Hitting 400

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Math lesson for today involves the folks we know as Pilgrims.

Actually it starts with an English lesson. One does not say the Mayflower. It’s just Mayflower, and it sailed from England to the American continent in the fall of 1620. After their first year in the new land the Pilgrims (and their non-Pilgrim fellow travelers–history lesson for the day) celebrated their success with what is now referred to as the first Thanksgiving. Sixteen twenty plus one is sixteen twenty-one. And this is two thousand twenty-one, no? That’s a difference of 400. Is no one making a big deal that this is the 400th anniversary of the first Thanksgiving?

Allow me to make a big deal about it.

(See above.)

Math and brewings

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About every 20 minutes I get an e-mail from Dunkin’ (the gourmet coffeehouse once known as Dunkin’ Donuts) advertising its holiday creations. Among their other hyphenated offerings (I prefer my coffee unhyphenated) is something called the white mocha hot chocolate. (A dangerous number of adjectives on that one.)

Scrolling a bit further I came across the nutritional information re: this beverage. Even the small is 400 calories, and the extra large is a mind-boggling 900. More incredible still is its sugar content, weighing in at 132 grams. (Is there a metric unit for tenths of a kilogram? This one’s got more than one of those.)

FDA guidelines on such things suggest one consume 50 grams of sugar per day. Yeah, 50… per day. The beverage in question contains 264% of that.

Oh, this has got math class written all over it.

Christmas has come early

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The Washington Wizards are in first place in the Eastern Conference and the Football Team just beat the defending Super Bowl champions.
The Caps are one point shy of the most in hockey, and the Nationals… still have Juan Soto.
Never mind, Santa. I’m good.

Nobody beats the Wiz. Seriously.

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Three posts in a row about the NBA because I just can’t let this go by.

Don’t look now, but–wait, no, LOOK! for Pete’s sake–check out the current standings in the Eastern Conference.

Riding a three-game win streak and tied atop the East?

That would be my hometown team, the Washington Wizards.

New guys are gelling, and there’s a lotta two-dollar Big Macs being eaten around the DMV.

(Yeah, that’s actually a thing. Two-dollar Big Macs the day after a Wizards win. Some McDonald’s promotions guy is gettin’ fired over that one!)

Wizards bring their Magic to Orlando tomorrow night and the Magic goin’ down!

McDonald’s for lunch on Sunday!

Lakers now are thriving

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Call it the reverse curse.

I write about some failing organization, then all of a sudden it starts to do well.

Case in point, this season’s Los Angeles Lakers, home to seven of the greatest basketball players this century, somehow, up to this weekend, actually losing games from time to time.

Post goes up Monday morning, team plays Monday evening.

Beats the Charlotte Hornets in overtime.

Consider the following stats.

Anthony Davis? Thirty-two points and 12 rebounds.

Carmelo Anthony? Twenty-nine points, including seven of ten on three-pointers.

DeAndre Jordan? Eight rebounds in 11 minutes.

Dwight Howard? Nine rebounds in 15 minutes.

Rajon Rondo? Eight assists in 12 minutes.

Russell Westbrook? Yeah, triple-double. No big deal.

LeBron? Didn’t even need to play.

These are the 21-22 Lakers.

You’re welcome.

How do these guys ever lose?

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Saturday night I got to see the Los Angeles Lakers play for the first time this season. LA’s roster currently includes LeBron James (to be fair, LeBron didn’t play Saturday), Anthony Davis, Russell Westbrook, Rajon Rando, DeAndre Jordan, Dwight Howard, and Carmelo Anthony. (Seriously, how did this happen?) I know none of these guys is 25 anymore, but these are like seven of the greatest basketball players this century.

How do these guys ever lose?

In Saturday’s game at Portland the Lakers were down 22 points after the first quarter and ended up losing by 15. They’re 5-5 right now, good for 10th place in the Western Conference. Even bad grandpas gotta be better than that!

Ingrid has entered the ballpark

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Before Ingrid Michaelson became a household name she was just another girl in the chorus at Binghamton University. Our stints there overlapped by one year, and oh for the days I used to see her perform in front of 10 people for a five-dollar cover charge.

Ingrid’s got a new release out today, “new” for completists such as myself. It’s been fun going through the 17 tracks on Songs for the Season (Deluxe Edition) figuring out which ones I’d heard before and which actually were new. Two out seventeen fit the latter category, but even two new tracks are like “Happy, Happy Christmas” for this guy.

For years I’ve used the phrase “ballpark singer” as a moniker of admiration reserved for a select set of vocalists. Tony Bennett, Dean Martin, Nat King Cole. These are ballpark singers. That is, they are in the same ballpark as the master of them all, one Francis Albert Sinatra.

Ingrid Michaelson? I’m opening the gates to the stadium.

From Binghamton to the ballpark.

All these good things on TV

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I’ve been laid up the past few days (old man soreness I guess), the perfect opportunity to watch sports as detailed on Monday. Super double bonus: Last night I was treated to what ended up being the final game of this year’s World Series. (Braves won, by the way, if you weren’t up late.)

Also providing for some entertaining television was my state’s gubernatorial election, the governor’s race with the feel of a presidential campaign. That was my ‘hood, Loudoun County, taking center stage as always, and depending on how you feel about the whole thing either I’m sorry or you’re welcome.
Ditto the Braves because I’m sure Loudoun had something to do with that as well.