There are a million stories in the Naked City, particularly during the All-Star Game festivities. This is one of them:
One of Alan’s colleagues, a working man of no great pull or clout, bought a password on eBay that promised to let him hack into the All-Star Game ticket database. As promised, the password unlocked the gates of heaven, and he was able to buy four seats for both the big game and the Home Run Derby at face value — considerable, but still face value. He was so nervous/incredulous that this caper apparently worked that he immediately ran down to the ticket office to pick them up.
“Wow!” the seller exclaimed. “These are great seats!”
They were great seats. He was in Jack Nicholson Country, only a popcorn throw away from…how about Bud Selig? Yes, the commissioner of baseball. Anyone else? Yes. George Will, self-appointed poet laureate of this game we call baseball. Hmm, impressive. Anyone else? Jon Lovitz, and “some Red Wings guy whose name I forget,” Alan said. “He said it was ‘the single most incredible sports experience of my life.” Well, I hope so.
Hey, at least he PAID for them. You think George Will didn’t get comped? Grow up.
Oh, and how much did he pay for the password? Four dollars. There are still nickel bargains left in these United States.
I didn’t go to any All-Star festivities this weekend. I went to the pool with Kate on Monday and… I cannot tell a lie. I ogled the lifeguards. To make it seem more like intellectual wool-gathering and less like, well, ogling, I considered how lifeguards can wear so little clothing and still wear it well. The look this summer is to take the standard-issue shorts, which would normally sit at one’s natural waist, and roll them down. Some very brave (and very slim) girls roll them down so far that the legholes of their suits rise above, and that is, well, a very bold look. The guys roll them down until you can see that oh-so-clever V where there hottus abdominus muscles point down to where the action is, and, and…
I’m no tadpoler! I’m just enjoying summer, that’s all.
I mention all this because I had one of those hop-click-jump experiences today, and wound up on one of those religious sites, this one by a woman who advocates “modesty” in apparel. A quick surf through and a recollection of Psych 101 suggests her real motive — insecurity over her fading beauty plus hostility toward the younger and prettier and blah blah blah and before long you’ve come up with an elaborate belief system that says women are happier when they’re covered neck to ankles in clothing that values their true worth as women and so on and so forth.
Yes, it made me think of burkas and chadors. I mean: Duh.
Oh, I give up. I just know I’m tickled when I read sales copy that starts with: Around 1901, swim wear was modest and stylish. ..
Show me a woman who complains she can’t find modest clothing and I’ll show you a) a whiner; and b) the last woman in America who doesn’t get the Land’s End catalog.