only one way. If the end result remains, in everyone's mind, that students are being educated beyond the classroom, that is all that really matters.