Dear Cat Burglars:

Of course we are not going on vacation to California next week, and even if we were, our three pets would keep the house very well protected. Very. I will, however, say that if we were going to California next week, we would probably have tickets to the filming of the series premiere of this, and that certain people who have a large number of recording devices in their house might want to set one of them for next Thursday, NBC, 8:00 Central. (We actually also have, er, would have tickets for the series premiere of this as well, but they're filming at the same time, and I think we've tentatively decided on the other one.)

Also, on an unrelated note, there will be few if any blog posts next week. No particular reason. Nope.

Photographs. Kind of.

In-picture commentary Kim's, although in all cases it's based off of the information the ultrasound technician gave us. We got to see the ultrasound live for about 20 to 30 minutes, which was (and I mean this in the most accurate sense of the word) awesome. We weren't expecting to be there that length of time, but as the hospital needs to cover its butt in case something goes wrong (as the technician herself confirmed), there's a list of about two dozen things that they require the techs to look for at the 20-week ultrasound, including: Eyes, ears, nose, mouth, chin, the line dividing the two hemispheres of the brain, spinal cord, ribs, arms, all four chambers of the heart, liver, umbilical cord, placenta, legs, genitals (although on our request we have no idea what genitals those were), and a few other things are that aren't coming to me right now. Some of these things took three seconds for the tech to find (even Kim and I saw the ribs right away), and some of these things, given that we apparently have a "very active baby," took a bit longer, but they all were perfectly healthy as far as she could tell, and unless something goes wrong, these are, alas, the last pictures we'll have of Baby Sufjan (or, um, whoever) until he comes out screaming in about four-and-a-half months.

I actually have two very interesting posts to write, one of which I will do for tonight, but right now I need an answer to this question.

What is the proper hymnical way to shorten "glorious" to two syllables?

I think I am really going to send this out.

Matthew Prins
1xxx Rxxxxxx Wxx
Richmond, VA 23238

May 19, 2005

Arby’s
1000 Corporate Drive
Ft. Lauderdale, FL 33334


Dear Arby’s:

I’ve seen one of your recent commercials about three-dozen times now -- you know, the one with the guy who’s on a game show and gives a food-related answer to questions that have nothing to do with food. Hilarious! But there’s something I don’t understand. When the commercial starts, somehow the food-answer guy has made $100, presumably by answering one or more questions correctly prior to the beginning of the commercial. How did he do that? Did he just happen to come across a question with a food answer? Did his obsession with food begin only after we see him in the commercial? And if that’s the case, what was it that started this fixation at that moment? This has been confusing me for the past few days, and I’d appreciate a clarification. Thanks.

Sincerely,



Matthew Prins

Religion, John Olerud, religion.

Quote of the week.

From Eugene Volokh: "People still often say how they read something or do something 'religiously,' presumably to mean 'without fail' or 'with dedication' -- for instance, 'I read your blog religiously'....But shouldn't it, for most people, mean 'reluctantly, twice a year'?"

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John Olerud update of the week.

He is batting 8-for-10 (.800, duh) in "extended spring training," whatever that is. I mean, c'mon, Boston. Bring him up already.

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Employment update.

I have an interview three weeks from today (would have been sooner except for my vacation) to become the part-time music director at a Baptist church. I seem pretty well-qualified for the position (minus the clause "Bachelors in Music preferred"), and the woman I talked to seemed excited about interviewing me, so. We'll see what comes of it.

I-L-L! I-N-I!

No new Sufjan update, I'm afraid (although pre-orders start on Friday!), but instead, an opportunity for you to vote on my Iowa State Chant Contest entry. Simple music, as some of you know, is not particularly my cup of tea, but the following chant came to me one day:



(The bass clef is stomps.) Try it out. Say it loudly in your officeplace a few times. It is catchy, no? But here's my nitpicky dilemma: Should the accents be

I-owa State, I-owa State, I-owa State Cy-clones (the normal spoken way) or

I-owa State, I-owa State, I-owa State Cy-clones (the measure-break way)?

Please help.

Someday I will write a post that is entertaining.

But today, no. I am simply divvying out information.

Variety has reported that "Arrested Development" has been picked up for one season, which is not quite as good as rumors suggested but is certainly better than zero.

