Seen at the Gym

The only thing more fun than watching SyFy's Sharknado?

Turning off SyFy's Sharknado.

What You Want Me to Do?

Seen Heard at the gym today: There's a CD player in the weight room area where you can play some of your own music while you work out, if you like (and if it meets fitness center guidelines). The folks pumping some iron today were accompanied by the late Jimmy Reed, which is probably the first time I've ever heard a workout aided by "Take Out Some Insurance," as well as the track referenced in the post title.

Well-played, sir.

Just a Suggestion

To the gentleman who occupied the other elliptical machine tonight at the gym:

It is true that listening to music via headphones makes it difficult to hear other sounds in the room where you are exercising. It does not, however, mean that those sounds go away. That includes the self-encouraging shouts and exclamations you make to get through your workout, which were made at a level that overrode both the television in the room and the headphones used by others.

Your prompt attention to this matter is appreciated.

Pleasant Surprise at the Gym

I'd rather not watch the American Music Awards -- ever, but a lady at the gym had the TV turned to it, so I happened to catch two pretty neat things. One was a neat tribute from Stevie Wonder to Dick Clark.

The other was a performance of the song "Gangnam Style" by Korean rapper PSY. Watching hundreds of folks dance and sing along while a chunky short guy raps in Korean can almost erase the memory of seeing Justin Bieber "perform" and win awards for it.

Seeing a live duet of PSY and MC Hammer mashing up "Gangnam Style" and "2 Legit 2 Quit" just pretty much justifies the whole silly show's existence.

Motivate!

Guaranteed, 100%-sure way to get you in the right frame of mind for your workout:

Walk into the gym just as the guys in the weight room kick in the theme from Rocky over the sound system, then watch the men's 100 meter dash on the Olympics.

Gonna fly now indeed.

Did You Ever Notice...

In honor of the recently retired Andy Rooney, just a couple of snarks and nitpicks this evening.

At a local bookstore I saw a copy of Rolling Stone magazine, the cover of which advertised a story about the retirement of R.E.M. The main cover story was about how the success of Pink Floyd's Dark Side of the Moon album led to tensions between bandmates Roger Waters and David Gilmour that would split that band apart some 13 years later. Rolling Stone's message to today's pop music lover: We've been irrelevant since before you were born.

To the ladies on the elliptical machines next to me at the gym: I suspect that if you removed your earbuds feeding you the sound of the TV program you're both ignoring, you could still talk and you could hear one another but the rest of us wouldn't have to.

Hit, Miss

Today's Oprah rerun seen at the gym had groudbreaking women rock and pop musicians of the past few decades to talk about their careers and some of the obstacles they faced breaking into the male-dominated fields in which they perform.

Naturally, the ladies also sang, with some interesting duets and great performances. Avril Lavigne made a nice counterpoint to Pat Benatar (who can still belt big time), and Sheryl Crow complemented Stevie Nicks quite well. Sister Sledge fired up an energetic version of their staple "We Are Family" to close the show.

But there were also some clunkers -- Salt-n-Pepa just sound silly singing "Push It" in their mid-40s, bringing to mind the endless string of grown women who've had a wee bit too much to drink to realize that song on the karaoke machine is not their friend. And although the ageless and seemingly death-defying Joan Jett kicks just as much hiney as she ever has, pairing her with the aimless and depth-defying Miley Cyrus just emphasizes the latter's inadequacies as a singer and performer.

Either way, it was a much more diverting show than Ms. Winfrey usually mounts and helped me save about thirty minutes or so of battery time on Mr. iPod.

Resolution of Thanks VI

TO: Dr. Mehmet Cengiz Oz, a cardiothoracic surgeon now operating his own syndicated talk show as "Dr. Oz."

WHEREAS, on your show which aired Wednesday, August 11, on the television at my gym, you explored a variety of nagging ailments, and

WHEREAS, said ailments included the blisters women often develop on their feet from ill-fitting shoes and chafing sandal straps, and

WHEREAS, this exploration involved a number of close-up pictures of these blisters, and

WHEREAS, it also included a simulated blister the size of a pre-schooler, and

WHEREAS, this simulation was used to demonstrated the proper method for popping a blister and included realistic fluid drainage when pierced with a needle, and

WHEREAS, an audience volunteer who had not properly drained a blister on her foot was called to the front and an extreme closeup shot was taken of her foot,

BE IT NOW RESOLVED, on this day, the twelfth of August, the year two thousand and ten, you are to be thanked by helping me meet my weight-loss goal for the week by making it impossible to keep any food down.

