Shabbos?

There was also a personal aspect of that question: How was I going to pay attention to a game that lasts five days? I'm a typically over-connected modern worker bee. Lately, as the trips run into each other and I go 50, 70 days on without one off, I often feel frantic, wondering what I might be missing. I have two phones. An iPad and a Kindle. Three MacBooks. I take my iPhone into the bathroom, to text and play Zombie Gunship. Sometimes I take a call, hitting mute to flush. I use airport urinals with a phone in the other hand. I compulsively check my email. At dinner. In bed. At funerals. No, really, I checked messages at my great-aunt Thelma's funeral. I was a pallbearer. Lately, though I haven't told anyone, I've been having trouble reading. Half-finished books pile up. I open stories in browsers and get a few paragraphs in before I'm distracted by another link, another pop-up video. I'm an addict.

As I settle into my seat on my way to London, the plane over the Atlantic, I start a book called "Hamlet's BlackBerry," which hypothesizes that all our devices are removing the moments before and after important events, amputating both anticipation and reflection, robbing our lives of depth. I feel like the writer is inside my head. There's a passage about each generation fearing the new, describing how Socrates believed the invention of writing would be the end of creativity and critical thinking, the permanence of words calcifying ideas. Writing was to Socrates what video games are to current parents. This is fascinating stuff, just the sort of modern philosophy I'm usually drawn to, but my strobing mind distracts me. I mark my place and never pick it back up again. Oh, and I'm reading a book about the poisonous effect of our devices … on my iPad. Such is the depth of my sickness as I leave passport control at Heathrow. And yet, as my cab heads straight to Lord's Cricket Ground, I still feel in control. I mean, for instance, I don't imagine this trip will lead me to reevaluate my life in a Buddhist temple on the seventh floor of a north London public housing building.

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It occurs to me, sitting in this grandstand, that maybe I'm looking for answers in the wrong direction.

For a few days now, I've been focusing on the game itself, reporting on the state of Test cricket. It obviously doesn't fit in a modern world. People don't have five hours, much less five days, to be disconnected. One look around the stands and you realize many don't have five minutes, or at least they think they don't: a parade of kids eating ice cream cones, holding hands with dads on BlackBerrys. The game is out of sync with today. But maybe it's deeper than that. What if it isn't the world that's changing?

What if it's us? Gary Small, a professor at UCLA, is at the cutting edge of research on what our devices are doing to our brains. His findings are terrifying. The way we ingest information is changing us. When we read online, our mind, instead of focusing on the text, is subconsciously making thousands of instant decisions, each hyperlink or embedded video causing a series of chemical reactions: Yes or no? Yes or no? Connect. Disconnect. Connect. Disconnect. "Our brains get trained to work like a search engine," Small says. "We jump from idea to idea. We're not thoughtful. We're not pondering. In some ways, we're less creative."

Like a muscle, the brain strengthens the part of itself that it uses the most. This isn't new. Scientists can point to the invention of the hand-held tool hundreds of thousands of years ago, and a corresponding growth in the size of the frontal lobe. The Internet is really just a sophisticated hammer. What will future anthropologists find out about our brains?

The good news is that, for digital immigrants -- people who grew up without these stimuli -- a few weeks away will allow the brain to return to normal. But digital natives -- those who've always known the Internet and smartphones -- might be forever different. Before the age of 20, there's a significant amount of pruning of the synapses. The generation coming of age now might have permanently changed its brains. Studies show humans are losing some ability to interpret facial cues. What's next? Will people one day be unable to read a novel? Or, say, watch a five-day sporting event?

"Digital natives are very impatient with mental tasks that involve delayed gratification," Small says. "That's what you're going to see with cricket. It will be very challenging for this long form of cricket to survive, except among a few aficionados. What's happening to the brains of young people is going to affect the fan base as well as the player base."

That's a new thought, a frightening one. Separate from the economics of television and advertising, from the money pulling at the players and the time required of fans, the biggest threat to Test cricket might be the reconstituted brains of those who watch it.

