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Our Little Announcement

2009-07-05T13:10:00.001-07:00

Suck it in Fatty!

2009-03-09T12:16:00.000-07:00

Since my Suns are probably heading for the lottery and apparently have the worst luck ever, and not much is going on in my life beyond work, I've decided to blog about an atrocious discovery.

The mirdle: Since most men currently subsist on a diet composed entirely of gravy, frosting, and Twinkies covered in gravy and frosting, anti-flab fashion experts have have invented the mirdle, which is a cute name for "man girdle." Basically, it's a spandex tank top (or an overgrown diaper) that's two to three sizes too small for the disgusting, fleshy horror you call a body. It's purpose: To suck in your flopping beer belly as well as those unsightly man-boobs.

According to Gavin Jones, head of the Australian company Equmen, which launched the "mirdle" in London's Selfridges department store: "Men are under a lot of pressure right now to perform financially, socially and romantically. Why shouldn't we have the same products that women have had for years to make us feel better?" If that's the case, Gavin, what's next on your make-guys-feel-better-with-chick-stuff invention agenda? Manpons? Mangisil? Manscara? Daniel Craig?

The report justifies the invention of this abomination by stating the rising sales of male grooming products and clothing. Also: "And similarly men's underwear sales are growing faster than women's, with Selfridges recording a 21 per cent rise in sales of men's pants in 2008 while women's underwear grew by only ten percent." There's a very simple explanation for this: Men hate doing laundry. Hate it. So that makes underwear a disposable item. Personally, I used to know a guy who would buy a new six pack every week, which of course meant he'd have to go commando at least one day -- usually Sunday -- but that's probably TMI. And I'm not an underwear sales statistics expert, but I'd be willing to bet that 90 percent of that 21 percent increase is just the same perv buying underwear over and over to satisfy some horrific fetish. Not that I'm judging.

Men, take it from me. Instead of cramming yourself into a sausage wrapper, just stop being fat. And to help you out with this, here's a weight loss tip from me to you: Next time you notice your hands are stuffed full of something greasy or oozing with sugar, don't cram it into your mouth. It's that easy.

Christmas Letter

2008-12-24T20:21:00.000-08:00

You know it, you love it, you can't live without it: the revolutionary comedy bit has now hit the internet. Today's topic brought to you from Las Vegas, NV is the "Top 10 craziest things the Lippmann family has done in 2008".

What if...

2008-10-28T10:40:00.000-07:00

I love the "What if" game. You know when you get a bunch of friends together and ask asinine questions like:
• If you won a million dollars, what would you do with it?
• If you could teleport, where would you go?
• If Elvis came back to life...

So I’m going to play a few rounds of “what if” and see what would-huv, could-huv, should-huv happened had ONE thing gone the other way specifically for the Suns. (Side note: At first I thought this was an original idea for a column then I checked…it wasn't: Bill Simmons beat me to it last year here; it’s probably where I subconsciously got the idea from anyway.)

1. What if “human-piece-of-trash” (a.k.a. Robert Horry) didn't hip-check Nash into the scorers table with eighteen seconds left in game 4 of the 2007 conference semifinals?

We all know what happened - A mini-brawl breaks out (of course, every brawl seems small to Pacers fans!); Amare Stoudemire and Boris Diaw walk out to half court before being stopped by coaches and get slapped with a game suspension. For game 5, the Suns lost 31 points per game by way of the suspension, compared to the 6 points per game the Spurs lost by having Horry out. Would the Suns have won the series? Even without Amare and Boris it took a 3 pointer in the corner from Bowen for the Spurs to put away the Suns during game 5. The series would have at least been closer, right?

Let’s say the Suns win the series. They then would have match up against a young Utah team that got lucky because Houston can’t ever win a playoff series and top-seeded Dallas got knocked off by the "we believe" Golden State team. During the regular season, Utah had won three of four against the Suns but experience tends to win playoffs games unless you’re Dallas. Again, let’s say the Suns win that series and move on against Cleveland. During two regular season games the Suns absolutely creamed the Cavs (both wins by 15+ points). We all saw how woefully under-matched Cleveland was during their first finals appearance and I can’t think of a reason it would have been different had the Suns been playing them and not the Spurs.

We would now live in a world where “defense doesn't necessarily win championships”, a world where Nash is viewed as one of the top five point guards of all-time and not just some system product, a world where every other team was scrambling to mirror what the Suns did to win it all only it wouldn't work because there is only one Nash in the world. Things would be great!

The Suns would never think of unloading any of their key guys (Kurt Thomas, Shawn Marion), Sarver opens up his wallet to keep the group intact because he learns that it pays to win championships, we never trade for Shaq, D’Antoni never leaves, and Phoenix fans would have finally win something after countless losses streaming back to losing the coin-toss that cost us Lew Alcindor (that's Kareem Abdul-Jabbar for you novices, of course if you're a novice you've probably already stopped reading this).

2. What if the Suns had got Kevin Garnett in a trade at the beginning of the 2007-08 season?

This was pretty close to happening according to a few sources that were following the developments of a KG trade. One scenario had some players from the Celtics going to the Wolves, Garnett going to the Suns, and Marion going to the Celtics; rumor has it that this would have gone through had Marion given the go-ahead and not nixed signing an extension with Boston - Marion kiboshed it because he didn't want to play for a dramatically inferior team. Ironically, this doesn't make any sense since Marion became the first professional athlete in NBA history to seem happy going from a team with a .700 winning percentage to a team with a .200 winning percentage when he finally got traded to the Heat.

Another scenario had Stoudemire going to the Wolves straight up for KG. Although this scenario seemed to be higher on the risk scale – look at what the potential of the trade could have been: Nash – Bell – Hill – Marion – Garnett. That’s a starting five that could actually play defense (minus Nash of course, but 4 of 5 ain't bad). We could have hired a defensive-minded assistant, ala Thibodeau, and Garnett would have played with enough intensity to scare everyone else into playing tough on D.

Defense is a skill, but it can be acquired. I remember watching the 2008 NBA Finals and thinking, wow, I've never seen a team play so hard on defense - and that Celtics team was full of players not known for their defense. Ray Allen was notoriously bad throughout his career and Pierce was never known as a lock-down guy. Garnett changed the atmosphere, he gave that team the intensity needed to win and kept the “defense wins championships” mantra alive. I think he would have done the same for the Suns.

3. What if the Suns hadn't done the Matrix for the Diesel trade?

I have to admit, I bought into the media crap that I was force-fed for an entire year before the trade even went down. That the Suns style of play was great for television and lots of regular season wins, but come playoff time it was not a proven winner. That a change needed to happen because the way they were put together they didn't have a chance to compete against the better teams in the West.

Last year after the trade I wrote 1,500 words on why I got ill after hearing about the trade. The Suns had the best record in the West and everyone was pointing out that they weren't playing as good. They could have jelled and put together one of those long winning streaks like they had the year before (17 games – 6th longest in NBA history). They still only finished TWO games out of first. TWO games was the difference between and first round match-up with the Nuggets and the Spurs. TWO games between getting a free pass to the conference finals and meeting a championship caliber team in the first round. If the Suns had switched positions with the Lakers you can’t convince me that the Lakers would have easily dispatched the Spurs then the Hornets and then the Suns. The Lakers, with their seven-foot Spaniard gift from the Grizzlies, would have been hard to stop, but they would have been beat up by a healthy Spurs team and a young and hungry Hornets team. If the Suns got past the Lakers they still would have had their hands full with the Celtics, but at least there would have been the chance to win it all.

Integrating Shaq and basically throwing a wrench into the fine-tuned running machine cost the Suns at least TWO games. To top things off, besides Hill pulling a groin muscle, the Suns were actually healthy going into the playoffs. Something the Suns hadn't experienced in awhile and might not again with an aging roster.

4. What if Shaq would just shut up and play ball?

Personally, I've never had too many qualms with Shaq. He talked the talk but he certainly walked the walk to back it up. I thought it was a mistake for the Lakers to trade him and I preferred him to Kobe when the whole world was choosing sides. But Shaq has lost more than a few steps in these final years of his career. He can’t elevate to dunk around the rim, he can’t finish after getting hacked, thus making his free-throw shooting and even larger liability, and he’s still talking!

First with the Kobe “can't do it without me” rap, then the Spurs were cowards to play “hack-a-Shaq”, and now he's comparing himself to Japanese military commanders. It's one thing to get old and show deference to the new order and play your role, and quite the other to get older and ignore the signs that you are not what you once were.

To quote the Big Cactus himself, "I really didn't start winning until I started losing my lift. When I was doing all the spectacular (stuff), I was going home early, too. The day I got 30 and 31, started losing my lift and started getting smarter, that's when I started winning. Jumping high and being exciting is not going to get you a win. It may get you some press, but it's not going to get you where the Shōgun is at."

That's funny Mr. Shōgun, because it seems that Phil Jackson arrived at the exact time that you started getting smarter.

Listen, four championships in six trips to the finals earn respect, no question. Shaq will go down as one of the best ever, but he has to learn his place. He’s good for 25 minutes, 12 PTS, 10 REB, and 1.something BLK a game. Although it is true that he’s made Stoudemire into an unstoppable beast, and it's true the Suns have only had 28 games to figure out how to use Shaq in their system, now is the time for Shaq to stop talking and start walking, even if it is with a cane and slight limp.

I still have hope for the Suns to win, and win big - not just another playoff 1st or 2nd round exit - but this seems to be the last shot at it. Our last shot at the heights of NBA glory before Nash and Shaq ride out into the sunset.

The Quotable Sir Charles

2008-09-24T15:03:00.000-07:00

I recently found a couple of lists of Charles Barkley quotes and thought I'd pay homage to the Round Mound of Rebound by posting 50 of his most memorable quotes.

50. "I can be bought. If they paid me enough, I'd work for the Klan."

49. "You got to believe in yourself. Hell, I believe I'm the best-looking guy in the world and I might be right."

48. "I don't hate anyone, at least not for more than 48 minutes, barring overtime."

47. "We better not be doing the Bulls this year. Man, they suck! Bunch of high school kids with $70 million contracts. Damn! I hate my mother for having me too soon."

46. "You can talk without saying a thing. I don't ever want to be that type of person."

45. After retiring from basketball "I'm just what America needs - another unemployed black man."

44. Ernie: "Did they recognize you in South Dakota?"

Charles: "Yes, they did. It was easy because I was the only black person there. When they see me walking down the street they say 'There he goes again'. And when I come back the next year they say 'He's back yawl!'"

43. Right after Peja won the 3-point contest: "Kenny said it was going to be an all-international night. I want to know which international brother is going to win the slam dunk contest."

42. On one of Nate Robinson's dunks during All Star weekend: "Any time a little midget does something like this, you gotta give him a 10!"

41. "I had to explain to my daughter why that skank Monica Lewinski has an hour special on HBO this weekend."

40. Ernie: "Auburn is a pretty good school. To graduate from there I suppose you really need to work hard and put forth maximum effort."

Charles: "20 pts and 10 rebounds will get you through also!"

39. "Every time I think about changing a diaper, I run a little bit harder and a little bit faster to make sure I can afford a nanny until my daughter's old enough to take care of that herself."

38. EJ: "Did you graduate from Auburn?"

Charles: "No, but I have a couple people working for me who did."

37. "Bavetta and Moses parted the Red Sea together."

36. Ernie Johnson, on Reggie Evans being caught grabbing the rocks of Chris Kaman: "(Reggie Evans) got caught with his hand in the cookie jar."

Charles: "Ernie, I don't know where you get your cookies at but the rest of us don't get ours there."

35. On his 17-year old daughter not dating yet: "Thank goodness. I just hope she doesn't start before I go in the Hall of Fame. That way, I won't have to kill anybody before I get inducted."

