The Jay-Blog

The Good Old Days

Years from now we'll be telling our grandchildren what it was like in the Golden Age of Spam. They'll listen in wide-eyed disbelief as we describe the unregulated, mostly illegal crap that accounts for 50% of all email sent. I'm going to save a few choice examples for display in the Smithsonian.

Subject: This is your penis. This is your penis on drugs

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You gotta wonder if this one is a troll from John Ashcroft & Co.:

From: "robotshockwave"
Subject: EXCLUSIVE CHILD PORNO COLLECTION!!!!!!!
To:

We are glad to tell you that we have opened new shop with
exclusive CHILD PORNO collection!

- Here you can find Video CD with Child Porno!
- girls and boys about 6-14 y.o !
- Every week we will constantly add new video cd !
- In our shop you will find small description for every cd and sample snap shots...
- All videos are written on CD(in MPEG and AVI format)
- Every CD contains about 600-700Mb of videos
- Here you can choose CD and see sample snap pictures and sample snap videos
- Videos are written in 640x480 resolution and have normal quality
- more than 53 vcd !!!!!!

If you wish to visit our shop mail to admin@pedoshop.org and
we will send you instructions how you can visit our shop.

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Howard Dean '66

Howard Dean, the blogging populist candidate for President, and I attended the same high school! He arrived three months after I left.

St. George's School is probably not like the school you attended. For one thing, it's in Newport, Rhode Island, on a 200-acre hilltop overlooking the Atlantic. For another, it boasts a beautiful gothic chapel complete with gargoyles and its own ocean-going sailboat. When I attended, the student body numbered 214 boys.

Now attendance is up to 335, male and female. Average class size is 10. Tuition for boarders is $30,000/year. The S.G. mascot is still, of course, the dragon.

In case you missed the chance for Nigeria

I am Lieutenant Col.AHMED USMAN ABUBARKA,from Irag and one of the
Baath Party Officials of Saddam Hussein's regime. Due to the
sudden outbreak of the current war in my country with the
coaliation forces,comprising of Britain and American's,i decided
that this is an opportunity for me and my family to sneak out of
the country(Iraq).

My family and i are now in Syria seeking sanctuary,some sort of
refuge. I was able to take along with me money in suitcases
containing $23 million united states dollars.

I want to quickly transfer this money to your nominated bank
account in your country ,where me and my familly intend to meet
you up and settle down in future. If you accept to help me,i am
willing to offer you 30% out of the money.

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Separated at birth?

Gustave Caillebotte

Childe Hassam

Romi ist 80!

Romi is 80!

Austin is 20!

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Hammer Kids

View From the Bleachers

Hammer (Kids) Time at the Coliseum

Catherine Howard, Special to SF Gate

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You've seen them -- once -- on SportsCenter. You've also seen them on ABC, NBC, CBS, KICU and possibly Fox. You've definitely seen them on DiamondVision, and if you're a certain type of fan you've left your seat, walked to right field and watched them in person.

They're Coliseum regulars, usually missing only one game a week, and their presence at games makes many people -- ones who appreciate character, fandom, whimsy and self-expression -- happy.

I'm talking, of course, about the A's Hammer Kids. The two, and sometimes three, young men who regularly don layers of green and gold, pick up a significantly oversized cardboard cutout hammer, and spend their days and nights on the third deck, pounding away at deftly-constructed renditions of the A's opponents' mascots.

In real life, life outside the confines of the Coliseum, the Hammer Kids are college students from the East Bay. When not putting the hammer in motion, Nick Wong, 20, of Alameda is a studio artist attending Santa Clara. Austin Cross, 19, of Berkeley, spends his time away from beaten and bedraggled mascots as a meteorology student at San Francisco State. Their parents think they're slightly crazy, but in a good way. Their friends regularly join them at the games.

Actually, as Austin's dad, I have to say that I'm quite proud to see his name and this story in the newspaper.

Until mid-season last year Nick and Austin were average right field bleacher fans -- if you can call any bleacher fans "average." But then one day a man sitting by Nick started exhorting Barry Zito to throw his curveball: "drop the hammer, baby! Give him the curve, the hook, the Uncle Charlie!" Inspiration, it seems, can be as simple as a stranger yelling at a pitcher 300 feet away. Nick went home and began work on a new project -- a cardboard hammer painted green and gold with the slogan "A's Hardware" on the handle.

The Hammer made its debut hanging off the right field stands during the A's 20-game win streak. And while Nick and Austin were pleased with their creation (who wouldn't be pleased with a green and gold hammer that measures at least six-feet long?) they felt it hadn't achieved its full potential. What hammer is effective laying still? Not many, unless used as paperweights. This hammer, it seemed, was born to move.

