1/27/03 11:30 PM PST: Just a few things ...

SUPER BOWL: All season, my homeboy Daniel has been claiming I jinxed the Raiders by starting to like them and their geriatric spunk. By way of proof, he noted the lackluster successes of my beloved Steelers (down since Franco Harris, baby), the fortunes of my new home-state faves the Titans (without Steve McNair, they couldn't beat a college team) and the Grizzlies (despite the fact they're fueled by the impressive Pau Gasol and trying to get their game on). He forced me, for a number of weeks, to intone "The Raiders Suck," even though he admitted I never sounded like I believed it. I thought, once the Titans overcame the Steelers (a game where I didn't know who to cheer for, but put on my Titans jersey and cheered everything) that the jinx had lifted. Oh well.

All week before the game, I kept saying I didn't know if the best offense was able to deal with the best defense. The Bears and the Ravens had proven that in the past, and January 26th was no different. It didn't help that the Raiders still seemed to be using the exact same playbook from when Gruden left. Safety John Lynch even remarked, "Every play they've run, we've run in practice." I wanted to believe the Raiders could win, despite the fact that, according to ESPN's Page 2, Gannon used to wear a leather helmet and make his own cleats, and Jerry Rice voted for FDR twice.

That said, Tiki "Fumbles" Barber is gonna hear it all summer from his brother, Warren Sapp deserves a talk show (can we get him and Deion on an NFL show after he retires?), and the Bucs deserve it.

FANTASY BASKETBALL: Speaking of Daniel, he all but abdicated the lead and the season, because it's "too easy" and basically handed me a consolation, asterisked ring. I've responded by adopting the same kind of absentee ownership that has dominated the league. There's one joy, shot to hell ...

JIMMY KIMMEL LIVE: Now, despite all his self-deprecating madness a la early Rick Dees, anybody who has carte blanche to shut down Hollywood Boulevard for concerts is doing something serious.

Jimmy Kimmel is funny. His writers -- including Adam Carolla and ESPN Page 2 columnist Bill Simmons -- very funny. The show, however, isn't there yet.

The show doesn't have "bits" yet. Letterman has CBS Mailbag (formerly Viewer Mail) and the Top 10. Kilborn has Five Questions and the beloved Yambo. Carson had scores of things, even Conan has the still funny "In The Year 2000 ..." Kimmel is just terrified, and it shows. He needs regular routines to give viewers some sense of continuity.

The role players (band leader, cousin the security guard) have yet to step up, the guests still have some trepidation with the live format, and there's not a single scantily clad woman on the show ...

I'm gonna give it some time and see how it goes. I'd like to see it survive. I know Disney is toning them down, but one girl on a trampoline can't hurt, right?

WORLD EVENTS: I woulld suppose that anyone who has taken even a cursory glance around this site can guess where I'd stand on war with Iraq. Nobody from Iraq laid me off. Nobody from Iraq taxed me senseless. That notwithstanding, the San Francisco Chronicle's Jon Carroll has been doing intermittent columns on the whole madness that say it far better than I am willing to. Today's is a good one, "Lies, Damned Lies and More Damned Lies," is a good one, as is "What did you do in the peace, Daddy?" and the really terribly good "Using intelligence about intelligence." I don't do many links anymore, since they often expire and leave my pages icky, but hey.

That said, I think about the "war on terrorism" and 9/11 the same way I think about Friends or representative government -- it's all just some crazy stuff that happens on TV and rarely has anything to do with my real life. My protective cocoon of ignorance and indifference stands triumphant!

KARAOKE: Now, something I do care deeply about is karaoke, an ancient and honorable martial art. I'm developing a small repetoire of songs for any occasion or venue, mostly by casting against type. Tall, thin Black guy, they expect me to sing some Al Green or Keith Sweat or what have you. Nuh uh. Nirvana. The Police. Creed. Toss in some Barry Manilow or David Lee Roth for chuckles every once in a while. It's the suckerpunch -- no matter how many times I do it, no one ever expects it.

So I'm really getting pretty happy with myself, recognizing that my singing abilities remain only average at best. The key to really being good at karaoke has little to do with the quality of your voice and more to do with the intensity and conviction you put into whatever you're doing. When I sing Creed's "Higher," I mean it. When I'm doing DLR's "Just a Gigolo," I'm doing the Rockettes kicks, the jazz hands, everything. Don't sing it, bring it. That is the Tabu style of karaoke.

Normally I haunt Britannia, which is half a block from my old job at AOL Digital City, on Santa Monica near 4th. Literally walking distance from the beach and the pier. I like the KJ (karaoke jock, there's a whole set of jargon, man) Michelle a lot, since she's got similar tastes in music and is very charismatic. I also like the crowd -- I did a killer duet on Vertical Horizon's "Everything She Wants" with this blond guy Steven, and Elliot the evil visual effects designer is like my running buddy. I'm just barely staring to branch out, but with my well known geographic boundaries (I would never have gone to Britannia at all had I not worked nearby), I'm limited.

So I check out Boardwalk 11 over on National near Motor (not near Overland at all, tricky street that) on Saturday. Very click place -- big stage, great lights, great set up. The KJ is slicker than owl sh*t, a very smooth, almost oozy guy who plays DVDs in between songs. The wait was long on Saturday but the selection was superb (even with some weird omissions -- no Nirvana, lots of hits missing). I sang the aforementioned "Higher" (there's a one measure break in many versions that's not at Boardwalk 11) and did well, bought a bottle of Voss water that I still can't figure how to open, and a good time. The loungish atmosphere evoked the Vince Vaughn-Swingers vibe I sometimes enjoy, and being south of the 10 is way better than driving all the way to the Dresden (and parking is easier). The $10 minimum on beverages seems a bit rough, but we'll see how it goes.

MY PERSONAL LIFE: As many have noted, I'm not the most chipper about it.

I have almost no boundaries and talk about virtually everything online -- the last version of my site had a whole section where, once a week, I'd break down whatever was happening in my love life, whether the participants liked it or not.

My personal life now is a different thing, bound by covenants and convention, meshed in economics and the politics of dancing. I'm not horribly happy, but that's not news. Other than that, I won't talk about it, so let's move on.

MY WRITING: The joy of my existence. I'm divesting myself of some freelance projects and diving more into it. Things look good.

My grandiose meta-story bubbles and percolates in the back of my brain, with the other stories working their way dilligently towards it. I expect some more on the Crown in a week or so, as I being to tighten the thumbscrews and keep flipping expectations like Kerri Strug.

I hope to have the last file for the Image proposal this week, and finally, finally I can get that sent out the door.

DESSERTS: I'm traditionally a pie man. I've eaten lots of bean pie in the last couple of weeks, and I have been asked numerous times, "how do they make beans sweet?" Zarquon only knows. I love 'em.

However it's winter (despite the heat), and that is traditionally cake season. Butter cakes, lemon cakes ... restaurants like Chef Marilyn's and the Kitchen on 43rd place have kept me munching happily away.

There's no overarching point to this discussion, just a note that desserts rock.

I believe that's it. I'll let you know if we have any more.