34. Kenny: "There's guys who go over to Europe and play overseas from America, and they dominate!"

Charles: "Those are called 'brothers'

33. "Today is Jimmy Hatter's birthday -- he's the gay guy we got workin' behind the scenes, y'all. We hire them all at TNT. We do not discriminate. We hired the pimp last year, Craig Sager, and now we got Jimmy Hatter. We got all the ethnic groups covered."

32. Barkley on Turner Sports office having a betting pool on his weight: "That is starting to hurt my feelings. I don't mind skinny people making fun of me, we all do that, but I don't want fat people making fun of me."

31. "We are in the business of kicking butt and business is very, very good."

30. When the Dream Team was about to play the Angola national team, during pre-game interviews the other USA players provided diplomatic, face saving comments about how they would play hard and felt strongly they would win. When Chuck was asked about Angola and the game, he replied: "They're in a lot of trouble."

29. Charles Barkley on his thoughts about retiring before the season: "I remember sitting down with the Rockets and saying, 'Yeah. I'm going to retire.' They said, 'Well, we'll give you $9 million.' And I said, 'You got a pen on you?'"

28. Man, everything gets blamed on the Clintons, every single thing in this world. I think Bill Clinton shot JFK, too.

27. "I know why his name is DMX. Because his real name is Earl. Imagine if his name was Earl the rapper."

26. "If you go out with a girl and they say she has a great personality, she's ugly. If they tell you a guy works hard, he can't play a lick. Same thing."

25. After Kevin Garnett threw a ball into the crowd out of frustration and was ejected. They showed footage of the man that got hit by the ball being taken away in a stretcher and his daughter was crying. Charles commented that players take passes to the face all the time. He topped it off by saying: "You know why that little girl's crying? It's because she's thinking 'my daddy's a wussy'".

24. Barkley on Ernie Johnson and Kenny Smith eating a box of hot Krispy Kreme donuts in front of him: "Both of y'all are going to hell for that. Y'all are going to hell with a first-class ticket. Is that how you treat your partner? Krispy Kreme might be the greatest invention in the history of civilization when they're hot. Y'all are cruel man."

23. "It's kinda great to see the Celtics doin well again cuz that was so much fun in my day to go to the Boston Garden and they spit at you and throw things at you and talk about your mom. It sounds like dinner at Kenny Smith's house."

22. "I think that the team that wins game five will win the series. Unless we lose game five."

21. Charles Barkley after seeing a picture of Sam Cassell on the screen: "Phone home." And later he remarks to Kenny, "Sam Cassell is a good guy, but he's not going to wind up on the cover of GQ anytime soon."

20. "On Stromile Swift and his yet unrealized potential: "Man, that boy can run and jump. So can a deer. But I'd never put a deer in a game."

19. Asked if he had ever been in the governor's office in Montgomery, Barkley said no. "They don't let many black people in the governor's mansion in Alabama," he said, "unless they're cleaning."

18. On the goal of the '92 Olympic Dream Team when playing Panama in the Tournament of the Americas: "To get the Canal back."

17. "The only thing Christian Laettner has in common with Larry Bird is they both pee standing up."

16. Barkley on Hanno Mottola, who, as EJ remarked "is the first NBA player from Finland". Charles replies: "Of course he is the first NBA player from Finland, he's the only person in Finland."

15. On super-sized Oliver Miller: "You can't even jump high enough to touch the rim, unless they put a Big Mac on it."

14. "All I know is, as long as I led the Southeastern Conference in scoring, my grades would be fine."

13. On North Carolina missing 22 of its last 23 shots in losing to Georgetown in the NCAA tournament last weekend: "Stevie Wonder could make one of 23 shots."

12. I'd never buy my girl a watch... she's already got a clock over the stove.

11. "I always laugh when people ask me about rebounding techniques. I've got a technique. It's called just go get the damn ball."

10. On the Portland Trail Blazers (back when they were known as the Jail Blazers) serving Thanksgiving meals: "In between arrests they do community service."

9. "Yeah Ernie, its called defense, I mean I wouldn't know anything about it personally but I've heard about it through the grapevine.

8. "Well, when I went off to college, the guys I used to hang with were pumping gas and voting Democrat. Today they're still pumping gas and voting Democrat. Guess the Democrats didn't do much for them."

7. On being misquoted in his autobiography: "That was my fault. I should have read it before it came out."

6. "Hey Stanley, you could be a great player if you learned just two words: I'm full."-- Barkley yelling to 300-plus-pound Houston Rockets teammate Stanley Roberts

5. "I heard Tonya Harding is calling herself the Charles Barkley of figure skating. I was going to sue her for defamation of character, but then I realized I have no character."

4. On the All-Star Game: "Hell, there ain't but 15 black millionaires in the whole country & half of 'em are right here in this room."

3. On Jerry Krause still being able to keep his job as GM of the Chicago Bulls: "Jerry Krause must have pictures of his boss's wife having sex with a monkey."

2. After throwing a guy through a 1st floor window in a bar Charles was in front of the judge.
Judge: "Your sanctions are community service and a fine, do you have any regrets?"
Charles: "Yeah I regret we weren't on a higher floor"

1. After an Olympic Dream Team victory over Angola, in which they won 116-48, Charles got into a physical altercation with a member of Angola towards the end of the game, afterward he said: "Somebody hits me, I'm going to hit him back. Even if it does look like he hasn't eaten in a couple weeks. I thought he was going to pull a spear on me."

The highly anticipated: Last Chapter

2008-06-03T12:18:00.000-07:00

Our stay in Tarija was truly enjoyable. I was so happy that Rachael enjoyed my favorite Bolivian town as much as I did. Tarija is commonly regarded by Bolivian nationals and tourists alike as the Bolivian Andalucia. The Guadalquivir River that borders the city was named after the Spanish river that passes through Córdoba and Seville. During the rainy season (January to March) the whole valley transforms into a luscious green ripe with juicy grapes on vines. It truly becomes “Tarija la Linda”. By May most of the vines are gone but it’s still a pleasant little town.

Unfortunately, our stay was also too short. Before we left, we did manage to eat at my favorite P-day lunch spot, Gattopardos; the Spaghetti Mafiosa was just as good as I remembered!

Our flight to Cochabamba was supposed to be for 10am the next morning, of course it was delayed the inevitable hour because well, that's the way things work in Bolivia. One thing I failed to mention was our family home evening we had on the night before we left. The whole family was involved, I was asked to give the lesson five minutes before everything started and I got in touch with one of my first baptisms, Saul Duchén. We have been communicating off and on for the last couple of years and I learned that he served a mission, got married in the temple and is now 3 months from being a dad. Needless to say, it was great to see him after eight long years. It was certainly a cool thing to go back to my first area and look at the mission photos of my first baptism. Anyway, at the airport Saul came unannounced to see us off for the last time; definitely a cool thing for me.

We got into Coch (mission slang for Cochabamba) and the family that our good friend Dustin knew during his mission was there to pick us up and offer their house as a base for our daily excursions. The Salazar family was great and so nice to offer a room of their house to people they've never met and barely heard of; however, they esteem Dustin on the same level as a god and so if he says we were good people then that was the infallible truth. After hearing a brief recounting of our trouble in La Paz, René, the father, insisted that we have at least one member of the family with us at all times in the city. That promise held true for the first day, but I was able to convince him that it would be alright and we've traveled this far by ourselves without much trouble. Reluctantly, he let us out of the house without an accompaniment. The first day, we took the gondola up to the Cristo de la Concordia to get a good look at the whole city. This statute is not much unlike the one in Rio de Janeiro, except this one is a few inches taller (I have a picture of the stats to prove it), and has peep holes drilled in all over the body.

Day two in Coch we decided to go to "la Cancha", the big open market in the center of town that has just about everything you could ever want or need and lots more of what you'll never want or need. Specifically, we hit up the artisan rows to scope out what souvenirs we would be bringing home. Unfortunately, we only had travelers’ checks to cash and none of the money exchangers could do that. We were directed to the center of town where once again we were told to go somewhere else. During our wild goose chase for the elusive travelers’ check money exchanger, I learned that during my six year absence from the country the mission office had moved to a different unknown part of town, Burger King had taken the place of McDonald's as the only fast-food restaurant, and lunchtime had drastically increased in length from two to three hours!

We waited for a few hours, once again entertained only by the pigeons, only this time their excrement became more of a problem (we'll just leave it at that). After finally cashing our checks we hopped onto a small little bus, trufi, and headed out to one of my favorite areas in Coch.

I was a little worried that I wouldn't remember where to get off, but in the prior week I learned to just trust my instincts. The highway out to Quillacollo (the Blanco Galindo) had changed quite a bit but somehow I remembered the kilometer mark and told the driver to stop. I got out and I soon found my way around. I decided that I would try to find some of the great families that I had met and Rachael and I trotted off in the general direction where I thought they lived. Fortunately, I did find the house where the Ayala family lived but of course they had moved.

I learned a secret years ago about finding people and figuring out what happened to them: ask the lady in the tienda. I went across the street and tapped a coin on the metal bars to the store; soon the doña came and directed me to the general area where they had moved. Luckily, she told me they hadn't moved far from there. We did an about-face and went in search of the next tienda that could lead us to the promised land. Of course, the only one at the next tienda was no more than 10 years old and couldn't help us out. Discouraged only a little, I set out to find other people that I knew. This time with ease, I found where I once laid my head to rest at night and descendants of that family still lived there (the grandparents who I knew are now living in Salt Lake City!). I described members of the Ayalas and the 15 year old grandson walked us to their front door.

Lizeth, now a 21 year old young lady, answered the door. I called her by name, I took off my sunglasses, then my baseball cap; still a perplexed look affixed to her face. "Elder Lippmann?", I said; still, nothing. Ultimately, I had to play the "go get your mother" card. Finally, the mother came and I was immediately recognized and welcomed! The family told me of some hard times that they were having and I promised to keep in touch and help in any way I could.

Sufficiently exhausted and a little sicker, we staggered back to the Salazar’s and we failed to even notice the rock hard mattress we had to sleep on. Day three meant a trip back to la Cancha to purchase all of the necessary souvenirs as proof of our journey to the center of South America. I really enjoyed the process of haggling and lowering prices by nominal amounts and then deciding we really didn’t want the item anyway. We spent quite a few hours and eventually came away with an impressive loot that covered both of our families’ Christmas presents all for a very reasonable low price. We made our way to the bus terminal and purchased our passage for our final destination.

Once again we were off to La Paz. We had the names of a few good hotels to stay at and decided on the one that a taxi driver pointed out to us. There was really nothing special but it had hot water straight from the sink faucet (a first in our trip) and it was relatively clean. For our last two days in Bolivia we weren't really motivated to go out and see a bunch of stuff, but I tried to complete the Bolivian experience for Rachael.

Early the next morning (our last day and Rachael’s birthday) I was directed to a little shack where they served salteñas. Salteñas are savory pastries filled with beef, pork or chicken mixed in a sweet, slightly spicy or very spicy sauce, and sometimes also containing peas, potatoes and other ingredients – something I loved during my mission. Rachael didn’t like how they tasted so I got a hearty breakfast.

Later we went up “gringo alley” and looked for anything that was so fabulous we wouldn’t be able to resist…we didn’t find anything. The prices were about the same as in Coch, there was a little more selection but basically it was the same ol’ stuff.