The face in the mirror is our own. We created a world without space for a pastoral game. We created a world without enough hours in the day. Forget great generals and politicians; unintended consequences are the true drivers of history. When the clock was invented, there was no minute hand. Nobody really needed minutes until around 1700. The modern wristwatch was invented in about 1820. What happened in between? The Industrial Revolution. For the first time in history, people needed to be at work on time. Minutes mattered. Now seconds matter. So we check our email every few moments, even feeling phantom vibrations in our pocket -- like pain in an amputated limb -- wondering what we're missing, even as we're doing something we profess to love.

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http://sports.espn.go.com/espn/eticket/story?page=111225/testcricket

Pitchers and catchers reporting soon...

Furthermore, koching in sports is not chassidish. So, if a sport requires you to koch in it (follow the statistics of certain players, etc.) in order to enjoy it, since on the face value, there is no action going on, the sport itself is not chassidish. And since chassidishkeit is a measure of perfection of all things... well, there you go.

Someone recently wrote the above comment to attempt to prove that soccer was better than baseball and football. This person's argument appears to be that all sports are bad, but soccer is slightly better than other sports because it takes no particular ability or intelligence to understand the game. Furthermore it is posited that "chassidishkeit" is the measure of perfection of all things, and if soccer comes closer to the ideals of "chassidishkeit" than anything else then it must be the best sport.

This argument is specious for a couple of reasons. First of all, it's stated that being involved in sports is not chassidish, but there is no attempt to prove that is true; the author merely states his opinion and then proceeds to his flawed conclusion based on that premise. The author compounds this faulty logic by ascertaining that "chassidishkeit is the measure of perfection of all things", a completely baseless opinion that has no bearing in reality.

In short, opining that baseball is not chassidish because there's a certain interest in statistics is a fallacious argument that merely belies soccer's own extreme tear-inducing boredom. Baseball, on the contrary, has tension before, during, and after every pitch, as opposed to soccer which has a bunch of guys doing wind sprints and kicking each other's shins. Baseball's statistic's driven culture results in a truly intelligent way to judge the game and its players, as opposed to soccer, which relies on emotions and things like "beauty" to measure its performance. As everyone knows, the true measure of "chassidishkeit" is how it relates to chassidus, and since chassidus equals Chabad, it's obvious that intellectual appreciation is what is valued, i.e. baseball, not the emotionally charged game of soccer. Baseball appreciates the brain, allowing it to exercise its considerable talents, much like Chabad Chassidus, unlike soccer, which is just a bunch of guys running around do wind sprints and kicking a ball.

The Designated Hitter in Baseball

One of the many great and wonderful things about being at home is that there's a ton of shtuff lying around on my computer that I wrote many years ago. This piece, for example, was written in 2004 for college credit in a PSEO course through the University of Minnesota. Enjoy:
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Over the years, there has been much controversy over the Designated Hitter, or DH, rule. The DH rule states that “A hitter may be designated to bat for the starting pitcher and all subsequent pitchers in any game without otherwise affecting the status of the pitcher(s) in the game” (Rules Handbook 6.10). The rule allows for a player to hit in place of the pitcher in the batting order. Some people think that the DH rule negatively impacts the game principally because it allows for a player who only hits, and therefore takes away from the fundamental democracy of baseball where all the players are on the field for both the offensive and defensive phases of the game. However, there are several reasons why the DH, which is used in the American League but not the National League, improves the game and makes it more exciting. One of these reasons is that the DH allows teams to have nine genuine hitters in a lineup. Another benefit of the DH is that older players, who simply don’t have the physical skills to contribute defensively, can still help the team with their bats. The rule is also good for pitchers, because they can concentrate on what they do best, which is pitching, and leave the offensive aspect of the game to players who can hit.

