Fake Estate

Today's Report comes as a result of a story run yesterday by The Daily Beast:  F. Scott Fitzgerald's Baltimore home is for sale.  The 113 year old home sounds quite nice, but as the newsblurb says, it's not exactly the West Egg mansion of Jay Gatsby.  Even still, the Beast links to a list of Nine Illustrious Houses in Fiction, which includes Gatsby's mansion.  Interestingly, Gatsby's Mansion, incorrectly referred to as "West Egg" on the list, is the only one of the nine houses that doesn't have a formal name.  Pemberely, Brideshead, Tara... All these illustrious residences come with similarly illustrious names.  So what's going on there?  When did we stop naming our houses?
 
The Internet suggests that doing so is a distinctly British custom, as a quick search for the practice of doing so provides information on official methods of naming and this entertaining history of/guide for naming.  Where are the names of American homes?  Where are our Skyfalls and Manderlays?  Let's bring this practice back!  The question becomes, how do we pick the name?  Some sort of factor of the environment?  Mine could be Creaking Tree.  A combination of the names of its residents?  I'll check and see what my housemates think of Marshmolie. (Rhymes with Molly, not guacamole.)  Can we just name it Winterfell?
 
But: Let's circle back to literature for a moment.  Is it a function of the Britishness of naming houses that so many of literature's famous houses are British?  Consider the list above:  Six of the nine listings are from British literature.  Is it just because named houses are easier to reference?  Or is there a dearth of houses in American literature?  When I think about what houses were missing from the list, my mind goes straight from house to Holmes, and wonders about 221B Baker Street.  Then to Bag End.  Then, even though I haven't read it, on to Bleak House.
 
When I try to think of houses in American literature, I have much less success.  The first image my mind produces is the completely uninhabitable floating house the Huck and Jim find upon in the river.  When I finally arrive at an actual house, I think of Mark Z Danielewski's House of Leaves, but here the home is shifting and changing and impossible, bigger on the inside than it is on the outside.  The residences that I think of in American literature are of a more temporary nature:  The Overlook Hotel, the mental institution of Nurse Ratched, the Ennet House Drug and Alcohol Recovery House (sic)... Is it something about the nature of mobility and change that characterize American literature?  Is it because we name institutions and not houses?  Or is it because I'm just failing to think of any good examples, when really there are a whole bunch out there?
 
Readers, never before have I been so curious about what you have to say.  What would you name your house?  What should I name my house?  And where are the houses of American literature?

I promise something less academic and rambling tomorrow, but til then I'm thinking about my house (in the middle of my street).

Thanks Be to St. Isidore of Seville

Look at that, with Halloween past and the Great Pumpkin returned to... wherever it is he goes (I like to picture a Holiday Inn with the Easter Bunny, Santa, and friends) the banner is back to normal.  Following all sorts of positive feedback about the banner editing fun, you can expect some special edition banners in the future.  Perhaps as early as next Tuesday...
Hope you all had a happy Halloween with more treats than tricks and whatnot.  I practiced what I spent a week preaching, giving out full size candy bars, watching It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown, and closing off the night by reading The Fifty Year Sword.  But now the holiday is over and where are we now?  November!  Why, only just next month it will be December!  But let's not get ahead of ourselves.
 
November 1, as you might remember from the history of Halloween links, is All Saints' Day.  Of course we're celebrating ALL Saints, but I want to give a particular report shout-out to St. Isidore of Seville, patron saint of the Internet.  I'm assuming he was named thus for his effort in his lifetime to compile a summa of all universal knowledge.  Though perhaps he was secretly known for a vast collection of cat icons... What a strange concept, though, to be named patron saint of something he never got to use.  He's not the only strange saint out there, though... It' s a pity praying to Saint Polycarp of Smyrna wasn't an option on The Oregon Trail.
 
November also kicks off two big month-long events.  First, there's "No-Shave-November," which has (I believe recently) also become known as "Movember,"  though the latter is more specific to hair-growth above the upper lip.  Movember is actually a really awesome event raising money for prostate and testicular cancer initiatives through pledges.  I would certainly encourage anyone who doesn't need to maintain a sense of professionalism in their workplace to consider participating.  What've you got to lose?  And besides, it could set you off on the path to being a CHAMPION!  At the very least, let me know and I will tell the readership that some of you are participating.  And those that aren't can still share their favorite beards...
 
The other big event is a bit less passive in nature.  November is also recognized as National Novel Writing Month, or "NaNoWriMo" for clumsy/short.  Over the course of one month, participants work to draft a copy of a 50,000 word novel by meeting daily wordcount goals.  It is a bold endeavor, and one in which I will not be participating.  I do know that one (maybe two) current readers have participated in the past, though, and perhaps some of you are considering going for it this year.  If so, here are some helpful tips.  I'm particularly keen on the negative and positive reinforcement motivators in 2011's #24 and 2012's #20.  Those who don't plan on writing a novel (most of us, I'm sure) and even those who don't particularly care for reading novels (I encourage you to try one...) can certainly get behind the tip in 2011's #25.  I would certainly love to raise a glass with Chandler, Fitzgerald, or James Gould Cozzens right now... And I'd certainly try what Tennessee Williams is having at least once.  Now that I've boarded this train of thought... Five hours til Happy Hour!
 
Chew on a Popsicle today, it's Toni Collette's birthday!

Halloweek Day 5 - All Hallow's Report

It's here!  The day we've been waiting for all Halloweek!  The day we get to see what the Great Pumpkin brought the Report.  Gifts?!  Candy?!  Are we the most faithful pumpkin patch, or -- AUGH!  Wait!  That's not the Great Pumpkin!  We've been tricked!  We waited all week and all we got was a stupid beagle!  Drats!  Well, there's always next year...

For now, I'll try to make it up to you with a ton of Halloween links! Let's celebrate the day with some scary stories, music, and movies...

Stories 
While I hope by now all readers affected by Hurricane Sandy have had their power restored, those living by candlelight have the perfect atmosphere for reading a few scary stories.  You could choose to go the classic route, with a story by Poe.  I would recommend "The Tell-Tale Heart" or, my all-time favorite, "The Cask of Amontillado."  You could plunge into some 90s elementary school nostalgia and check out a copy of Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark, though just the illustrations are enough to give you nightmares for all of November.  For more modern, longer reads, I recommend checking out Mark Z. Danielewski's newest book, The Fifty Year Sword or, longer yet, the haunting and incredible House of Leaves.  Or for a free read, check out these free and classic downloads compiled by GalleyCat for Neil Gaiman's brilliant "All Hallow's Read."  But really, you can't go wrong with just making up some spooky stories of your own.  Just remember to start them off with "Submitted for the approval of the Midnight Society..."