We then continued up the main street and entered into a little fruit and pastry market. I was looking for a special hot drink called api. Wikipedia (source of all knowledge) describes it thusly: api, a.k.a. chicha morada, is usually made of ears of purple maize (choclo morado) which are boiled with pineapple rind, cinnamon, and clove. This gives a strong purple-colored liquid which is then mixed with sugar and lemon. This beverage is generally drunk as an accompaniment to empanadas. I decided on the cleanest stand I could find and downed my api with an empanada with powdered sugar sprinkled over it. Again, Rachael wasn’t much impressed with the Bolivian cuisine and I suggested she get a milk shake across the way. This is where things got bad for her. Throughout the entire trip we had successfully avoided any food or drink that could make us sick; unfortunately, I did not see the doña put ice into the blender – Rachael saw it but didn’t think much of it. Apparently the bacterial infection she endured after the trip reared its ugly head exactly 2 weeks (time to incubate) after she partook of the fruity drink. Ironically enough, it was one of the only Bolivian treats she enjoyed. That night we tried and failed to find an Argentine beef place to eat and settled on the upscale “Dumbos” which is famous for its ice cream but also provides a pu-pu platter of other stuff. I just wanted ice cream and nothing else on the menu appeared palatable, but Rachael wanted more on her b-day. Unfortunately her selection (chili con carne) was too spicy and sour cream doesn’t exist in Bolivia. After sending it back and waiting 30 minutes for it to come back in its same original spicy form we headed back to the hotel.

Early the next morning we tried to get a taxi and every single one was charging the outlandish amount of $7! Mind you, up to this point I had not paid more than $1 for a taxi ride and $7 could buy passage for two halfway across Bolivia. But at 4 a.m. on a Sunday morning, surprisingly, our options were limited. We got to the airport on time thinking that it would be a direct flight to Miami, since that is what was on my ticket and what I had arranged with my travel agent, but of course in Bolivia things are up for interpretation as what a direct flight means.

We had to fly to Santa Cruz and stay on the plane while 20% of the flight debarked and we waited another 50 minutes while a airplane security agent took off every seat cushion and patted down the fabric with bare hands. As luck would have it, he did not find any bomb and we were finally off to a land where we could drink straight from the tap and not worry about flushing used toilet paper.

There are few times in life that we experience a completely different world, few times we see how fortunate we are to live in the United States, few times to see and really understand that the next vacation will be an all inclusive package.

Trains, planes, & automobiles

2008-05-26T14:34:00.000-07:00

The night ride from Oruro to Uyuni is one for the ages. There were only two buses that were going to Uyuni and I was going back and forth pitting one against the other price-wise and finally we decided on the one that said "we have heat". So we got on the bus late that night and met three Argentines who were traveling together throughout Bolivia. It was really good for Rachael because two of them spoke perfect English. They of course found out for us that there was in fact NO heat on the bus and basically said we were going to freeze. At this point we had already packed our bags and we were only wearing light jackets. We figured we could take our sleeping pills and not even notice the cold. Did I mention this has been a learning process for the both of us?? Four hours into the trip we were dying from the cold and for some reason there was at least one person who kept opening the window, guess it wasn't cold enough for them. The three Argentines had compassion for us and let us borrow one of their sleeping bags, pretty much saving our lives.

We finally got to the grand ol' dump of Uyuni at 4am only to find that NOTHING was open and nothing would until 8am. Since we weren't going to stay there more than just that day, we couldn't go into any hotel, so we were lucky to find that the train station doors were unlocked. Of course, there was no heat, the bathrooms were locked and there wasn't anybody there besides us. We kept warm by standing up by a small florescent light and by doing jumping jacks and laps around the small station.

Finally, the town came to life and the five of us (Me, Rachael, Fernando, Fernanda, and Marina) had a small breakfast and got a tour to see the biggest salt flat in the world.

Just to give you a frame of reference, there are about 15 different tour companies that do the same exact tour; they all leave at the same time and they all go in SUVs. Now, when our driver pulled up I knew we were in for a long day. He had to have been at least 70 years old, but I guess you never can tell in Bolivia, and his Toyota had seen better days. The shocks were completely blown and he never went faster than 20 MPH but after we were passed up by everyone else, we finally got to the middle of the salt flat and an "island" where everybody stopped to have lunch. Once again, they surprised us: to go to the top of the island you have to pay...again! Needless to say we weren't compelled to pay another few dollars just to hike to the top of a little hill and go to the bathroom. Our lunch was prepared by our driver and it consisted of quinua (some sort of wheat that grows only in Bolivia, supposed to be very rich in nutrients), tomatoes, cucumbers, and the very special mystery meat which he described as llama but tasted a lot like lamb.

We spent the rest of the day with our new friends and for some reason me and Fernando suffered from stomach aches. I didn't eat anything that night but at least I took comfort in knowing that our trip south to Tupiza would be in the "executive" class on the train, and this time there would be heat for sure. We got on the train late that night and had the best travel-sleep of our whole trip.

Again, we arrived in our destination at 4am, and I decided that we would wait a little bit before knocking on the door of one of my friends. Luckily, we found a hotel that would let us stay in their foyer and watch TV for a few hours. At 6am, we left to go and knock the door of my dear friend. We knocked three separate times and finally someone poked his head out of the second floor; I was informed that my dear friend no longer lived there nor did he even know such a person. Tired and a little sick, we decided to go back to the hotel where we watched TV and get a room for the day. We slept for a few hours, watched some TV and then went walking around the "jewel of Bolivia". The best description I can give of how Tupiza looks is a small little town in a valley with red rocks much like St. George.

We walked by the chapel and found out that the branch was going to have a Talent Show and everyone from the ward was going to be there. Of course, they told us it would start at 6 or 6:30 but in reality it wouldn't start until 8pm, the same time that our bus was leaving for Tarija. Some people did get there early and we talked a bit, but with little hope of seeing people that I knew, I wrote out a few notes and gave it to the branch president and we were off again!

I had sufficiently prepared Rachael for what I deemed the worst bus ride in all of Bolivia, and weren't disappointed. After 11 hours of being catapulted from our seats several times, and having one of the bus windows break in half, we arrived in Tarija. By this time my cold/cough had climaxed and Rachael started to feel a little of the same. I called the Contreras family and they came and picked us up. We only had a little over an hour to get ready for church and I finally got to see the inside of the chapel that they were building eight years ago. I hardly recognized anyone but we felt welcome anyway. We were both pretty tired and now very sick and decided not to stay past Sacrament Meeting. We ate the best food yet of the whole trip and talked for a good long time with my favorite family in all of Tarija and then went to bed at 8pm. Twelve hours later we woke up, took a much needed shower and hand-washed our clothes. Never before had we hand-washed ANYTHING, so this was quite the venture.

We then went into the center of town and bought plane tickets for our trip to Cochabamba and since it is Mother's Day tomorrow, there was a lot of different things for sell in the plazas. We bought a little dress for a future Lippmannita and a real pearl bracelet for the mother of the Contreras family (authenticity verified by Rachael's infallible "scratch test"). The weather here has been great, I even unzipped the bottom portion of my pants and got into my super-tourist mode. Tarija "la linda" has been great for us and now we're rested a ready to tackle the last leg of our journey.

On the road again

2008-05-22T15:25:00.000-07:00

Following up on the last post...we got our money back from the tour that we didn't want anymore and then promptly and gladly turned that money over to the guy who fixed our digital camera. Rachael has a theory that the guy just pressed a reset button and everything went back to normal, but if he can figure that out before me, he deserves the $40 it cost to get our precious memory-maker back in working order. We enjoyed our last day in Cuzco by seeing the rest of the museums that we had paid for already and then went to a traditional dance festival in the evening. All in all, a very good day.

We awoke early on Tuesday to start heading down to Puno. We met some very nice people: an Asian couple from San Francisco (Mike and Shirley), a couple from England who were traveling for a FULL year, and a very seasoned traveler from England named Dave. We really weren't sure what to do in Puno, and we were tossing around the idea of staying there for the night then continuing on to Bolivia. The moment we got to Puno, however, it became quite apparent what we weren't going to do, that is stay in Puno. Everything I had read about this Peruvian town on the shores of Lake Titicaca basically was summed up in four words: It's a dump.

So, without waiting more than a few minutes we decided to try our luck and get to the Bolivian border that night. With Dave as our inspiration and encourager, we found a cheap bus to the border (although we found out that we had overpaid by 15 Soles each - it was still cheap). The only reason why we took the chance to get to the border that night was the assurance of the driver that we could get there on time. Of course, while we were in route, Dave read in his "Lost Planet" book that the border shut down at 7:30pm. They again assured us that we would get there before then but of course they weren't taking into account that Bolivia was one hour ahead of Peru. When we got off the bus Rachael went with Dave to get our bags and I went to get a taxi to the border. As I went around the bus I ran into both of them and noticed horrified looks on the faces, our bags were missing! No more than a few seconds passed when I realized that the driver had already taken off our bags and put them in a taxi without telling us. {BIG sigh of relief} We got to the Peruvian border and got our exit stamps and then we had to hike up hill, bags in hand, the quarter mile to the Bolivian immigration office. Literally, we got to the office at 7:29pm. It took a bit to fill out all the visa info and then we reluctantly handed over $200 in cash for the visa. (Quick side note, apparently US citizens are the only people in the world who have to pay this amount when entering Bolivia. A product of the close relationship the president of Bolivia, Evo Morales, and the president of Venezuela, Hugo Chavez.)

We finally got everything filled out and got a ride into the lovely little town of Copacabana. Dave lead the way, refusing to pay more than $2 per person and finally we got to a place whose owner was hesitant at first but then caved when I explained that he could be a whole $6 richer if he let us have two rooms for the night. We didn't sleep that great, probably because of the altitude (12,000 ft) and the rock-hard bed, but we got up and got going immediately for La Paz. We decided en route to go to Uyuni instead of Cochabamba just to have the bigger travel days at the front end of the trip and after a four hour trip we got to the VERY polluted city of La Paz. We then hopped on a small bus to go and visit the ruins at Tiwanaku. My plan was to get there, take a few photos, get back to La Paz, and continue on towards Uyuni. The plan was great in theory, since the trip to Tiwanaku should only take one hour, but of course I wasn't figuring in Bolivian-standard-time. A three hour adventure turned into five and by then we couldn't find a bus to go directly to Uyuni.

We did have a very helpful bus driver who volunteered to help us find a route at the bus terminal. I stupidly left Rachael in the bus, after we locked the doors and rolled up the windows and me and Urban, the bus driver, went to find a good bus. We found something cheap after a quick search and went back to find a much-flustered Rachael, who detailed the events that went on while we were gone. We had been gone for no more than five minutes when a group of five punks started pounding on the windows and rocking the van. Of course, Rachael didn't know what they were saying but understood that they were pointing under the bus and motioning for Rachael to get out. She had just cracked the door open when her little guardian angel, a cholita who barely spoke any Spanish, came to the rescue and made her shut the door and then chased off the delinquents. I've since promised never to leave Rachael's side.

Again, en route, we learned that we would be getting to Oruro too late to catch the next bus to Uyuni and that we would have to stay there for the night and the next day since the buses don't leave until around 8pm. So, after a short search of less than adequate hostels we decided on paying the big bucks ($30) and got a really nice hotel. We've enjoyed a restful day doing mostly nothing, highlighted by a couple hours of feeding the pigeons in the main plaza, and we can't wait to see the great Salar de Uyuni!

Commencing Travel Madness

2008-05-18T18:49:00.000-07:00

Three in the morning, alarm goes off and Rachael and I jump out of bed after getting a fresh three hours of sleep (t'was our fault...well NBC & ABC have a part in that too). My gracious mother took us to the airport, of course she had forgotten her glasses and drove home blind (bless her little heart as a true Texan would say), next came the American Airlines melee. No lines, no order, 300 people trying to get on the same flight and two attendants at the counter. Needless to say we were pushing our time limits a little bit, but we eventually got to our gate and the flight left on time.

