What? Game five?

Tonight is game five of Vancouver versus Minnesota. I don’t normally watch sports, but when I do, it’s hockey. I don’t know stabbing from jabbing or high-sticking from slashing, but I know that it’s exciting when the underdog suddenly begins playing well. Basically, I thought the Canucks sucked, but there they are anyway.

What I don’t get is how you can have a series of seven games, in which the Canucks have already won four, yet they still need to play another game. Am I missing something here? If the Canucks win four of seven, isn’t it pretty much impossible for the Wild to win? Could somebody please explain this to me so that tonight’s game makes sense?

Addendum: JenB has kindly informed me that the Canucks haven’t won four, but three of seven. (smacks self over head) Doh.

Geek in toy land

Well, they say that every man has his vice. Mine… er, one of mine… is a weakness for geeky things.

On the weekend, I went to Toys ‘R’ Us to see if I could dig up something for my niece’s birthday. She’s an artistic type, so I usually like to pick up some interesting implements for drawing, painting, and general mayhem that produces lasting stains on flat surfaces. This time, however, I was completely at a loss.

I have to admit, my expertise in modern toy stores extends only as far as the LEGO shelf, although I probably shouldn’t admit to that. What do kids like these days? Back in my day, X number of decades ago, I would have flipped for a USS Flagg GI Joe aircraft carrier. I think my parents bought me the Manta GI Joe windsurfer instead. They just didn’t get it.

Or maybe they did, and they were trying to bring me around from the darkside of warmongering. It’s always so difficult to instill positive values in a child.

When I was a child, I instinctively knew the layout of the standard toy store. On one side, there were the cool things: the action figures and accessories, the guns and gadgets, and various sporting goods. On the other side: the girl stuff. If you accidentally crossed the dividing line between them, you would suddenly find yourself in a world where everything has big, cute eyes and the predominant colour is pink. This is quickly followed by a hasty retreat to the safety of the mucous-like rubber toys in aisle two.

On the weekend, my objective was deep in pink territory. Girl stuff. Nieces like things like little puppy play sets and Barbies. Right? I have to admit, I have no idea.

What did she play with? I must have seen her playing with something at some point. I’d try to picture it. OK. And then she’d pick up… what? What the hell is she picking up? A doll? No. A play jewelry set? No. A plastic iguana? No!

What then?

As I was puzzling it over, I found myself in the board games section. I was safe in the neutral territory between the boy and girl factions. This is mainly because kids never go into this section. The board games section is strictly for parents and grandparents who want to teach good, healthy values like how to crush your friends in the pursuit of money. The board games section is also for confused, but well-meaning, uncles who panic at Christmas time and send his brother’s kids the Canadian edition of Trivial Pursuits Junior. I bet the plastic wrap is still on that one.

There in front of me, between the Game of Life and NHL Monopoly, was the box from my childhood with the four big, red letters on it: RISK. Suddenly I was swept back into the fields of memory. My brothers and I played endless games of RISK to the point where the box fell to pieces and the seven boxes of playing pieces (and dice) were cracked and broken.

RISK! I remembered the time I figured out that Siam was the key to Asia. And that you should generally avoid Europe. My dad took it a step further by computing the odds in detail and writing his calculations out on thirty sheets of graph paper. He’d hoped to help us play better, but no one could understand his math, and the thirty sheets of calculations sat unread at the bottom of the game box.

I had to buy this game. As I reached for it, the game on the shelf below it caught my eye: Lord of the Rings RISK. Ooooh. The geek in me was intrigued. A map of Middle Earth, eh? Gameplay cards? And… playing pieces in the shape of orcs, trolls, and black riders? Sold.

I walked out of Toys ‘R’ Us a satisfied customer. Oh, and I picked up some Crayola stuff for the niece too.

Lord of the Rings RISK

Archaic technology

I had a disconcerting moment at the video store. I asked the clerk for a specific movie, and when she returned, she handed me the strangest thing. It was a black, rectangular object — a plastic case that held two reels of brown ribbon. Apparently, the object is meant to be inserted into a video playback device, which runs the brown ribbon across a spinning drum, and the magnetic patterns encoded on the ribbon produce a moving image. It was all so frighteningly primitive.

I asked her if I needed a grammophone for the audio portion of the recording, but I suppose it was slightly more advanced than that.

Bombing the Mouse that Roared

Last night, I found myself watching The Mouse that Roared (1959) with Peter Sellers. Or to be precise, as Thomson and Thompson might say, I found myself watching Peter Sellers in The Mouse that Roared. Peter Sellers was definitely not watching the movie with me. But I digress.

Anyway, in this movie, a tiny country that usually escapes notice declares war on the US and acquires the dreaded Q-bomb (in today’s terms, a Weapon of Mass Destruction massively more powerful than a nuclear warhead). In a poignant moment, the US military leaders consider their options and find themselves “stuck”: it would be completely immoral for a country the size of the United States to attack a tiny country like the Duchy of Fenwick. Instead, they resort to diplomacy.

Well it looks like the US military has long since overcome that pesky morality thing.