Soon, Nick and Austin had migrated from the bleachers to the third deck where they had plenty of room to, quite literally, drop the hammer. Putting the hammer in motion satisfied them for a while, but pretty quickly they sensed something else was missing. At the time, they were simply moving the hammer, rather than using it on something. With the Angels, and their super annoying Rally Monkey due in to town, Nick had an epiphany -- they needed a victim. And thus, the bruised and battered mascot, roughed up by the A's Hardware, came in to being.

My friends and I call Nick and Austin the "A's Hammer Kids," but that's not their official name. They don't have one. Once, and it's only been once so far, a person asked Nick for his autograph. Nick, who in the retelling seemed slightly taken aback, signed simply "Hammer Guy" because he couldn't think of anything else to write.

More regularly, people come up to right field (or Mt. Davis, or wherever Nick and Austin can find room to hoist the signs and not block views) to talk, and to have their picture taken with the Hammer. Sit with them for a few innings and you have no choice but to become a group photographer -- packs of skinny pre-teen girls who giggle as they crowd in around Nick, dads with small children who can't take their eyes off the colorful outfits, teenagers in dark clothes muttering "right on," all want themselves recorded for posterity with the Hammer Kids. Nick and Austin, who never lose track of the game and never stop wielding their signs, are always willing to oblige.

Merely walking around the Coliseum with a six-foot cardboard hammer would not make you a Hammer Kid. To do the thing right, you must dress the part.

Currently, Nick and Austin's game day wardrobes include long yellow shorts, A's jerseys or shirts, green and gold capes, green and gold Mardi Gras beads, over-sized foam A's "beer hats" (green, cowboy hat shaped for Austin; yellow, baseball cap shaped for Nick) and the all-important high green socks in homage to Barry Zito. Nick also regularly sports a green pair of Harry Potter glasses, and can look quite fetching in a neon green, chin-length wig.

Their friend Danny Snyder, 20, who periodically joins them as an additional sign holder, sports a bright yellow hard hat, green hazmat gloves, yellow rain pants and a jealousy-inducing "Hammer Time" A's shirt from the '80s. While many A's fans may be distinctive dressers, it would take time, effort and inspiration to outdo these guys.

While you might not realize it, being a Hammer Kid is a fair amount of work. Nick, the resident artist and sign maker, has created a battered and bruised mascot for all but two of the A's opponents (he chose not to make one for Cleveland because they "don't want to beat up on a Native American." The Tigers, who blew in and out of Oakland for one three-game series, were simply not worth the effort). The mascots are large, detailed, meticulously painted cardboard cutouts ("I go to Costco a LOT," Nick says), which have "bandaged" injuries and are frequently crying or sporting a black eye.

Hardest to make were the signs for the Royals (a lion wearing a crown that had to be reinforced with numerous popsicle sticks in order to be strong enough to stand up and still conform to Coliseum safety regulations), and Lou Seal, the Giants' mascot. You may think that much work is impressive, the mascots are just the beginning. When Roger Clemens stepped to the Oakland mound this year, Austin cheerfully held up a rocket for abuse. When Scott Hatteberg walks to the plate a large Alice In Wonderland-inspired hat labeled "Mad Hatte, size 10/" appears. "Burn, Baby, Byrnes" is surrounded by orange and yellow flames, and more often than not a sign simply stating "Foulke Legend" comes out for the ninth.

You might think to yourself, "why do these guys put in all the effort, and why do they keep doing it?" but if you're a devoted sports fan, a person who regularly attends games and feels yourself becoming part of the crowd and part of the experience, then you should know the answer: superstition.

Any fan who's ever gone out of their way to walk through the same gate as last (winning) game, or who buys a beer in the same inning every time they're at the park, or who just has to wear their lucky sweatshirt/t-shirt/pair of socks share, at some level, Nick and Austin's motivations. Nick has devoted hours to making signs, only to retire them when the A's perform poorly. "Last year, we had a 'Can of Corn' sign and debuted it at what ended up being the last game of the 20-game win streak," Austin says, "but after the A's gave up all those runs we couldn't bring it back."

"I'm very superstitious," Nick says, "whenever the A's lose I have to shave my head. I dye my hair green when I go to spring training. The hammer isn't about getting on T.V. It's all about superstition." As a result, what may look like signs being held up at random to the uninitiated is actually an almost choreographed performance based on a set of unbreakable rules.

To wit:

* Never hammer during the first inning because it is bad luck.
* Only hammer when the A's are on defense or when they score.
* Be sure to eat the right color cotton candy -- pink at day games, blue at night, green at "odd start times" and yellow should there be a double-header.
*If there is a sign devoted to one of the A's players, be sure to show it during that player's at-bat.
* When an A¼s batter has a three-ball count, always make the "first down" arm motion while chanting "Ball Four".
* When the opposition has deuces (two balls, two strikes, two out), take off your hat, and shake it with the opposite hand of that which the batter hits.

