Bill Simmons: In which B.S. is literal

I liked Bill Simmons, but I shouldn't have. There were warning signs. The love for the forces of Evil embodied by all Boston sports teams. The quality he has, native to that same city, of sounding like he's SHOUTING even when he's not. What is it? An intonation? A cadence? Is every Bostonian dictating a telegram at all times? "YES. LARRY BIRD. THE. LEGEND." But, most telling of all, he was buddies with Adam Carolla, King of the Douchenozzles.

But I couldn't resist his eagerness, and so I would listen to his podcast regularly. Even when he was talking about some random point guard, or whatever, he made me care because he seemed to know every statistic, every play, from memory. He was an earnest beacon in the gloomy age of Deadspin. But then he started Grantland- a hot stew of 6 parts sports, 3 sports pop culture and 1 part Klosterman- and my love died.

I called the time of death at 9:13pm last night, after finishing "Hackery in the First Degree," Simmons's rant about The Killing's season finale. I'll admit that I haven't seen a minute of any of the Killing's first season, much less the finale, so I won't speak to his issues with the show. But I will talk about his issues with women. Or, more pointedly, his apparent belief that there is an implicit, but binding, contract that requires all female leads on TV to reach basic standards of hot-itude. "Our heroine" he writes "was a redheaded detective named Sarah Linden, a poorly written character who didn't wear makeup, kept her hair in a sexless ponytail, and wore the heaviest sweaters anyone has ever worn on television."

You could, at least, blame CSI for that statement, since that show and its many clones demonstrate- nightly- that a woman's greatest investigative strategy is to bend over and thrust her cleavage in the general direction of a cadaver. Also, that foot chases are best conducted in stiletto heels, whether they're over New York City pavement or Florida swamp. But CSI can't be blamed for this:

I think they were trying to humanize Linden, which was obviously hard because you can't humanize a "strong" female character when she's dressing like a lumberjack.

I'm still trying to parse that statement. Maybe Bill Simmons meant to say that The Killing did such a poor job of characterizing Sarah Linden that her wardrobe had to do all the work. And he just worded it so that what it sounds like he's saying is "Practically-dressed women can't be compelling characters." Or maybe that is what he meant to say, and Carolla's rampant asshattery is contagious. I would love to think the former. Come on, Simmons was there for the '90s, so he's seen Fargo, and there's no way Marge Gunderson in her sensible parka is anything but human and wonderful. But I can't. He just seems so aggrieved in the rest of the article, entitled to a resolution in the first season, or at least a spoiler when that didn't happen, that I feel he sees himself entitled to a hot actress too. Even if it defies all sense of reality to have a busy homicide detective put on a full face before going out. All The Killing owed him was a well-written season, something it evidently failed to do, but it never really needed to succeed at finding Bill Simmons a sexy actress.

R2D2 Hat

P, a Preferred Coworker, had a birthday a few weeks ago. Since he solves all InDesign problems (they are legion) and washes orphaned dishes (they are many) I knit him a hat.

But not just any hat.

An R2D2 hat!

Ta da! Pattern comes from Carissa Knits, yarn is SandnesGarn Smart Superwash. I wasn't crazy about all the duplicate stitching, but I can't think of a better alternative, considering my aversion to intarsia and seaming hats. Crochet, maybe?

A Mason Bee Box

The beginning of June was kind of wacky, and busy, and felt not unlike May. Which, incidentally, happens to be the last month I've posted in. I know where the blame lies though. With my calendar, which I have left on May up until today. Subliminally, I must have THOUGHT it was still May, and thus had no inclination to do any of the things I was supposed to do for June.

Sounds like science to me.

Anyway, one other thing that was accomplished today: I made a bunch of these mason bee boxes. Yes, I am finally a bee slumlord. The screens on these babies are never going to be fixed, I tell you what. Nor will the pipes ever be replaced.

They're super easy to make, especially if you have some spare 4x4 lying around. Then you just angle one end, drill a bunch of deep holes, add some overhang and hang it up near some flowers. If, like me, you do NOT have some spare 4x4 lying around, then you will have to buy a standard 8 foot piece at the lumber store, get it cut into two more manageable pieces, and then endure the clerk's snarky remarks (Eg "Oh, the bus driver is going to LOVE you. Good luck with that.") You will then leave half of it on home and carry the rest to the nearest public transit, where the bus driver will INDEED love you as you ferry it aboard and all the way to Saanich.

After that, you can repeat the previous steps, starting with the sawing.

In Which I Face My Two-Wheeled Phobia

Only one thing scares me more than zombies.

Bicycles.

At least zombies can be killed with a shot to the head. Bikes can keep going forever, mocking you and your lack of balance. Well, if you're me. If you're a normal person, you're probably already cycling around town, accordion music playing in the background, a baguette and carrots with leafy tops in your basket, free as a bird and not in imminent danger of death by truck.

Those issues are why last Saturday marked the first time in about ten years I touched a bicycle. But I didn't just touch a bicycle. I paid for the bicycle, got on the bicycle, and then rode it to a scrapped knee in downtown Victoria.

My chariot came from Recyclistas, one of those places that sells old bikes, builds bikes from spare parts, rents out tools and smells suspiciously... earthy. The journey there was just as exciting as a store. It involved a stranger's bodily fluids, a missed bus, a broken computer and a detour along a sidewalk-free expanse of highway. Oh, and I spotted of a pair of California Quails. Tragically though, I had left my rifle at home, so I couldn't bag some trophies.

