Ja, Vi Elsker The Simpsons

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“Coming to Homerica,” the season-ender for this, the twentieth season of The Simpsons, uses as its foils the Norwegian immigrants who inhabit Springfield’s neighboring town of Ogdenville. What follows is a traditional Simpsons send-up of Norwegian-Americans and Norway in general, from aquavit and the inward-breathed “ja” to a strange fondness for the Minnesota Vikings. While this season has been uneven at best, the season finale should be remembered as one of the stronger episodes this year.

Simpsons go Norsk!

Of note, though, is the original U.S. air date for this Norsk pastiche: May 17, 2009. May 17th is Norwegian Constitution Day, the Norwegian national holiday. Whether this confluence of the episode’s air date and its content was intentional is unclear—my money is on a happy coincidence—but it still stands as a nice touch and adds another layer of depth to the episode.

To Boldly Go Beneath the Tree: The Star Trek Bridge Play Set

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Über-Blog Boing Boing points out that one of the two most brilliant toys ever to be deposited beneath a Christmas tree has been re-issued:

The Star Trek Bridge playset was, hands down, the best toy I owned as a child. I played with it for approximately 10,000 hours. Especially the whirly-twirly transporter cubicle. I loved the psychedelic cardboard viewscreens, the tippy chairs and furniture, the stick-on UI for same that was as inscrutable and ridiculous as the authentic show computers.

Apparently these figures and the play set have been available for a year or so, but this is the first I’ve seen of the toy since, well, longer than I care to admit.

The Starship Enterprise bridge play set beamed down to my Christmas in, I think, 1976, and I have photographic evidence to prove that I actually received this amazing gift.

Set Phasers on Fun!

That’s right. Not just one, but two goateed Klingons! No waiting to beat up on a bad guy for Kirk and Spock—they each had one to deal with.

It’s interesting to note that the play set came out several years after the end of the Original Series in 1969. These action figures and accompanying props were tied rather to the Animated Series of the early 1970’s, or at least drew on the audience that the Animated Series was sustaining.

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Rainmaker in a Nationals Hat

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I would just like to publicly apologize for this rain-soaked week the Washington area has borne. My fault. Sorry.

See, I decided to go to a baseball game for the first time since I visited the “new” Comiskey back in its inaugural season in 1991. So you can forgive me for thinking that the baseball gods would offer up good weather for my first game in eighteen years.

Nationals Park on flickr.com by afagen via a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-Share Alike license.

Instead, it rained all day and the Nats game against the Cards was eventually postponed, but not until we’d sat there, noshing on half-smokes from a Ben’s Chili Bowl outpost (apparently not as good as the real thing) and drinking not-too-overpriced beers, for two hours. And it has rained pretty much ever since.

Still, the rain sparsened out the crowd (not that the Nats are drawing huge these days anyway), giving me and my compadres run of the house.

The park’s physical dimensions are quite human-scaled, and while it holds over forty thousand, it doesn’t seem that large. For six hundred million in taxpayer dollars, you kind of want imposing, but I digress. Our upper right terrace seats, at $10 each (plus almost that weight in fees), offered very good views of the field, barely even worthy of the nosebleed moniker.

While we were split over the aesthetic merits of the new in-motion statues of former Washington players, and the art in general at the park, it was, on the whole, a decent way to spend a rainy afternoon, even if we didn’t see any baseball. After eighteen years of waiting, another season without won’t kill me.

(Image courtesy of afagen via a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-Share Alike license.)

A Voice Indie Wilderness: Jeff Vogel on Gaming

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I’m not sure when the transition occurred, but back in the proverbial day, the name for games produced by small companies and sold online via unlockable demo was Shareware. You downloaded the demo on your creaking 22.8k modem, played until you got to the dreaded Shareware barrier, and then either ponied up the money to keep going or moved on to some other game.

Now this self-same business model goes by the name “indie.” Whatever. It’s still Shareware to me and, I get the sense, to Spiderweb Software‘s Jeff Vogel as well.