Resolution of Thanks V

TO: Television No. 2 at the gym

WHEREAS, you were, this evening, tuned to the channel carrying programming from the American Broadcasting Company or ABC network, and

WHEREAS, during the time I was exercising, that network was broadcasting the program Wipeout, and

WHEREAS, during that time it also broadcast the program Downfall,

BE IT NOW RESOLVED, that on this day, the sixth of July, the year two thousand and ten, that you receive gratitude and thanks for offering me a picture of what I shall do when I have only one functioning neuron in my skull: Watch either of those programs voluntarily, and

BE IT FURTHER RESOLVED, that you receive gratitude for offering me a picture of what I shall do when that last neuron ceases to function: Become a contestant on either program.

Watch This!

Since there are several TV's to watch at my gym, I can learn several things at a time.

1. The complete inadequacy of American Idol as a vehicle for discovering great singers is made clear when the contestants try to cover Frank Sinatra songs. Sinatra was a personality and a star, but before he was any of those things he was a singer. Had he not spent his time perfecting the craft of singing, then pretty much the entire rest of his career was unlikely to have happened. Since American Idol seeks to find pop stars, who have to worry about their appeal in so many other ways besides their singing, the contestant's performances of the Sinatra tunes are wan, bloodless and boring. Sometimes a great pop star is a great singer, but the connection is not at all automatic.

2. Why does Harry Connick, Jr., have a career? He sings great old standards (like the Sinatra catalog) and brings absolutely nothing new to them. Why, when I can pop in a CD any time and listen to the Chairman sing "That Old Black Magic," would I want to listen to Connick smirk his way through the same song in a manner that mimics Sinatra, only lacking Frank's originality, presence, wit and feeling?

3. Even though I've only sporadically followed Lost here and there, it's amazing that I can get sucked in to the story in the last episodes and know enough of what's going on to follow it and care what's happening. That's some good storytelling right there, I'll tell you what.

4. One way to tell that the new V show isn't all that great -- aside from the sloppy, unoriginal writing and plot -- is to look at what the human resistance fighters are doing and imagine asking them, "What would Ham do?" Ham, of course, being Ham Tyler, played by Original Bada** Michael Ironside in the initial V miniseries sequel and the short-lived weekly series. Well, Ham wouldn't have been fooled into shooting down a Visitor shuttle full of humans, for one thing. And Ham wouldn't have blabbed about the plan to a guy who couldn't be trusted, and Ham sure as shooting would have at least slapped around the guy who did the blabbing, clerical collar or no clerical collar. But then the show would have cut to a scene with Willie, the lovable nerd Visitor played by Robert Englund, and that would have stunk just as bad as the new show does.

Things I Learned Today

These are things I learned watching the different TV sets that were on at the gym when I was on the elliptical (I'm not able to read when I'm on that thing -- I wish I could figure out how to keep my balance and still work hard while not holding the handles). In order, from left to right:

1) Bill O'Reilly is a blowhard, which I can't understand. I've seen some clips of his interview with Secretary of State Hillary Clinton from back when she was running for president and he did probably the best interview I saw with her -- and Clinton herself came off looking better than she did in most other pieces. So he knows how to be a journalist, but it seems like he doesn't want to.

2) Even though not a single one of the players on the court were even born when I was at Northwestern, it's still a lot of fun watching the Wildcats win basketball games, especially when it's a nearly 20-point thumpin' of a team that they lost to earlier in the season.

3) American skier Lindsey Vonn's crash yesterday was the most important thing to ever happen in the Olympics, if we judge by the number of replays.

4) Even the mighty Clancy Brown can't save a TV show that stinks and borrows from a dozen other series before it gets out of opening credits.

5) On last season's Survivor (note to self: Ask The Boss why in His name this silly show is still on the air), contestant Russell played dirty trick after dirty trick on his teammates and it earned him a direct path to second place because nobody wants to give a million dollars to a jerk if they don't have to. (second note to self: Remember to stop going to gym so that you end up having to watch the TVs when Survivor is on) Showing that he's as smart as he is likable, on tonight's episode Russell buried his tribe's machete and snickered about plans to hide another player's hat. Genetics may have made Russell short. But he's made himself small all by his lonesome.

Resolution of Thanks IV

To: The gentlemen in the locker room at my gym who participate in the senior adults' swim fitness classes.