Bienvenido a Miami, and welcome to your two-hour-delayed flight, which in time turned into three hours. We walked to both ends of the airport looking for the quintessential Cuban restaurant only to be told we had to go past security to find anything worth while. So we got our Cuban sandwiches and croquetas and the cashier thought I was asking about cashews when I asked if it was "cash only". We finally boarded and we were off to the wonderful, yet dirty city of Lima. We had planned to have a friend pick us up at 9pm to sleep at his place until 4am, but of course there was no way I could tell him that we would be late. We figured he would get the airport, see that it was delayed for three hours and then come back later. Well five hours later my dear friend, Nender Aguilar, told us that he did come at 9pm and did try to see if our flight was in but airport authorities couldn't tell him that until 10:30, by which time he thought it was best just to stay and wait. Good man, not sure I would have waited more than two hours. We got to his house at around 1-something, we talked for a little bit, he gave us a huge avocado and we slept for two hours on a mattress he had put out for us and we were off again at 4am.

The flight to Cuzco was pleasantly much less eventful. Although, Rachael did get reprimanded for taking a photo as we were boarding the plane; apparently, it is a matter of national security or something. We saw the sun rise over the Andes, saw some huge snow-capped mountains, and landed safely in the center of the Inca world.

We were told by our travel agency that we would have someone pick us up and take us to our hostel. We waited, and waited, and watched all the gringos go with the people who had signs with their name on it and we waited still. A very nice, yet savvy business man, helped us out. He called around the tour groups, none of which opened their doors until 9am (it was 7am at the time), and he eventually found out where we were staying (shame on me for not knowing the name of our hostel BEFORE we took off). We got a taxi over there and then in our sleep-deprived states he sold us on a couple tours that were just too good to be true. We got another valuable two hours of rest and we were off again to see the town on one of the tours we had just purchased.

First stop, the Templo del Sol, the main cathedral in the center of town, and surprise, what you paid for already didn't include the entrance into that place. So Rachael and I defiantly stayed outside on the grounds and took a bunch of photos and even used the tripod that Jenn gave us for Christmas. Another fateful decision (also my fault)...while handling the camera with one hand and taking one of those lame self pictures and trying to turn it around with that same one hand, our precious digital camera fell from my hands at an astonishingly movie-slow pace and hit the ground. At first, the heart dropping moment was nearly adverted when it looked like everything was still working. Of course, that was before we tried to take a photo and then see the results: all white...digital camera #2 of 2 had of all intents and purposes bit the proverbial dust, or in this case, Inca stones. We did manage to get pictures that day by befriending a fellow gringa from Washington named Lilly. We hung out with her and swapped out SD cards and got our fill of pictures. Of course, the next day, our trip to one of the modern seven wonders of the world would be a different story. Hurriedly, I went out to by a film camera to be able to use for the next day. It was expensive, and I immediately had buyers remorse for the extra tour that we had scheduled in our sleep-deprived state.

Long story short, the film camera worked beautifully at Machu Picchu, of course, pending the results of development to fully validate that statement....we're going to get our money back from that tour that we now have decided was way too much money AND we found a guy who said he could fix our digital camera for $40...we'll let you all know how that one turns out. But through all the fiascoes and fateful decisions, we've enjoyed our time immensely and can't wait to get over the border to my old stomping grounds!

Slaying our Dragon

2008-04-18T23:49:00.000-07:00

An ancient legend tells of a lake dwelling, plague-bearing dragon that once envenomed all the countryside. To appease the dragon, the people of the nearby town used to feed it a sheep every day, and when the sheep failed, they fed it their children, chosen by lottery.

It happened that the lot fell on the king's daughter. The king, distraught with grief, told the people they could have all his gold and silver and half of his kingdom if his daughter were spared; the people refused. The daughter was sent out to the lake, decked out as a bride, to be fed to the dragon.

A heroic soldier, Saint George, by chance rode past the lake. The princess, trembling, sought to send him away, but George vowed to remain.

The dragon reared out of the lake while they were conversing. Saint George charged it on horseback with his lance and gave it a grievous wound. Then he called to the princess to throw him her girdle and put it around the dragon's neck. When she did so, the dragon followed the girl like a meek beast on a leash. She and Saint George led the dragon back to the town where it terrified the people at its approach. But Saint George called out to them, saying that if they consented to become Christians and be baptized, he would slay the dragon before them.

The king and the people of the town converted to Christianity, George slew the dragon, and the body was carted out of the city on four ox-carts.

Today the Phoenix Suns will embark on an epic journey to slay the plague-bearing dragons of the NBA and convert the world to a new order where they will be remembered among the greatest teams of all time. However, the first dragon to slay is the oldest and vilest of them all, the San Antonio Spurs.

This is a battle for the ages, one destined to be hoisted to ESPN Classic game status within minutes of the first tip-off. The gallant Suns have confronted this dragon many times before and has been turned away wounded every time. A new nobleman, Steve Kerr, has armed the warriors with a new lance. Saint George's lance was named Ascalon, the Suns' lance is named Shaq.

Armed with their new weapon, the Suns have wounded the Spurs in winning both games. However, all of the townsmen know that the Spurs are quite a different beast come playoff time. San Antonio might have played its best game of the season against Utah on the last game of the season, when the Spurs mauled the Jazz with an offensive explosion in the first half. That might have sent a message to the Suns that the Spurs are in playoff mode.

The Shaq trade was made precisely for this moment. He was bought at a high price to slay the fire-breathing Spurs. One team with a legitimate chance of winning the championship will be going home early. It will truly be a glorious day when I can see the ugly dragon being carted off on those four ox-carts; a cart for every loss.

Illustrated . . .

2008-04-14T15:41:00.000-07:00

I saw this one on someone's blog who saw it on a friend's blog who saw it another friend's blog and so and so on. You are suppose to answer the questions and then enter your answer into some kind of photo site like photobucket or flickr. Without further adieu, here are my answers in jpg format.

1. Age on your next birthday?

2. A place where you would love to travel?
Spain. I will make my pilgrimage to La Mancha once before I die!

3. Favorite place?
It's really a toss up between these two places because some of my favorite memories come with Fish Lake and Red Rock as the backdrop.

4. Favorite object?
My Dell Inspiron 6400; it's been with me through thick and thin. The battery doesn't last for more than 45 minutes and I've replaced the hard drive once already, but I couldn't live without it.

5. Favorite food?
Bacon and eggs. I love breakfast in general and the occassional "brinner" (breakfast + dinner) is always a bonus.

6. Favorite animal?
Basset hounds and any other type of dog that has lots of extra skin.

7. Favorite color?

8. Where you were born?
Southern Nevada Memorial Hospital (present day UMC).

9. Name of a past pet?
My basset hound was named Matilda, we called her Matty.

10. Your nickname?

11. Your middle name?

12. The town in which you live?

13. What are you listening to?
I have 5192 songs on my computer, over 1,000 different artists; I put my iTunes on random and this is what came up first.

14. Your last name?

15. A bad habit of yours?
Some day I will stop . . . maybe.

16. Your first job?

17. Your hobby?
The perfect game! Why you ask? It's the perfect blend of skill and luck.

18. Your grandmas' names?

Rooting for a bad team to lose

2008-04-09T09:18:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I feel ashamed for rooting against the lowly Atlanta Hawks. After all, the Hawks loss to the Pacers last night dropped Atlanta to 36-42 on the season, giving them NINE consecutive losing seasons. That sets a franchise record; the St. Louis Hawks posted losing marks in eight consecutive seasons from 1949-1950 to 1956-1957.

Oh, and there's the little thing where the Hawks own the league's longest playoff drought which happens to equal their record for losing seasons in years. However, I am a Phoenix Suns fanatic, and Atlanta's demise can only be a good thing for the Suns. Let me explain . . .

Way back in 2005, the Suns had just come off an amazing playoff run in the inaugural season of the Nash era. Ironically, part of the reason we lost to the Spurs in the Western Conference finals (apart from the realization that the Spurs are to the Suns as kryptonite is to Superman) is that Joe Johnson got taken down by a Jerry Stackhouse cheap foul that caused a bad fall in the series against the Mavs and thus had a displaced fracture in the bone around his left eye. (I'm just now realizing how unlucky the Suns have been with cheap fouls in the playoffs!!)

Anyway, long story short, Joe Johnson wanted the ball more, he wasn't going to get it with Nash around so the Suns did a sign-and-trade transaction with Atlanta, in exchange for Boris Diaw and two conditional draft picks, on August 19, 2005.

Fast-forward to last year's draft lottery. Atlanta was pegged to get the fourth pick, but the damnable lottery moved them into the third spot thus protecting their conditional status on the pick that was going to go to Phoenix. The Suns could have drafted Nash's future replacement in Mike Conley Jr, or gone to NBA-ready Jeff Green, or gone with energy off the bench in the form of Joakim Noah. Anyway you put it, the Suns got sucker punched again, although the acquisition of Diaw did pay immediate dividends when Amare was out for a season.

This year, however, the Hawks' pick is unconditional. The Hawks started the season playing .500 ball which is good enough for a mid-range playoff spot in the Leastern Conference, but then they began to plummet after the New Year and looked to be down for the count until they finally started to put a few wins together in March.

Which brings us to the final four games of the season. Atlanta is 2 games up on Indiana for the final playoff spot and the right to be creamed in the first round by the mighty Bostonians. If Atlanta goes to the playoffs their pick is yanked out of the lottery and put at the middle of the draft, around pick 15. If Indiana goes, then the pick is back in the lottery and at worst the Suns will get the 12th pick.

Why all the fuss about 3 positions lower in the draft? It's not so much the difference between 12 and 15 but the difference between being in the lottery and not. Last year Portland and Seattle respectively had a 5.3% and 8.8% chance of getting the first pick in the draft and they went 1-2. Boston had a 19.9% chance of getting the top pick and they slipped to 5th! What I'm trying to say is sometimes a team can get lucky.

So, on to looking at the possibility of Phoenix getting lucky. These are the final games for both the Pacers and the Hawks:

Atlanta's Schedule:
4/11 @NY
4/12 BOS
4/15 ORL
4/16 @MIA

Indiana's Schedule:
4/11 @PHI
4/12 CHA
4/14 @WAS
4/16 NY

Looking at the two schedules, it appears that Atlanta can probably win two games one against New York and the other against Miami. However, the last game is the second on a back-to-back game, but then again Miami is playing for the ping-pong balls and is starting D-league guys.

Indiana can easily beat Charlotte and New York but has a couple of tough road games against Philadelphia and Washington. If Atlanta wins two, then Indiana has to win out. Another thing in Indiana's favor is the tie-breaker it owns over Atlanta as a result of their win last night.

I really am sorry for all 39 of the remaining Hawks fans out there, but this is my team's chance to get a little better and have an outside shot at the big names in the draft. Without further adeu, I wish nothing but bad luck upon the Hawks over the last four games, and may the worst team keeping on losing.

By the way, anyone ever pick up on the Atlanta logo Hitler connection? Just thought I'd throw more bad karma out there for the Hawks.

The Association

2008-04-07T15:54:00.000-07:00

The greatest sport in the world has less than a few weeks to finish up an incredible season. One fantasy team is going to win, another is going to be fighting for the win until the last day, while in an another my dearest wife put the smack down and ended my post-season prematurely.

