Tuesday, September 11, 2012
This morning, at the moment the Twin Towers in New York City collapsed 11 years ago during an Islamist terror attack, a bagpiper played in front of Burligame City Hall. A small gathering of somber people, including firefighters, stopped to reflect. Not so a nearby gardener. He had no clue whatsoever. He kept his annoying leafblower going at full throttle throughout the brief ceremony. Slowly but surely, the enormity of the events on the East Coast on Sept. 11, 2001 is fading away as life goes on. Perhaps it should be emphasized that those attacks and subsequent loss of life represent the worst such combined events to hit the mainland of the U.S. since the War of 1812.
Monday, September 10, 2012
Attending a Giants' baseball game at AT&T Park is like going to a party. The promotions and marketing people who work for the professional ballclub outdo themselves on a regular basis. It doesn't matter who the Giants are playing. The score is almost irrelevant. The fun and games off the diamond are really where it's at. Baseball purists aren't thrilled about some of the ludicrous activity (think Panda hats, awkward Ball Dudes, the former unlamented Melkmen, Gamer Babes, etc.). But the paying customers, especially kids, seem to enjoy it. Which is fine. But there is one aspect of Giants' ballgames that needs some attention. The AT&T garlic fries have become exercises in gastric distress. Whew, when they say "garlic," that's what they mean. In spades. A small amount of this ballpark menu item can keep your wobbly stomach and tender colon gasping for relief well into the following day and night. Your breath is unsuitable for the Caltrain ride home. The chefs might as well just call it "garlic with fries as an afterthought." Belching later isn't just an option, it's required. There's enough trapped gas after a game adjacent to McCovey Cove to fuel a PG&E power plant for a fortnight. Bring on the Beano. We've got an emergency here.