Spiderweb has specialized in single-player computer RPGs since 1995’s brilliant Exile, a game that had a literal Shareware barrier blocking off the majority of the map from exploration until you paid to unlock the rest of the game. And it was worth $25 fourteen years ago to keep going, no question.

Avernum 5 Screenshot

Is it worth that much today, when you can get older big-budget games with installations spanning multiple CDs for $10? Jeff Vogel’s new blog, The Bottom Feeder, takes on these questions and more:

I can’t compete on price with old classic. Nobody can. To expect me (or anyone) to match price with a handful of old games is completely ridiculous. Can’t happen.

But my games have an advantage. They’re new. Go ahead and play the old classics, or at least the ones you haven’t played already. Go play Fallout or Planescape: Torment. They’re SWEET.

You’ll be done soon enough. And, when you are, I’ll still be here.

Admittedly, I’m not completely objective here. I beta tested seven Spiderweb games and even got a NPC named after me in one of the Geneforge games—talk about niche geek cred! Jeff and his small team at Spiderweb produce huge games, with amazing amounts of text and great storylines, for Mac and PC. On a cost-per-hour basis, these games are bargains.

As gamers, we need games like these to continue being produced, so check out them out if you haven’t already.

Bill Lyon on Harry Kalas

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For as long as I’ve been alive, one man has called Philadelphia Phillies games, a voice I remember from a tinny bedside radio on summer nights visiting my grandmother in Fishtown, the play-by-play competing with the sounds from the narrow street below the rowhouse. He called every one of “Michael Jack” Schmidt’s 548 home runs. He was the voice of the Phillies for several generations of fans.

The Parade on Flickr.com by thewestend, via a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivatives Licence.

Harry Kalas passed away yesterday before the Phils took the field against the Washington Nationals in the Nats home opener. And, as is often the case, Bill Lyon returns to print in the Inquirer to help the city come to terms with another momentous event:

Harry the K did play-by-play, and he not only did it uncommonly well, he spared us the histrionics and the shrieking and the rudeness that pollute far too many airways these days.

Harry the K was an oasis of calm in a roiling sea of nastiness and raging negativity.

He was, of course, the property of the Phillies, but he never played the role of fawning company shill. It was the Fightin’s he wanted to win, but he credited the opponent when it was deserved.

I’m the first person to admit that I’m not much of a baseball fan and that I haven’t listened to Harry Kalas call a game in years. But even I know that Philadelphia has lost just a little bit of its soul and that Bill Lyon has helped by putting it right back.

(Image courtesy of thewestend, via a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivatives License.)

From Here to Boo-ternity: The Boo in Philadelphia Sports Culture

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By my quick calculations, the 2008 World Series winning Philadelphia Phillies were only World Champions for fifteen pitches before being booed again in the second inning of the first game of the new season.

From Andy Martino’s recap of the game in the April 6, 2009, Philadelphia Inquirer:

[A]t 8:27, rightfielder Jeff Francoeur hit Myers’ first pitch of the second inning into the left-field stands. Some in the crowd, so boisterous during the pregame ceremonies, voiced the first boos of 2009.

At 8:30, centerfielder Jordan Shafer, in his first major-league plate appearance, hit a 3-1 pitch into the stands in left-center field, and the booing became louder and more widespread.

Sounds about right. As a fan of Philadelphia sporting teams myself, I understand the love-hate relationship that exists between the fans and the teams in the much-maligned City of Brotherly Love.

But it’s an easy trope to trot out, a broad brush to paint a city’s fans with, this whole “Santa-booing boors” thing, and many point to the city’s relative paucity of championships in the past few decades as deriving from the apparently negative atmosphere the fans create. Perhaps a fair point.

No doubt there are athletes who do not perform well when they are derided for their efforts, who prefer to play in comforting arenas filled with unstinting supporters. They don’t tend to do well in Philadelphia, and perhaps they have played below their potential while there because of their rough treatment. But for every athlete who wants to get out of town, there’s another excited by the prospect of playing there.

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