Music
 Sure, radio stations and department stores are already playing Christmas music.  But that doesn't mean we can't celebrate the Pumpkin Carols and haunting tunes of this holiday first.  Problem is... There aren't too many.  Sure we can do the Mash and Thriller.  And a few movie tunes work to remind us Who We Gonna Call, since This Is Halloween.  These lack something of the classic holiday feel that Christmas Carols have, even when sung by Bing Crosby.  (Who knew he had a Halloween song?!)  My favorite, though?  The modern 30 Rock classic, Werewolf Bar Mitzvah!
 
Movies 
What this holiday lacks in music it makes up for in movies.  You can get away with any horror movie and justify it, but I think there should be a bit more specificity.  It doesn't exactly make sense to justify watching a Friday the 13th film because it's Wednesday the 31st...  Any of the many Universal Monster movies are solid choices, and even offer some non-scary options for the 'fraidy cats out there.  If the monster connection isn't substantial enough for you, though, you can get Halloween-specific.  We've already called out Nightmare Before Christmas above, but what about other Disney classics like Halloweentown and Hocus Pocus.  For those looking for something a little more mature, I recommend Trick 'r Treat.  It's an excellent blend of horror and comedy (Trick AND Treat!) that has all the making of a tragically overlooked modern classic.

And that's a wrap for the Report's coverage of Halloweek.  Too bad we got tricked by that stupid beagle.  But keep the faith and maybe next year we'll prove worthy of a visit from the Great Pumpkin himself!

Tomorrow we'll return to classic reporting...  I've got a whole lot of great non-Halloween materials that we've missed over the past week.

Til then, Happy Haunting!

Travel By Balloon!

Originally, I had planned for today to involve a movie poster follow-up to yesterday's book cover bonanza.  However, webcomic xkcd intervened with a piece of elaborate brilliance that has detoured the original plans.  xkcd's most recent entry initially appears to simply be one of the comic's more sad, reflective pieces, presenting a big, sad, wonderful world. It's only when you follow the piece's title and mouse-over suggestion that you get a sense for how big the world that the balloonist refers to really is.  The comic is some sort of TARDIS/House of Leaves madness, featuring a panel bigger on the inside than it is on the outside.  Much bigger.  Estimated to be 14 feet bigger.  And while I encourage you to click and drag your way around the world at the original site, I acknowledge that we all have things to accomplish today.  So, consider saving time with this zoomable version of the piece.  Or, if you really want to see what's cool, but really don't want to click around, Mashable has put together a slideshow of the comic's highlights.  The pop-culture references are great, particularly the Pokemon and Oregon Trail shoutouts.  My favorite parts, though, are the whale and the tire swing.
 
Not all balloons are ideal for travel, though.  Some are dangerous and demonic.  Presented without further comment, Don Hertzfeldt's animated short film Billy's Balloon.
Spend some time today considering all the different sounds that result when two "o's" are next to each other.  It's Moon Bloodgood's birthday!

I wonder where I'll float next...

By Its Cover

Ahoy, and happy Talk Like A Pirate Day!

In today's Report we venture away from the aww-inspiring world of cute animals to tackle more literary concerns.  Don't worry, though, we're not going to get too deep into books here.  In fact, we won't go any further than the cover.

First up, an entertaining post on a blog run for and by parents (not sure how I ended up there...) features a slideshow in which a mother shares book covers with her six-year-old daughter.  The six-year-old then offers her summary of the contents that the book must contain based on the cover and title.  Some of the quotes read true to the contents in a vague and poetic way.  Gatsby is, indeed, "good and evil and he's trying to get rid of the ghosts."  "It doesn't really have a story" rings true for Catcher.    Others miss the mark entirely.  But how awesome would a prospecting Jane Eyre be?  And "a blob of purple that lives in [a] house"?  Please don't read One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest to your "kiddies."  I'm also hoping the mother in question corrected her daughter's comment, "I would not read a book about just a tree."
 
It should come as no surprise to readers that book covers hold such an influence on opinion.  If they didn't, where would we get our overused cliché?  Perhaps no one knows this quite as well as cover designer (and novelist) Chip Kidd, seen here giving a humorous TED talk about book cover design.  Kidd is yet another name you may not recognize whose work you definitely know.  (Covers for Jurassic Park, The Road, 1Q84...)  And yet he actually downplays the cliché, having said: "I'm very much against the idea that the cover will sell the book. Marketing departments of publishing houses tend to latch onto this concept and they can't let go. But it's about whether the book itself really connects with the public, and the cover is only a small part of that."  And in a world of online book buying and tiny-covered e-books, he may be onto something.  But I still love my McSweeney's editions of books for the brilliant visual and tactile design of the physical books themselves.
 
Along with talking like pirates, we wish a happy birthday to Jimmy Fallon today.  No doubt whatever song we sing to wish him a happy birthday will be parodied by him shortly thereafter.

ReKindling the Readership

I mentioned and linked at length yesterday to Michael Chabon's work, which I have just spent the summer reading.  I am proud to own copies of all his books, many of them signed by the author, whom I have met twice and will see several more times on his book tour this fall for Telegraph Avenue, but whom I am not stalking, contrary to what some people may say.  Of course, I read all of these books in their physical form, rather than on a Kindle or iPad (which I do not own, but would be open to receiving as a gift).  A special preview of Telegraph Avenue, however, nearly led me to purchase the book in that format, as a special edition of the book exists with accompanying audio tracks, images, videos, and so on.  However, thanks to the thoughtful gift of a friend, I do not have to make this decision, and a beautiful copy of the book is sitting all shiny nearby as I write this.  Which is good, because now when Chabon signs it later this month, I don't have to worry about rendering it useless.  (Seriously, GoogleImages? Nothing for this? Has no one's toddler written on their Kindle screen?)
 