After the trade for Shaq, the Suns took awhile to adjust and are just now starting to turn it around. As I was contemplating a follow-up to my initial trade reaction, I came across a draft of a blog entry that I didn't complete back in November. I commented on Kobe and his pessimism at the start of the season and the status of the Heat:

If Kobe Bryant thinks the Lakers' talent is lacking, he should check out what Dwyane Wade gets to go to war with. Outside of Udonis Haslem, the remainder of Miami is comprised of the old (Penny, Shaquille O'Neal, Alonzo Mounring) and the restless (Ricky Davis, Jason Williams, Mark Blount, Dorell Wright). If I'm Wade, I'm demanding Pat Riley trade me to L.A. so I can play with Andrew Bynum and Jordan Farmar.

I suspected Shaq might be nearing the end as I watched the game against the Spurs last week. On one telling play, he turned baseline from his customary left block position and Bruce Bowen was sliding over a hair late for the double team. The old (er, young) Shaq checks Bowen into the third row and rips the rim off. Today's version turns meekly back and throws it out to the perimeter.

By the way, I must confess to a newborn appreciation of Riley for his contemptuous indictment of the Heat following its home loss to the winless Sonics. Only a master motivator can get away unscathed from jumping into the foxhole and fragging his troops.

It's really amazing how the much the league has changed (apart from the Heat really stinking it up) by having so many marquee players trading teams. Kobe's team got manna from heaven in the form a seven-foot Spaniard and the Suns have incredibly kept up the pace with the rest of the league while figuring out an entirely new system. What's even more amazing is Shaq's invigorated play since being acquired by the western gunslingers. He's not exactly checking the Bruce Bowens of the league into the third row but he is managing to rip the rim off (or at least the net) and throw himself into the third row for a lose ball.

It remains to be seen what will happen in the playoffs, but I've seen the Suns be able to do something I always wish we'd be able to do, that is play a slow-down half court offense with the fast pace offense. Few are the teams that can play both methods effectively, the Spurs, and Jazz are the only teams I can think of that are able to do that. Also, the rebounding concerns seem to have been allayed and Grant Hill has been doing a pretty good job at defending the perimeter.

However, by the looks of things we're not going to get home court advantage at any point unless the Lakers crap out the rest of the games. So, we're stuck with anything from the 4-6 seeds and an opponent match-up of San Antonio, L.A., or Utah. Needless to say that first round will be incredibly hard against any of those teams. I still like our chances with the team we have, I just think we need to get more lucky than good to win it all this year.

Where Battle Wounds Happen

2008-02-11T19:21:00.000-08:00

Diesel for Matrix?

2008-02-06T09:19:00.000-08:00

Shaq for Marion??!! When I first read the posts about this trade last night I laughed out loud. It was totally out in left field, it wasn't feasible, it would destroy everything that makes the Suns who they are, AND they would be trading for the right to spend incredible money for a broken-down past-his-prime has-been. This really was some sort of joke that needed to be reserved for April Fool's Day only that would be after the trade deadline so someone had to spread the joke, right? If it was true Suns' management had lost their damn minds. Being the realist that I am, I chalked it up to a weird rumor in reaction to the trade the Lakers had just pulled off for Gasol. This was nothing more than bloggers inventing an absurd scenario to smear across the internet.

Fast-forward to this morning. My friends, knowing I am a die hard Suns fan, awoke me from this dream and told me it was a physical-pending reality. Initial reaction: gut wrenching disbelief. A few hours later I'm really struggling to find the silver lining in this whole porquería.

So here goes my attempt at putting a positive spin on all this. As much as I hate to admit it, the Suns would have to have the perfect combination of things to go right during this season and the playoffs in order for them to come out of the west and win the championship. Although it makes for great television and lots of regular season wins, the Suns style of play is not a proven winner come playoff time. Granted, the Suns have had a run of bad luck in the playoffs starting three years ago with Joe Johnson getting injured, followed by not having Amare next season, then the infamous suspensions of last year. But realistically, they have a hard time matching up against San Antonio and sometimes against Dallas. I know everyone is going crazy now that the Lakers have Gasol, but San Antonio and Dallas are still the only teams that Phoenix has to worry about.

So Phoenix needs a true center who can play some defense against some of the bigs in the west. Nobody is available except for the "most dominant player of our generation". If Shaq can be somewhat healthy and be ready for the playoffs maybe this works. Phoenix doesn't need a completely dominant Shaq, they just need someone to defend the paint and keep opponents off the offensive glass. If Shaq can do that, then maybe this can work. No matter how we look at this, Duncan is going to have a tougher time against Shaq than he ever did against Amare or Boris.

Financially, I thought this was murder for the Suns bogging them down with a $20 million per year contract. Then I thought about it for a second; Marion was making $16.5 million this year and $17.something next year, and Shaq makes a straight up $20 million this year and next. Although I thought Banks played well and fit into this system, if we're not going to play him I guess it's good to get rid of his contract that was paying him $4-5 million for sitting on the bench. Marion wanted an extension for money that he just wasn't going to get and would have probably tried to leave next year without the Suns being able to use him as trading bait. So if this works out for the Suns, they actually save money in the long run, something team owner Sarver seems to be adamant about.

The chemistry issue is another thing that seems to have been a problem. I don't understand it, and I've written about it before, but Marion seems to have this complex that he's not appreciated. Not that being the highest paid player on the team, an All-Star, an Olympian, and perennial number 1 fantasy pick have anything to do with appreciation. Marion wants to be the man and in Phoenix he wasn't even the main sidekick to the man. Chemistry matters, winning solves a lot of those issues but just look to the Lakers of a few years ago when they had Shaq, Kobe, Malone, and Payton. Those guys ruled the league and won everything and then finally it seemed that they couldn't play together in the finals and got whooped bad. If Shaq can come in and know his place and be a good sport then this issues seems to be solved.

The Nash factor plus urgency. Nash is probably the only player on this planet that would be able to seamlessly incorporate another player with such a clashing style of play. I am confident that Steve Nash can make this work. Finally, Shaq adds to the urgency factor. Nash and Hill need to win now or next year. Shaq does too. Marion and Stoudamire are young and don't seem to realize that the opportunity to play for a contender should be considered a blessing and such a transient opportunity. Shaq called Nash and told him he wasn't going to let him or the team down; the whole team now has something to prove, that they can win when nobody says it is possible anymore.

Now for the bad. Why the hell mess with something that's not broken! Phoenix has the best record in the west and has their style of play down to a science. Yes, any team with a decent power-forward has been killing us during the season (two losses to Minnesota). Yes, we've been getting killed almost every game on the offensive glass because we're just not big enough. But is it really the wisest of decisions to essentially blow up everything you have in place just for the chance to get a few more rebounds per game? Maybe it was just bad luck in the playoffs. The Suns could have finally done it by just sticking to their guns and make everybody else change to their style and not vice versa. The Spurs are getting old and have never repeated before, Dallas just isn't as dominant, and the rest of the west hasn't proven themselves in the playoffs.

Shaq can SLOW down the game and probably won't be able to keep up with the Suns fast pace. Then there is the risk of continued injuries. He hasn't been healthy this year and really hasn't been 100% for awhile. Did Phoenix just spend $40 million on a somewhat, depends on the day of the week, serviceable old guy?

Marion seemed to be the guy that made Phoenix's style of play work. He is a great defender, he lead the team in rebounds, steals and blocks and he didn't even have a play run for him. He made things happen, he was always the first guy up the court to finish a fast break. He is versatile beyond any player in the league. He can defend the other team's best player and still get 20 and 10 with a few steals and blocks. I even question if the Suns style can work at all without Marion. He picked up the slack from Nash and Stoudemire when they just sort of floated around on defense. Shaq is really only going to be responsible for the paint and that's it. Marion could defend the paint and the perimeter. As my favorite player, I'm really going to miss everything that Marion brought every single night. He really was the most consistent stud on that team.

So here's hoping that Shaq can get healthy and be motivated enough to kick some Western Conference booty come playoff time. He gets a new lease on life and another chance to win a championship. This really is a bold move for the Suns and it doesn't mesh with the "No Balls Association" label that Bill Simmons has placed over the league. The Suns just went all in, gambling everything for the chance for a big finish now. All I can do now is pray that it works.

Who is the ugliest NBA player?

2007-11-20T14:23:00.000-08:00

I was sitting through my last class of PR for the semester and I thought I would create a list of ugly NBA players (mostly from my generation of fanhood) and then create a poll asking what everyone else thought. So here it is, be sure to vote for your ugliest NBA player.

Andrei Kirilenko - I don't know that many people have accused this Russian of being that ugly, in fact many might say he resembles Dolph Lundgren of Rocky IV fame. Truth is I had to put him on this list because he broke down and cried after Sloan benched him in the playoffs against the Rockets and Kirilenko used a towel to wipe tears from his red and swollen eyes while discussing his minimal role in the Jazz's loss in Game 1. There's no crying in basketball Andrei, I condemn you to the ugly bench!

Bill Walton - Before he became ESPN's sideline lyrical genius, this ginger kid sported the white-man afro combined with the leprechaun beard. Charles Barkley once called the 80's Celtics the "ugliest team in NBA History". While the Chuckster isn't exactly Mr. GQ, at least he isn't a day-walker and still has a soul.

Brian Cardinal - There is a time in every balding man's life when they must make a choice: Embrace the baldness, or fight it. Brian is the perfect example of what is wrong with fighting it. Brian represents the whole class of white big men who were good in college but only looked good sitting on the bench in the NBA, of course he really didn't look good doing that either. I really need to know what Brian did for Jerry West to receive $39 million over six seasons.

Charlie Villanueva - I debated whether or not I could make fun of Villanueva’s body hair disease. After much thought during an enlightening PR class I've decided that yes, yes I can because having no eyebrows is just plain frightening.

Chris Kaman - Speaking of frightening, it is absolutely terrifying to look at Kaman. He’s not scary like Ray Lewis, but more like “my car broke down in the backwoods of Tennessee and now there’s a large, stringy-haired man dressed in a plaid shirt and jean overalls carrying a shotgun and he’s staring at me” scary.

Dennis Rodman - Dennis could soak in Clorox and baking soda and he would still look dirty to me. The "Worm" was a dang good hustle player and rebounder but I think the dye seeped a little too deep and converted him into the nut case he is. And yes, I'm saying all nut cases are ugly.

Gheorghe Muresan - As flat-out hideous as this man is, he does have an excuse- two excuses, actually. He's seven foot-seven, and he's from Romania. That having been said, he looks brutal. Brutish as well. Inch-for-inch the ugliest man on any team in the NBA for a decade. Looking at Gheorghe Muresan makes one nostalgic for the Cold War, when this monstrosity would have been hidden by the Iron Curtain from our oh-so-tender eyes.

Greg Ostertag - This is actually Ostertag on a good day. If you watched Utah Jazz games, you would occasionally see him spit out his two-front-false teeth and roll them around in his mouth. Also when he played for the Kings, Ostertag danced on stage during an event for season ticket holders. Apparently, there were children in attendance. It would not be an exaggeration to classify this as a crime against humanity.

Joakim Noah - I want to wonder out loud here, how can Noah be the seed of a woman who was a former Miss Sweden and finished 4th in the Miss Universe Pageant? Seriously! Miss Sweden! What went wrong? I think I should mention that Joakim Noah is a great player. I actually only said he's a great player so he won't eat me. I bet during last year's national championship game the Ohio State players were too busy looking at his mom and thinking, what the hell? How did that come from that?

Larry Bird - Larry Joe Bird, in addition to being an All-Ugly performer, also owns the distinction of being the ugliest man on the ugliest team in NBA history, the 1985-86 Boston Celtics. Larry Joe, DJ, McHale, and The Chief provided a solid core of unattractiveness, but it was the acquisition of Bill Walton that put the C's over the top. It was really the blond baby mustache that landed the Legend on this list.

