My Absence, Meditation and Badminton

I just realized that I haven't posted anything this month. So rather than force write some unimportant, contrived essay or cut-n-paste some uninteresting tidbit with embedded video just to say "I did", I took a leave of absence. I took it to to recharge and re energize. Call it a blogging sabbatical. So I traveled, played with the kids, watched some movies with the wife. Basically, I went back to the basics.


Just as many an actor/entertainer before me, I embarked on several trips Nepal to get in touch with my inner self so that my yet untapped inner sanctum might shed some light on the future of my internet presence. I even passed David Carradine while heading to lunch one afternoon. Very nice fellow.



Then one day, in an infinitesimal moment while napping it hit me. I opened my eyes and saw IT. No, it wasn't a bearded, thin, ageless Asian man dressed in a white robe and a cane although that would have been pretty cool. What appeared to me in my semi-unconscious state while laying on the couch was the most intense game of badminton I had ever seen. Where did I see this game? The Olympics on NBC Friday night.


At the Olympics...




Are you kidding me?


Wait a minute. This the same venue that the best athletes in the world gather for every four years at a designated location to play certain sports at the highest level possible. One of those "sports" was badminton. It was at that point that I realized that people from many countries actually spent money to fly to China to play a game that I played as a kid at family reunions growing up.


Look, I know they play the game at such a fast speed (top speed for a smash is 206 mph), so it seems like a totally different game that what we are used to as kids. Heck, I remember trying to find birdies (or shuttlecock. Yes, I said "Shuttlecock") that had been buried in the corner of the garage, setting up a torn net and playing with beat up rackets.

How ever you neatly package the game whether it be by blinding speed, corporate sponsors, graphite badminton rackets or fancy, skin tight uniforms, guess what, IT'S STILL BADMINTON!

At what point while playing badminton do you go, "Yeah, I'm ready to take this to the next level. You know what, maybe the Olympics someday."? The easy answer is NEVER!

And if you feel the urge coming for more badminton competition, you need to check yourself. This means stop playing 4 hours a day and find another sport like lawn darts.


Wow, that felt good.

Evening With Sabs Two Year Anniversary Post

On Saturday, all of us at Evening With Sabs celebrated our second anniversary on World Wide Web.

Never did I expect this website to garner such a following. My ultimate goal is to make some money with the site. As of this writing, our gross income from is endeavor a paltry ZERO.

Wait. I think we got some free potato salad last summer. That counts....sort of.

At last check in our two years of existence, we referenced Barry Bonds, the late Victor French, Ernest Borgnine and John Stamos. Yet, our audit shows no mention of Wilfred Brimley. You can bet your brand-spanking new diabetes testing supply kit that this will soon change in year three.

Happy Birthday!

BEARDS: The measure of a man

Recently, I had a three day weekend to tackle my television memoirs. I woke up on my first day off, drank 12 ounces of water (one must be hydrated), jumped in the shower when an otherwise unimportant mental manifestation surfaced with the ferocity of a nuclear blast:

I didn't need to shave!

Forget the morning coffee or a homemade country breakfast to stimulate your groggy senses. The realization that you can display a days growth of facial hair without having the cataclysmic repercussions you would normally encounter at work is one of the most exhilarating epiphanies one can experience early in the morning on a day off.

Throughout the day, the scruffiness of my days growth became empowering. I felt like changing the oil on the car. I wanted to build an addition on my workbench along with finding random uses for my cordless drill. I felt like challenging people at the grocery store to feats of strength. My facial hair was even brainwashing me into thinking that I could hold up the front end of my car up with my bare hands WHILE changing the oil! In essence, my facial hair increased my adrenaline output and my level of stupidity. If it weren't for my wife strongly suggesting that I refrain from these activities or my day would revolve around cleaning our bathrooms, my adrenaline overdrive would have caused serious injury. This, keep in mind, is all due to facial hair.