But it got me thinking... When is a book no longer a book?  I recently discussed the flexibility of novels with a friend, wondering if there was a difference anymore between a collection of interwoven short stories and a novel.  Faulkner's Go Down, Moses seems to straddle the line.  But I don't just mean novels, I mean books in general.  When we can click and watch a movie, listen to a song, hear a sample from the audiobook... Are we still experiencing books?  It's an interesting transition, from the written page to the written retina-display touch-screen with special interactive features.
 
Even more interesting, though, are the two transitions from e-book to print that I found today.  The first is a print-on-demand art book, which collects 56 images of broken kindle screens and reproduces them in print.  While certainly cheaper than purchasing and breaking 56 original Kindles, I'm confused as to why anyone would buy this.  It calls to mind the title of another print book sitting on my couch right now... But Is It Art?  Perhaps the knowing smile and partial face of Agatha Christie knows the answer to that mystery...
More impressive, I think, is the project that aims to explain the modern e-book to a member of the analog past.  It's the 19th-Century Kindle for Charles Dickens!  Normally, I would be opposed to someone gutting a book, but this is so freaking cool.  And it created a bunch more little books to make up for taking apart old ones.  Though I have to imagine those little ones are abridged.
 
As an exciting piece of news today, the trailer for this November's film Lincoln premieres later today.  While this is not the movie I'm most looking forward to this Fall (Looper and Cloud Atlas and The Master are fighting for top billing there), I'm intrigued by the trailer, if only to see the great double-named Daniel Day-Lewis transform into another amazing role.  You can't see the preview until 7:00 tonight, but there is some leaked footage of Day-Lewis here.  Okay... Maybe not.  But I wouldn't be surprised to hear that Mr. Method-Actor spent months of preparation actually installed in Disney's Hall of Presidents, replacing the existing audio-animatronic.
 
Wikipedia tells me it's International Chocolate Day.  Act accordingly.

What We Missed

Remember the Report?  Or did you open your inbox yesterday evening and go, "Hello, what's this? Junk mail?"  We're back!  And unlike that July 31 claim that the "Report Rises," when we lasted shorter than Bane without his mask (Maybe? What would have happened there? It would have been extremely painful, I guess) this time we're back for the long haul.

What changed?  Well, in the first place, things really picked up at work, so I had to freeze production rather than rather than reduce quality.  Things are still busy at work, but I'm able to bring things back now, because this weekend, I completed my two major summer projects.  (Both in the same 24 hours.)  First, I completed my reading of all of Michael Chabon's published books.  (Eventually I'll tackle the uncollected stuff, too.)  3601 pages later, that's done, and I'm now reading his newest novel, Telegraph Avenue, albeit at a casual, leisurely pace.  I also completed the script for my children's theater play, "To the Moon," a science-fiction adventure set in 1962, featuring a circus, space pirates, and a Space Race.  For NH readers, there will be reminders forthcoming about the show's October premiere.
 
So, with those projects out of the way, I now plan on preparing the Morning Reports the night before they go out.  (It's sort of like a print report in that regard.)  This way I can keep the quality high in both my Report and my work.  But now, to business.  Specifically the business of considering what could have been.
 
It's frustrating to look back on all the time-appropriate internet findings that I've missed the window of distribution on.  No doubt you saw many of them yourselves.  But let us take this Report to focus on the Reports that Never Were:

The Olympics

How could I have missed these?  I could have offered reflections on the pomp and absurdity of the opening and closing ceremonies.  Discussed my awe at the gymnasts... Particularly at the fact that when the cameras zoom out, you remember all of a sudden that they are so very tiny.  And I would no doubt have complained about the fact that I can't link you to video without NBC kindly requesting that I never report again.  And imagine the number of time-delayed broadcast jokes I could have made about late reports.  We would have seen it in gifs discussed by number (ohmygosh #3 still).  And we would have collectively made a significant increase in the borderline NSFW links to Tom Daley.  But now the Olympics have passed, I missed my opportunity, and I can imagine the look on all your faces.

The Political Conventions

You may recall that I preface all political discussions with a notice on how I try to avoid politics on the Report, but certain items here could not have been avoided.  Well, no, really just one.  Because I could have provided in-depth discussions of these.  And these. (Some overlap, I know.)  And this. 

But now, it is all but too late.  The ship has sailed.

And now it is after Labor Day.  Summer is over.  I know, not because of the calendar, and certainly not because Starbucks insists in pressuring me into their pie-in-a-cup-and-just-as-many-calories Pumpkin Spice Latte.  I know because of the way the world felt this morning, when I left for work in a jacket without sweating through it.  As this NPR reflection on the beginning of fall discusses, it's "just a hint of a change, a certain kind of coolness and the color of the light, but you know it as soon as it hits."  And it has hit, dear reader.  To err is human, to er is autumnal: September, October, November, cider, sweater...

 

Autumn has arrived, the Report has returned, and I, Dear Readers, could not be happier.

The Report Rises

Do not worry, dear readers, I did not abandon you.  I had merely gone into quiet, Bruce Wayne-esque isolation for a while.  But it didn't take eight years, a cat burglar, and a masked man who talks like the love-child of Sean Connery and Yoda pulling a Tommy Boy... It just took a day where things weren't so busy at the office.  And so, after a pair of busy weeks at work, the Morning Report Rises!
 
And in a Report named after an ending, it's only appropriate to discuss endings, as well.  In a now long-distant Report, we discussed great opening lines to literature.  Here, the Guardian has compiled the ten best closing lines in literature.  Of course, given numerous Gatsby references in the report and an entire report dedicated to F. Scott Fitzgerald's great novel, it's no surprise I strongly agree with their first choice.  Ulysses and Heart of Darkness, too, seem to me strong choices, and I've always had a soft-spot for Finn's lighting out for the territory, even if the greatness of that final line is tainted by the profound weakness of the book's closing chapters.  Once again, though, the commentary on the countdown calls out some other options that I believe are far stronger than those selected in the Top Ten.  This time, the final reflection on kid-lit (kudos to them for acknowledging it) draws attention to the closing line of Maurice Sendak's Where the Wild Things Are, "And it was still hot."
 
But wait!  The Guardian misquotes Mr. Sendak, saying Max's supper was "still warm."  For shame, Guardian.  For shame.  This is nearly as bad as the woman I overheard this weekend who, upon hearing a young boy in her party remark that Roald Dahl was dead, said, "Yes, that was sad, wasn't it.  Did you ever read Where the Wild Things Are?"  Oh goodness!  What is this world coming to?  Yes, Roald Dahl's death was sad... But not for the young boy casually mentioning it, as he was not yet born in 1990 when Dahl passed.  Obviously that woman has not decorated her son's room like this.  (As I intend to do.  To my son's room.  Not hers.)
 
