Danimal's blog

I’m about to walk out of my office at the Press-Register...

Fri, 09 Mar 2012 17:20:29 -0600

I’m about to walk out of my office at the Press-Register for the last time, and in about a month I’ll be leaving the city I’ve lived in longer than any other in my life, Mobile. I’m wistful enough about it already, so I’ll let Dolly do my talking for me as I take this last stroll down the stairs to the employee parking lot.

Guys, I have a new favorite Icelandic band (sorry Bjork!). If...

Wed, 22 Feb 2012 10:54:35 -0600

Guys, I have a new favorite Icelandic band (sorry Bjork!). If they just subbed in a violin for the accordion, this might be my favorite song of the year.

From bicycles to Buicks

Tue, 03 Jan 2012 18:55:15 -0600

The first three S’s could probably be found in MBA textbooks and company brochures in many countries and many languages. But the fourth S was highly unusual, especially in China.

4. Shanghai GM. The fourth S was the name of the 50-50 joint venture company itself. Point number four was far and away the most important S. This S said that every employee of the joint venture should put Shanghai GM first, above all. “When you came to work for SGM, you were no longer an employee of the shareholders (SAIC or GM),” explained a veteran GM executive in 2010. “You worked exclusively for Shanghai GM.”

With that simple yet powerful four-point message, Murtaugh and Hu dared to challenge convention they were declaring plans to build a close cooperation — a kind of cooperation never before witnessed in China’s automotive industry. From the top down, all employees were required to put Shanghai GM first.

Let’s get this out of the way first — American Wheels, Chinese Roads spends a lot of time focusing on my dad. In the index, he has the fourth-largest entry, right behind Buick and right ahead of United States of America. Michael Dunne’s book tells the story of General Motors rise to success since 1996. My dad was in charge of the operation for its first decade, and his job made me and my family move to Shanghai when I was 15 years old, so it’s impossible for me to read it without intertwining my own narrative with the book’s. For example, Dunne talks about a company Christmas party to illustrate the collegial atmosphere GM expats built — I remember it as the time my friend Warren and I snuck away from our parents and cadged drinks from the bar.

So take it with a silo full of salt that I found the book fascinating. Dunne lays out the history of the Chinese automotive industry, including several failed forays there by foreign manufacturers, before delving into how GM successfully built a partnership there that has propelled China to the world’s largest car market and now accounts for 40 percent of GM’s profits.

The tale is full of tight turns and skids, as American businessmen have to learn how to handle unpredictable government decisions and Chinese executives who sometimes prioritize boosting the Communist Party above making money.

While the story is fascinating, it’s a little less than breath-taking. GM found success early on, and rarely found itself in do-or-die scenarios that make for compelling narratives. The most dramatic aspect of the book is in its coda, as GM’s bankruptcy in 2009 forces it to cede control of its Chinese operation to the Chinese government. Dunne writes convincingly of how China has lured GM and thousands of other foreign companies to invest hundreds of billions of dollars in industrial infrastructure there, and wonders aloud if the Chinese government might find the companies no longer useful to keep around in the near future.

That part of the story is yet to be acted out, though. Dunne’s book is useful as a microcosm of China’s transformation over the past 20 years from a place where people “who could hardly afford a bicycle in the 1990s are today laying claim to Buicks faster than they can be built.”

Surprisingly, this is not a story about Albert Haynesworth

Fri, 18 Nov 2011 14:35:08 -0600

“It is a sport in which the contestants sometimes lie down in the middle of the field, unmotivated and bemused.”

Kelly’s tumblr directed me to this site that allegedly...

Tue, 01 Nov 2011 16:51:23 -0500

Kelly’s tumblr directed me to this site that allegedly analyzes web sites to discover the age of the people writing them. I’m not amused.

Hitting a little close to home there, don't you think, Terry Tom Brown?

Mon, 17 Oct 2011 20:39:52 -0500

Working at the museum greenhouse recently, I saw a pair of birdwing butterflies engaged in a courtship dance. The male, with his shimmering green wings, flies up and under the female repeatedly until she submits. This male looked exhausted; he had spent so much time seeking her attention that his wings had become tattered and faded.

That evening a large group of children were in the museum for a special event. A few were excited seeing a large butterfly carrying a smaller one in flight. At first I thought it was the same mating behavior of the previous pair, but then I realized it was something tragically different.

