Week 6: Open Season
Last Saturday, Shannon took me to the opera. (We’d been on something of a live music kick lately—two weeks ago, I took her to a Tool concert). Not an opera, per se, more like a “Now That’s What I Call Music” sampler of some of opera’s most recognizable arias, a greatest hits, if you will, performed by some of the genre’s rising stars. Naturally, I had a number of penetrating questions.
“What do I wear to this?” I asked.
“Wear whatever you’d wear to a matinee opera.”
???
Oh, well naturally. Presumably more formal than when I go lawn bowling at Bob Woodward’s, but less formal than what I wear to Condoleeza Rice’s “Eyes Wide Shut” parties.
I decided to entertain myself. I went with a white sweater, white shirt, a red cotton Polo tie (remember those?) and red velvet pants. I was hoping I’d meet a lot of her friends. She tried to drop me off in front.
(I have discovered one of women’s best-kept secrets: velvet pants. Guys, you have no idea how comfortable these things are. This is bigger than when they let us in on shaving in the shower.)
The show was designed to draw more than the usual opera crowd. It was intended to be accessible to people like me, explained the review that would come out days later. “[A] roster of gifted young singers presented arias, duets and full ensembles. . . .The Kennedy Center opera house was filled. . .and the atmosphere was appropriately festive,” ran the Post.
During an impassioned rendition of “O mio babbino caro,” Shannon turned to me, eyes a-glow. “Do you recognize this?”
I nodded excitedly. “This is from the pasta primavera commercial for Olive Garden,” I whispered back.
I found the concert very enjoyable. In fact, it reminded me a lot of the Tool concert.
Demographics, Tool: 95% white
Demographics, Kennedy Center: 95% white
“. . .I’ve never seen [Placido] Domingo so exultantly happy, so visibly charged with paternal pride. . .”
Medical equipment on standby, Tool: ambulances
Medical equipment on standby, Kennedy Center: wheelchairs
“. . .[Scott Hendricks] has a flexible, dark-hued voice, dapper and expressive, that he employs with sure dramatic intelligence. . .”
Set list, Kennedy Center: select Puccini and Mozart arrangements from Cosi Fan Tutte, Marriage of Figaro, Gianni Schicchi, Magic Flute, etc.
Set list, Tool: Stinkfist, Eulogy, AEnema, Prison Sex, Hooker With a Penis, etc.
“. . .[Arturo Chacon-Cruz]’s ‘Che gelida manina’ was a little rough and ready—there is still some seasoning to be done—but the voice is a beautiful one, shot through with sun and poetry. . .”
Behind us, Tool: the fan who celebrated the end of every song by spraying beer onto the rows in front of him; the headbanger who lost his balance and fell face forward five rows slamming to a stop in the backs of our seats
Behind us, Kennedy Center: the guy who hummed along to the arias; the woman who decided to open the world’s most intricately wrapped mint; the guy who thought Korean soprano JiYoung Lee looked “like Kristi Yamaguchi”
“. . .[Tatiana Borodina] seemed somewhat miscast in the roles of Mimi and Madame Butterfly, which she sang with a fierce, tight Russian intensity that is not naturally suited to this expansively lyrical music. . .”
Number of nuns behind us, Tool: none
Number of nuns behind us, Kennedy Center: one. (Interestingly, she did not say ‘God bless you!’ when I sneezed. Someone else did. Wtf? I mean, what else is she supposed to do all day? Is she afraid she’ll run out? Is she only allotted a fixed number, like friends and family tickets?)
“. . .[Benjamin Makino] needs to watch his singers a little more carefully, observing and responding to them instead of just leading the orchestra. . .”
Hey, We’re Twins Moment, Tool: Me: “I think the singer and I are wearing the same jeans.”
Hey, We’re Twins Moment, Kennedy Center: Shannon: “Look, the soprano’s wearing a velvet dress too.”
The “too” was unnecessary.
After it ended, I stood outside the restrooms as the exiting crowd swirled around me, awash with tweeds and corduroys and a collective memory of regattas in Annapolis and vineyards in Napa, their days of lattes and consultant-speak bookended by NPR and Bill O’Reilly.
“Well,” asked Shannon as she rejoined me, “what did you think?”
“I liked it. But let’s get out of here,” I said, looking guardedly over my shoulder.
“This crowd weirds me out.”
Onto the game. . .