And in traditional report form, let's include some stories about animals to make up for lost time.  First, Batmanatee and his fellow underwater patrolers, courtesy of Kevin.  No doubt the Flash Manatee (whose name, not ending in "man," offers no convenient portmanteau) travels at a blazing seven miles per hour.  Still not faster than the Manatee Justice League's arch-nemesis The Propeller.  And here are an overwhelming number of cute animals and things.  To provide commentary on them all would be overwhelming, so let me just say that the return to reporting has me as happy as the sheep in 16.
 
How appropriate given today's Report title, that it would turn out to be Christopher Nolan's birthday.  I hope he has a tattoo to remind him to celebrate... Then again, he probably has dreams within dreams about this day!

The Pale King of Pop

Things are underway a bit late here at the Report, but it's allowed us to gather some great material for you today, continuing a debate that I inadvertently spurred yesterday with my flippant comment on Sodapop.  (No, not the Outsider. The drink he's holding.)  Yes, having taken linguistics classes, I should have acknowledged that there are regional differences in the words people use for things.  In New England, things are "wicked cool."  In Rhode Island, a lot of women (and some men) have "PSDS".  People in the midwest pack things into "baygs."  In the non-existent, imaginary region that my Dad's voice is from, people drink "melk."  But few words create more regional tension than those that define.
 
Courtesy of Andrew Sullivan over at the Dish, I have found an objective investigation of the soda-pop-coke phenomenon.  Interesting method of data accumulation.  I was particularly taken with the filtering to ensure only soft drink related posts were tagged, then avoid talking of "Coke" as a brandname... Though interesting he doesn't acknowledge filtering out alternative uses of Coke... Interesting that soda is such a coastal term... How did it pass over the middle of the nation without touching down?  And seriously, what cutesy fantasy world is it where "fizzy drink" is a common expression?  Oh, New Zealand?  Okay.  That makes sense.  Freaking Hobbits.
 
The second major story today is an interesting article on the largest piece of literary intrigue in the past year.  No, Dan Brown didn't release a new book.  (If he did, chances are someone's secret child is part of some organization's plot for world domination.)  I'm referring to the Pulitzer Prize Board's decision not to award a prize for literature in 2012, in spite of what I understand were three pretty outstanding nominees.  Well, Michael Cunningham, author of The Hours and Specimen Days, and one of the three jurors for this year's decision has come out with a "letter" explaining the process.  Really, though, his piece is much more than that, as it offers a thoughtful reflection on the general awarding of prizes to works of literature.  
My favorite quote from the piece, though, is on generational subjectivity:

"What seem fatal flaws to one generation strike the next as displays of artistic courage. Who cares that Henry James went on sometimes at questionable length because he was being paid by the word? Who cares, for that matter, that Marconi merely invented radio transmission when his actual goal was to pick up the voices of the dead?"

One generation's failure can be another generation's American Top 40 with Casey Kasem!  (Screw you, Seacrest.)

And to prevent things from getting too intellectual here at the Report, here are two cute things:  First, a sweet parody of a song that's been making the Internet rounds, featuring a friend who taught many of us one of our first C-words.  (Get your mind out of the gutter, readers!)  Second, a sour encounter with a healthier snack.

You could call him Aaron Burr by the way he's dropping Hamiltons... And today, he did drop Hamilton.  It's the 208th anniversary of that famous duel.  The Wikipedia piece is an interesting read.  It appears Ham shot first.  (Though George Lucas routinely tampers with the Wiki to edit the past.)

Soda Pop-Culture

Strong support yesterday for the adorable story of Joshie, as well as for the scientific method of reporting on the Higgs Boson.  Higgs also inspired last night's (tragically non-winning) trivia team name: "Are You There, God Particle, It's Me, Margaret."  Because, y'know... The Higgs Boson wants to hear all about the Mag's Pre-Teen Problems.
 
Today we move from science to soda.  (Which, in the world of secret recipes and carbonation, is a type of science.)  John Nese shares his obsession with soda (or "pop" or "Coke" to those of you who are wrong/from other regions) in this thirteen minute interview.  Admittedly it's a bit long, but for those of you who work through it, you'll find some interesting trivia and rewarding comments.  Nese getting all worked up about energy drinks is good stuff, but what's really fun is watching his enthusiasm build as he explores his own shelves.  A kid in a candy store has seldom seemed a more appropriate parallel than here with this man in his soda shop.  As one of the few Moxie fans that I know, I was thrilled to learn that it is the only soda name found in the dictionary.  And coffee soda?! What-the-what?!
 
To pair with the refreshing bubbles of soda-pop, we've got a couple of video-game related items.  First, some video games that have been re-created as traditional Japanese art.  Not gonna lie, some of these games are dramatically improved by this art shift.  A Samurai Starfox would have been great, though I'm also a fan of the Wes Anderson take on that world of barrel-rolls.  Pokemon's apparent move to some seedy underbelly of the gambling world exposes the danger and corruption involved in what is essentially dog-fighting (just with more varied breeds).  And following Mario Kart: Double-Dash, I'm surprised Nintendo didn't try to tap transportation nostalgia and draft "Mario Kart: Rickshaw Racers."  Speaking of Mario, here's an excellent map detailing the Mario World of Nesteros.  An entertaining link for Game of Thrones fans, and one which has me searching for "Who-Plays-Who" parallels between the fantasy series and the games.  All I've got is a Peach-esque Daenerys searching all over for three Yoshis that she somehow managed to lose.

JAY! JAY! JAY!  It's Sophia Vergara's birthday and that's got me hungry... Hungry for more Hunger Gaaaaaaaames!

[One reader hoped this Report's title referred to Rob Lowe's classic performance as Sodapop Curtis in The Outsiders.  This led to my proposal of a new weekly report on Rob Lowe's activities, called "The Rob Lowedown."  I also proposed a cute toy / street gang mash-up of My Little Ponyboy.  Neither of these projects materialized.]