There are many ways to manipulate but not necessarily improve the game of baseball, such as lowering the mound or tightening the strike zone, but the DH is the only one which does not fundamentally change the game. All the DH does is allow for offenses to take advantage of all nine spots in the lineup. The rule is beneficial because pitchers are notoriously weak hitters, which means that without a DH, only eight of a team’s nine batters will hit well and in a consistent fashion. Offenses improve when the pitcher is not forced to bat and the entire lineup is capable of scoring runs. As Tom Trebelhorn, former Milwaukee Brewers manager said, “In the American League . . . I face nine bona fide outs” (Will 121). Having a pitcher in the batting order simply decreases offenses’ potency.

Replacing the pitcher with a DH in the batting order increases batting average and, therefore, offense. In 1972, for example, the year before the DH rule was implemented, the American League hit a combined .239; the next year, with the introduction of the DH, they hit .259 (Costas para 14). The twenty-point increase in average between the two years might not seem like much, but in a sport where each team will have over 6,000 at-bats (defined as any time a batter gets either a hit or makes an out) per season, twenty percentage points translates into 120 more hits, almost one more per game per team.

Before the DH rule, pitchers had to bat for themselves, and as a result, teams’ offenses suffered. For instance, on a recent Saturday, box scores taken from the Pioneer Press show that pitchers in the National League were seven for thirty-two, an average of .218 (13C). The pitchers laid down four sacrifice bunts, walked three times, and hit two doubles (13C). Not a single pitcher hit a homer or even drove in a run. Out of the sixty-one pitchers who threw on that Saturday, only nineteen ever came to the plate (13C). On the same day, the American League DHs (who batted instead of the pitchers) batted eighteen for fifty-one, an average of .353 (13-14C). They hit one homer, three doubles, walked six times, stole twice, and got seven RBIs (runs batted in) (13-14C). The American League’s batting statistics are very telling as they show how DHs batted over .200 points higher and reached base over twice as many times as their counterparts sin the National League. Statistically, the pitchers struck out almost twice as often as the DHs.

Another reason why the DH rule improves the game of baseball is that it allows older players to continue to play the game. This is important for baseball as a business, and therefore for the game itself. One of the goals of baseball teams is to build up a fan-base. This is done in many ways, one of which is to build a relationship between a player and the fans. By allowing older players to continue playing, teams can draw more fans who have built up relationships with the players, and therefore make more money, which in most cases is reinvested in the teams. The most well known of these older players is Paul Molitor, who in 2004 became the first player to be inducted into the Hall of Fame, despite having had most of his at-bats as a DH. Similar to Molitor is Edgar Martinez, the first DH to ever win a batting title (Lilley para 11). Sadly, many competent players become too injured to continue the wear and tear of playing in the field; however, the DH rule allows players who cannot physically play in the field to continue to contribute to the team by batting while not having to risk further injury in the field and at the same time allows pitchers to concentrate on their game, which is pitching.

Pitchers benefit in may ways because of the DH rule. No longer do pitchers risk being hit by a pitch or tweaking their muscles on the base-paths. There are many injuries, such as wrenched backs, torn hamstrings, and broken fingers, that can beset a pitcher while pitching. Even a blister on the pitching hand may necessitate a visit onto the Disabled List. Batters also are exposed to many situations where they can become injured. Pitchers should not have to become exposed to batter’s injuries considering that they are more delicate than their offensive counter-parts. Moreover, pitchers are more exposed to injuries suffered by batters because they haven’t built up the muscles which are necessary for players who hit. Pitchers are light and slender, with the main focus of their training regimen centering on the arms and hands. Hitters do work out their arms and hands, but power, which is the main consideration of the modern game, is generated by most players with their legs and back. Pitchers need to be lithe, batters strong. The DH allows pitchers to continue to perfect their part of the game and hitters theirs.