The Ravens. Coming into this past Sunday, they had one of the league’s top-five defenses and a newfound swagger with QB Steve McNair behind the center’s ass. In front of some 70,000 screaming fans, with approximately 3,000 jobs unrelated to drugs or prostitution among them, any team coming into America’s Crack Den would fear for its life.
Unless it had nine of them.
Riding a three-game winning streak, the Tar Heel Terror Squad, America’s Team, your CAROLINA PANTHERS stormed into Baltimore as underdogs, and left as the most dominant team in the NFC! Inexplicably, the Ravens went with single-coverage by their cornerbacks against the Panthers, pairing the faster Chris McAlister with WR Keyshawn Johnson and the slower Samari Rolle on WR Steve Smith. Result? Smith goes 8 for 189 and a TD, and third option Drew Carter was freed up to score the Panther’s go-ahead touchdown in the first quarter. Panthers, 10-7!
Scary moment late in the first as a sack by the Big Cat D resulted in McNair leaving the game with a sprained neck. (Not that causing injuries is ever a source of pride, but consider the fact that he’s the third quarterback in two seasons (Culpepper, Simms) that the Panthers have taken out. And we’re only 1/3 of the way through this one.)
Back-up Ravens QB Kyle Boller, the offensive equivalent of a dry hump, took over for the Ravens, which is usually the point when the opposing team’s defensive staff leaves early and watches the rest of the game from a bar. The Ravens were sputtering. One-time murder suspect LB Ray Lewis couldn’t stop QB Jake Delhomme from going 24-for-39 for 365 yards (2 TDs/2 Ints), and convicted cocaine trafficker RB Jamal Lewis was held to 9 carries for 41 yards.
But the Ravens stayed in it, thanks to not one, but two impossible tipped-then-caught passes by WR Mark Clayton which were run in for touchdowns! (Which makes sense—if Boller can’t get the ball to his own guys, just have him throw it directly at the defense. There’s no way he’ll be able to get it to them.)
Until the Nureyev of the Slant Route, Steve Smith, took a Delhomme pass 72 yards for a touchdown! Panthers up 23-14 with less than five minutes to play! A final TD drive by the Ravens made it close, but a first down by a wide-open Drew Carter sealed the deal. Panthers win! Panthers win!
Next week: Panthers at Cincinnati. Prediction:
Panthers 88, Cincinnati 27
Until next time.
RROWRRRRRRRR!
“What do I wear to this?” I asked.
“Wear whatever you’d wear to a matinee opera.”
???
Oh, well naturally. Presumably more formal than when I go lawn bowling at Bob Woodward’s, but less formal than what I wear to Condoleeza Rice’s “Eyes Wide Shut” parties.
I decided to entertain myself. I went with a white sweater, white shirt, a red cotton Polo tie (remember those?) and red velvet pants. I was hoping I’d meet a lot of her friends. She tried to drop me off in front.
(I have discovered one of women’s best-kept secrets: velvet pants. Guys, you have no idea how comfortable these things are. This is bigger than when they let us in on shaving in the shower.)
The show was designed to draw more than the usual opera crowd. It was intended to be accessible to people like me, explained the review that would come out days later. “[A] roster of gifted young singers presented arias, duets and full ensembles. . . .The Kennedy Center opera house was filled. . .and the atmosphere was appropriately festive,” ran the Post.
During an impassioned rendition of “O mio babbino caro,” Shannon turned to me, eyes a-glow. “Do you recognize this?”
I nodded excitedly. “This is from the pasta primavera commercial for Olive Garden,” I whispered back.
I found the concert very enjoyable. In fact, it reminded me a lot of the Tool concert.
Demographics, Tool: 95% white
Demographics, Kennedy Center: 95% white
“. . .I’ve never seen [Placido] Domingo so exultantly happy, so visibly charged with paternal pride. . .”
Medical equipment on standby, Tool: ambulances
Medical equipment on standby, Kennedy Center: wheelchairs
“. . .[Scott Hendricks] has a flexible, dark-hued voice, dapper and expressive, that he employs with sure dramatic intelligence. . .”
Set list, Kennedy Center: select Puccini and Mozart arrangements from Cosi Fan Tutte, Marriage of Figaro, Gianni Schicchi, Magic Flute, etc.
Set list, Tool: Stinkfist, Eulogy, AEnema, Prison Sex, Hooker With a Penis, etc.