More Sights and Sounds of Summer

Holy Heatwave, Batman!  DC seems incredibly aware that yesterday was the Summer Solstice.  The door has closed on springtime and, unlike the revolving door transition between winter and spring, where we got tiny, alternating tastes of each season, we have been thrust into the full heat of summer the day it starts.  Just as the heat continues, so the Report continues with summer stories.  (Though the sun has now descended to its usual banner location.  But that doesn't mean it's going down, as some readers have suggested.  Though... Yes, it is too late in the day for it to be rising now...)

First up, for those of you who aren't keen on surf rock as the sound of your summer, NPR has an alternative.  They have analyzed the Billboard charts from June to August for every year since 1962, picking out the top Songs of the Summer for fifty years... Don't let the fact that the list is at the bottom of the article confuse you, though.  The link to hear the tunes is at the top of the page between the headline and the Mini Surfer.  The random order of the mix makes for some interesting results... When I was checking this out yesterday, Bill Withers' fade out encouragement to "Lean On Me" gave way to "Oh. My. God. Becky. Look at her butt..."  Oh, Baby Got Back. Classic.  And I admit, there have been times where I was wishing for a skip track offering, only to find that the only way I could avoid listening to the Macarena was to hit mute for a while.  Of course, once you've heard the Macarena, it's in your head for the rest of the day.  Sorry if the same applies for reading the word...  Biggest surprise find of the playlist:  Icona Pop's "I Love It," which is not, it turns out, some song I'd never heard of from the 80s, much as it sounds like that...

And, at risk of repeating the structure of yesterday's report almost exactly, here are some dogs who found ways other than surfing to beat the heat.  Of course, they'll all still smell like wet dog.  Except the smarties at the water fountains or the ones who got frozen treats.  Relaxed as 17 looks, I think 6 has the best strategy... Though 8 probably has the most fun and 11 has the cute toys.  Funny how different dogs react to water.  1 is in pure doggy bliss, while 7 is so clearly terrified.

Finally, if lying in a pile of ice cubes isn't your idea of cooling off, maybe hanging out in the air conditioning with a good book would suit you better.  If you're not sure what to read, and aren't taken by my less than subtle Chabon plug, maybe this flowchart will help.  With 101 to choose from, there's bound to be something good there that you've yet to read.  That said, the list is made by teach.com, meaning that there are a whole bunch of young adult aimed books on there.  Don't worry, no judgment for picking one of those... Just... Get it on Kindle so no one can tell what you're reading!

Well, ~150 songs, 20 dogs, and 101 books seems like a good place to leave things for the day.  After all, it's Go Skateboarding Day, apparently, so I should be out there on the board Ollying and Pop-Shoving-It and... Oh, who are we kidding, I'm totally just going to do this.

Dogs, Doctors, and Jews with Words

While yesterday's Report was television-based to commemorate a death, today's is a book-based birthday celebration.  My all-time favorite novelist, Michael Chabon, celebrates his 49th birthday today, so we're going to celebrate him in today's report. 

Many of you no doubt have heard me talk about him, and you've likely seen the photo of the two of us that pops-up now and then as a profile picture.  (I'm the one grinning like an idiot... Which I'm fairly certain is how I came off.)  You might even recognize him Simpson-ized, but you won't have seen him as one of People's "50 Most Beautiful People," though he was nominated, and with good reason.  (He turned the "honor" down, later saying, "To be praised for something like that is just weird. It just felt like somebody calling and saying, 'We want to put you in a magazine because the weather's so nice where you live.'")  And speaking of the weather where you live, Chabon writes some pretty great weather descriptions, captured here in fourteen skies.  If you'd rather be read to than read, though, here's Chabon reading from his most recent book, The Astonishing Secret of Awesome Man.

Chabon's novels, stories, and essays are just great, though roots in genre fiction and comic books have led some (presumably jealous) critics of his work to bemoan him as too much of a nerd.  Chabon dismisses the word as "woefully imprecise" in one of his essays, but clearly embraces what it stands for, even if he doesn't necessarily bear some of the other trademarks associated with it ("physical awkwardness, high-water trousers, loserhood, emotional retardation, etc.").  But as far as descriptors are concerned, he could do worse, especially given "nerd's" literary roots.  The word, I learned from this great list of facts you may not know, was coined by Theodor Geisel, AKA Dr. Seuss, in his book If I Ran the Zoo.  Actually, I was surprised by how much I learned from that list, especially given I've read two biographies and all of his books.  (Favorite: I Had Trouble In Getting To Solla Sollew.  Readership survey: What is yours?)

And, in an effort to maintain the Report's reputation for interesting articles, videos, and web-findings, while maintaining its original links to cuteness... I wonder what these canine readers would think of the Cat In the Hat...

Those of you who don't like reading but do like comic book movies can opt to celebrate a different birthday today.  Alfred Molina, who played Doc Ock in Spider-Man 2, is 59 today.  Throw him the idol, he'll throw you the whip!

That's all for this week; I'm out of the office tomorrow.  The Report will resume on Tuesday, following the Memorial Day holiday.  Enjoy the long weekend!

No doubt, as usual, I have exaggerated everything,

--Evan

City Skies, the Ken Burns Effect, Coffee

Welcome to the end of another work week.  Time flies, it really does.  As I walk through Georgetown's campus and find it all prepared for a graduation that is not mine, and look at my calendar to find I've been working here for exactly 10 months, that's the only conclusion I can reach.  (Another example of time flying... Started this report this morning, didn't finish til 12:45. All work and no play.)

Lots of excitement around Wednesday's report.  Two readers reflected on how much their younger selves would have loved to stumble on a real-life mystery like that in their own home.  Another was reminded of childhood adventures, though his were less hypothetical, as he reflected on trips to the Winchester Mystery House, which he describes as "the incredible product of a deranged woman who, from the time her husband died until the time she herself croaked, kept adding rooms and staircases-to-nowhere and trapdoors and reverse fireplaces and all kinds of weird stuff to the house."  I've never been, but I remember seeing it on some sort of scary homes special on the Travel Channel or something.  Looking at it now, I am reminded of the thrilling and wildly original novel House of Leaves, which centers on a house larger on the inside than it is on the outside.