Sitting up in right field, so far removed from the action that the players look like ants, listening to Nick and Austin give a running play-by-play on what's happening in the game and what signs should come out is, in a way, seeing baseball fandom in a pure form.

It's like being part of a five person "crowd" for a sandlot game, when you look around at the other spectators and know you're all there because you love baseball, and you can't get enough of cheering, no matter who is playing.

There's a joy in their devotion to the game and the team that transfers out from the hammer to everyone in the area. After the A¼s swept the Orioles on a bizarre play in the bottom of the ninth this Sunday, people streaming towards the exits hollered up at Nick, Austin and Danny: "Thanks, you guys, you made this fun!"

"You guys are great, we love you!"

And, perhaps most gratifying for the ever-superstitious Hammer Kids, "you brought them the luck! Good job!"

Email me: Any thoughts on the second half? Other comments, questions, suggestions and ramblings are also welcome. Send e-mails to viewfromleftfield@yahoo.com.

Catherine Howard grew up hating the Oakland A's in suburban Washington, DC. Since moving to the Bay Area in 1996 she has developed a great affinity for her former least-favorite baseball team. Now a full-season season ticket holder, Catherine attends between 90-100 A's games a year. When not at the Coliseum, Catherine works at a nonprofit, gazes longingly at her new Bill King bobblehead and drinks an unusual amount of Diet Coke.

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View From the Bleachers / Hammer (Kids) Time at the Coliseum
Danny Snider was the sign man of record last Sunday when the Orioles finished their visit to Oakland. You have to bring the whole set of signs if you want to hang with the Hammer crew.Photo by Gil Batzri for SFGate.com

View From the Bleachers / Hammer (Kids) Time at the Coliseum
Danny Snider (L) Austin Cross (C) and Nick Wong (R) are the straw that stirs the drink at the Coliseum this year. Drop the Hammer, boys! Photo by Gil Batzri for SFGate.com

A Day in Vienna

This morning over breakfast, I debated whether to go into Vienna (half an hour away) or walk along the Danube. It's my last day in Europe on this trip. Another factor: I have no cash. My ATM card expired last week; my wallet contained $10 and 6 euros. And Austria is not particularly credit-card friendly. I opted for Vienna, taking the 9:00 am train from Fischamend.

I walked over to St. Stephen's ("Steffi" to the locals). Dating back to 1147, the oldest remaining part is the Giant's Door, named for the mammoth's bone found there during renovations in the 1500s.

I had a great lunch at Do & Co., a fine restaurant on the eighth floor of a building across from Steffi. The tower and I got up close and personal. The bell inside was made from a hundred captured Turkish cannonballs. My gazpacho and loup de mer were yummy.

The center of Vienna is filled with walking streets. I walked for hours, gawking at the architecture and peering into shop windows. Shops can tell you a lot about a people.

New models and classics are available -- if you have $30+ to spend on a 4" car.

The Stepford Austrians in a doll shop.

I will never tire of toy model trains.

The Viennese will not let you forget that in the good old days, the Hapsburg Empire was supreme. I wandered around the Hofburg, the former Imperial Palace.

Emperor Frederick III's motto was AEIOU: Alle Erde ist Oesterreichs Untertan (All the Earth is Austria's Subject).

Maybe it's imperial self-importance, but for some reason, the Hofburg is decorated with bearded Arnold Schwartzenegger-types battling serpents, proto-pit bulls, and the Creature from the Black Lagoon.

Music is important here. I saw dozens of people dressed up in Mozart-era costume, trying to sell concert tickets. I walked by Mozart's house here; Haydn's, too.

Strauss.

Former imperial stables have been converted into an immense art complex. The Leopold Museum is an enormous white cube, one of six museums on the grounds. Gustav Klimt, Egon Schiele, Oskar Kokoshka, and at least fifty other Austrian artists I had never heard of, but whose works were quite moving, hang there. Richard Gerstl painted wonderful stuff, hung out with Arnold Schoenburg, carried on with Frau Schoenburg, and commited suicide when she left him. Kolo Moser not only turned out wonderful paintings but also designed furniture.

The parks tell me where Frederick Law Olmstead got his inspriation. I'm sure the shopkeeper with the stork has good luck. The shop featured a large painting of a stork as well.

Graz

Vienna to Graz

Back in the Austro-Hungarian Empire. Yesterday I took a three-hour train ride from Vienna to Graz, passing through hills and valleys that reminded me of Southern Germany and Switzerland. Graz is having a heat wave. For the last hour of the trip, I pushed down the window to cool my face in the wind.