The Yale Glee Club has reported that I did not win their composition contest. This is not at all a surprise, as of the five contest entries I had outstanding at the time, this was by far the one I felt least confident about.

TCM has reported, finally, the semi-finalists of their scorewriting contest (from about 500 entries), and apparently I live in the wrong area: a shocking six of them are from Los Angeles or its suburbs. Methinks someone's trying to save in travel costs. (We'll ignore for now that two of remaining four were from the Raleigh-Durham area, less than three hours aware from me.)

The Catholic "Simpsons" was pretty awesome. What was not awesome was when I am watching "Family Guy" (I know, I know, but the G.I. Joe reference last episode was so awesome), and they have almost certainly the most obscene erection joke I have heard/seen, and so in disgust I turn the channel to "Desperate Housewives," and they have another involved erection joke. I could blame myself for watching these shows, but no. Instead, I am calling for television to return to those good, old-fashioned family values on which we used to rely.

I have no idea how I came across this article last week, especially since it's over three years old, but it's rather fascinating.

I think I would like a minivan. But it has to have fold-down third-row seats.

Do not toy with my emotions.

I am choosing not to get too happy about this until there is offical confirmation from the people at you-know-where.

Music, etc.

From the man I simply refer to as "GIA Guy": "I just found out today that 'Cumulonimbus' has been selected for a reading session at the National Seminar in Dallas this summer....So, that puts this piece on the fast track and I'll hopefully have proofs for you next week so that you can respond before your vacation. Congratulations!" So that's a very good sign.

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Contests update.

There is no contests update. I still haven't heard from either of the groups I was supposed to hear from in April: neither TCM (which I've now officially written off), nor the Yale Glee Club (which I've not written off, since they explicitly said they were going to mail everyone with the results). Further, I was next planning to enter the bass clarinet contest on the right-hand side of this page, but upon going to the page yesterday, they tell you that you need to fill out an entry form to enter, but there's no entry form on the page. So. I don't know. I may switch my contest for this month to the hymn thing.

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The best ever moment of "Desperate Housewives" ever. Ever.

Just before the opening credits on Sunday, when, without saying a word, Bob Newhart managed to covey a series of a dozen different emotions in no more than five seconds, ending in utter what-am-I-going-to-do-ahhhhh. Better than the entire rest of the episode put together (minus the moment when Frasier's agent pulled out the knife, which was the second-best ever moment of "Desperate Housewives" ever).

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Weasel wording of the week.

BoSox manager Terry Francona, talking about John Olerud when he joined the team: "I guess he was evidently in pretty good shape[.]"

Things no one cares about but me.

I was at Xam Eciffo this afternoon, and the famous Jenny Key -- a male whose real name, as you will recall, is actually that an early '90s pop star -- was working there. I hadn't seen him on my last two visits, and I was hoping that his aggressive, annoying, and just plain weird sales tactics had gotten him fired, but no, there he was. Once I saw him I tried not to make eye contact, and I made an attempt to duck down an aisle in...oh, forget it, no one cares about this but me.

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With 75.5 points -- 5 behind the leader -- I've worked my way up to 2nd place in my 12-team fantasy baseball league, which consists mostly of people from a film discussion group I frequent. I managed to do this despite my top three hurlers (Schilling, Gagne, Benítez) all being on the disabled list, mostly because my awesome hitting (52.5 points, 1st place) mostly managed to cancel out my ugh pitching (23 points, 9th place). Unfortunately, now that my regular 1B (Thome) is on the disabled list as well, I'm concerned that...oh, forget it, no one cares about this but me.

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In a music contest update, I still haven't...oh, forget it, since unless I win, no one cares about this but me. And maybe Kim.

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Kim started to feel Baby Prins hit/kick/head butt a couple days ago. And yesterday, with my hand on her belly, I...oh, forget it, no one etc.

Movie contest. Wait, I meant, "Movie, contest."