One reader is actually a wealth of resources for today's report, having also provided some excellent links to city skylines.  First, he sent over an Atlantic photo series on night sky views focused around London, though including some other UK cities, as well.  I am struck first by how many Ferris wheels there are in the series, beyond just the now iconic London Eye.  Is the UK particularly rich with Ferris wheels, or do they just make neat things to photograph, I wonder.  I was also disappointed to see that a photo featuring the BT Tower in London did not make the cut.  Though not as iconic as some of London's other towers, it was right near where I lived when I studied there, and thus served as a guiding star home on many a night when the exact route to where I lived was a bit foggy...  The second link provided by this reader also features a skyline with a missing tower.  I have heard it noted of the Eiffel Tower that, while it provides the best view of Paris, photos taken from the top always miss one element of the City of Light, namely the Eiffel Tower.  Still, even without an appearance from the Tower itself, this interactive Paris panorama is a great way to look around the city.

To close things out for the week, two shorter items, both found via Andrew Sullivan's "The Dish."  First, Ken Burns reflects on storytelling.  Burns is, of course, a master of turning massive events, histories, or pastimes into interesting stories, even when footage is limited to slow pans and zooms across still photographs.  So his two cents is probably worth something.  And second, good-ish news for the coffee addicts among the readership.  The Washington Post reports on a study that argues that heavy coffee drinkers show potentially prolonged lifespans.  But even on Causal Friday, correlation is not causation, as the commenters have been quick to note.  The best comment, by far, though, is the reader who notes that, regardless of her own prolonged lifespan, those around her have a better chance of living longer when she has her coffee.  Touche, sassy reader, touche.

Hope the rest of your Friday (30) Rocks.  (It's Tina Fey's birthday!)

New Houses, New Mysteries

It seems animals should be a regular part of our Tuesday morning rotation... Lots of positive and thankful responses for the fuzzy faces to get us through that terrible day.  In fact, one response had me ready to send out a follow-up report, it was so perfect.  While it was great to see the animal moms in the Daily Beast slideshow, Victoria's Washington Post submission pays tribute to some of the adoptive mothers of the animal world.  The Rottweiler and wolf pup are so cute, and-- SQUIRREL!  Andrew, meanwhile, submitted a plug for his company's upcoming show, Animal Practice, which will definitely be one to keep an eye out for when new TV seasons begin.

While yesterday's morning was full of reporting, yesterday's evening was full of a new house.  That's right, the desk of the Morning Reporter is moving back down to T Street.  And with a new house comes new housemates.  Here's hoping they aren't as lazy as Nate's roommate Drew.  [They aren't.]  But if they are, I hope they are lazy as creatively as Drew is.  A meme-d excuse to not work out is a good excuse to not work out in my book.

And speaking of books, I'm still exploring the new house for the book that reveals clues to the house's secret codes and mysteries, like the one that the Klinsky family found in their 5th Avenue Apartment when they moved in in 2008.  Described as family-friendly DaVinci Code meets Mixed Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler, the story of this apartment is one of the pieces from the New York Times that has lingered in my memory the longest, right down to the little salamanders.  What a fun (and beautiful) apartment with so many great details.  I particularly love the simple little plane drawing that hides the scale kitchen.  Any architects and artists among the readership, be prepared for a phone call when my family buys its first house, we'll be calling you up to help design a fun mystery adventure for our children to solve.

That's all we've got for the Report today!  I'm off to be trained on the Adobe suite... So maybe future editions will include some of you guys photoshopped in with puppies or Pixar characters!  We shall see!  [Indeed future banners would indicate Adobe prowess...]

Dress up as a British nanny and sneak some cayenne pepper into your ex-wife's new boyfriend's jambalaya... It's Pierce Brosnan's 59th birthday!  (A Bond reference was too straightforward, and all of his other roles decidedly forgettable.)

Once Again, to Zelda

 I was thrilled to learn on Friday how many squirrel fans there are among our readership, and ice cream fans, as well.  (Also thrilled that no readers proposed a cross-over of squirrel ice cream.)  One reader provided a fantastic comic on Friday in response to Thursday's report on Maurice Sendak.  Seriously, thank you to all those who submit links and such.  I promise I'm trying to find ways to work them all in, but we have a sizable backlog that we're working with, too.

But today we're not digging into the backlog at all.  I spent this weekend traveling to New York and back to see the play "Gatz," an 8 hour marathon theater experience in which the entirety of F. Scott Fitzgerald's The Great Gatsby is read/performed on stage.  The experience is so much more than that, but it is hard to describe in any other way.  The concept is this:  A man enters his office, finds that his computer is not working, and also finds a copy of the novel at his desk.  He begins to read aloud, and over the next 8 hours, his office is transformed, coworkers become characters, and previously unrealized layers of the novel become apparent.  For example, Nick Carraway is an absolutely hilarious and snarky narrator.  Bet you didn't realize that in 10th grade American Lit!

The Public Theater also put together some great promotional material for the piece, including a variety of (some recognizable) actors, writers, and more reading both the opening and famous closing of the novel.  (Note: None of those talents appear in the production.)  Though maybe they should have focused more on merchandising for marketing... I would wear a Gatz shirt, much like this t-shirt.  (It makes me sad because I've never seen such - such beautiful shirts before.)  What a classic cover.  Though the re-design presented for Penguin Essentials is pretty cool, too.

Not sure if this show should be called an adaptation of the work or not, since it's presented in its original entirety.  Not like the Robert Redford film.  Or the upcoming Baz Luhrmann film.  And this (tragically auto-tuned, but) fantastic rap adaptation.  But as far as adaptations go, there really is none as unique as The Great Gatsby video game originally released for NES.  An incredible piece of work, right down to the (fake) backstory.  And be sure to check out the merchandise section of their page... Hilarious.

That's all for today... More cute animals and such to come later in the week to make up for this literature (and video game!!) heavy post.  Funny, though, that a Report about great writing should fall on George Lucas's birthday... Given his failure to grasp fundamentals of storytelling and good dialogue writing and all...

Til to-morrow, we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther.... And one fine morning---

Thou Shalt Meet, Clearing the Cuteness Backlog, and www.alden.pond

I'm thrilled to be writing two days in a row, if only because it means that I'm not stuck "in another fucking mtg." following these Ten Commandments.  Seriously, though, so many completely pointless meetings this week... I've been all about Commandment 2, while meeting coordinators and presenters seem to be tending toward 4 more and more.  And there I am, stuck coffee-coveting and doodling, knowing that I could be back at my desk producing important aviation documentation.  (People must know to beware of the linen trousers!)