There are other ways in which the pitcher benefits from the DH rule. Before every game pitchers have a meeting with their catcher and manager to decide how they will pitch in the upcoming game (Garagiola 17-20). The meeting is used to discuss the pitcher’s personal history against the batter, which includes personal matchups between the pitcher and batter, as well as the batter versus the team and the pitcher versus the team, their personal history in the ballpark, what the weather is like, who is catching them, and even at what time of day the game will be played. This meeting and the accompanying thinking which it involves is very important, as it allows the pitcher to focus on the game and “zone out” everything else. The batter has to concentrate on many of the same things as the pitcher. The batter also has to think about the defensive alignment of the infield and outfield, and if and where his teammates are on base. Pitchers need to be allowed to focus on their pitching duties. In a game where every pitch is important the pitcher can’t afford to lose his concentration and think about batting. The DH allows pitchers to concentrate on pitching rather than worrying about batting.

Not only does the DH rule improve hitting and pitching, but it also makes managers’ jobs easier. One important part of a manager’s job is his decision process involving players who are or have been injured, those whose defense is not up to snuff, or even those who just need a break from the demanding job of fielding; in the National League, the only solution for any of these problems is to bench the player. Players who can’t contribute defensively might come in and pinch-hit, but their services will not be able to be used for the rest of the game. On the other hand, the DH rule in the American League allows the manager to rest a player as well as benefit from their bat. Players just coming off injuries often aren’t ready to play full time. In the National League, the only option for managers who need to rest players is to use them as pinch-hitters, which delays their return; conversely, the American League manager can pencil in this player as the DH and allow him to slowly acclimatize to playing.

There are several reasons why baseball purists prefer the National League, where there is no DH. One reason is that baseball is a democratic game, which means that, theoretically, every player should have the chance to do everything. All nine players play defense, and all nine play offense. Initially, this theory makes sense; after all, shouldn’t every player be made to play everything? For example, if a manager is to switch a shortstop and center fielder, each will experience some difficulty, but both will be able to perform satisfactorily; however, if the manager switches a pitcher with the center fielder, things will be very different. The pitcher does not have the same fielding skills as outfielders, and consequently, many fly balls will drop in for hits and many singles will turn into extra-base hits. The center fielder will not have the accuracy, velocity, endurance, or knowledge needed to pitch, and any potential batter will most likely walk on four pitches. With the pitcher’s inadequacy at any position (save his own) exposed, it is hard to accept the argument that baseball is a fundamentally democratic game. Pitchers can’t hit, and hitters can’t pitch.

Some still say that even though pitchers can’t hit well, they can hit. However, players who DH often can not play defense. This argument-- that the DH is the only specialized player in baseball-- is invalid. When one sees the kind of pitchers in modern bullpens, it becomes clear that the DH is not the only specialized player in today’s game. Most relievers are specialists brought in to pitch only in certain situations. For example, it is much harder for a right-handed batter to bat effectively against a left-handed pitcher, and consequently, many pitchers are just brought in to face one batter. In many games, pitchers are brought in to face one batter and are then taken out. These pitchers never come to bat; they are more specialized than even a DH, who bats the entire game, regardless of the who the pitcher is.

Opponents of the DH, like NBC sportscaster Bob Costas, also dislike the rule because they claim it takes away from the strategy of the game. To give an example: The Mudhens are down two to one in the bottom of the eighth inning, with a runner on second and one out, and the pitcher is up to bat. If there is a DH, there is no problem. With a pitcher batting, however, the manager is faced with a major conundrum. If the manager allows the pitcher to stay in and hit, he probably will not drive the runner home, but if he calls in a pinch-hitter, he loses the pitcher who has thrown a great game. Proponents of the DH rule argue that there really is more strategy involved with having a DH. With a tying or winning run on base and the pitcher up to bat, the manager’s decision is actually simple: if the manager trusts his bullpen, he’ll call in for pinch-hitter. If he doesn’t have a good reliever, he’ll tell the pitcher to sacrifice the runner to second. With the DH, the manager must decide on the basis of pitching and pitching alone. With a DH, a pitcher is forced to stand on his own merits, pitching-wise, and not be subject to the dictates of the offensive game plan.

