Garfield Ridge

Soriano Remains A National-- For Now.

All afternoon, as the 4:00 p.m. trading deadline approached, I felt like an expectant father waiting outside the delivery room, wondering whether I'm getting ten fingers and ten toes, or a club foot and a pirate hook. I was THAT nervous.

By 3:50, I had visions of Jim Bowden trading Alfonso Soriano away for the starting lineup of the Kansas City Royals.

I kept waiting for my buddy Brian to call. He's all hooked into the Nationals grapevine, *he'll* hear something, I'm sure of it.

Phone rings at 3:56. I fear answering, wondering if Brian is going to tell me Nats GM Jim Bowden just gave away Soriano for that 32-year-old little leaguer and Jose Canseco (as a pitcher). Luckily, it turns out to just be a work call.

I click refresh on CNN/SI like a monkey demanding his crack pellet. SI's announced the Abreu trade (damn Yankees), and then the Maddox trade (the Dodgers are suckers). Still, nothing on Soriano.

I read John Heyman's trade rumors column for the umpteenth time.

"A great mystery still surrounds Alfonso Soriano, who's going somewhere -- we just don't know where (and no, he isn't signing an extension with the Nats -- "no chance of that,'' someone in the know said). What we do know is that the field has narrowed to three teams: Angels, Dodgers and A's."

Someone in the know told me that Heyman's someone-in-the-know was the guy who runs around in the Teddy Roosevelt costume at the RFK President's Race.

It's 4:05. The trading deadline has passed, but still no word. At my desk, it's now like NASA mission control during reentry-- all I can do is wait, and hope the Nationals haven't burned up in the atmosphere.

I get the call from Brian about 4:25-- rumor says Soriano's staying, soon to be confirmed by my 5,000th refresh of CNN/SI.

My verdict? Hmmmm.

I like Soriano. No, I *love* Soriano. He's in the prime of his career, he's played his butt off for the Nationals, and every time he hits a home run at RFK stadium, Jose Guillen strangles a toddler.

Trouble is, despite everything Soriano's said about wanting to stay in Washington, who can tell if this isn't your perfect example of a "contract year" performance? Who can tell if the day the Nats front office sign the dotted line on a contract, Soriano won't develop Christian Guzmania? He's a risk, and an expensive one at that. Personally, I would have felt more comfortable getting something for him today. Especially since that "prime" of Soriano's career correlates distressingly with Washington's inevitable rebuilding years.

Of course, Jim Bowden sells baseball players like car dealers sell lemons-- the man is all pressure, all the time, and oozes desperation. His asking price for Soriano-- roughly 87 pitchers and prospects, any combination-- was obviously too rich for the rest of the league. One wonders whether it might not have been better to ask for a little less for Soriano. Sure, that ran the risk of a disappointing trade, but let's be honest: Soriano's season this year has been "found money" for the Nationals. Unfortunately, unlike cold hard cash, Soriano's value can only go down from now when it comes to value.

Yes, I understand that if Soriano doesn't sign, the Nats get two draft picks. That is good, and definitely a consolation. Still, I'm surprised that we couldn't make a deal with the Yankees. After all, Bobby Abreu's contract is a fair chunk of change to absorb, and Cory Lidle isn't that great of a pitcher (just one on a bit of a streak). Whereas the Nats did nothing today, the division-rival Phillies gained cap room *and* four prospects from the Yankees organization. I fear that deal.

Oh well, we'll see what happens in the next few months. I'm sure that by next year Jim Bowden can find a way to give up Nick Johnson for a weekend stay at a Howard Johnson.

Just A Thought.

Over the next few days, you'll hear a lot of people, ummm, nail themselves on a cross over Mel Gibson's anti-Semitic remarks.

While all political persuasions can share in their distaste for what was allegedly said (full disclosure: I hate Jews too, but that's because I hate everybody*), even money says the loudest crowing will come from Lefty observers eager to make points against a heretofore conservative Christian darling.

Which all leads me to the bizarre irony of it all: how many moonbats will criticize Mel Gibson for making anti-Jewish remarks only to turn around in the very next breath and call Israel evil? Or ignore our enemies-- enemies who don't just complain about Jews, but enjoy doing something about them?

To borrow Ace's phrase. . . layers.

*No, I don't hate everybody. Just you.

Movie Review: Miami Vice.

As I'm sure you've all heard by now, Michael Mann's film version of Miami Vice has virtually nothing to do with the original series. It has a Sonny Crockett, a Ricardo Tubbs, a Miami setting, and plenty of Vice; but that's where the similarities end.