Or I could be back here, continuing to develop an overwhelming backlog of adorable animal photography.  You know what?  It's been a long week, let's unload some of this.  You all deserve it.  Yesterday's Wild Things, though cute in their own way, just can't compare to good old fashioned monkey-dog bonding.  While monkeys carrying dogs and monkeys using dogs for transportation make up the majority of the pictures, the monkey-dog hugs (especially 17) and the classic "Sir, no touching the dog, please" of number 7 are my favorites.  Maybe the monkey would have more luck protecting the dog from unwanted human contact if he created a force shield around him.  One of these animals can help.  And, when he has successfully mastered the techniques of the force, that monkey will have every right to feel just as proud as these animals.  Only, he should try not to show it.  Nothing's more douchey than an animal that's all like "Do you know who I am? I'm kind of a big deal..."  Well, except maybe a human that's all like "Do you know who I am? I'm kind of a big deal."

And one final item to get you through your Thursday:  Lately, the weather when I leave for work has been a bit rainy, but when I arrive at my office, it clears for the next nine hours, until it is time for me to head home, and the clouds and rains roll in again.  So I've frequently found myself thinking, "If only there was a way for me to enjoy the great outdoors from the comfort of my desk."  Well, the good people at the National Endowment for the Arts must have heard my cry, because they are providing funding for the development of a Walden video game.  And really, is there any text more deserving of a video game?  Just imagine playing out Chapter 12 of Henry David Thoreau's classic book: "You only need sit still long enough in some attractive spot in the woods that all its inhabitants may exhibit themselves to you by turns."  Just put the controller down and watch people and creatures pass by.  A video game is the most obvious way to live through Thoreau's most famous line: "I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived."  Because hey, no pressure!  In the game environment, when you come to die, if you discover you had not lived, you don't need to worry about it; you've probably got four more lives anyway!  Depends how you did foraging for 1-Up mushrooms.

It's Mother's Day in Mexico!  Wish the madres in your life un día bueno!

Mourning Report: King of All Wild Things

In the last edition of the Report, I discussed my online music time travel adventures.  One reader used my Lady Marmalade reference to follow a train of thought about one marmalade loving Paddington Bear.  He notes, though, that Paddington's Wikipedia page does nothing to bring to mind the adorable children's book character of memory.  First, there's that creepy statue picture, then there's the description:  "Paddington is an anthropomorphised bear... from Deepest, Darkest Peru, with his old hat, battered suitcase, duffle coat."  We would be wise to follow Jon's advice:  If anything matching that description turned up in Paddington Station... Call the police immediately... See something, say something.

Today's report also focuses on a legendary figure of children's literature, as we reflect on the passing of Maurice Sendak.  Though Sendak wrote and/or illustrated over 100 books during his career, readers no doubt remember him most for the classics Where the Wild Things Are and In the Night Kitchen. Anyone familiar with my wardrobe or bookshelf will know that I am a huge fan of Where the Wild Things Are, owning three t-shirts based on the book, the book itself, and two copies of Dave Eggers' novel adaptation  (One fur covered, one not).  For today's report, I felt it would be appropriate to compile some of my favorite Sendak (or tangentially related) web items.

First, a trailer for the Spike Jonze's film adaptation.  I admit it, this is what sparked my resurgence of Sendak enthusiasm.  I also admit that I have watched that trailer more than any other movie preview ever in my life.  Furthermore, I think it might be better than the film itself, though the film has some beautiful and poignant moments that don't make the two minute cut.  Still, the wondrous visuals, the Arcade Fire soundtrack, and the "Inside All of Us" tag-line led to months of giddy anticipation.  And as long as I'm admitting things, I went to that movie alone at 11:00 AM on opening day, after having stayed up all night writing an English paper.  That's how much the trailer worked on me.  (And as long as we're doing tangential stories, Max Records, who stars as Max, is also featured in the opening of Rian Johnson's phenomenal The Brothers Bloom, an opening that can really stand as it's own short film.)

Spike Jonze wasn't the first one who saw screen potential in Sendak's famous book, though.  Disney once owned the adaptation rights to the book, but never brought it to theaters.  The idea was used, though, in some very early testing of 3D computer animation.  This 1983 test animation was spearheaded by none other than John Lasseter, now Chief Creative Officer at Pixar and Disney Animation Studios, and director of Pixar's first three films.  It is no coincidence that a writer and artist that so respects the children that are viewed has his primary audience once inspired the early work of a filmmaker whose studio does the same.

Finally, some interviews.  Of course, Stephen Colbert's highly entertaining interview in two parts is worth a view.  As is this 2004 interview with Bill Moyers.  The real great ones, though, are on NPR.  Throughout his career, Sendak had several conversations (they can hardly be called interviews, they are so comfortable) with Terry Gross, and NPR has conveniently compiled them on one remembrance page.  His reflections here are beautiful, but I advise against listening to them at work, unless you are comfortable with your coworkers seeing you cry.  (This is especially true for the most recent interview.)  If there is any quote worth pulling here, though, it is one NPR has already pulled and bolded:  "I have nothing now but praise for my life. I'm not unhappy. I cry a lot because I miss people. They die and I can't stop them. They leave me and I love them more... What I dread is the isolation... There are so many beautiful things in the world which I will have to leave when I die, but I'm ready, I'm ready, I'm ready."  I find comfort in knowing this.  We ate him up, we loved him so.  And as one reader of the report has observed, that may mean he's still alive.

And, having eaten him up, may we be like Maurice:  Creative, honest, perseverant, and respectful of children...

And may we also be like Max:  Unafraid to make mischief, courageous enough to sail off through night and day, and brave enough to tame our wild things...

And when we grow lonely and tire of the wild rumpus, may we always have a place to go where someone loves us best of all...

And when we get there, may we find our supper waiting for us... still hot.

 

Til tomorrow, reporting from the desk where the filed things are,

~Evan

Worried Animals and Time Travel

 A few of you provided responses to yesterday's Report with your quotes.  One was thrilled with the inclusion of P.G. Wodehouse, while lamenting the Guardian's failure to include Anna Karenina and Catcher In the Rye (though Catcher is mentioned in passing for its similarity to Huckleberry Finn), as well as their terrible oversight of A Tale of Two Cities.  Another interestingly turned my proposal that the rest of the book bears a heavy influence on the lasting fame of the opening line, noting that a strong opening line (and ten pages or so) can be just as crucial to the rest of the book.  If the reader or publisher can put the book down after the first few pages, it's going to have a hard time making a lasting impact...