To be difficult, I didn't pick a cute European road bike or cruiser. Instead, I came home with some hideous Korean mountain-bike knock off, with with a horn that sounds like a clown's nose and a bunch of holographic stickers. The nice Recyclista man was briefly impressed that the person who could barely ride a bike could tell that it was Korean. Then I pointed out the three South Korean flags on the frame.

In honour of its proud nationality, I have named it Bikegolgi. I have now ridden Bikegolgi three times, and I'm still alive, but barely. Seriously, why don't seemingly normal people, including the entire population of Amsterdam, find the bicycle completely terrifying? It's your fleshy, squishy self on two paper clips and a set of wheels! It's wrong! WRONG!

But I will do it again tomorrow.

Book Covers I Have Loved: Cheers! by Nicholas Pashley

Don't worry. Unless you're seeing four noble Mounties (those proud inheritors of tradition/purveyors of police brutality) on your monitor, you're still sober.

This cover is cheeky and perfect for a book on Canadian beer history, although perhaps a little expected. Still, considering that it avoids the maple leaf/hockey skate/beer bottle troika of clichés, I believe it deserves our appreciation. And maybe a round of drinks.

Cheers! A History of Beer in Canada, by Nicholas Pashley

Straight White Girls Drinking Coffee #4

Click to make readable.

This one is dedicated, with love, to my brother and his girlfriend.
But seriously, you know your relationship is in trouble if you're thinking of watching Arli$$. Shudder.

Return of the Knit-i

Although I haven't featured any photos of my knitting on this blog for months- months- I assure you that I am still knitting.

Just slowly.

Very slowly.

How slowly? Well, what you will see below is a scarf being blocked, out of yarn purchased in December of 2010. I cast on in January, and so it was taken me about five to six months to complete a fairly simple scarf with a four row pattern repeat. Not quite as long as it takes to make a human baby, but more than four times as long as it takes to make a litter of baby squirrels, and squirrels are idiots, so yes. I am officially slower than fuzzy rodents.

Unorthodox blocking items: chess board, book, external hard drive, CD case. Sigh. I need to get some pins out here. Glamour shots of the scarf coming some time in the next week.

Pattern: Pavement, by Jared Flood
Yarn: Berroco Ultra Alpaca #6281
Needles: 4mm straights
Notes: No matter how squishy the yarn, cables get really tedious after a few weeks. I would love to keep this scarf, but it's being sent away as a surprise gift for a friend. Unless I buy a scarf, cut off the labels and send that instead. Now there's a plan.

The Book Pile for May 11. 2011

A lot of these have become stalled reads in the past month or so. I'm hoping that publicly displaying my shame will inspire me to get my ass in gear. Or at least inspire me enough to pretend that I've finished reading Moby-Dick.

1. The "Canadian History 101" Read: Northern Armageddon, D. Peter Macleod

2. The "Classic" Read: Moby Dick, Herman Melville

3. The "I suppose getting into SF late is better than never" Read: Ender's Game, Orson Scott Card

4. The "I Miss Required Reading Lists" Read: The American Political Tradition, Richard Hofstadter

Orcas! Orcas, Ahoy!

With May comes many things: flowers, my tax rebate, moving, and the realization that I better step things up if I want to have my BC Bingo card completed on time.

What, you didn't know about BC Bingo? Actually, that's perfectly understandable, because I just made it up. The centre square is "Free," like all bingo cards, but the other squares include "Make Breakfast Quinoa" and "Complain about Albertans." And another square: "See orcas off the side of the ferry." Fortunately, I can dab that one off with the ole Bingo Bright, because this past Sunday a pod of orcas was spotted off the Spirit of British Columbia, the vessel that was transporting my slightly dopey self back to Victoria.

The Captain came over the P.A- we would be passing a pod of orcas off the starboard side soon. Hearing, perhaps, the lack of shuffling, he helpfully clarified, "the right-hand side of the boat." We landlubbers dutifully made our way to the right-board side.

Part of me felt foolish for going. I felt like a tourist. Not the savvy Victorian I was, a Victorian who has seen both Free Willy AND Free Willy 2, and is thus well-versed in the biology, symbology and mythology of orcas. But then I saw them ducking underneath the water, jumping up, and looking black, white and beautiful. They moved on, we moved on, and suddenly I had a new sympathy for the sea parks I had just read about in "The Killer in the Pool." I still think keeping killer whales in captivity is wrong, that it insults their intelligence and our humanity to do so. But I understand why the sea park owners do it, and why so many of us go to see them. Wanting to keep an animal that beautiful is no weak thing, even if that desire translates, on a practical level, into making them smile as grubby children pet their tongues.

Straight White Girls Drinking Coffee #3: I Was Almost a CBC Star!

Ah, finally. The comic strip I promised two weeks ago. I know it's a little wordy, but there was a lot of exposition to get out in this strip. If you're not Canadian, or neglect to tune your radio to CBC, you might be confused. Here are some references, should you require them:

• The Next Chapter, with Shelagh Rogers (book show)
• Q, with Jian Ghomeshi (Canadian arts magazine show)
• Peter Mansbridge (The Voice, The Pate, The Man)
• On the Island (Vancouver Island morning show)

Click to make readable.

The stuff about Ghomeshi and I reproducing is (mostly) a joke. Please no restraining orders. And congrats to Lindsay Cochrane of Toronto, who'll be talking about Guy Delisle's Pyongyang on The Next Chapter. Kick ass and get the good word about graphic novels out there!