WHEREAS, this morning eight or nine of you were gathered in the locker room of the gym following my workout, and

WHEREAS, you were lighting all of the candles on a large cookie displaying a happy birthday message to one of your number, and

WHEREAS, you had all recently exited the pool, and were standing around in all of your senior-citizens-in-wet-board-shorts glory, and

WHEREAS, one of you was heard to say, "Light those candles faster, it's freezing in here," and

WHEREAS, another of you was heard to say, "I'm glad he's so old, we need all the candles we can get," and

WHEREAS, yet another of you was heard to say, "Good thing we're taking this close to a large source of water, that's fire safety."

BE IT RESOLVED, on this twenty-second day of February in the year of our Lord two thousand ten, that I offer you my profound thanks for making my week and for giving me a bigger laugh than any Monday deserves.

Resolution of Thanks III

To: The gentleman who used an elliptical machine near me at my gym

WHEREAS, during the course of your exercise you respired with great energy, especially in your exhalations, for approximately one hour, and

WHEREAS, these exhalations were audible at some distance and you did indeed sound like a choo-choo train, and

WHEREAS, these audible exhalations did conclude with the lip-flapping sound known by some as a "Bronx cheer" or "blowing a raspberry," and

WHEREAS, these raspberries did also include considerable precipitation on the readout panel and other surfaces of the elliptical machine, and

WHEREAS, your post-workout wipedown of this now-irrigated machine was conducted with the same towel which you had used to remove perspiration from your brow, unaugmented by spray disinfectant or cleaning agent of any kind,

BE IT RESOLVED, on this fourth day of February of the Year of our Lord 2010, that I shall offer you my thanks for making my choice of which elliptical machine to use following my bike ride much, much easier to make.

How-To

When you use a public gym, and you shower up afterwards, you have the choice of using your own towel or one of the ones the gym provides. There are advantages to using your own, but it means you are then stuck with a wet towel in your car or truck for the rest of the day, and after awhile the scent can tend to overpower even the mightiest pine-tree cutout air freshener hung from the mirror. So many people decide to use the towels provided by the gym. Here are some things to keep in mind:

1. Although the whitest towels are obviously the newest, that does not necessarily make them the best ones to select. Public gyms tend to work on a budget, which means they do not buy the high-end, deep pile soft towels that you may prefer at home. The newest towels may also be kind of rough, like sandpaper that hasn't yet been used. With similar unpleasant results.

2. Towels that aren't eye-blindingly white will probably be softer. But again, because public gyms work from a budget, they wish to get the most use possible out of all of their supplies and equipment. This means that a towel will be kept for the maximum possible time, and it may have lost absorbency to the point that the towel you select will actually just move the water around your body, rather than dry it off. This will be embarrassing when you put on your pants.

3. If, when you arrive at the locker room to change, you see that there are relatively few towels left on the towel shelf, it is probably a good idea to snag one and put it in your locker. Sometimes the gym staff is a little short-handed in the ol' laundry room and there may be none left when you return from your workout, which will mean you have to try to dry yourself with your clothes. This is rarely effective.

4. In the workout room itself, my gym offers hand towels which you can take with you to mop sweat off while you work out. They also offer, for some reason unknown to humanity, what can only be described as dish towels for the same purpose. Do not use these; they have the consistency of paper towels and are useless unless you sweat only once during your workout.

5. These towels have in fact been used by other people with drying habits other than your own. On second thought, don't keep that in mind. Get it as far out of your mind as possible. Far, far out of your mind. Look, a flower...

Another Resolution of Thanks

To: The Gentleman in the Locker Room at My Gym

WHEREAS, following your post-workout shower you chose to towel yourself dry not in the privacy of your shower stall but in the public space in front of your locker, and

WHEREAS, this locker was near to other persons, namely me, and

WHEREAS, said toweling was of an extremely thorough and personal nature that one could safely term "spelean," and

WHEREAS, said toweling was followed by the application of spray talcum powder to the now dry areas, and

WHEREAS, said application was not properly aimed, allowing for an overspray that spread through the air, actually blowing a nearby towel to the floor from its resting place on a bench,

BE IT NOW RESOLVED that, on this twenty-fifth day of August of the Year of Our Lord 2009, I shall offer you my thanks for helping me meet my weight-loss goals for the week by again making it impossible to keep any food down.

A Resolution of Thanks

To: The ladies who rode an exercise bike and an elliptical machine next to me earlier this week at the gym.