“. . .[Arturo Chacon-Cruz]’s ‘Che gelida manina’ was a little rough and ready—there is still some seasoning to be done—but the voice is a beautiful one, shot through with sun and poetry. . .”
Behind us, Tool: the fan who celebrated the end of every song by spraying beer onto the rows in front of him; the headbanger who lost his balance and fell face forward five rows slamming to a stop in the backs of our seats
Behind us, Kennedy Center: the guy who hummed along to the arias; the woman who decided to open the world’s most intricately wrapped mint; the guy who thought Korean soprano JiYoung Lee looked “like Kristi Yamaguchi”
“. . .[Tatiana Borodina] seemed somewhat miscast in the roles of Mimi and Madame Butterfly, which she sang with a fierce, tight Russian intensity that is not naturally suited to this expansively lyrical music. . .”
Number of nuns behind us, Tool: none
Number of nuns behind us, Kennedy Center: one. (Interestingly, she did not say ‘God bless you!’ when I sneezed. Someone else did. Wtf? I mean, what else is she supposed to do all day? Is she afraid she’ll run out? Is she only allotted a fixed number, like friends and family tickets?)
“. . .[Benjamin Makino] needs to watch his singers a little more carefully, observing and responding to them instead of just leading the orchestra. . .”
Hey, We’re Twins Moment, Tool: Me: “I think the singer and I are wearing the same jeans.”
Hey, We’re Twins Moment, Kennedy Center: Shannon: “Look, the soprano’s wearing a velvet dress too.”
The “too” was unnecessary.
After it ended, I stood outside the restrooms as the exiting crowd swirled around me, awash with tweeds and corduroys and a collective memory of regattas in Annapolis and vineyards in Napa, their days of lattes and consultant-speak bookended by NPR and Bill O’Reilly.
“Well,” asked Shannon as she rejoined me, “what did you think?”
“I liked it. But let’s get out of here,” I said, looking guardedly over my shoulder.
“This crowd weirds me out.”
Onto the game. . .
The Ravens. Coming into this past Sunday, they had one of the league’s top-five defenses and a newfound swagger with QB Steve McNair behind the center’s ass. In front of some 70,000 screaming fans, with approximately 3,000 jobs unrelated to drugs or prostitution among them, any team coming into America’s Crack Den would fear for its life.
Unless it had nine of them.
Riding a three-game winning streak, the Tar Heel Terror Squad, America’s Team, your CAROLINA PANTHERS stormed into Baltimore as underdogs, and left as the most dominant team in the NFC! Inexplicably, the Ravens went with single-coverage by their cornerbacks against the Panthers, pairing the faster Chris McAlister with WR Keyshawn Johnson and the slower Samari Rolle on WR Steve Smith. Result? Smith goes 8 for 189 and a TD, and third option Drew Carter was freed up to score the Panther’s go-ahead touchdown in the first quarter. Panthers, 10-7!
Scary moment late in the first as a sack by the Big Cat D resulted in McNair leaving the game with a sprained neck. (Not that causing injuries is ever a source of pride, but consider the fact that he’s the third quarterback in two seasons (Culpepper, Simms) that the Panthers have taken out. And we’re only 1/3 of the way through this one.)
Back-up Ravens QB Kyle Boller, the offensive equivalent of a dry hump, took over for the Ravens, which is usually the point when the opposing team’s defensive staff leaves early and watches the rest of the game from a bar. The Ravens were sputtering. One-time murder suspect LB Ray Lewis couldn’t stop QB Jake Delhomme from going 24-for-39 for 365 yards (2 TDs/2 Ints), and convicted cocaine trafficker RB Jamal Lewis was held to 9 carries for 41 yards.
But the Ravens stayed in it, thanks to not one, but two impossible tipped-then-caught passes by WR Mark Clayton which were run in for touchdowns! (Which makes sense—if Boller can’t get the ball to his own guys, just have him throw it directly at the defense. There’s no way he’ll be able to get it to them.)
Until the Nureyev of the Slant Route, Steve Smith, took a Delhomme pass 72 yards for a touchdown! Panthers up 23-14 with less than five minutes to play! A final TD drive by the Ravens made it close, but a first down by a wide-open Drew Carter sealed the deal. Panthers win! Panthers win!
Next week: Panthers at Cincinnati. Prediction:
Panthers 88, Cincinnati 27
Until next time.
RROWRRRRRRRR!
posted by Panther fan at 5:54 PM
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