Since my overzealous, adrenaline laced body was checked at the door by my lovely wife always looking out for my well-being, I never tackled the projects that I set out to do that day while on my facial hair high. But I did have a chance to reminisce about facial hair days gone by. One specific instance was back in 1995 during my last year of college.

Several friends along with myself were studying for a calculus test (how dorky is that) and--for reasons still unknown--the conversation shifted from integrals and complex equations to beards within a few minutes. Actually, it was more of a switch to topics that were only partially related to manly activities but within those minutes, the focus evolved to straight up, manly things. Eventually, as all manly conversations go, the topic drove headstrong right into beard territory. Once your there, you cannot back out. The friendly discussion morphed into a heated exchange and then to a challenge. We all agreed to grow beards for a period of weeks after which we would have an impartial party judge to see who has the best beard. Needless to say, I won!

After the two weeks elapsed and the contest was over, I realized that each man's beard was distinctly different not because of color but in thickness or density.
This, in my opinion, is directly correlated to his manliness. Since I won the contest, I figured I was more manly than the others ( I was biased) so it was up to me to explore this relationship further. After all, I owed my results to all manly men who won beard growing contests.

But first, I needed a scientific term.

Also, how could beard density be quantified?

Since my background is in meteorology, I took a weather-type term and changed a bit to describe what I needed. In weather, an isobar is a line of equal pressure. So, I thought, the lines showing equal beard density should be appropriately named: ISOBEARD

So I drew a picture of a face (circa 1995) illustrating where the beard is the thickest using these brandnew ISOBEARD lines.

Notice that the facial hair in this example is the thickness or the most dense around the chin and near the ear. The beard is the least dense in the mustache region and near the cheek bone. Also, NEGATIVE ZONES or areas where the beard doesn't occur (below the lower lip and to the left and right of the mouth) become very visible using this technique. While these negative zones make the beard look trim, it is a detriment to possess too many NEGATIVE ZONES as it dilutes ones manliness

What does this map tell us? Simple really. If a person's ISOBEARD MAP has lines that are far apart then, by definition, he is not as manly because he doesn't have a thick beard. If, however, a person's ISOBEARD MAP has lines that are concentrated throughout then his manliness is much greater because he has a thick beard.

Since then, I have created ISOBEARD MAPS for many people (with their permissiion) using this technique as a tool to determine the person's manliness. Of course, God created all of us to be unique in our own way. However, if God created us with the same level of manliness then I wouldn't be here determining a way to quantify it because we'd all be the same. Basically, some of us have more manly uniquenesses than others. That's what the ISOBEARD MAP TECHNIQUE shown in the picture above was designed to find out.

So draw an ISOBEARD MAP of your own beard using the picture above as a template and see where you come out. Don't give up if the outcome isn't what you hoped for. If at all possible over a few days off, try to let your beard go for a bit longer and see if the results get more precise.

If you think this technique is faulty, remember this: Does Clint Eastwood have a thick beard when he chooses to grow one? Does Arnold Schwarzenegger have a weak beard why he's sported facial hair? Does Chuck Norris have a beard that's spotty? Exactly.

...All In The Eyes Of The Beholder

...All In The Eyes Of The Beholder

At the start of the new year, Frank Jackson was sworn in as the 56th Mayor of Cleveland. Everyone is intrigued about the prospects for change in the economic and education sector of our fair city during the new mayor's tenure. That's well and good but I'm more pumped up about a more eye-catching headline that, in my opinion, is more universal than simple economics. This is where the legendary star of stage and screen actor Victor French (deceased) comes into the picture.

Several weeks prior to the election in November of 2005, the soon-to-be mayor was giving a press conference. As I watched, the puzzled look on my face became more and more apparent. Soon, a co-worker asked,

"Is anything the matter?"

To which I replied, "Is it me or does Frank Jackson look a lot like Victor French?"

* The picture is black and white and a bit grainy but it works *

Upon hearing my comparison, my co-worker suddenly wore the same puzzled look only his was not the result of the press conference footage but a reaction to my unorthodox observation. Although he didn't actually say it, his look was the verbal equivalent of, "Are you from this planet?" Unphased by my co-workers neutral interest, I explored their uncanny resemblance further.

