"In trying to protect C.J., the agent gets shot." Oh, c'mon. I was close enough. I got the right dead guy, if I didn't guess the reasoning behind it. I never would have guessed the reasoning, either; my word, that was a stupid way for Sorkin to kill him off. That stupid cutsie little irony: "Oh, C.J., everything's safe now for you, as we've caught your stalker. Now I will kiss you for real. [They kiss.] Okay, now I'm going to go get a flower for you at a convenience store. I hope it is not being held up when I get there." Also, since the audience is obviously going to prefer Bartlett to whomever he's running against, why the necessity to make Richie such a meanie? Stupid. I do not like these "West Wing" season-ending episodes.
And just when I was doing so well. Do not expect any posts next week. Most of my regular readers know why.
oh so lovingly written by
Matthew |
these are comments, absent.
Au revoir, Biscuit. With a bangless whimper, the once-popular "Alison McBeal" has left the air, ending with what must be the most non-last-episodish last episode ever conceived as a last episode. Other than the last ten minutes, this could have been thrown into the "McBeal" annals as a season finale without anyone noticing, with the assumption that Ally'd be coming back from New York to Boston in next season's opener. Now that I think about it, what it really feels like is a season finale that makes way for an Ally-less "Ally McBeal" next year; none of the non-Ally, non-Fish characters' storylines feel near an acceptable coda.
Having watched Allison and her adventures for the past three seasons -- I'm not a fan, but Kim is -- I feel confident with the assessment that "Ally" will be remembered as an average show that was saved by some exceptional acting. Peter MacNicol was the finest comic actor on television through most of "Ally"'s run (though temporarily displaced by Mr. Downey Junior), and nearly every other principal (Flockhart, Germann, de Rossi, Liu, LeGros, Bellows) straddled the drama/comic line comfortably. Alas, what was consistently one of the better ensemble casts in television was saddled with Kelley’s necessity to (a) make everything exciting, exciting, exciting and (b) make everything sex, sex, sex. Like “Boston Public,” “Ally” was often eminently watchable bad television, if heavier on the “watchable” and lighter on the “bad” than “Boston.” I'll probably miss it.
oh so lovingly written by
Matthew |
these are comments, absent.
Results. Kimberly Lisa Prins is the victor of contest number two by correctly answering parts (a sans primes) and (b) correctly. The answer to (a sans primes) was 1/15, and the answer to (b) is available here. I'll tell the answers to the other parts upon request, but I think Kim wants to work on them some more before I post the answers. A new, not-so-mathematical quiz shall be posted later today.
Thank yous. A surprising large number of people (three) have e-mailed me to congratulate my cool self for writing things on this thing last week rather than letting my lethargy win out. Thank you, three people.
Also, there have been three other people who last week wrote in the interactive section of Prinsiana City. Thank you, three other people.
Home page wackiness. I like it, m'self, but feel free to differ.
The buy-Devon-a-new-niftyful-blank-journal-slash-diary fund update. As of right now, and including both money received and money pledged, and including the cash value of all physical journal-slash-diaries both received and pledged, and including the money that I have personally given to the campaign, we are at...um, 5 and 8 are 13, carry the 1...zippo. Nada. Not a penny. I need an action plan.
oh so lovingly written by
Matthew |
these are comments, absent.
C.J.'s Secret Service bodyguard is in troubs. The end of The West Wing, season one: Josh gets shot.
The end of The West Wing, season two: Mrs. Landingham gets killed.
The end of The West Wing, season three: Somebody's not going to feel so good after the episode's over.
The most reasonable hypothesis: Given the brazen flirting between C.J. and her bodyguard (they nearly kissed, which must break numerous Secret Service regulations) and given the brazen foreshadowing of the agent having to use his gun (both in the discussion of the season one shooting and in the scene at the firing range) and given that Sorkin (despite his strength as a writer of insignificant moments) clearly sets up nearly every major payoff in the show, there are only two probable scenarios:
1) In trying to protect C.J., the agent gets shot. (In this scenario, the stalker may or may not also get shot.)
2) In trying to protect C.J., the agent shoots the stalker.
I vote for number one, as I'm not sure the unrequited lust between C.J. and her bodyguard would have been established in yesterday's episode had his demise not been at the back of Sorkin's mind.
oh so lovingly written by
Matthew |
these are comments, absent.
Item! The Kings will beat the Lakers in six. Yes, I'm being serious. Quit laughing. No really, stop it. You're hurting my feelings. May I be candid? The Lakers aren't that good. The Lakers did not win in five because they're a great fourth-quarter team. They won because the Spurs were a horrific fourth-quarter team.
