Streaming Gold

As you read this, a large number of eyeballs have shifted away from Washington and Kyiv and Gaza to Paris and this year's Olympics. And that's hardly surprising. Even if only for two weeks, the world is hungry for a peaceful competition where there are rules and respect, easily determined winners and losers, and a simple narrative to follow.  Admittedly the Lebanon CT Country Fair this weekend and its Horseshoe Tournament checks many of the same boxes, but they don't have baguettes. 

That has led to an uncountable number of stories about every aspect of the Games. There has been much written about the opening ceremonies (first ever outside a stadium, the athletes floating down the Seine on barges), new events (breakdancing and head-to-head kayak racing) and the various well-known scenic venues for competition sites (equestrian at Versailles, beach volleyball at the Eiffel Tower and Tennis at Rolland-Garos). My favorite side story is that since the surf is not up enough on the Seine, the surfers will be on the other side of the world from Paris, hanging ten in Teahupo'o, a village on the southeastern coast of Tahiti in French Polynesia.

Probably the most relevant point to know about the games is that they are as much (or perhaps even more so) a television show. In 2014 NBCUniversal ponied up $7.8 billion for the US broadcast rights until 2032. Recouping that gargantuan investment means milking every last drop of possible interest out of the Games. That means saturating every NBCU broadcast outlet (NBC, USA, E!, CNBC and the GOLF channel) with as much programming as they can take. On top of that, their money losing Peacock streaming service ($639 million in the first quarter of this year alone) is sucking up every drip and drab it can to make it the center of the five-ring universe. If you sign on you will be able to stream every sport including all 329 medal events, as well as full-event replays, all NBC programming. curated video clips, virtual channels and exclusive original programming. There will be 5000 hours of live coverage available at a click, including the ability to stream 4 events simultaneously. And if your home screen isn't big enough, you can go to an AMC theater to watch select live daytime events. (Sorry, you missed your chance to watch the open ceremonies live in an IMAX theatre on Friday night.) In other words, if it runs, jumps, swims or tumbles in Paris, Comcast wants you to be to be able to watch it.

Access is one thing; making it entertaining is another. As always NBC will do everything it can to make live sports unlive, to slow it down and milk and/or create drama where none exists. To "help" with that they have enlisted multiple entertainers (many NBC on-air personalities) whose connection to sports is tenuous at best. Snoop Dogg will be part of the primetime coverage bringing his "shizzle" to Paris, while coverage on Peacock will feature "Olympic Highlights with Kevin Hart and Kenan Thompson." And such well-known TV names as Jimmy Fallon, Kelly Clarkson, Savannah Guthrie and Hoda Kotb will all play major on-air rolls, each bringing their lack of sports expertise to the events.

Of course you can't have an event like this without the tech of the moment playing a roll as well. If you sign up for Peacock, they have put together a sort of ChapGPT for video highlights, wherein you can ask for a personalized and customized video playlist of your favorite events. But it's not just the edited footage that you wind up with. Overlaid on top will be a one-of-a-kind AI generated play-by-play narration using a high-quality digital re-creation of Emmy award winning sportscaster Al Michaels' voice, trained using his past appearances on NBC, and matching his signature expertise and elocution: "Do you believe in beach volleyball miracles????!!!!" 

Every Olympics brings more: more events, more pageantry, more coverage. What's happening in Paris is a step up from what took place in Tokyo in 2021, but will likely pale in comparison to what will be offered in Milan (2026), Los Angeles (2028), the French Alps (2030) and Brisbane (2032). After that the contract will be up for grabs. So don't be surprised if the (not yet awarded) Apple, Amazon or Google Games take it even further: "Alexa, order me up some Gold!"

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Marc Wollin of Bedford will probably watch some of the events. His column appears weekly via email and online http://www.glancingaskance.blogspot.com/ and https://marcwollin.substack.com/, as well as via Facebook, LinkedIn and Twitter.