Marquis Daniels - Marquis has a Chinese tattoo which reads "Healthy, Woman, Roof". I bet that he thought he was getting his initials when some Asians played a trick on him. I think it would have been cooler for them to ink the symbol for the Predator. Marquis would be the ultimate secret weapon if he could be invisible and pick off the other team's players. But when his team played Sacramento, Arnold the Govenator himself would blow him up with an oozie or something. Would make for great TV. I'm not the only one here that sees the resemblance between Marquis and the Predator am I? I mean, can his eyes be any further apart?

Popeye Jones - I kept on wondering who he reminds me of. I finally came up with it. Sloth from "The Goonies". After figuring that out I tried to discover why he was nicknamed Popeye. I looked at the character Popeye the Sailor and I just didn't see it. Popeye the Sailor has squinty eyes, tiny ears, and eats a lot of spinach. On the other hand, Popeye the basketball player has large, protruding ears, huge eyes, and eats a lot of babies. Clearly they are nothing alike. Well, Popeye Jones' eyes kind of pop out of his head as if he had just seen Chris Kaman so maybe that is where the nickname came from.

Sam Cassell - You might best know Sam Cassell for being cast in the lead role for the movie E.T. Cassell is a pretty good point guard. His skills have sometimes seemed....shall I say...out of THIS WORLD! Do you get it? I am calling him an alien. Because he is really ugly and slimy looking. Commence laughter.

Shawn Marion - I love his game and he's my favorite player on my favorite team, but Shawn has got to plug back into the Matrix and create a better Residual Self Image of himself because the dude looks like the missing link sometimes.

Tyrone Hill - In my opinion he is the ugliest, scariest player in NBA history. I likened him to He-Man villain Skeletor. Just look at his face. It looks like he is just a collection of bones. This is probably because Tyrone Hill is 429 years old! At least, that was the explanation I've heard for his lack of muscle tissue and deeply indented eyes.

The wild, wild West of fuel technology

2007-11-08T10:37:00.000-08:00

My friend Steve sent me a link to an article about this guy who basically converts big car engines into engines that can run off of trash (think Back to the Future) all while increasing horsepower, fuel mileage and slashing emissions. You can go directly to the article or read it right here:

“Check it out. It's actually a jet engine," says Johnathan Goodwin, with a low whistle. "This thing is gonna be even cooler than I thought." We're hunched on the floor of Goodwin's gleaming workshop in Wichita, Kansas, surrounded by the shards of a wooden packing crate. Inside the wreckage sits his latest toy--a 1985-issue turbine engine originally designed for the military. It can spin at a blistering 60,000 rpm and burn almost any fuel. And Goodwin has some startling plans for this esoteric piece of hardware: He's going to use it to create the most fuel-efficient Hummer in history.

Goodwin, a 37-year-old who looks like Kevin Costner with better hair, is a professional car hacker. The spic-and-span shop is filled with eight monstrous trucks and cars--Hummers, Yukon XLs, Jeeps--in various states of undress. His four tattooed, twentysomething grease monkeys crawl all over them with wrenches and welding torches.

Goodwin leads me over to a red 2005 H3 Hummer that's up on jacks, its mechanicals removed. He aims to use the turbine to turn the Hummer into a tricked-out electric hybrid. Like most hybrids, it'll have two engines, including an electric motor. But in this case, the second will be the turbine, Goodwin's secret ingredient. Whenever the truck's juice runs low, the turbine will roar into action for a few seconds, powering a generator with such gusto that it'll recharge a set of "supercapacitor" batteries in seconds. This means the H3's electric motor will be able to perform awesome feats of acceleration and power over and over again, like a Prius on steroids. What's more, the turbine will burn biodiesel, a renewable fuel with much lower emissions than normal diesel; a hydrogen-injection system will then cut those low emissions in half. And when it's time to fill the tank, he'll be able to just pull up to the back of a diner and dump in its excess french-fry grease--as he does with his many other Hummers. Oh, yeah, he adds, the horsepower will double--from 300 to 600.

"Conservatively," Goodwin muses, scratching his chin, "it'll get 60 miles to the gallon. With 2,000 foot-pounds of torque. You'll be able to smoke the tires. And it's going to be superefficient."

"Think about it: a 5,000-pound vehicle that gets 60 miles to the gallon and does zero to 60 in five seconds!"

This is the sort of work that's making Goodwin famous in the world of underground car modders. He is a virtuoso of fuel economy. He takes the hugest American cars on the road and rejiggers them to get up to quadruple their normal mileage and burn low-emission renewable fuels grown on U.S. soil--all while doubling their horsepower. The result thrills eco-evangelists and red-meat Americans alike: a vehicle that's simultaneously green and mean. And word's getting out. In the corner of his office sits Arnold Schwarzenegger's 1987 Jeep Wagoneer, which Goodwin is converting to biodiesel; soon, Neil Young will be shipping him a 1960 Lincoln Continental to transform into a biodiesel--electric hybrid.

His target for Young's car? One hundred miles per gallon.

This is more than a mere American Chopper--style makeover. Goodwin's experiments point to a radically cleaner and cheaper future for the American car. The numbers are simple: With a $5,000 bolt-on kit he co-engineered--the poor man's version of a Goodwin conversion--he can immediately transform any diesel vehicle to burn 50% less fuel and produce 80% fewer emissions. On a full-size gas-guzzler, he figures the kit earns its money back in about a year--or, on a regular car, two--while hitting an emissions target from the outset that's more stringent than any regulation we're likely to see in our lifetime. "Johnathan's in a league of his own," says Martin Tobias, CEO of Imperium Renewables, the nation's largest producer of biodiesel. "Nobody out there is doing experiments like he is."

Nobody--particularly not Detroit. Indeed, Goodwin is doing precisely what the big American automakers have always insisted is impossible. They have long argued that fuel-efficient and alternative-fuel cars are a hard sell because they're too cramped and meek for our market. They've lobbied aggressively against raising fuel-efficiency and emissions standards, insisting that either would doom the domestic industry. Yet the truth is that Detroit is now getting squeezed from all sides. This fall, labor unrest is brewing, and after decades of inertia on fuel-economy standards, Congress is jockeying to boost the target for cars to 35 mpg, a 10 mpg jump (which is either ridiculously large or ridiculously small, depending on whom you ask). More than a dozen states are enacting laws requiring steep reductions in greenhouse-gas emissions. Meanwhile, gas prices have hovered around $3 per gallon for more than a year. And European and Japanese carmakers are flooding the market with diesel and hybrid machines that get up to 40% better mileage than the best American cars; some, such as Mercedes's new BlueTec diesel sedans, deliver that kind of efficiency and more horsepower.

General Motors, Ford (NYSE:F), and Chrysler (NYSE:DAI), in short, have a choice: Cede still more ground--or mount a technological counterattack.

Goodwin's work proves that a counterattack is possible, and maybe easier than many of us imagined. If the dream is a big, badass ride that's also clean, well, he's there already. As he points out, his conversions consist almost entirely of taking stock GM parts and snapping them together in clever new ways. "They could do all this stuff if they wanted to," he tells me, slapping on a visor and hunching over an arc welder. "The technology has been there forever. They make 90% of the components I use." He doesn't have an engineering degree; he didn't even go to high school: "I've just been messing around and seeing what I can do."

All of which raises an interesting possibility. Has this guy in a far-off Kansas garage figured out the way to save Detroit?

America's most revolutionary innovations, it has long been said, sprang from the ramshackle dens of amateurs. Thomas Edison was a home-schooled dropout who got his start tinkering with battery parts; Chester Carlson invented the photocopier in his cramped Long Island kitchen. NASA, desperate for breakthroughs to help it return to the moon, has set up million-dollar prizes to encourage private citizens to come forward with any idea, no matter how crazy. As the theory goes, only those outside big industries can truly reinvent them.

Goodwin is certainly an outsider. He grew up in a dirt-poor Kansas family with six siblings and by age 13 began taking on piecework in local auto shops to help his mother pay the bills. He particularly enjoyed jamming oversized engines into places no one believed they'd fit. He put truck engines inside Camaros, Grand Nationals, and Super Bees; he even put a methanol-fueled turbocharger on a tiny Yamaha Banshee four-wheeler. "We took that thing from 35 horsepower to 208," he recalls. "It was crazy. We couldn't put enough fins on the back to keep it on the ground." After dropping out of school in the seventh grade, he made a living by buying up totaled cars and making them as good as new. "That," he says, "was my school."

Along the way, Goodwin also adopted two views common among Americans, but typically thought to be in conflict: a love of big cars and a concern about the environment. He is an avid, if somewhat nonideological, environmentalist. He believes global warming is a serious problem, that reliance on foreign oil is a mistake, and that butt-kicking fuel economy is just good for business. But Goodwin is also guiltlessly addicted to enormous, brawling rides, precisely the sort known to suck down Saudi gasoline. (I spied one lonely small sports car in the corner of his garage, but he confessed he has no plans to work on it right now.) When he picked me up from my hotel, he drove a four-door 2008 Cadillac Escalade XL that should have had its own tugboat. He parallel parked it in one try.

If Goodwin is an artist, though, his canvas has been the Hummer. His first impression of the thing was inauspicious. In 1990, he bought an H1 in Denver and began driving it back to Kansas. Within 50 miles, the bolts in the transmission shook loose, forcing him to stop to fix it. "By the time I made it home, after three roadside repairs, I pretty much knew that the Hummer was not all it should be," he told me. He didn't think much of the 200 horsepower engine, either, which did "zero to 60 in two days. It was a piece of junk."

So Goodwin decided to prove that environmentalism and power could go together--by making his new lemon into exhibit A. First, he pulled the gas engine so he could drop in a Duramax V8, GM's core diesel for large trucks. Diesel technology is crucial to all of Goodwin's innovations because it offers several advantages over traditional gasoline engines. Pound for pound, diesel offers more power and torque; it's also inherently more efficient, offering up to 40% better mileage and 20% lower emissions in engines of comparable size. What's more, many diesel engines can easily accept a wide range of biodiesel--from the high-quality stuff produced at refineries to the melted chicken grease siphoned off from the local KFC.

Putting a diesel engine in the Hummer, however, required Goodwin to crack GM's antitheft system, which makes it a pain to swap out the engine. In that system, the engine communicates electronically with the body, fuel supply, and ignition; if you don't have all the original components, the car won't start. Goodwin jerry-rigged a set of cables to trick the engine into believing the starter system had broken, sending it into "fail-safe mode"--a backdoor mechanism installed at the factory. (At one point in his story, Goodwin wanders over to a battered cardboard box in the corner of the garage and hauls out an octopuslike tangle of wires--"the MacGyver," his hacking device. "I could have sold this for a lot of money on eBay," he chuckles.)

Once he'd picked the car's lock, Goodwin installed the Duramax and a five-speed Allison--the required transmission for a Duramax, which also helps give it race-car-like control and a rapid take off. After five days' worth of work, the Hummer was getting about 18 mpg--double the factory 9 mpg--and twice the original horsepower. He drove it over to a local restaurant and mooched some discarded oil from its deep fryer, strained the oil through a pair of jeans, and poured it into the engine. It ran perfectly.

But Goodwin wanted more. While researching alternative fuels, he learned about the work of Uli Kruger, a German who has spent decades in Australia exploring techniques for blending fuels that normally don't mix. One of Kruger's systems induces hydrogen into the air intake of a diesel engine, producing a cascade of emissions-reducing and mileage-boosting effects. The hydrogen, ignited by the diesel combustion, burns extremely clean, producing only water as a by-product. It also displaces up to 50% of the diesel needed to fuel the car, effectively doubling the diesel's mileage and cutting emissions by at least half. Better yet, the water produced from the hydrogen combustion cools down the engine, so the diesel combustion generates fewer particulates--and thus fewer nitrogen-oxide emissions.