The first DH was Ron Bloomberg of the New York Yankees. In his first at-bat he drew a bases-loaded walk (Lilley para 5). Since then, many players have been the DH. All of them had something in common: they could all hit. Some DHs were playing at DH because they were inadequate defensively, others were coming off an injury, and still others just needed a break. Because of the DH, pitchers have been able to concentrate on pitching, and offenses have finally been able to have nine batters who were all capable of getting hits. Some might say that the DH is not an improvement for baseball, because it takes away from the equality of the players or the strategy of the game, but this claim is simply not true. With the DH, everyone on the team has an assigned role. The pitchers pitch, and the DH hits. Neither the pitcher nor the DH is required to try and do what they cannot. With the DH, managers are required to judge a pitcher on his pitching, and on no other factor. With the DH, offense is increased without neglecting defense. As Peter Angelos, owner of the Baltimore Orioles wrote, “A great pitching duel is much appreciated. But good hitting, timely hitting and power hitting — those are the most attractive aspects of baseball” (USA Today para 8). The only way to insure “good hitting, timely hitting, and power hitting” is to have a DH, a player who will always have a much better chance of increasing offense, thereby increasing excitement in the game.

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Works Cited

Adams, Cecil. “The Straight Dope” Chicago Reader. Sep. 5, 2003. Aug. 10, 2004.

Angelos, Peter, Bob Costas. “DH rule: Angelos vs. Costas.” USA Today. Aug. 10, 2004.

Aug. 10, 2004.

Aug. 10, 2004.

Daugherty, Paul. “It's time for DH in NL.” The Cincinnati Enquirer. Sep. 16, 1997. Aug. 10, 2004.

Garagiola, Joe. Baseball is a Funny Game. 2nd ed. New York: Bantam, 1972.

Juipe, Dean. “Selig wrong to think DH expendable.” Las Vegas Sun. Aug. 10, 2004.

Lehmann-Haupt, Christopher. Me and Dimaggio. New York: Lyons Press, 1986.

Lilley, Bill. Aug. 10, 2004.

“Official Rules regarding the Designated Hitter.” Aug. 10, 2004.

Redabaugh, Blake. “Looking Back at the ‘Effect of the Designated Hitter.” Aug. 10, 2004

Saturday’s Box scores. Pioneer Press 8 Aug. 2004, sec. C: 13-14

Selig, Bud. “Transcript of Commissioner's chat.” July 9, 2002. Aug. 10, 2004

Will, George F. Men At Work. New York: Harper Collins, 1991.

How to appreciate the 17th of Tammuz

I was thinking this morning (shocking, ain't it?) about 17 Tammuz's of yore. Everyone knows what happened in the Middle East, right?

1. Moses broke the tablets at Mount Sinai — in response to the sin of the Golden Calf.

2. The daily offerings in the First Temple were suspended during the siege of Jerusalem, after the Kohanim could no longer obtain animals.

3.Jerusalem's walls were breached, prior to the destruction of the Second Temple in 70 CE.

4. Prior to the Great Revolt, the Roman general Apostamos burned a Torah scroll - setting a precedent for the horrifying burning of Jewish books throughout the centuries.

5. An idolatrous image was placed in the Sanctuary of the Holy Temple - a brazen act of blasphemy and desecration.

That was all, by the way, courtesy of Aish.com. Why was I reduced to using the competition? Because Chabad.org doesn't appear to know that some of these events happened, which is really quite embarrassing.

So anyway, as I was saying, I recalled going to a ball game eight years ago on the 17th of Tammuz with Levi Feller and Ira Tick. You want to know how good my memory for useless information is? Everything I'm about to write comes from my head, not the internet. Here goes:

The Minnesota Twins took on the Cincinnati Reds in a Sunday day game, I believe it was the rubber game of the three day series. Brad Radke pitched for the Twins, and ended up throwing a 3-hit complete game, retiring the final 22 batters he faced. The only run he gave up was a Ken Griffey Jr. home run. The Twins, meanwhile, scored seven runs in the first four innings, spurred on by Matt Lawton's big day. I remember being surprised that the attendance was less than 30,000, even though it looked like the good 'ol Metrodome was pretty full.