Primer (2004, Shane Carruth), low A-

I'd really like to avoid spoilers, so let's just say that Primer's a amazingly naturalistic science fiction movie, with Carruth taking a plot that could have been a $80-million special effects extravaganza and instead making a version dripping in realism for $7,000. (Yes. $7,000. And it was even shot on 16mm film.) Despite not making complete logical sense -- at least on first viewing -- Primer succeeds wildly: Partly because Carruth has an amazing eye and editing sense, partially from the various ways it plays off of the theme of trust, and partially in how it takes the mundane (especially in engineering, Ed) and making it exceedingly important. ("How do cell phones work?" is almost a life-or-death question, as are the statements "But back there in the car, he had a two- or three-day stubble" and "Wait, [whatever team] is supposed to win by two.") I'm not completely sure how to explain my feelings about this film, which I love despite maybe understanding 50 percent of it. (In the last ten minutes, more like 20 percent.) But from moment to moment, scene to scene, it's so emotionally gripping that any parts I don't quite get are still griping to watch. And here's the kicker for some of you: It was made by a card-carrying evangelical Christian, although admittedly that fact doesn't really play a role in the film (other than that it's the cleanest PG-13 film ever). Engineering types: Rent it now.

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Contest updates.

I still haven't heard back from TCM, which I'm considering a bad sign. I also haven't heard from the Yale Glee Club, which was supposed to decide on a winner in late April, but I'm not considering that a bad sign because (a) they said they would let everyone who entered the contest know who the winner was, and (b) they said they would post the winner on the website, which it isn't. So.

Another stupid contest entry.

I've been working on this on and off after work the past couple weeks, and since I have a decent rough draft of it more than a week before it's due, I'll post it for y'all to hear (and constructively criticize, if you'd like). Please be aware that instead of some piano realization of, say, a handbell piece, what you're listening to is a rough draft of the actual, final work, i.e. it is this MP3 file that would be on the CD these people put out. Also, be aware that this contest mandates that no entry be longer than one minute, so that explains the shortness.

It is tentatively titled "and divided the waters which were under the firmament from the waters which were above the firmament." Yes, I do love Sufjan Stevens.

Oh, and I guess you want the file. Or maybe not.

I feel so ignorant compared to Beth-Annie.

However. The television year is winding down to a close, so it is time to give you my top eight (quality goes way down after that) shows of last year (with some cheating). Those of you who have cable, satellite, good taste, etc., are free to point out how prosaic my network-heavy list is. Thank you.

1. "Arrested Development," FOX. The best two-year stretch any television comedy has had since seasons 4 and 5 of "The Simpsons." I have never, never been this emotionally involved in the cancellation or non-cancellation of a television show. Please, all you FOX executives that read my blog, have pity on the Bluths.
   
   
2. "The Amazing Race," CBS. Simply logistically, I cannot imagine how this show gets made. It's still the only game-show-like reality show that's able to keep my interest beyond sheer novelty (see "Big Brother"; sorry, moM).
   
   
3. "Gilmore Girls," WB. A flawed season: Not enough Paris, her recent panhandling escapade excepted. Contained the worst episode in the history of the series ("The One Where Rory Reports on a Secret Soceity and Breaks Every Journalistic Rule in the Process.") Not enough Lorelai plus Rory (as has been the case since Rory left for Yale, of course). But still.
   
   
4. "King of the Hill," FOX. The most consistently good show on television: It's been somewhere between no. two and five for the past seven seasons.
   
   
5. "Cops," FOX. I don't want to hear it.
   
   
6. The first half-hour of "Late Show with David Letterman," CBS. I rarely make it to the guests, and even when I do, Dave's certainly no Tom Snyder or even Conan O'Brian. Still, in that pre-guest, post-monologue part of the show, it's clear that no one in the known universe can make as much something out of nothing than Dave.
   
   
7. "Monk," USA. (Projected, as I actually haven't seen the current season. But still, can any show with Tony Shalhoub finish lower than seventh? [Other than "Stark Raving Mad," of course, because c'mon.])
   
   
8. "The Simpsons," FOX. No, it still hasn't found the heart that it had a decade ago, but it's still funnier than any 15-year-old show has a right to be.
   
   
9. "Charlie Rose," PBS. Despite the penchant for double questions, there isn't any other interviewer who can that effortly talk with both Kofi Annan and Charlie Kaufman. I don't watch it enough, alas, as it runs into Dave.
   
   
10. "Boston Public," ABC. James Spader is so awesome.