"It's really a fantastic chain reaction, all these good things happening at once," Kruger tells me. He has also successfully introduced natural gas--a ubiquitous and generally cheap fuel--into a diesel-burning engine, which likewise doubles the mileage while slashing emissions. In another system, he uses heat from the diesel engine to vaporize ethanol to the point where it can be injected into the diesel combustion chambers as a booster, with similar emissions-cutting effects.

Goodwin began building on Kruger's model. In 2005, he set to work adapting his own H1 Hummer to burn a combination of hydrogen and biodiesel. He installed a Duramax in the Hummer and plopped a carbon-fiber tank of supercompressed hydrogen into the bed. The results were impressive: A single tank of hydrogen lasted for 700 miles and cut the diesel consumption in half. It also doubled the horsepower. "It reduces your carbon footprint by a huge, huge amount, but you still get all the power of the Duramax," he says, slapping the H1 on the quarter panel.

"And you can feed it hydrogen, diesel, biodiesel, corn oil--pretty much anything but water."

Two years ago, Goodwin got a rare chance to show off his tricks to some of the car industry's most prominent engineers. He tells me the story: He was driving a converted H2 to the SEMA show, the nation's biggest annual specialty automotive confab, and stopped en route at a Denver hotel. When he woke up in the morning, there were 20 people standing around his Hummer. Did I run over somebody? he wondered. As it turned out, they were engineers for GM, the Hummer's manufacturer. They noticed that Goodwin's H2 looked modified. "Does it have a diesel engine in it?"

"Yeah," he said.

"No way," they replied.

He opened the hood, "and they're just all in and out and around the valves and checking it out," he says. They asked to hear it run, sending a stab of fear through Goodwin. He'd filled it up with grease from a Chinese restaurant the day before and was worried that the cold morning might have solidified the fuel. But it started up on the first try and ran so quietly that at first they didn't believe it was really on. "When you start a diesel engine up on vegetable oil," Goodwin says, "you turn the key, and you hear nothing. Because of the lubricating power of the oil, it's just so smooth. Whisper quiet. And they're like, 'Is it running? Yeah, you can hear the fan going.'"

One engineer turned and said, "GM said this wouldn't work."

"Well," Goodwin replied, "here it is."

Goodwin's feats of engineering have become gradually more visible over the past year. Last summer, Imperium Renewables contacted MTV's show Pimp My Ride about creating an Earth Day special in which Goodwin would convert a muscle car to run on biodiesel. The show chose a '65 Chevy Impala, and when the conversion was done, he'd doubled its mileage to 25 mpg and increased its pull from 250 to 800 horsepower. As a stunt, MTV drag-raced the Impala against a Lamborghini on California's Pomona Raceway. "The Impala blew the Lamborghini away," says Kevin Kluemper, the lead calibration engineer for GM's Allison transmission unit, who'd flown down to help with the conversion. Schwarzenegger, who was on the set that day, asked Goodwin on the spot to convert his Wagoneer to biodiesel.

Observers of Goodwin's work say his skill lies in an uncanny ability to visualize a mechanical system in precise detail, long before he picks up a wrench. (Goodwin says he does much of his mental work during long drives.) "He has talent unknown to any mortal," says Mad Mike, Pimp My Ride's host. "He has this ability to see things so exactly, and I still don't know how he does it."

For his part, Goodwin argues he's merely "a problem solver. Most people try to make things more complicated than they are." He speaks of the major carmakers with a sort of mild disdain: If he can piece together cleaner vehicles out of existing GM parts and a bit of hot-rod elbow grease, why can't they bake that kind of ingenuity into their production lines? Prod him enough on the subject and his mellowness peels away, revealing a guy fired by an almost manic frustration. "Everybody should be driving a plug-in vehicle right now," he complains, in one of his laconic engineering lectures, as we wander through the blistering Kansas heat to a nearby Mexican restaurant. "I can go next door to Ace Hardware and buy a DC electric motor, go out to my four-wheel-drive truck, remove the transmission and engine, bolt the electric motor onto the back of the transfer case, put a series of lead-acid batteries up to 240 volts in the back of the bed, and we're good to go. I guarantee you I could drive all around town and do whatever I need, go home at night, and hook up a couple of battery chargers, plug one into an outlet, and be good to go the next day.

"Detroit could do all this stuff overnight if it wanted to," he adds.

In reality, Goodwin's work has begun to influence some of Detroit's top auto designers, but through curious and circuitous routes. In 2005, Tom Holm, the founder of EcoTrek, a nonprofit that promotes the use of alternative fuels, heard about Goodwin through the Hummer-junkie grapevine and hired him. When Holm showed GM the vehicles Goodwin converted, the company was duly impressed. Internally, Hummer executives had long been looking for a way to blunt criticism of the H2's gas-guzzling tendencies and saw Goodwin's vehicles as an object lesson in what was possible. So GM decided to flip the switch: It announced the same year that, beginning in 2008, it would convert its gasoline Hummers to run on ethanol; by 2010, it said, Hummers would be biodiesel-compatible.

"It was an influence," concedes Hummer general manager Martin Walsh, of the EcoTrek vehicles. "We wanted to be environmentally responsible by having engines in Hummers that run on renewable fuels." But until I contacted Hummer for this story, GM didn't know that the man behind those machines was none other than Goodwin.

GM's commitment is a start, however halting. Overall, though, Detroit still seems to be all but paralyzed by the challenges of fuel economy, emissions, and alternative fuels. And it's not just about greed or laziness: Talk to car-industry experts, and they'll point out a number of serious barriers to introducing radically new alternative-fuel vehicles on a scale that will make a difference. One of the highest is that low-emission fuels--biodiesel, ethanol, electricity, hydrogen, all of which account for less than 3% of the nation's fuel supply--just aren't widely available on American highways. This creates a chicken-and-egg problem. People won't buy alternative-fuel cars until it's easy to fill them up, but alternative fuel makers won't ramp up production until there's a viable market.

Goodwin admits all these things are true but believes the country could be weaned off gasoline in a three-step process. The first would be for Detroit to aggressively roll out diesel engines, much as Europe has already begun to do (some 50% of all European cars run diesel). In a single stroke, that would improve the nation's mileage by as much as 40%, and, because diesel fuel is already widely available, drivers could take that step with a minimum of disruption. What's more, given that many diesel engines can also run homegrown biodiesel, a mass conversion to diesel would help kick-start that market. (This could have geopolitical implications as well as environmental and economic ones: The Department of Transportation estimated in 2004 that if we converted merely one-third of America's passenger cars and light trucks to diesel, we'd reduce our oil consumption by up to 1.4 million barrels of oil per day--precisely the amount we import from Saudi Arabia.)

The second step in Goodwin's scheme would be to produce diesel-electric hybrid cars. This would double the mileage on even the biggest diesel vehicles. The third phase would be to produce electric hybrids that run in "dual fuel" mode, burning biodiesel along with hydrogen, ethanol, natural gas, or propane. This is the concept Goodwin is proving out in his turbine-enhanced H3 Hummer and in Neil Young's Lincoln: "At that point, your mileage just goes really, really high, and your emissions are incredibly low," he says. Since those vehicles can run on regular diesel or biodiesel--and without any alternative fuel at all, if need be--drivers wouldn't have to worry about getting stranded on the interstate. At the same time, as more and more dual-fuel cars hit the road, they would goose demand for genuinely national ethanol, hydrogen, and biodiesel grids.

For Goodwin, navigating this process is all about imagination and adaptability. "The point is to design cars that are flexible," he says. "You'll see a change in how vehicles are fueled in the future. Which fuel source will be the exclusive one or the one that'll take over the petroleum base is, you know, anybody's guess, so it's like the wild, wild West of fuel technology right now. I think it'll be a combination between a few different fuels. I know hydrogen will definitely come around."

Imagination and vision, of course, are often rewarded. As global pressure increases on the United States to reduce our carbon emissions, those rewards are likely to get juicier. Under some versions of legislation being considered in Congress, for example, companies voluntarily deploying superefficient vehicles in large fleets could be awarded substantial offsets. Take DHL, the FedEx rival: Goodwin says his company, SAE Energy, is negotiating with the shipper to convert 800 of its vehicles to dual fuel. "We could get them an offset of something like 70 cents a gallon," Goodwin says, "and reduce their cost of fuel by 50%."

Industry insiders and observers agree with many of Goodwin's prescriptions, particularly his concept of fuel flexibility. "We have to have alternatives," says Beau Boeckmann, vice president of California's Galpin Motors, the largest Ford dealership in the country, who recently partnered with Goodwin to convert a 2008 F450 truck to hydrogen and biodiesel. "Only with a combination of things can we get alternative fuels off the ground." Boeckmann believes hydrogen is the true "silver bullet" for ending greenhouse gases but thinks it'll take more than a decade to figure out how to create and distribute it cheaply. Mary Beth Stanek, GM's director of environment, energy, and safety policy, also agrees with the multifuel approach--and points out that this is precisely how Brazil weaned itself from regular gasoline. "They pull up to the pump, and they've got a whole bunch of different choices," she notes. She, too, predicts diesel will make a comeback because of its inherent fuel efficiency: "You will see more vehicles going back to diesel over a lot of different lines."

Yet in reality, American carmakers seem conspicuously slow on the uptake. Stanek is about as ardent a fan of alternative fuels as you're likely to find inside GM, but even she admits no one there is seriously thinking of abandoning the gasoline engine anytime soon. The 300-million-gallon U.S. biodiesel business is a fraction of the 12-billion-gallon ethanol one. And Detroit is extremely cautious about what the market can bear.

A Detroit carmaker does, of course, have to worry about selling millions of cars at reasonable prices. But we've been hearing this refrain for a long, long time. And with European and Japanese carmakers driving ever harder into our market--and with Chrysler having become just another meal for Cerberus Capital--this hardly seems like the time to be overly cautious. (Those ultralow-emission Mercedes BlueTec diesels, for example, include a four-wheel-drive sedan that gets 37 mpg and goes from zero to 60 in 6.6 seconds.) Moreover, after decades of consumer apathy, improving fuel economy and reducing carbon output are becoming urgent national priorities. The green groundswell has arrived, and, given the stakes, anyone who ignores it does so at his peril. If Detroit can't sell diesel now--especially a clean, high-performance, money-saving diesel--it never will.

Goodwin, perhaps, can afford to be a visionary. He has the luxury of converting cars for fancy clients who'll pay handsomely to drive on higher moral ground. (He charges $28,000 for a "basic H2 conversion to diesel--custom concept cars cost far more.") The future of the American car will likely be won by an automaker that can split the difference--one that may innovate more slowly than Goodwin would like, but a hell of a lot faster than the Big Three.

Goodwin himself seems more oracle than implementer, slightly unsure of how his ideas could be brought to the masses. He's working on patenting aspects of his and Kruger's dual-fuel work and would love to license it to the big carmakers. But the truth is, he's a mechanic's mechanic--happiest when he's solving some technical puzzle. He loves getting his hands dirty, "throwing wrenches around" in his shop, pioneering some weird new way to fuel a car. Today, he's thinking about taking his wife's Infiniti, outfitting it with a tank of ether, and powering the engine via blasts of compressed air in the cylinders. "Zero emissions!" he crows. It's the visionary inventor's curse: constantly distracted by shiny objects.

Goodwin eyes the turbine, which he has dragged out to the center of the floor. Just for kicks, he says, he's thinking of mounting it on a wheelie board and firing it up. "I'd love to see how fast that goes," he says. "I'm just not sure how I'm going to steer it."