WHEREAS, your discussion was conducted in voices that reached a significant square footage of a large workout room and,

WHEREAS, said discussion was concerned with extremely personal grooming matters and,

WHEREAS, said discussion also involved a catalog of similar grooming habits, observed and speculated upon, of several other individuals of both genders and,

WHEREAS, said discussion also involved several possible manners of display of said grooming habits, described in step-by-step detail,

BE IT RESOLVED that, on this thirteenth day of August of the Year of Our Lord, 2009, I wish to offer you thanks in helping me better my targeted weight loss goal for the week by making it impossible for me to keep any food down for several days.

Seen at the gym

One of the TVs was tuned to something called "The Reality Channel," which I fortunately do not receive on my DTV box. While I was there, we were entertained by something called Man Vs. Beast 2, in which people competed in different athletic contests against animals. Often the people won because the animals got bored, which ought to say something right there.

Next was World's Most Shocking Moments Caught on Tape. According to the Internet Movie Database, there's also a WMSMCOT 2, and I don't know which one I was watching, but it hardly matters. Some of the shocking moments were young ladies lifting their shirts at different events where there was a lot of alcohol, film which later inspired both Joe Francis's business and his jail sentence.

Others involved different crimes caught by surveillance cameras. Here's a tip, mouth-breather. That camera up in the ceiling? There's people on the other end of it who watched you stuff the shirt up under your sweater. And you wearing a sweater in August is the reason they're watching you. Ducking down behind the clothes rack may hide you from the sales clerk, but it doesn't make you invisible.

Yet a third category of shocking moments involved people who, either for revenge or just because they're really stupid, perform some bodily function in or on something that belongs to someone else. Urinating on sofa cushions or in gas tanks or food storage or whatever, defecating on someone's desk or property, spitting or blowing the nose into food or other items -- you name it, someone has been dumb enough to do it in a place where they are likely to be taped. Not only that, the somehow believe they are making some kind of statement by doing so. A statement other than, "A five-year-old is more mature than I am," that is.

My solution to this problem is simple. If the person committing this act is under 25, there's hope. Send them back to day care for remedial bodily function training so that they can learn that adults express displeasure, disagreement or distaste with words, not with waste products, mucus, saliva or the display of buttocks. When they have shown they understand this idea, allow them back into society, but require them to wear diapers for six months in case of accidents.

Should the guilty party be over 25, it's too late. Put them in zoos with the other chimps so they can live out their lives in conditions as close to their natural habitat as science can provide. It's the only humane thing to do.

Seen at the gym

Unsurprisingly, the television sets at the gym have been turned to the Olympics this last week or so.

Which means I've watched a lot of sports I rarely see on TV, like track and field, swimming (obviously), diving (meh), volleyball of the indoor and outdoor variety, rowing and several others. I remember watching sports like these on the old Wide World of Sports on ABC. When we would visit my grandparents over a weekend and the Saturday weather kept us inside, WWS and Jim McKay were called into action. They led into Hee-Haw around dinnertime.

With WWS gone, a lot of these sports don't end up on TV very often anymore. ESPN will show them sometimes -- they manage to show a lot of women's beach volleyball for some reason. But realistically, a sport such as the discus throw, where the competitors spin around in a circle and fling a roughly four-pound (men's) or two-pound (women's) metal disc as far as they can isn't built for modern TV coverage or modern TV audiences.

American Stephanie Brown Trafton won a gold in that event and she has a great story. She attended the 1984 Los Angeles games and became an instant and devoted fan of gymnast Mary Lou Retton, but her height (she's 6-4 and could probably step over the balance beam) quickly put gymnastics out of her reach. She wound up in field events at college after an injury ended her basketball career. In her post-win interview, Trafton put out a televised plea to meet her idol, which I imagine will probably happen, if only to see the foot and a half difference in height between them.

And women's discus in the U.S. is an interesting story itself. Trafton follows Lilian Copeland as only the second American woman to win gold in the event. Copeland, then a law student at USC, won in the 1932 Los Angeles games. She was Jewish and she boycotted the 1936 Munich games because Adolf Hitler refused to allow Jews on the German Olympic team and the International Olympic Committee, as unconcerned with the host country's treatment of its people then as it is now, looked the other way. Copeland, at the time a world-record holder in several women's field events such as the javelin and shot put, never competed at the international level again. She joined the Los Angeles County Sheriff's office in 1936 and worked as a juvenile officer until 1960 and died in 1964 at 68.

Trafton made a point for her faith as well. In her post-competition interview she spoke of praying for peace of mind and concentration before her throw. She offers her testimony via the 4 Winds Christian Athletics organization, and some of her statements will be broadcast to the underground church in China.

Seen at the (New) Gym...

The TVs were tuned to the College World Series (although for a few terrifying and nauseating minutes, the one directly in front of me was on Wife Swap).