All right, how about for the truth? My memory was pretty good, but not infallible. Jason Larue hit that homerun, not Ken Griffey Jr. (who was hitless), and the Twins scored the last of their runs in the sixth. On the plus side, Matt Lawton did have a huge day, going 4 for 5 with a homerun. I had not recalled that Torii Hunter and AJ Pierzynski also had huge days, with three hits and two RBIs a piece. And my memory of the attendance? That at least was spot on- 28,507 souls saw that game.

And that, my friends, is the way it is.

The baseball

I have a problem with the song "Ninth Man on the Team" by Abie Rotenberg. Actually, I have several problems.

1. All we'd like to do all day, was sit and watch our TV sets, we'd talk about the Yankees, the Dodgers and the Mets.

Why are people in New York talking about the Los Angeles Dodgers? Especially once the New York Mets have come into town.

All right, this isn't a real problem, it just irks me a little. The following though...

2. Our catcher went and broke his leg while sliding into third, "It's a forfeit!" cried the other team, "you've only got eight guys!" "No we don't," a deep voice said, much to our surprise, "Since I am their Rebbe, well the fair thing it would seem, would be to let me be the ninth man, the ninth man on the team.

What the heck is wrong with this rebbe? His student breaks his leg, and all the rebbe can do is volunteer to play baseball? How about calling an ambulance? And even if you want to taana that they called an ambulance, he sent the kid off alone? The irresponsibility is shocking.

3. Rebbe went up to bat, faced the pitcher with a smile

How did the Rebbe get to bat now? If he's replacing the kid who just went and broke his leg, he should either be on the bench (if the kid was out) or on third base. What's he doing batting? Don't tell me there was a double-switch, because of course there was only nine men total. And don't tell me that the Rebbe's at bat came the next time the catcher was supposed to bat, because it's mashmah from the song that the Rebbe came up to bat right away.

The only solution I've been able to come up with is that the Rebbe switched with the next kid in the lineup, and the catcher stayed at third base, broken leg and all, and crawled home when the Rebbe hit the game winning home run.

For no other purpose

Something is only work when you don't want to do it for its sake. The day a baseball player only steps onto the field because he wants his paycheck, not for the love of the game, he's working, not playing. There's nothing wrong with work; in point of fact, it's quite the wonderful thing. Forget the financial aspects-there's something very satisfying about doing something you're not particularly interested in doing and doing it well. But at the same time, it's only a means, not an end. G-d created a world, and everything in it, but he didn't create it all equally. He wanted to create non-Jews, but not because he wanted a world filled with goyim; he made them because he wanted them in his world. Jews, on the other hand, were not created for another purpose. They're just there because He wants them.

Speaking of work, today is Beis Iyar, the birthday of the Rebbe Maharash, Lechatchila Ariber, as the Rebbe would often refer to him. Of course, if you're Shlomo Cunin then you put on your Sefer Torah (at Running Springs) "Lechatchila Ariber unAriber" (ooh, chasssiiddisshh), but that's neither here nor there. As the Tzemach Tzedek remarked when his son was complimented, "What do you expect of Tiferes sheb'Tiferes?"

The Rebbe Maharash has always been a little mysterious. We don't have a picture of him. (Actually, I have heard tell of a likeness possessed by some family in Crown Heights displayed under a glass counter top, but that could just be over-active Bochur imagination). He was first married at the age of fourteen to his niece Rebbitzen Shterna, after a whole round of sibling squabbling. She became ill soon after the wedding, and after a prolonged illness she passed away. When he was fifteen he was married again, to Rebbitzen Rivkah, no relation. (For a complete biography, see here)
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Meanwhile, in other news, the latest Haveil Havalim, ably hosted by the Rebbitzen's Husband, is up here.

