CALL ME SNAKE

I’ve often complained about sudoku backup–the puzzles I clip from multiple daily papers that are steadily piling up on me. But I have an even more severe backup problem–that of all the old bills I’ve tucked away in shoeboxes. Today, while taking an evening stroll, my wife came home with a paper shredder that had the words “free” written on it. I gave up with the last shredder I purchased because it was pretty pathetic. This one has got a little more juice and after 45 minutes of shredding, I’d gotten through almost all of my old bills and bank statements. Tomorrow night I’m going to deal with some other financial records and maybe, for the first time in years, have my head above water–at least so far as my confidential paper backup problem is concerned.

We all thought that competitive eating, like other athletic endeavors, was good for you. But now a new book, called “Horsemen of the Esophagus,” has come along and burst our bubble. Competitive eating has its downside, according to the author, with jaw arthritis looming as one of the major problems. Ruptured stomachs are another risk but let’s not dwell on the negatives in this otherwise fantastic sport. Can I interest anyone in 100 hot dogs? Or 50 hard-boiled eggs perchance?

This note just arrived from a friend in Paris:

Dear Steve — It may not be much, but here is the news: after 25 years, I’ve finally finished General from the Jungle. According to the notation in the front flap, I started it in Patmos in 9/82, quite likely under your influence, there is some how indecipherable note to you from me about it. Somehow I didn’t get into it, however, but lugged it home. The book made it to Paris at some point, and I started reading it again in 4/98. No go. Being a man who can’t leave tasks hanging, I took up the book again yesterday — and, damn it, read it. Actually, a very good book — although the first few chapters proved unaccountably hard to get through, but once the progress of the glorious rebels became clear, I had someone to root for. Any more reading suggestions?

Yours truly,

D

Yesterday, my wife and a friend pulled over in a parking lot to go to a Dunkin’ Donuts for the girls onboard. But they’d missed the cutoff and were in the parking lot just beyond. They could not easily drive to the Dunkin’ Donuts because there was a median strip, which meant getting there was a huge hassle. So they walked the 100 feet instead but the Dunkin’ Donuts was strictly drivethru and they refused to serve pedestrians. To get a donut, they had to get back in the car, drive nearly a mile and then sit in a line-up of cars. If you were ever wondering what’s wrong with this country, I finally have an answer: That’s what’s wrong.

It used to be that people went fishing–or at least sport fishing–to get away from it all. But on Friday I saw a man fly fishing in the Ellis River near Mount Washington while gabbing on his cell phone. I guess the bard had it right when he crooned: “The times they are a changin’…”

Just returned from a family-style road trip to the North Conway region of New Hampshire. The best T-shirt I saw (worn by a man) said: “Who are these kids? And why do they keep calling me dad?” The worst T-shirt I saw (on a seemingly innocent kid) read: “Future Republican.”

If you’ve seen one sports movie, you’ve seen ‘em all. While that’s not entirely true, the genre is formulaic in the extreme. If you change the sport and the city, a football movie like INVINCIBLE is almost identical to GOAL! THE DREAM BEGINS. That said, I still liked GOAL! THE DREAM BEGINS even though every aspect of it was entirely predictable. Call me a sucker for stupid sports movies, especially the stupid ones that are also kind of smart.

In the 1970s, when I was just out of college, a bunch of friends (for the most part) and I rented the top floor of a house from a Harvard Law professor and his family. They say you can’t go home again but last night we did, having a 30-year-reunion at the professor’s Harvard Square dwelling during which we had a chance to tour our old digs and reminisce on old times. Not all of the gang attended. One of our roommates was not invited as he was arrested on child pornography charges a decade or so ago. We always thought he was a little odd but back when we were in our early-20s, we did not fully appreciate the extent of his weirdness. That bit of nastiness aside, it was a very enjoyable and surprising evening. How many landlords do something like that? It was so much fun, in fact, that I suggested to our hosts that they make it a Father’s Day tradition. We all laughed at the idea but this was an event, despite its pleasantness, that will not be repeated.

It’s a beautiful night in Cambridge, with temperatures in the mid-60s, and the sidewalks were crowded even at midnight. I ran into a friend outside the Plough&Stars on my way back from the video store. I usually see him at this time when I’d heading back from 7-11, carrying a gallon or two of milk. Tonite I had just a single DVD and felt unencumbered, almost weightless. My friend is a wildly creative artist who’d just received license from an extremely wealthy entrepreneur to let his already fertile mind run rampant. Our conversation, as they often do, quickly got around to flying DNA and spaceships powered by solar cells. After a few minutes, I was on my way thinking that’s life in Cambridge. If we’d moved to the suburbs, as my wife has sometimes lobbied for, I wouldn’t have interludes like that. We’d probably have a bigger house but our intellectual horizons would surely be narrower.

I caught this handball reference in the badly named movie, “I Wake Up Screaming,” which despite the title was not even remotely a horror picture. In one scene, Victor Mature prepared a friend for what it’s like to be interrogated by the cops: “It’s like playing handball, only you’re the ball.”

