The Social Network Opens October 1

After a summer of films that I just couldn’t get behind (still haven’t seen Iron Man 2, and that was the most appealing one for me), I am ready to geek out this fall. I’m looking forward to three films (all three based on books, by the way). I’m excited for Harry Potter 7.1 (even though David Yates is directing) and Johnny Depp’s retelling of Hunter S. Thompson’s novel, The Rum Diary (it has a September release date in Europe…should come to the States sometime after). However, the movie I’m most excited about is The Social Network.

Anyone who has spent a significant amount of time on this site knows that I am a huge Aaron Sorkin fan. I absolutely loved “Sports Night” and “Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip”, and his films A Few Good Men and The American President. I love the pacing of his stories and the witty banter between characters (a style I have tried to replicate in my writing. To see what I mean, buy my book).

The film is based on the book The Accidental Billionaires: The Founding of Facebook, a Tale of Sex, Money, Genius and Betrayal by Ben Mezrich. The film chronicles the progression of Facebook and portrays the company’s founder as a socially-awkward egomaniac who did whatever it took to make his social network the second largest website in the world.

The first draft of the screenplay has been available online for more than a year. I read it a few months ago, and it’s classic Sorkin. It’s witty, fresh and paced within an inch of its life. Just my style.

The new trailer features Scala’s cover of Radiohead’s “Creep”. The Belgian girls’ choir executes the song flawlessly. The minor chords give the song a more melancholy feel (if that was possible) than Thom Yorke’s stellar debut performance.

I already have the date circled on my calendar. Rest assured I will write a review of it.

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The News – I’m leaving Blogger

This may very well be the worst kept secret on the net; especially for people who have visited my website…I’m leaving Blogger for a WordPress based blog that will be hosted on my web server.

This move has been in the works for a few months, while I’ve been playing around with WordPress. While there are some things about Blogger I like better, the advantages of having everything integrated in one site with WP outweigh my current situation. Blogger is a great blogging starter kit, but I there is more that I want to do online than just blog. I have ignored the website for the last year because the blogging format is easier. Creating an open source platform for both a blog and home page in one application just makes sense.

Most of the previous posts (not including the quick notes and The World Famous in Minnesota Show) will be transferred to the new home.

I will continue to post (mainly quick notes and reposts) on both the new site and Blogger until the end of the month. There are some finishing touches I need to perfect before the new blog site can fly solo. I’ll be transferring my Google and NetworkBlogs followers to the new place in the next week.

Thank you Blogger for getting me started. Now it’s time to move on. 
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The Throwdown in Motown

I have huge news about the blog coming in the next week or so. I’ve been working on stuff behind the scene. I will either announce the news on the blog, or a 60 minute special on ESPN.

As I’ve been busy with something new and cool, I thought that I would take a week off to cool down. With the news of the Indiana Pacers are getting their 33.5 million dollars of blood money to stay in town and Ron Artest won an NBA championship, I feel that the NBA has lost its credibility. I’d like to take you back to the moment that it happened. This is a repost from November 2005.

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Let me be the first to say it.  I told you so.

As a loyal Pacer fan, I had to justify what went wrong in the Eastern Conference Championship series against the Pistons last year, and two words came to mind.

Ron Artest.

His hard foul at the end of Game 6, as well as general bad play during the series, cost the Pacers a trip to the NBA finals to avenge their 2000 loss against the Lakers.  Sure, you could point to Jermaine O’Neal’s injury, or Reggie Miller not looking behind him to see if anyone was going to swat away his go ahead shot in Game 2 (the turning point of the series).  But, when push came to shove, Artest didn’t deliver.

The season ended, and the Pacers needed to make some bold moves to challenge the Pistons and the emerging behemoth in Miami.  The Pacers had 3 stellar power forwards, and questions inside.  I had said many times that the Pacers needed to do a sign and trade with the Golden State Warriors…Artest for Power Forward/Center Eric Dampier.  Easy enough, right.  You trade the team cancer, and keep Al Harrington, a young player that was thriving under the system off the bench.  However, Harrington publicly stated that he wanted more playing time, a cardinal sin in any Larry Bird team.  Al was sent packing for Atlanta.

Stupid, stupid, stupid!

Indiana gets in return Stephen Jackson…the ego maniacal shooting guard who won a ring with San Antonio in 1999, and sounded more like Michael Jackson than he did an NBA superstar.  He and Artest were sure to make fast friends.  It didn’t help Indiana’s inside game, but that’s what the draft was for.  Because I know when I think of guys that can take it to Shaq, I think of David Harrison. 