Before the film arrived, many folks-- including me-- thought that was odd. After all, Michael Mann is an amazing filmmaker who long ago left his flashy television roots behind. Why would he revisit Miami Vice? And since he did, why would he do a movie with virtually no resemblance to the television series? After all, if it's so different than the series, why not just name it "Cops in Trouble" or "Scruffy Men" or some such? Why invite any comparisons at all?

After seeing the film, it's obvious why Mann did what he did: he wanted to make the Miami Vice he would make today. Taking the opportunity to redo everything from scratch, but still visit many of the themes remembered from the television series: the style, the grit, the danger, the risk of undercover work, the camaraderie of police partners. In the end, it made more sense for him to keep the continuity of the names and settings; otherwise, Mann would be accused of merely ripping off himself.

Instead, Mann gives us an extremely serious yet deliciously escapist entertainment. No pastel suits or alligators here-- there's nothing campy or kitschy about this version of Miami Vice. This movie is all about violence and threats of violence, all about the slow burn of macho stares, hot women, and hotter vehicles.



Sure, the movie is about as deep as a rain puddle. We learn virtually nothing about any of the characters in the movie. Crockett and Tubbs are ciphers, the men with guns. While many critics have felt shortchanged by this aspect of Miami Vice, I found it liberating. Enough with the stupid backstories we get offered in pedestrian cop thrillers, the endless "I'm doing it for my dead cop father" motivations or other cliche crap. Vice is a ruthlessly efficient procedural, not much more-- and it's light-years better than average because of it.

If a standard action movie is a cheeseburger, Miami Vice is steak. It's far from the best steak I've ever eaten-- compared to Mann's other great films like Heat, The Insider, and Collateral, Vice is routine-- but in comparison to your standard action movie, this one has a pulse, it has energy. It's all style and flash, all atmosphere, but as always with a Mann film, it looks gorgeous. If you were not a fan of Collateral's HD cinematography, you won't like it much in Vice. But if you were like me, you'll be amazed at the texture and depth provided by Mann's filmwork, the way his camera makes night feel like night.

The plot? Whatever. Crockett and Tubbs go undercover to stop a drug dealer; hilarity ensues. Crockett falls in love with the dealer's woman, a strangely-cast Gong Li (a multi-ethnic world, indeed); trouble ensues.

I like Colin Ferrell-- he seems like a great guy to go drinking with, that's for sure-- but he's not a great actor. He doesn't have a lot of range, but Vice doesn't ask him to stretch. The surprise that is Jamie Foxx continues; he's not asked to do much either, but the man does cool very well.

If you're interested in seeing a serious, solid action movie in the waning days of summer, Miami Vice is a great pick. Don't let the TV show connections scare you away-- you're not getting 1986 in the movie, but 2006. Yet the thematic elements from the series are still there to be enjoyed. Good stuff.

Amazing World Trade Center Photos.

I can't vouch for the description-- according to this site, these photos were taken by someone who snuck into the area on 13 September, 2001-- but the photos speak for themselves.

This Ends Badly.

Ladies, if you haven't heard it by now, allow me to let you in on a little secret:

Do NOT eff with centrifugal force.

Hereth endeth the lessoneth.

Anyone Have A Spare $130 Million They Can Lend Me?

That's the price for Updown Court in England, labeled the most expensive house in the world.

Be sure to click the marketing video. It's slick, but it should be-- the real estate commission on this house alone is more money than I'll ever see in my lifetime.

Anyway, it sure is pretty, but not quite my style. I mean, not unless I decide to become Batman. Then I can see myself living there.

For now, I just wish I could go *swimming* there. Seriously-- those are some nice freakin' pools and baths.

Japanese Game Shows Don't Reward Intelligence. . .

. . . they punish ignorance.

Like on this show, where Japanese guys have to say a tongue-twister within a certain amount of time, or have a mechanical device smack them in the groin.

I found it to be kind of like dating, only in Japanese.

Fox5 New York Has No Sense Of Humor.

Personally, my only complaint with this video is that the guy didn't go whole hog and employ a squirting bladder of fake blood. Think of what "the children" would have done after seeing THAT!

BUMPED: Send Your Questions In To Garfield Ridge!

I haven't done a Garfield Ridge Post Office in a while, so here's your chance to ask me a question, any question.

As always, the better the question, the better my answer, so plan ahead.

So, put your question in the comments section here, or send me an email at garfieldridge-at-gmail.com (replace the -at- with @).

Mac Is Totally Lance Bass.

Here's a nice little edit of a Mac/PC commercial.

Not that there's anything wrong with Mac.

H/T to Garfield Ridge reader Veeshir, who for sending this link/anti-Mac propaganda probably just pissed off Jennifer at Demure Thoughts more than I ever have.