Top This

Over many years and many dinner parties we have evolved a somewhat fluid system that works for us. We bat around menus based on who is coming and what their dietary restrictions or preferences might be. We toy with the flow of the evening, which might mean drinks and appetizers in one place, dinner in another and dessert in a third. We divvy up the meal preparation as appropriate: some mains are hers, some are mine, and some menus require a more joint effort. Beyond those major building blocks my wife generally handles the front end, making dips and nibbles, while I usually handle the back, baking something sweet to end of the night. And she does the physical setup of the table while I figure out the music and drinks. 

Once people arrive, we float back and forth as the conversation flows and the glasses ebb. Eventually we both make our way back to the kitchen for the final steps in cooking and serving. We fill the water glasses and pour the wine, then gather the troops at the table, raise a glass and pass the results of our efforts. Dinner continues until some undefined point when it feels like it's time to move on to the next stage. Depending on who is more in the thick of any discussion, either she or I will start to clear the dinner plates to get ready for dessert. As she usually does way more of the upfront stuff, I am happy to start the cleanup so she can stay part of the gathering. That means getting the first round of dishes into the dishwasher, washing the serving platters, and putting away any leftovers. 

I am happy to do all of the above while the party continues, and while I know she will check my work, I think I don't do it too badly.  There is, however, one task I am very poor at, almost to the point of comedy, one which she will redo as often as not. I admit that part of the deficiency is due to lack of intrinsic ability, but I also feel that a portion is due to a major structural defect in the system. 

This all stems from the fact that we always, and I mean always, make more than we should. Partly it's because we want to ensure we have more than enough for our guests, partly it's an inability to correctly estimate how much a group will eat, and partly it's a strategic decision to have enough for another meal for us: cook once, eat twice. But here's where the problem starts. That excess has to go into some kind of container. And speaking strictly for myself, determining both the right size storage container and finding its matching top is a problem in quantum physics I can't solve for love nor money.

Over years and years we have amassed a staggering array of different types of plastic Tupperware, metal bowls, Pyrex dishes and takeout containers in a variety that rivels the number and diversity of insects in existence. Some are more suitable for stuff that will need to be reheated, some are better for more liquidity items, some will fit more readily in the available refrigerator space we have. Making a judgement a call as to the best one requires appraising those factors as well as the amount of food to be preserved, knowing its physical properties at varying temperatures and seeing into the future to determine its potential use case. The possible combinations and permutations are exponentially unfathomable, a Three Body Problem if ever there was one. 

I make a guess and pull out something I think makes sense. Invariably I put half of the leftovers in it only to realize that it is actually too big or too small. And so I fish around for another vessel a step up or down, meaning I have also created even more to clean up. 

And there are the aforementioned lids. You may be able to tell at a glance a Blue-Winged Wasp from a Yellow Jacket, or a Green Tiger Beetle from a Devil's Coach Horse. But I challenge you to pick out the one-quart Farberware bowl plastic top from a dozen other like specimens without taking each out and trying it to see if it clicks. Same for old takeout container tops, deli containers and Pyrex lids. Can't be done. 

Or at least I can't. My wife seems to have some sort of Jedi sixth sense that enables her to look at a dish of leftovers, and know exactly which container will hold it with no slop. Likewise, she plucks the correct cover from a sea of lookalikes with barely a second glance. If she chances on me rummaging around and holding each up to the light, she waves her hand with a "This is not the top you are looking for" gesture and reaches in to get the correct one. She hands it to me, while paraphrasing a famous seer: "Use this top or not. There is no try."

Since many of us mere mortals lack that talent, I am forced to side with the person who posted in the "Crazy Ideas" Subreddit a strategy for going forward: "The key to happiness is to pick one brand and style of container that comes in a variety of sizes that suits your needs and then never f-ing deviate from it. Ever. See fantastic deals on other containers? Pass them by. Get a different kind of container as a housewarming gift? Re-gift or donate to charity." Tough talk, sure. But as I seek to reduce stress in my life, perhaps it is the way to go. Master Yoda once again: "Control, control, you must learn control!" 

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Marc Wollin of Bedford is bad at estimating things. His column appears weekly via email and online http://www.glancingaskance.blogspot.com/ and https://marcwollin.substack.com/, as well as via Facebook, LinkedIn and Twitter.