Jackson was brought in to be the heir apparent to the shooting guard post that would soon be left by an aging Reggie Miller.  It almost seemed that the Pacers’ brass forgot the job that backup Fred Jones did in the playoffs.  Fred Jones alone kept the Pacers alive during the road games in Auburn Hills in June.

So, what happens?  Harrington goes to the Hawks and averages over 20 points, while Jackson and Artest get suspended 102 games between them.

Good move, Indiana.

But I digress.  That was just a backdrop to the events Friday night in Detroit.  Fans were throwing cups of beer, and players were invading the stands as if they were looking for weapons of mass destruction, or as the people in Hollywood would say “Wackiness would ensue”.

Fast forward to tonight.  David Stern steps up and hands down his sentence.  Ron Artest, see you next year.  Stephen Jackson and Jermaine O’Neal, enjoy a long unpaid vacation.  Stern talked about the transgression as “unforgivable” and that he was “sending a clear message to the NBA”.

I mentioned earlier, I am a loyal Pacers fan.  I can honestly say that the punishment was fair, just, and swift.  In fact, I think that Stephen Jackson should have been suspended more.  Artest may have done the most damage, but he had a beer thrown at him…that’s provocation.  Jackson went up there just to go up there.

However, I think that there is one other suspension that needs to be levied.  It is my firm belief that the Detroit Pistons fans should be suspended for 10 games.  Let’s face it, this is not the first time Pistons fans have been involved in an incident of projectile beverages.  Boston forward M.L. Carr’s eyes were injured when a fan threw a beer in his face several years ago. 

For the next 10 games at The Palace, the Pistons should play in an empty arena.  In that time, the franchise can spend that time better figuring out the security issues they seem to have.  The Pistons should also be barred from serving alcohol for the rest of the season.

This punishment is common place in Europe for soccer hooligan fans that get just a little too rowdy.  In fact, a Swedish reporter asked Stern if this was possible during the press conference.  Stern dismissed it in that “sure, well look in to it” way that one gets when one makes a request at a radio station.

But I say to you, David Stern, you can send a clear message to the players and coaches that if team security can’t protect you, then the league will.  Sure, as a league, we’ll take the hit financially, but it’s worth it to make the game a family friendly environment.  Nobody can take part in a brawl if no one’s there, now can they?

But until then, I will watch my crippled Pacers slug their way through the next 30 games, and hope they make the playoffs.  And when I watch the highlights of Al Harrington in Atlanta, you know, actually playing.  I will only sit back, munch on my popcorn, and say, “I told you so.”

       

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King for a Day - My Open Letter to LeBron James

Dear LeBron,

Well, you have the spotlight tonight. ESPN is carving out an entire hour of programming for your announcement. You are going to tell us for whom you are signing your max contract. That should take less than 10 seconds. How do you plan to fill the other 59:50 of programming?

I’m so excited for you to make your announcement; because after it’s over, I don’t have to hear about it anymore. You’ve become a media coverage addicted diva like Bret Favre. The only difference between the two of you is that Favre has actually won something.

I know that you love the media attention, hearing from teams who are willing to back up a Brinks Truck to your house and the prospect of “stay in Cleveland sex” with Betty White. But really, do you deserve it?

To be fair, you have amassed an impressive résumé. You were the Rookie of the Year (as was Mitch Richmond, Mike Miller and Grant Hill), a two-time MVP (so was Karl Malone), an All Star Game MVP (like Tom Chambers), six-time All Star and you earned the Gold Medal in the 2008 Olympics and the 2007 FIBA World Championships.

But as the theme song for the “Facts of Life” says, you take the good, you take the bad.

You were the marquee player for the disappointing 2004 Olympic team (which lost by 19 points to Puerto Rico. PUERTO FREAKING RICO!) and the 2006 FIBA team, have made the NBA finals only once and completely disappeared during the playoffs in the last two years.

You have yet to win an NBA championship. You’re still young, but the great ones win early. Magic won one in his rookie year (without an injured Kareem). Larry won in his second year. Michael won the first of six championships in his seventh year. Kobe won in his fourth year. Next year is your eighth season.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

If you worked as hard in the post-season as you do in the off-season to get an hour long drone fest about your “greatness”, then you might have a championship ring…and maybe something to talk about for 60 minutes.  As a Pacer fan, I was told over and over that Reggie Miller couldn’t be considered one of the best players in the league, because he hadn’t won an NBA Championship. You may be the most celebrated player in the league, but it don’t mean a thing if you ain’t got a ring.   

The most likely places for you are back to Cleveland, Miami or New York. If I were to pick for you, I’d send you to the Knicks. Why not? You have a lot in common. It’s an overrated, underachieving franchise that hasn’t won a championship in your lifetime.