Item! If you are behind a car that has a bald man in the back seat, and the sun is at just the right angle, the shadows from that car's rear defrost can give him what looks like a really hip hairdo.
Item! When I am bald in about 15 years, I will spend all my life in the back seat of a car and barking directions to the driver to put the car in optimum rear-defrost shadow hairdo placement.
Item! They better have a cure for baldness in 15 years.
Item! My feet smell.
Item retraction! No, no, no. It's not my feet. It's my shoes. Is mud supposed to smell? Or did I step in some special, super-smelly mud while trying to birdie the 6th at lunch?
Item retraction semi-retraction! Thinking it over, though, it's entirely possible that my feet may smell, too. Perhaps their smell is just covered up by the more pungent smell of the mud. I don't know. I'll need to take off my shoes and smell my feet alone at home.
Item retraction semi-retraction clarification! When I say alone, I mean both by myself and without my shoes.
Item! My seventh grade study hall teacher sometimes used to put his foot on his desk and cut his toenails during study hall.
Item! My eighth grade study hall teacher used to play Dire Straits every study hall. That was an improvement over watching toenails being cut.
1) The answers for the quiz are based on the information given. You can't just say, "Uh, duh Matthew, five girls, one in two chance for each, and one half to the fifth power is 1/32. You idiot." First, if you call me an idiot, you lose one point on the quiz. Second, you need to use the information given in the problems. Okay? Okay.
2) So far, parts (a sans primes) and (b) have been answered correctly. You cannot answer (a') without knowing how to answer (a) correctly; however, (a'') is independent and (in my idiot opinion) the easiest of the a's.
3) The next lunch it rains, I will catch up on the haikus. I really, really, really, really, really, really, really promise.
4) Hi, everyone. I've been at least a little better about updating this than last month, no?
5) My chum Devon has asked me to post this request: "I [this is Devon in the first person] am accepting donations for the buy-Devon-a-new-niftyful-blank-journal-slash-diary fund because it has come to my attention that i have a mere 18 pages left in my diary." I will pass along to her all contributions mailed to me after taking a 10 percent cut. If you mail me a blank journal-slash-diary for her, I will take out one tenth of the pages.
oh so lovingly written by
Matthew |
these are comments, absent.
Weekly quiz, numero dos:
a) You know Mr. Smith's oldest child, Joan, from school. One day, while shopping in the mall, you hear Mr. Smith saying, "That stupid daughter of mine! I'm going to kill her!" Worried, you ask him, "You're not talking about Joan, are you?" Mr. Smith says, "No, not her, it's a different one. I should never have had five children." What's the chance that all five of Mr. Smith's children are girls?
a') The next day Mr. Smith's neighbor, Mr. Jones, comes up to you and says, "I hate to bother you out of the blue, but I just wanted you let you know that I've met all of Mr. Smith's daughters, and I have at least as many daughters as he does. And I, too, have five children. Isn't that fascinating?" What's the chance that all five of Mr. Smith's children are girls?
a'') Inexplicably, the day after that, Mr. Paritincalnedabbilly, who knows both Mr. Smith and Mr. Jones, comes up to you and says, "I hear that you have a special interest in the number of daughters sired by men in this town with five children. I have at least two daughters. I do not know why you are so curious about this information. It seems a bit perverse if you ask me, but whatever." What's the chance that all five of Mr. Paritincalnedabbilly's children are girls?
b) Why am I making you read this Sports Illustratedarticle?
A pretty unhelpful clue, as you've likely already guessed it: The answers to a, a' and a'' are all different.
1) This is awesome, man. ("[T]he world has consistently failed to notice the word "Table" clearly contained in the name "Periodic Table"...)
2) Joshua Michael Prins is the winner in last week's quiz contest, getting part (a) correct. The answer: each of those words, when written in cursive, requires the author to lift his or her pencil twice.
3) One more clue for part (b): Strange, isn't it, that the second and third numbers are the same, but the none of the other numbers are the same as the immediately preceeding/postceeding number. (That holds true through the end of the 12-item pattern, by the way.)
4) The next quiz will be posted today. Answers will be due by the end of next week.
i sincerely do not know what you are doing here. are you lost? were you
looking for your delicate calico cat, and did you follow her up two flights of stairs
to this room? she is not here. she was here, yes. we gave her a warm bowl of milk, we talked with her about campaign finance reform for a time, and then she bid us good day. i believe she was
going to the post office two blocks down, but i don't quite recall.
for surely you did
not find your way from prinsiana, the least traveled site on
the internet. if you did, though, perhaps you are looking for humor. perhaps you are looking for profundity. perhaps you are looking for answers.
i'm sorry, but you shall go naught-for-three.