Where There's Smoke

Whether we visit Jessica and Paul, Sharon and Jeff, or Jayne and Van, we can be assured of generous hospitality. There will be plentiful refreshments of an adult variety, free-flowing discussions of issues important and banal, and lots of laughs. And from roughly Memorial Day through Labor Day, there is a reasonable chance that whatever is on the menu a major portion of it will be cooked on the grill.

Summer may mean golf for some, boating for others, and tennis for still more. But regardless of your preferred diversion during the day, if you have an exterior space and are cooking the evening meal, it is very likely to be over an open flame. We can quibble (indeed, have extensive polarizing arguments) if that flame is better coming from wood, charcoal or gas. But that is a discussion more about style than substance. We may be a 50/50 country on many issues, but when it comes to food preparation in the summer we are nearly monolithic in our preference for food cooked over fire.

There are of course regional differences, ethnic preferences and variations based on individual tastes. Indeed, there are comparative discussions about the superiority of one sauce over another, different ways to cook fish without it getting overdone and even cleaning methodologies. In fact, this arena may constitute one of the few areas where we are willing to not only listen to an opposing point of view, but to give credence to it without killing one another. Try doing that with guns, immigration or abortion rights. Not going to happen.

That said, there are well established principles that seem universal even if they fly in the sense of modern food sensibilities. While lots of healthy, lean options and veggies make their way to the grates, the best candidates and star players are still usually animal proteins with reasonable amounts of fat. Cooking is generally considered successful if part of the fare is burned or singed, and indeed, that state is expected and applauded. The sides that accompany the main course are expected to be creamy and indulgent as opposed to thin and astringent. And while combining cultural influences, creating crossovers and trying new tastes, flavors and sauces is fine, 105% of those surveyed just want a burger.

Perhaps the most enduring guideline is that for reasons that are archaic and play to the worse type of stereotyping, grilling is still mainly thought of in theory and in practice as a guy thing. In a seminal piece in Forbes many years ago, writer Meghan Casserly enumerated the big three reasons: "Grilling is sort of dangerous (there's fire!), it lets guys hang out together while also providing some sort of neutral entertainment (getting to watch one guy do stuff and possibly also criticizing him while he does it) and requires minimal cleaning (self-explanatory)." Or as Chris Moss wrote in Telegraph, (perhaps a bit more cynically), "The barbecue is a superb example of justified idling. It involves lots of standing around, and allows a male to appear busy while women/guests/kids run around making salads, laying tables, cooling beers and generally doing everything else."

To that end there are numerous "rules" to be observed in the arena. (Note that that these are genderless.) If you're not the one grilling, you have to walk up and say, "Yup. Lookin' good." Unless the entire thing is engulfed in flames, never touch another's grill (and even then, make sure it's not "some sauce burning off."). Your most important task is not to assist but to keep the griller company, and to be ready to eat the exact moment it is pronounced ready. If you are the griller, you must double click the tongs to make sure they still work, and repeat as often as needed. The 5 second rule applies to anything dropped. And you have to have at least one special/secret ingredient that you are happy to make unsecret if asked. 

We try and be good guests. We ask what we can do to help, we bring drinks, and try and keep up our end of the conversation. A miss on any of those might earn you demerits, but by themselves are not disqualifying. But step out of line around the grill, and you risk banishment. Hosts can forgive much, but the grillmaster never forgets. Put as succinctly as possible by one online poster, the dynamic is that the person manning the grill is the closest thing to a king: "Don't touch anything. Bring me what I need. I'm cooking for you peasants, and you will eat what and when I tell you, and you will enjoy it." Happy summer!

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Marc Wollin of Bedford thinks his ribs are best, but is happy to eat anyone else's. His column appears weekly via email and online http://www.glancingaskance.blogspot.com/ and https://marcwollin.substack.com/, as well as via Facebook, LinkedIn and Twitter.