By the way, if ESPN at anytime plays “Should I Stay or Should I Go” by the Clash during the show tonight, I pray that the ghost of Joe Strummer finds his way to your house and smothers you in your sleep.

Good luck, and get off my TV and radio soon.

Ian Shane

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The Return of the Harpsichord—Golden Brown by the Stranglers

I have always wanted there to be a harpsichord renaissance in music. The sound is unmistakable, and it adds a degree of class to any song. For example, Tori Amos’s CD Boys for Pele features Tori banging away on a harpsichord during several songs.

The harpsichord was invented sometime in the Medieval era. The first reference to the instrument was in 1397 in a written account by a man in northern Italy. It was light weight and carried a powerful sound. However, with all good things, the time of the harpsichord came to an end in the 18^th century. The newly created piano pushed the harpsichord from its rightful place as the keyboard of choice. The harpsichord had a bit of a revival in the 20^th century in England during the Baroque Pop era.

After the ‘70s, the sound of the harpsichord seemed to disappear from the rock scene. If a band would use it, it was just background noise, but never the feature.

In 1981, The Stranglers were trying to redefine their sound during the decline in British punk. Their 1981 album, La Folie, attempted to relate to various forms of love. The first release for the band gave them the commercial and critical resurrection that they, and record label EMI, were looking for.

“Golden Brown” features a harpsichord along with an organ at the beginning. The song, which is a waltz with 3/4 meter for most of the song, delivers a timeless melody.

The meaning of the lyrics has ranged from heroin use to a song about toast. One of the more logical theories is that the song was about lead singer (and composer of the song) Hugh Cornwell’s girlfriend, who was from the Mediterranean and had golden brown skin. That would fit in with the concept of the album (which translated means “The Madness”).

Golden brown texture like sun
Lays me down with my mind she runs
Throughout the night
No need to fight
Never a frown with golden brown

This song was introduced to a new generation (and most of America) with its inclusion to the 1999 film Snatch.

Truthfully, the meaning behind this song is secondary to me. It gives me my musical-geek-like fix by mixing 16^th century instrumentation with 20^th century rock n’ roll. Here’s to hoping more songs like “Golden Brown” are written.

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Positively Fifth Street by James McManus

It’s the time of year when we think of the opportunities we have. Those who have come before us have made it possible to accomplish what we want.

I’m talking about the Main Event at the World Series of Poker. What did you think I was talking about?

Next week thousands of professional poker players, amateurs and Matt Damon will convene in Las Vegas for the shot to win millions of dollars and a gold and diamond bracelet. No other sport has more people compete for the chance to win one championship. Thousands of bar poker leagues send representatives for the chance to make the Main Event. It’s not unheard of for an unknown amateur to make a Cinderella run. Last year, Darvin Moon almost became the WSOP champion, finishing second only to a bulletproof Joe Cada.

However, Moon wasn’t the first Cinderella at the final table.

Ten years ago, journalist Jim McManus was sent to Las Vegas for two reasons; to cover the Ted Binion murder trial and to chronicle the rise of women players at the WSOP. While he does his task, he takes his advance and enters a satellite tournament. The winner gets a seat at the Main Event. He outmaneuvers poker pro Hasan Habib and plays his way into the WSOP Main Event.

This is the incredible true story in Positively Fifth Street, penned by the man who made an incredible run to a fifth place finish. His book plays out a lot like Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil, where the writer becomes part of the story, mixed with a cast of characters who you think are too unbelievable to be true.

We spend some time with Ted Binion’s murder and the accused killers; his cheating girlfriend, Sandy Murphy, and her boy-toy Rick Tabish. The trial has many twists and turns that would have made the writers for “Law & Order” have a plot orgasm.

The tournament coincides with the WSOP Main Event, which is being played for the last time at its ancestral home, Binion’s Horseshoe Casino (yes…the same Binion). McManus, a lifelong poker player, pores through poker books the same way a college student crams for a final. He practices poker hands on a computer while reading David Sklansky, T.J. Cloutier and Doyle Brunson (Side Note: You can’t get two styles of play that are more different than Brunson and Cloutier). In the Main Event, McManus plays face to face with poker psychic (which if you’ve ever seen him correctly guess what other players have; you’d use the same word. It’s downright scary) Daniel Negreanu, has a return go around with Habib, plays his “mentor” Cloutier and eventual champion Chris “Jesus” Ferguson.

It’s so well written with a judicious sprinkling of classic literary references.

Even if you’re not a poker fan, read it. If you become a fan after that, watch the highlights on ESPN.

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