In the 70s, while I was still a high school student, I crashed in a Harvard dormitory during an East coast college tour. Upon recounting that anecdote decades later to a friend and Harvard graduate, I said I must have been “the only guy to sleep alone on a waterbed in Harvard Yard in the 70s.” And I still stand by that statement.

It’s kind of pathetic but it took me until June 2007 to come up with my list of the 10 best movies of 2006. That’s because I didn’t get to see as many movies last year as I would have liked to and it took me an extra six months to catch up, possibly because of all the time spent playing sudoku. At this point, some would say: Why bother? But I’ve been putting together my list for a long time and could not stop if I tried. There’s too much precedent, too much history pushing me forward. So without further ado, here’s my long-awaited 10 best list for 2006:

Winter Solstice
Friends with Money
Little Miss Sunshine
The Matador
Lonesome Jim
Look Both Ways
World’s Fastest Indian
Danny Deckchair
The Queen
Half Nelson

I’m having trouble counting but am pretty sure that’s 10. Next time I’ll number them to be sure. And until next time, the balcony is closed. 

[Author's note: I know this is supposed to be a volleyball blog but at times it seems more like a handball blog and at other times more like a sudoku blog. The following post falls into the latter category.] I have worried that sudoku, which has taken over my life, has become a major time waster. But now I find it’s good for something after all. This is just in from June/July Notices of the American Mathematical Society: In an article called “Sudoku Squares and Chromatic Polynomials”, Agnes M. Herzberg and M. Ram Murty “use tools from the branch of mathematics called graph theory to systematically analyze Sudoku puzzles. They also find that analyzing Sudokus leads to some unsolved problems in graph theory.”

So do not despair sudoku addicts. Your thankless efforts might someday shed light on previously impenetrable quandaries in graph theory.

The other night, I was at a “community school” performance at my daughter’s grammar school. (Note: Does anyone use the term “grammar school” anymore?) In addition to the performance of the children (grades K-8) in music, drama, and dance, a group of senior citizens–who take evening classes at the school–performed some line dancing. I have to say, it was a depressing sight to see people of diminished physical (and possibly mental) capacity stumbling through, in halting fashion, three seemingly endless numbers. Was this a glimpse of my future a few decades hence? If so it was a sobering view to say the least.

I recently took the DVD, “The Sunshine Boys,” out from my library. I only watched a few minutes. The movie didn’t grab me & I was also busy. On the back of the DVD, there was a quote: “The best movie ever made from a Neil Simon play.” To me that says it all because from what I’ve seen, none of them are any good. Sorry Neil, no offense intended. Just tryin’ to call ‘em as I see ‘em.

I’ve been published again — in the one magazine that almost can’t turn me down: the “Class Notes” section of my college alumni magazine. Sure, it’s pathetic to brag about that. On the other hand, I hear more about my Class Notes entries than about the things I write for national (or international) magazines. Here’s the latest entry, the one I hope will promote me to legendary status among the school’s Class Notes faithful:

“Well, I passed the 50-year mark awhile back, and the signs that I am slipping are many and numerous. (The above redundancy being one.) First of all, I became a blogger <, which is a sure sign that I’ve given up any ambition of ever amounting to anything in life. Second of all, my seven-year-old daughter is already smarter than me. Third of all, my four-year-old daughter is already smarter than me. Fourth of all, I’m ending a lot of sentences in prepositions of late, which makes me wonder what my syntax is coming to. Fifth of all, I’ve taken to repeating myself a lot of late, which may owe to the fact that I passed the 50-year mark awhile back. But I think I said that already…”

(Author’s note: In the spirit of the above paragraph, I can’t help wondering: Did I post this before–perhaps when I submitted it to said alumni magazine? The answer is “quite possibly,” which would be a consequence of the age-related issue already alluded to…)

 

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This item, found on the wire services, was turned in by Marco Polo and posted by the staff at Call Me Snake:
Cambridge(AP)- A well-admired blogger out of Boston was found dead in his study this morning. ____ ____, of Cambridge, had been experimenting w/ devoting time- normally reserved for sleep- to complete sudoku puzzles published in a new local paper, sources say. But then things turned tragically wrong for this father of 2.
His death comes one day prior to the 40th anniversary of the release of the Beatles’ Sargent Pepper’s Album, though experts aren’t sure if there is a connection. Unfinished sudoku puzzles lined the table where “Snake”,
Mr __ ’s blog-name, was found. Foul play was ruled out though foul odors “are suspected”, explained police Detective Ralph Rufferson.
Visiting hours are from 2-6 AM this MONDAY, as his family will be busy tidying up unfinished paperwork.
The Funeral will be at Janeto’s Undertakers-Are-Us, in Harvard Square- Thursday at 7PM. The ceremony will be a closed-ca ption affair. Comment boxes will be located in the Visiting room. In lieu of flowers, donations will be accepted by local unemployed subway station “monitors”. Jason Smyth- staff writer

And, Snake, if you still ARE alive, please don’t disappoint us by posting a response. But we luv ya anyway!