Obviously, my co-worker was lacking the proper television/pop-cultural knowledge necessary to understand the nature and scope of what I had noticed. To the uneducated eye, their mirror image lies hidden inside the frames of video. But to myself, the resemblance was an epiphany. Call it fate or destiny but I soon realized I was put in front of that TV during that press conference for one reason and that was to identify who--between Victor French and Frank Jackson--was the "Man's Man".

For the longest time, I've been a huge Victor French fan so I could not do him a disservice by conceding the "Man's Man" Title to the new mayor without a test of strength. Therefore, a simple comparison of both men utilizing five criteria--my arbitrary set of criteria albeit somewhat slanted toward my tastes--was the only fair way to see who was the "Man's Man". There could be only one.

1. Speak ability - Mayor Jackson doesn't have the best pipes in the world but his voice is slow, methodical and very succinct in the times that I've heard him. Mr. French had a raspy, rugged voice no doubt from years of smoking. Let me make this clear, I don't condone smoking to increase ones ability to sound rugged. However, Mr. French--more than likely unintentionally--pulled this off wonderfully. The question isn't who is/had a healthier lifestyle; the question is who is manlier. The advantage goes to Victor French.

2. Height/Stature - Yes, there have been some manly men who have been short (like Chuck Norris: 5'9") but not many. For the purposes of this comparison, the combination of ones height and stature will be taken into account.

While there are no official listings of Victor French's height, I did find a picture of him standing next to Michael Landon who is listed on the internet movie database as 5' 9 1/2". Victor looks to be about 4 inches taller. So using inductive reasoning, we'll give Mr. French a height of 6' 1 1/2" or round up to 6'2" with a weight of around 230. Check him out in a rerun of Highway to Heaven. Victor is deceased so he can't really argue.

Last week, Mayor Jackson was a guest at my place of employment. I saw him stand next to a buddy of mine who is 5'10" and he seemed a few inches taller. Based on my observation, I'm going with a height of 6 feet for the new mayor. His is in good shape so his weight can't be more than 200 lbs (maybe 210 but no more). Again, for our comparisons, its physical stature not weight. So the nod once again goes to the deceased Victor French.

3. Occupation - A job is a job is a job. It’s a means by which to pay the bills and put food on the table. Some occupations are nobler than others which brings us to Mayor Frank. He is a lawyer, a former city councilman and is now mayor of the 15th largest television market in the country. Victor French was a superb actor and director in theater and television work. I'm not saying that Victor French wasn't smart but in order to get your law degree, you need a lot of schooling. It sounds biased but that the way it is. Moreover, Victor is no longer with us so he technically has no occupation so we have to give the advantage to Mayor Frank.

4. Hair - Wow. This one is tough. Both men have solid, healthy heads of hair from what I can see. Victor's hair had a slight disheveled look which gives the impression that he didn't care about it. Mayor Frank's hair is full of body, well managed and not one follicle is out of place. Advantage by a landslide: Mayor Jackson.

So far, it’s tied at 2 apiece.

5. Beard - Another very tough call. Being a man's man requires that you be able to grow a full beard in 15 days or less with no significant negative zones. That is a beard with dead areas in awkward places. You must also keep said beard for a period of 6 months as well as keep it well-groomed. Victor French no doubt has the most rugged beard. It’s the beard of a working man. Nothing wrong with that. Mayor Jackson's is a beard veteran. It’s not only rugged but it’s very well managed with no negative zones, its well-trimmed and is probably very fluffy. The facial hair--beard--criterion goes to Mayor Frank!

Now, what did this exercise achieve? It showed that a man's beard is the telling characteristic if he is manly. In this comparison between the late, great Victor French and the new mayor of Cleveland Frank Jackson, the "Man's Man" title--to my dismay-- goes to Mayor Frank Jackson by the slimmest of margins.