A Game of Epic Proportions

2007-11-06T13:34:00.000-08:00

This semester I joined a small group of my friends to form a UNLV intramural flag-football team. We named our team "The Felons". We played four regular-season games in the "competitive" division and won only our first game. In fact, I only played in one game (NOT the one we won). Most of the losses were simply because we turned the ball over too much (7 times in the game I played...I was NOT the QB).

However, our fortunes changed in the playoffs. Ranked 14th going in, we played the 3rd best team in the league. Basically, that first game wasn't a contest. We played smart and scored enough points that the refs enacted the "mercy rule" and stopped the game early. The game ended on a 50 yard touchdown bomb to Rivera who has so open he was practically doing jumping jacks in the end-zone.

Last night, we played the 6th ranked team at 7:15 pm. Again, we played smart and beat them handedly; the only points they scored came on an illegal forward lateral that the refs didn't see. However, in order to advance further meant we had to play a second game at 10:15 pm. For a bunch of old white guys this just meant that we were going to be very stiff by the time 10:00 rolled around.

We started off well. Our QB ran well and we almost connected on a long-ball that just rolled off the fingers of our receiver. But the other team, ranked 2nd, quickly showed why they were ranked so high; they were young, athletic and VERY fast. We fell behind by 3 touchdowns early in the second half, and I truly thought that we were done with less than 8 minutes left in the game.

Then the incredible happened. We steadily drove down the field and scored. Then we intercepted a passed and ran it back for a touchdown; then with one minute left we tied the game on another successful drive. We had the chance to go ahead with the extra point, but that bounced off the hands of our receiver.

We went into overtime and I caught a pass or two and we scored, the other team matched us. On to DOUBLE overtime! This is when the our old legs caught up to us. They ran around us to score and on our chance at the goal-line we were sacked and the game ended on a shovel pass that fell five feet short of any of our players (I think it might have been intended for me).

Had we won, we would have had to play tonight. Three games within 24 hours for seven old white guys probably wouldn't have turned out that well. Regardless, we had a lot of fun and will have a story to brag about for at least a few more days.

Here are the members of this infamous team, listed for posterity's sake:
Daniel Lippmann
Matt Dayton
Jared Christensen
Nate Rivera
Matt Orme
Nate Runyan
Casey Perkins
Robb Jones
Kevin Remus

Although this post doesn't do justice to how the game went down, I just wanted to tell the story of a bunch of old, out of shape, white dudes, sticking it to the younger, more athletic foes.

The real season opener

2007-11-01T14:12:00.000-07:00

Although the NBA season started two nights ago, the real season opener begins tonight for me. The Phoenix Suns open their season tonight on the road against the Oklahoma...err...Seattle Super Sonics. Obviously, I'm not too worried about tonight's contest or basically any game against any team not from San Antonio.

The off-season was a little bumpy for my beloved Suns. First we gave up our best defender (Kurt Thomas) we had for Timmy for pennies. I've never hated an accounting check with so much vigor - I hate you luxury tax!! Then the rumors of trades started after Marion "demanded" to be traded. I was sick of it all. I couldn't fathom how Marion would be happier being "the man" on a different team. I love Marion, I have ever since he spent his one year at UNLV, but man, what is he thinking??!! Gets to play inn the playoffs every year, is recognized by his peers (All-star, team USA), gets to play with this generation's greatest play-maker. To quote Bill Simmons:

You bonehead! You get to play with Steve Nash! You're in the absolute perfect situation! Why don't you call Joe Johnson and ask him how Atlanta worked out, you bozo? Aaaaaaaaaaaaargh!!!!!! Unbelievable. Shawn Marion should be high-fiving himself every morning that Nash and Mike D'Antoni passed through his life. ... Instead, he's debating the pros and cons of carrying a mediocre team? I give up. This league seems hopeless sometimes.

Anyway, the rumors died down, looks like Marion will stay for at least this year, and then we got Grant Hill for pennies (probably worth only pennies since he'll tweak his ankle within a month after running with these guys).

So things look good for the season. I've always said come playoff time that the winning teams succeed with skill AND luck. The bloody nose and suspensions really were just bad luck. I just think we're due for getting over the hump. The Spurs are still Suns kryptonite, but with a little luck (maybe some crazy Texan will go Tonyan Harding on Duncan's knees) we can finally win the big one.

My dream home

2007-08-29T18:04:00.000-07:00

I really don't remember what I was looking for when I came across this on some website, but it really struck my fancy! I thought I would post the pictures and layout so that even if those builders don't have this plan in 20 years I will be able to refer to my wonderful blog and get an idea of what to look for in our dream home. I'm really drawn to the Spanish/Mediterranean styles and Rachael doesn't object. Another thing that we both want is some sort of relief work on the facade or entrance to throw in some art deco or turn of the century feel. We both agree that we will have a lot of fun when we can finally own, plan, and decorate our own home.

Nash’s first love

2007-08-11T13:19:00.000-07:00

I was surfing the web and I ran across an article at the New York Times. I'm a huge Phoenix Suns fan and I thought I put some excerpts here. In addition, I thought I'd gloat a bit about my Las Vegas NBA summer league experience with the whole Suns front office. I got to sit right next to coach Mike D'Antoni and his brother, team owner Robert Sarver, new GM Steve Kerr, all the assistant coaches, and Vinny Del Negro (not quite sure what he does, but I always seem to see him around the team). I didn't say much, little star-struck, but it was fun just being around them and enjoying the moment. Much to my delight, I did get a promise that the core (Nash-Stoudemire-Marion) were sticking around for another year.

On to the article: Nash spends most of the year running the point for the Phoenix Suns, but in the off-season, he can be found playing soccer in rec leagues in New York.

“It’s better for me than just running lines,” he said. “I don’t want to play a lot of basketball until September’s over or I’ll burn myself out. I just shoot, work out and play soccer.”

Standing on the sideline with his children, Claudio Reyna, who was captain of the United States national team in last summer’s World Cup, said Nash was an excellent soccer player.

“He’s got the vision like on the court,” Reyna said. “When you have vision in soccer, you can connect the pass. It’s the same idea. You can see that from playing basketball, and also from growing up playing soccer, he understands the game.”

Soccer was Nash’s first love — he said his first word as an infant was goal. His father played professionally in South Africa and England, his sister was the captain of her university team, and his younger brother, Martin, has played on Canada’s national team.

“I think my dad, more than anything, gave me the passion,” Nash said later, in a telephone interview Tuesday night. “I remember sitting on the steps waiting for him to come home, and we’d be playing in the backyard before he even had his tie off.”

Nash’s other recreational team plays in an eight-a-side league at Pier 40, in a league populated by college friends trying to stay in touch and desk-job dreamers trying to stay in shape. Nash’s team wears T-shirts adorned with the name Phebe’s, a bar and grill on the Bowery where they sometimes adjourn for postgame camaraderie.

“At Pier 40, it’s better because everyone’s there for our league,” Nash said. “There’s not a lot of people around. I can just be one of the guys.”

At a game there in June, the Phebe’s team beat a group of Cornell graduates, 8-4. Jeremy Freyer, the opposing squad’s goalkeeper in that match, said he initially was not aware that one of the N.B.A.’s biggest stars was in the game.

“I didn’t even realize it was him until it was the second half and he scored a couple goals on me,” Freyer said. “It made me feel a little better.”

Nash travels to Europe occasionally to attend soccer matches; he said he followed the English Premier League the closest — particularly his favorite team, Tottenham Hotspur.

“The atmosphere is electrifying,” Nash said of England’s top league. “The pace is great, with the fans singing along. They demand a passionate performance. The fans are right on top of the players. Anyone who’s ever had a chance to go to a premiership knows there’s nothing like it.”

Certainly not Central Park, where the only fans who watched Nash’s entire pickup game were his wife, Alejandra, and his twin daughters.

By the end, Alejandra seemed excited to leave. As Nash grinned and shook hands with his teammates, she said, “The one time I come to one of these games, it’s just three hours of eating dust.”

Gone fishing

2007-08-03T12:14:00.000-07:00

My summer is quickly coming to an end and I can't seem to pack enough stuff in. I have to paint our bedroom, organize the study, buy my law books and read the first assignments, and finish up any pending web projects.

Of course, I had to head up to the hallowed waters of Fish Lake for my annual fishing trip. Last weekend I got permission from Rachael to fish away for a few days with my uncle Stewart and my cousins Jessie and Courtney.

We went to Daniel's Canyon on Saturday. To this day I have yet to see any signs that say "Daniel's Canyon", but that's what my family has been calling it for years. It basically consists of driving on an old washout road leading out of Fish Lake for some 10 miles. Then we park the truck and start hiking down into a rather steep canyon. It takes us a little over an hour to hike in and close to double that hiking out.

Tradition keeps drawing us back every year. The fishing isn't bad either. All we catch are small little brook trout, but it's fun to string up the fly fishing rod and put some worms on a hook. Altogether we brought out about 15 fish; we probably caught triple that but threw most of them back in.

My Grandpa Ole loved to go fishing there. It was his little piece of heaven to share with his son for years and then his grandsons. Even though the hike in and out is arduous, I know I'll always go back.

On Sunday it rained the whole day which is good because it didn't encourage us to go out fishing. But early Monday morning we got out on the lake. I think I much prefer the fishing on the boat because one can just cast out and wait for the taps. The weather was perfect and the water was glassy smooth. We put out our anchor at our favorite "cheese whole" on the north end and it didn't take long for the four of us to start reeling them in.

It was perhaps one of the best days on the lake that I've had in years. We only had the boat rented for half the day and had to get back to Vegas that day, but in just a few hours we pulled in 24 good looking fish. Stewart and Jessie got some of the biggest rainbow trout I've seen. I caught a healthy five, but their size paled in comparison.

Right when we got off the lake, the afternoon storm came in. It was blue skies all around except for right on the lake. It seems that Fish Lake has always been able to create its own weather no matter what the weather patterns are doing in the rest of Utah. I think that just adds to the mystic of the lake for me.

I came back happy and relaxed, and I've already started the countdown for next year's fishing trip when I return to my beloved Fish Lake.

New Bolivia Page

2007-07-17T20:07:00.000-07:00

Another one of my lofty goals this summer is to revive of my mission page, complete with stories, better picture quality, and of course the story to go with the pictures.

Here's a quick look at what the front page will look like. Although I'd like to claim full credit for the design and layout, I need to give props to my good friend Steve McFarland. I basically saw his site and wanted to emulate it a bit (well, a lot). Check out his site here.

In a few weeks I'll be done with my externship at the Regional Justice Center and I'll have all the time in the world for a few weeks to play and develop the page more fully. Now, if I can just convince my sister-in-law to send me that negative scanner I just might have some decent photos to post!

Also, for those of you interested, barring any extraordinary events out of our control, Rachael and I are planning a trip to my llacta next May. Should be a blast, I get giddy just talking about it.

Joining the ranks

2007-06-29T14:50:00.000-07:00

Welcome to the LippBlog! I've recently updated my web page at thelipp.com and I'm pretty excited about being able to get up a bunch of pictures and stories while I basically have all the time in the world (law school classes don't start up again until the end of August).

I've really wanted to do a blog/journal but until recently I've been ignorant about the whole process. I figure if a bunch of old fogies can figure it out I just might have a decent shot at it too. So I'm going all out and I'll have this directly connected to my web page and maybe I can be better at writing down what happens in my life.

So for anybody who runs across this blog or my website drop me a note, tell me where I can read your blog, maybe I can get a few ideas in the process.

	Andrei Kirilenko
	Bill Walton
	Brian Cardinal
	Charlie Villanueva
	Chris Kaman
	Dennis Rodman
	Gheorghe Muresan
	Greg Ostertag
	Joakim Noah
	Larry Bird
	Marquis Daniels
	Popeye Jones
	Shawn Marion
	Sam Cassell
	Tyrone Hill