And before you put this report down before reading the rest of it, let's get down to business.  In a rather appropriate find on my sick day, I stumbled upon these 35 Animals Who Are Kind of Worried About Me!  I must say, I'm not pleased with the Overreacting Cat who doesn't believe I was actually not feeling well...  The hedgehog in 30 is worried about how few of the opening lines I recognized myself from Wednesday's post, while 17 knows how much I've been listening to One Direction.  (Shut up, eagle, they tell me I'm beautiful!)  33, maybe I should hire you to edit the Report.  And 32, I can't promise you everything's okay, but if a dog and a cat can cuddle like that, I'm more inclined to say with some certainty that things will be.

But let's consider again the anxieties of Eagle 17.  Boy bands seem to be making a bizarre resurgence of late.  How did this happen?  I decided to do some research.  I haven't arrived at a conclusion, but I have found a great Radio Time Machine tool to help.  While the Machine allows exploration of the Billboard Top 100 all the way back to 1940, I find I'm stuck in the 80s and 90s.  As the Breakfast Club implores me not to forget about them, Deniece Williams gives the boy a hand, and Dionne Warwick tells me I can always count on her, for sure (that's what friends are for), I am suddenly jarred by Rock Me Amadeus (What the hell is that?!).  I leave the 80s for the comfort of my childhood 90s, where TLC reminds me not to go chasing waterfalls, Toni Braxton wants me to un-break her heart, and R. Kelly believes he can fly, and I find that every song reminds me either of riding in a minivan or rollerskating at Happy Wheels.  (Remember that, NH readers?!)  Trust me, this is a musical adventure while worth plugging in headphones and exploring.  You might just learn something.  (Did you know that Lady Marmalade was in the top 100 twice?! Once in 1975 and then once in 2001!)

Anyway, enjoy the musical time travel.  If you check out 1970, be sure to congratulate Will Arnett's parents on their hilarious new baby!

In the beginning there wA-Z...

Another overcast day here in Alexandria.  Curse the day that storm-bringing corgi crossed my path!  Much relieved no die-hard Nolan or Malick fans attacked yesterday's report!  Today's will be focused on sentences, but that doesn't make it any less potentially contentious.  It's a bit wordy, but how can you write about sentences without being wordy?!

The Guardian has put out a list of " The 10 best first lines in fiction," which will no doubt be the subject of much disagreement.  Of course, every such list always is.  "Where is my favorite line?! I call shenanigans!" say the commenters.  But this time, I think they're right.  These selected lines seem weak, many of them only riding on the success of the novel that follows.  Nothing earth-shattering about the opening to Ulysses, in my mind.  Pride and Prejudice is one I agree with, though the opening sentence is one of the few I read in that entire novel... But where is Lolita (light of my life, fire of my loins)?  And Peter Pan and Farenheit 451?  The American Book Review list is better.  And includes one that suggests that maybe we cannot separate the opening sentence from the rest of the novel so easily:  "A story has no beginning or end; arbitrarily one chooses that moment of experience from which to look back or from which to look ahead."

So what do we think?  Is the greatness of an opening inextricably connected to the text that follows?  And what openings do you love that these top countdowns missed?

Interestingly, one reader, without knowing the sentence-based nature of today's Report, provides a fascinating Wikipedia page that is at once entertaining and enlightening.  A pangram is a sentence containing every letter of the alphabet at least once.  You no doubt know the English "The quick brown fox jumps over a lazy dog," but there are so many other great English examples.  I think my personal favorite might be, "Public junk dwarves hug my quartz fox."  But things really get interesting after English... Remember that there are a great many other alphabets, each with their own pangrams that, when translated into English, seem often to be things of beauty reflective of the culture.  Consider the Japanese sentence that contains all kana (containing all kanji characters would be impossible):  "Awaken from dreaming to the voice of the crying bird and see the coming daylight turning the east sky-blue; shrouded in mist is a flock of ships on the open sea."  (That would make a great opening sentence, actually.)  Or the Persian example, which the submitter observes is reminiscent of their mournful poetry: "Zabih's returning after a long time made me forget a lot of my infirmities and pains which had caused a deep scar in the depth of my soft heart so many years ago." 

Of course, some are still just hilarious.  The poor Latvians dealing with the fact that, "Stupid hippies right here are freely trying to taste cellophane boa."  And Portugal describes Java's strangest zoo:  "One-eyed zebras in Java want to fax for giant ladies from New York."  Others are hilariously reflective of things we think about the country.  Poland has a pangramatic way of dealing with problems:  "Come on, drop your sadness into the depth of a bottle!"

Remember to celebrate your freedom to use accurate GPS today; exactly twelve years ago, Bill Clinton announced that it would no longer be restricted to US Military use.  And for those of you about to begin exams, remember:  "The s exy prof gives back no quiz with mild joy."

White Whales and Willy Shakespeare

Happy World Book Day!

Last Friday's multicolored menagerie was very well received, with the purple polar bear and pink squirrel receiving particular attention.  Obama riding a space corgi was also a reader favorite, and has even become an iPad background.  (Told you he was loved!)  And speaking of iPads, one reader offered some fantastic puns for the Apple product fragrance.  Anyone for some iPadfume or Macologne?  They would certainly sell better than his final suggestion of "Steve Sweat."

To transition us out of last Friday's issue and into this Monday (and there is no weekday transition more difficult), we have another story of an oddly colored animal.  Scientists have spotted an adult white orca off the coast of eastern Russia.  While the evidence of its existence is nowhere near as adorable as last week's animals, it does have a name, which is super cute.  Iceberg, though, is not the most famous white whale; that title, as the article notes, belongs to Melville's Moby Dick.

Which brings us to more news of World Book Day, scheduled today (at least partially) in recognition of William Shakespeare's birthday.  This birthday celebration, in conjunction with the upcoming London Olympics, is being used to kick-off a Global Shakespeare festival.  The centerpiece of the festival includes "Globe To Globe," a series of stagings of all 37 of Shakespeare's plays in 37 different languages, including a hip-hop staging of Othello and a British Sign Language interpretation of Love's Labour's Lost!  Theater field trip to London, anyone?

That's all for now!  Stay tuned as the week goes on for continued corgi coverage (sorry, Kevin) and some dated playground equipment.  Breaking my promise of anonymity here to call Kevin out as the leader of the anti-cute animals movement.