Variety is the spice of life

Our retiring (not the golden handshake variety) leader Farbrenged tonight. He said that 10:00 PM through 10:00 AM is the time for your G-dly soul to rule, while the other 12 hours are the province of the animal soul. This coincides with his semi-recent decision to start taking life seriously, which is quite scary for the rest of us, since he's not even 40 years old. If he's taking life seriously now, who knows what's in store for the rest of us? His new theory about the time thing is that the most important parts of the day happen at night and in the morning. Before we lay us down to sleep we say the Krias Shema, which together with a Cheshbon Hanefesh, an accounting of the day, forms the backbone of our sacred religion, even if few people realize it. Next of course we commit the actual laying down to asleep, followed soon after by waking up, Modeh Ani, the ritual washing of the hands, the ritual laving of the body in the ritualarium, the study of Chassidus together with your drink of choice (tea, coffee, Coca-Cola, Diet Sunkist, etc.) and your mezonos of choice (or even chips and salsa). Next up is charity and then it's time for prayer. The first Chassidim of many years back took an hour to prepare for the 18 prayer benediction, an hour actually saying it, and an hour after to calm down. So that was nine hours total, per day, every day. It's enough if you can drag it out until 10:00, at which point you're free to eat breakfast and get on with your day, remembering of course that the hallmark of an effective prayer is its effect on the next 12 hours.

Sounds okay? The Rabbi will be gratified to hear that. In the middle of the Farbrengen he remarked that my problem was that I viewed life as one big joke. "In reality", he did say, "it's two big jokes." This statement got me thinking. Do I really not take life seriously enough? Sure, I enjoy a good joke as much as the next joy, and I'll try and run away from problems instead of dealing with 'em, but does that really imply that my life is missing the gravity it so obviously deserves? Speaking of gravity, I'm sure everyone will be happy to hear that, after extensive consultation with the Almighty Editor, I've resolved to not write the Next Great American Novel. I have the whole thing worked out in my head, but it would be way too much of a pain to actually write the whole thing down. Perhaps when I'm a little older and a little wiser I'll be able to.

In other news, I'm really tired, and quite annoyed. See, I'm writing this in Windows WordPad while I'm waiting for the internet to begin working. I've been waiting for over an hour. It claims to be updating the hardware or something. My question is, why do I have to suffer? I feel like Job or Charlie Brown; "Man is born to suffer as the sparks fly upwards." I wouldn't mind if the the little window thingie that showed progress actually showed progress, but it doesn't! It's been stuck on one bar the entire time. If I was paying for the product I'd probably call up and complain, but I'm not, so that option flies right out the window.

Incredible. I do a little praying, floss and brush my teeth, and viola! We have internet! A modern day miracle! If I wasn't Jewish already I could probably found a major new world-religion based on this. Oh well, I'll just go to bed, which isn't too bad an alternative to religion-founding when you think about it.

Holy smokes. I was planning on just posting on going to sleep, but something happened today that was too amazing to not write about. On May 11th, 2003, Mother's Day, the Minnesota Twins played the Boston Red Sox at the Metrodome on Sunday Night Baseball. On May 11th, 2008, Mother's Day, the Minnesota Twins played the Boston Red Sox at the Metrodome on Sunday Night Baseball. In 2003, the Twins lead big, but their bullpen was shaky and their closer gave up 2 runs in the ninth before pulling out the save for the 9-8 win. In 2008 the Twins lead big, but their pitching was shaky and their closer gave up 2 runs in the ninth before pulling out the save for the 9-8 win. How do I know so much about the first game? Well, I was there with Rabbi Mottel Friedman, as were several Shluchim from the Lubavitch Yeshiva of Minnesota-Wexler Learning Institute, though they didn't know at the time that we were there. How do I know so much about the second game? Well, after noting the first several incredible coincidences (coincidence? I think not!) I made sure to check on the last, which was even more amazing than all the first ones put together. I'm not making this up either, you can check here for the 2003 game and here for the 2008 version. What the lesson in Avodas Hashem is exactly I'm not sure, but I can tell you that this sure is pretty wacky.