Blocked and Tackled

There are wars popping up all over, and even the obvious villains have proponents. Whatever the cause, the weather seems to be more prone to extremes, with heat getting worse and the storms more violent. Whether it's a pair of shoes, a bag of chips or a movie ticket, prices seem to be going up. Social media is worse than crack, politics has become a steel cage death match as opposed to a forum for collective action, and half the country thinks the other half is crazy (and right back atcha). But regardless of your point of view on any of that, we can all agree on the single, most pervasive extensional threat to our world.

Spam calls.

Forget authoritarian strong men, rogue terrorists and greedy corporations. Those may all be villains in some arena and likely adversaries in the next James Bond movie. But some scam mill in a strip mall in Abilene or call center in Manilla or PC in a basement in suburban Philadelphia is the thing that will make you crazy, cause you to start yelling incoherently and rip the receiver from the wall or hurtle your iPhone into the couch. It's the communications version of "Whack A Mole." Block one number and they just pop up somewhere else.

Estimates vary, but phone spam in the US accounts for more 25% of all calls, more than 2.3 billion every month. According to Truecaller, a spam and fraud combatant, between June 2023 to May 2024 Americans wasted an estimated 227 million hours on answering spam calls. which equates to 9.4 million days or 311,000 months. In other words, you could spend the better part of your day yelling "STOP CALLING THIS NUMBER!"

There have been numerous attempts to control the problem with regulations and legislation, but with little practical effect. The Federal Trade Commission has a Do Not Call registry, which last year received more than 2.1 million complaints and added 2.7 million new numbers to its tally. Washington State passed a law and Wisconsin has a proposed one that would fine spammers and make it easier to sue them. But it's been left more to the individual to take action to stop them in the first place, by blocking individual numbers they see pop up on their caller ID, or by just not answering.

The problem is that with number spoofing software you don't actually know if the readout that pops up is accurate. It might look like your bestie calling when it's actually a mortgage offer from "Linda" in Hyderabad, India. Answer just once, and they know they have a working phone. That means that your number is coded as a "possible" and goes into the dark web marketplace to be called and recalled again to sell you insurance, offer you a loan, free up your frozen Amazon delivery or suspend your Social Security account.

My mother's phone rings 30 times a day with this nonsense. She is old (93) and old school, so as many times as I tell her not to even answer she just does. She has learned to hang up immediately, but by then the damage is done. Her answering just confirms there is a potential mark, and they call again. And again. And again. It is literally impossible to sit in her living room for more than 20 minutes without the phone ringing. 

Seeking some relief, I chummed around for a solution. Blacklists, whitelists, even a new phone number: all considered and ultimately decided to be not effective. Until I found a deceptively simple solution, based on the practical fact that computer dialing systems don't have opposable thumbs.

I found a phone that has an auto block function that works like this. Before any call is allowed to ring, the caller gets a recording of their own that says "If you want to be connected, press 1." If you do, the phone is allowed to ring. If you don't, you get put on a "Block Call" list and it hangs up. Since most robo calls are made by just that, robos, they dial, wait for a person to answer, then shunt the call to a live operator. Saying "Hello" or "Goodbye" or swearing at them doesn't stop them or even slow them down. But asking them to perform a physical action? You might as well ask Alexa to cook an egg. She knows the right pan, how hot it should be, how long it should cook. But cracking it? Not gonna happen.

I hooked up the phone to her jack and tested it. Sure enough, when I called I got the challenge, pressed one, and her phone rang. We sat and chatted for another half hour before it was lunch time. As she was getting ready to go out, I picked the handset up, wondering if it was even working, as it had been almost too quiet. Lo and behold, half a dozen calls were in the "Not On My Watch" register, with time stamps over the past 20 minutes. They had been blocked, slammed to the ground, and forgotten. Silence was indeed golden.

I'm sure some spammers and scammers will still get through. And software will get better, and eventually figure out this dodge and how to beat it. In the meantime, my mom has been well schooled in "Hello? Goodbye!" I can only hope that when the need does arise, she hasn't fallen out of practice.

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Marc Wollin of Bedford almost never answers his phone. His column appears weekly via email and online http://www.glancingaskance.blogspot.com/ and https://marcwollin.substack.com/, as well as via Facebook, LinkedIn and Twitter.