 

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Graz The five-hundred year old clocktower on the hill dominates the old city of Graz. Most of the old town seems to date to the same period. My restaurant one evening was built in 1538.

The baroque Landeshaus, now the site of free concerts. I listened to a piano concert on my way to dinner one evening.

Downtown is chock full of medieval buildings, inner courtyards, and narrow lanes.

Here is the oldest bakery in town.

The hill in the town center was circled with fortifications until Napoleon's troops blew them up. An arboretum replaced the ruined defences. These hornbeam trees are several centuries old.

Graz's most famous export is native son Arnold Schwartzenegger. The area is also known for its pumpkin oil and wines.

In the mid-1500s, the Ottoman Turks raped and pillaged parts of Styria. The locals invested heavily in weaponry to fend off the invaders. They still own this stuff -- armor, swords, pistols, halbards, pikes. The Tower of London has lots of this sort of thing, but no where near as much as the Zeughaus in Graz.

I was hot, tired, and exhausted when I saw a non-descript door with a sign noting the burg garten lay behind it. Bliss. I marvelled at the colors on the framework of my park bench.

In the last afternoon and evening, people spill out onto the sidewalks. Strolling musicians play, people eat and drink, and people-watching is the primary sport.

Graz is the European Community Culture Capital of Europe for 2003. Performances are conducted on this large boat floating in the river Mur. Odd art abounds.

Click to check it out.

My last night in town, I supped on plaice at a restaurant built in 1538.

Fischamend Sunday I took the train from Graz to Wien, and then a bus to the village of Fischamend, a speck on the Fischa River about four kms. upstream from where it joins the Danube. This town does have a thing for fish.

The fish tower (left) was built in 1051. Fishabend's city seal adorns City Hall.

I had a lovely lunch of St Petersfisch in white wine sauce with pink peppercorns in the garden behind the Gasthof Goldenes Kreuz. Great palacsintas (Hungarian crepes) for desert. Life is good.

After lunch I wandered through the village and along the banks of the river Fischa.

Graz

I am in Graz, Austria, having a great time but feeling a bit cut off. My laptop stopped operating, so I cannot upload photographs. My only net connection is the public terminal in my hotel lobby. My bank card expired on the last day of June and I have but $25 to my name.

The Art of Travel

On the flight to Vienna, I read Alain de Botton’s The Art of Travel cover to cover. It’s a charming book. Each chapter mixes the author’s feelings about a particular trip he’s on with descriptions of how a particular philosopher would have looked at it. In The Lake District, an area once overlooked as drab and featureless, he talks of Wordsworth describing the beauty of sparrows and brooks and nature all around. At first his contemporaries considered him a simpleton, but in time he won them over. People became alert to the beauty around them; The Lake District became a tourist attraction. De Botton still flashes on the perfect symmetry of two trees, drilled into his head in a fleeting moment on his trip there.

John Ruskin wanted people to wake up by drawing what they saw. If you don’t want to draw, Ruskin suggests you “word-paint.” Van Gogh’s mission was to enable people to see the colors and essence of Provence that other artists had not conveyed.

De Botton’s long, winding sentences put me in a contemplative mood. The best (and funniest) in the book: “Such climatic circumstances, together with a sequence of evens that occurred at around this time (and seemed to confirm Chamfort’s dictum that a man must swallow a toad every morning to be sure of not meeting with anything more revolting in the day ahead), conspired to render me intensely susceptible to the unsolicited arrival one later afternoon of a large, brightly illustrated brochure entitled 'Winter Sun'.” And so begins his trip to Barbados, where he affirms that most of a trip occurs in your head, with you seeing what you expected to see.

Gustave Flaubert hated France in general and the bourgeoisie in particular. He traveled in Egypt, cherry-picking the sights, and forever after told people he was truly Egyptian, if not a citizen of the world. In Madrid, de Botton contrasts the Baedeker descriptions of sites with Alexander von Humboldt’s thirty volumes of findings from a five-year exploration of South America, deciding that you need to ask your own questions to find what’s meaningful to you and avoid boredom. The notion that the guidebook’s three-star attraction may not be your piece of cake was particularly liberating for me. As I grow older, I find myself drawn more to the one-star or no-star sites than the three-star blockbusters identified by M. Michelin.

Xavier de Maistre wrote a book entitled Journey Around My Bedroom which inspires de Botton to write “the pleasure we derive from a journey may be dependent more on the mind-set we travel with than on the destination we travel to.” Receptivity is key. De Botton wanders his London neighborhood, trying to dissociate his surroundings from their usual hooks.

Since I’m in Graz, I needn’t look too far to receive new lessons. “Lessons” is an apt word, for many of de Botton’s precepts apply equally well in the meta-learning realm.