I noticed all the players wore gloves when they batted. I'm not sure what I feel about this. Now, I should mention at the outset that I am in no way some great ballplayer. If Clark Kent tossed me underhand slowpitch softballs and I swung a kryptonite bat, I'd go one for four, and that only because the scorekeeper felt sorry for me and ruled a hit the error that let me on base.

But on the other hand, let's look at some numbers. The last guy to average better than .400 in a season was Ted Williams, who hit .406 in 1941. The last guy to come close to hitting .400 was George Brett with a .390 in 1980. Neither wore batting gloves. Brett is the only guy to win batting titles in three different decades, and as mentioned, he didn't wear batting gloves (He was known to prefer an alternate method of improving his grip). The baseball equipment company he owns with his brothers does not sell batting gloves.

Take the top 100 seasonal batting averages in baseball and the only guy who makes the list who wore batting gloves is Larry Walker, whose 1999 mark of .379 ranks 96th.

In fact, since Rusty Staub became one of the first players to wear batting gloves regularly in 1969, Brett and Walker are the only two to have a season-long batting average among the top 100. Supposedly Ken Harrelson was the first player to wear a glove in a regular season game, when he donned a red golf glove to protect his blistered hands on Sept. 4, 1964 in Kansas City, as his Athletics played the Yankees. Harrelson said he hit the ball an estimated 450 feet, and wore gloves the rest of his career. His career average was .239.

In unrelated news, I debuted in the Kansas City area two days later, and I am told the doctor wore gloves as well. I don't know if he followed the Cosby childbirth method, which would have made the glove a catcher's mitt.

So before gloves, lots and lots of seasonal averages among the best 100 in baseball history. After gloves, exactly two, and only one of those players wore gloves.

Someone should do the math.

More Seen at the Gym

So I'm now opposed to all forms of human cloning, and I'll tell you why in two words: Carter Oosterhouse.

Saturday morning TV at the gym is HGTV day, which might be cool because lots of those remodeling programs feature power tools. But then I watch a couple episodes of Carter Can, in which Mr. Oosterhouse helps some homeowners remodel some real trouble spots in their homes. Now, although I'm not married, it might yet work out that I will be someday. And I'll probably want to stay married, too, and there is no way that will ever happen if scientists figure out how to clone human beings and wives across America figure out they can clone Carter Oosterhouse.

You think it won't happen, eh? Well, I hope you're right, Mr. Balding Pasta-belly McSquinty-glasses, but I think you're hiding your head in the sand. You sign up for the show. You get ready. And here comes Carter. He's taller than you. He has a jawline. He was born with the five-o'clock shadow you don't get until 11 PM Sunday night. Watch him stand when he talks to you about your pathetic attempts to redesign rooms in your own home. His feet are farther apart than your puny arms can reach and he's all but marking your house as his territory. Sure, he's being pleasant, but it's the same way you're pleasant to your dog when he tries to figure out the packaging on a rawhide chew toy. You know the dog can't get to it but he's so funny when he tries! He never has to wear Dockers.

Then comes the actual building and construction. Watch Carter use the power tools and finish half the job in the time it would take you to turn them on. Watch Carter explain tools he's using that you used to hear the old men talk about but have never seen in real life. And now watch Carter show your wife how to use those tools. You can almost hear her mentally rehearse the words "irreconcilable differences" right now. You wonder if "accidentally" amputating your finger might give you a good excuse to get out of the show so you don't look even worse but you can't figure out where to plug in the saw. Carter takes the pencil that actually stays behind his ear and with it draws a line so straight rulers get jealous. He asks you to do the next one and you map the Congo River. And all the time, your wife is watching.

So what, you think? So he's manly and he can use power tools? He's got some wussy college degree, right? Yeah, nutrition and communications. Which he earned on a rugby scholarship.

Doesn't matter, you say. I'm the one who listens to her, I'm the father of her children, I'm the one who promised to take her in sickness and in health. Then you watch the footage. Carter sits down with your wife after they install part of the remodeled room fittings. She talks with him; he understands her. He plays with your kids. Your son now knows how to use a circular saw better than you do. Your daughters will learn to spell "Oosterhouse" before they can spell your name because they'll be writing it inside little hearts all over their diaries.

Mark my words, men. If scientists perfect the ability to grow complete human beings from just a few cells, then there will be divorce lawyers on the phone, fifty million Carter Oosterhouses in the cloning vats and husbands everywhere headed back home to live with Mom. No Dad, just Mom. Because she wants a Carter-clone too.