The female was spiraling in the air with the corpse of the male butterfly attached. He had died during intercourse. He must have been so exhausted from impressing her that when she finally gave in, he gave out. Spending most of the day resisting him, the female did not have the strength to remove him, so she died also. The moment felt very metaphoric, probably because Nick had been so persistent in pursuing me.

http://www.nytimes.com/2011/10/16/fashion/bitten-in-the-virtual-zoo-modern-love.html?_r=3&sq=modern%20love&st=cse&scp=2&pagewanted=print

Randomness, narrative and the Red Sox collapse

Thu, 13 Oct 2011 16:42:28 -0500

I update this blog so much that I decided I needed another venue for my thoughts to avoid clogging this one up. So I started a baseball blog that will focus primarily on the Cleveland Indians. Nine months ago. I just wrote my first post for it yesterday. And it’s about the Boston Red Sox, not the Indians. Thank God this Internet thing is a fad, or I might not be cut out for a professional writing career! Anyway, this is that aforementioned first post. I won’t be reblogging any more of them here, mostly because I likely won’t be writing any more of them, so enjoy!

teepeetalk:

The Boston Globe’s Bob Hohler penned a scathing expose of the Red Sox September collapse — the one in which they lost 21 of their last 29 games and saw a nine-game lead in the wild card standings over the Rays disappear in the final minutes of the season.

It’s full of vivid and scandalous details: pitchers John Lackey, Josh Beckett and Jon Lester sitting in the clubhouse, getting fat off fried chicken and beer while their teammates played on the field; Kevin Youkilis getting surly in the midst of another injury-plagued season; manager Terry Francona losing focus because of marriage problems and painkillers.

It’s the kind of stuff that a Tribe fan, still a little sore from the 2007 ALCS, should happily lap up. But instead the article gives off the flavor of warm Coors Light — in failing to appreciate the role that randomness plays in baseball, Hohler commits a reverse hagiography as egregious as the pieces lauding Lenny Dykstra as a stock-picking savant shortly before his portfolio fell apart.

Read More

Photo

Fri, 07 Oct 2011 14:39:57 -0500

Adulting: Step 50: Lay out your outfit the night before

Wed, 14 Sep 2011 17:00:13 -0500

Adulting: Step 50: Lay out your outfit the night before:

Kelly’s website is really fun, and I would recommend a perusal to anyone with a few free minutes. However, I do have an addendum to her tip about laying out your outfit the night before: Don’t do it if you have a cat.

I did this a few months ago for a wedding — I laid out my best suit, a crisp white shirt, tie, boxers, socks and shoes and went to sleep with sweet dreams of suave flirting dancing through my head.

I woke up to the sound of Cleocatra gently scratching my suit. “Don’t do that,” I said, fearing she would shred it into wedding confetti. Luckily, that did not happen. Unluckily, she had peed on it. Needless to say, I did not wear my best suit, and was so thrown off my game that my flirting was horribly unsuave.

adulting:

And now, it’s time for another excellent guest post from Devan T.-L., who last weighed in on the importance of making a bunch of ice ahead of time. This is one of those steps that seem obvious but really and truly does make a huge difference for how in control of your day you feel. It should…

The Persiliad, Book 18

Sat, 03 Sep 2011 13:03:00 -0500

As the men fought on like a blazing fire raging,  swift-footed Jeremy Ebert came to Dan Persa  with his news. He found Persa by his head set,  sensing in himself what had already happened,  speaking with a troubled mind to his own great heart:

“Why are purple-helmeted Wildcats once again  retreating to their locker room, being beaten back  across the plain in terror? I hope the gods  have not done something that will break my heart. ”

As Persa in his mind and heart was thinking this,  noble Ebert approached, shedding warm tears. He told him the agonizing truth:

“Son of warlike Darnell Autry,  you must hear this dreadful news—something  I wish weren’t so—the Eagles of Boston College have scored a touchdown.”

Ebert finished speaking.  A black cloud of grief swallowed up Persa.  With both hands he scooped up soot and dust and poured it  on his head, covering his handsome face with dirt,  covering his sweet-smelling tunic with black ash.

He lay sprawling—his mighty quarterback’s massive body  collapsed and stretched out in the dust. With his hands,  he tugged at his own hair, disfiguring himself.

Swift-footed Persa then questioned Pat Fitzgerald:

“How can I rejoin that conflict?  I have a ruptured Achilles heel. My dear training staff  has told me not to dress myself for games,  not until my own eyes see that I’m ready.

Wind-swift Fitzgerald then answered Persa:

“We know well enough your lovely Achilles  is in bad shape. But you should go now,  just as you are, to the sideline. Show yourself  to Boston College. It may happen that the Eagles,  afraid of you, will pull back from battle,  giving Kain Coulter and his exhausted warlike teammates a breathing space. For rests in war are rare.”

With these words, swift-footed Fitzgerald went away.  Then Persa, loved by Henry Bienen, moved into action.  He strode from the wall, then stood there by the sideline.  But recalling what Fitzgerald had said to him,  he didn’t mingle with Eagles. As he stood there,  he cried out. As thrilling as a trumpet’s note  when it rings clearly, when rapacious enemies  besiege a city—that’s how sharp and piercing  Persa’s voice was then. When the Eagles heard it,  that brazen shout Persa gave, all their hearts  were shaken. Three times godlike Persa yelled across that field. Three times Eagles and their coaches  were thrown into confusion. At that moment,  twelve of their best men were tackled by their own waterboys and their own shoes. The Wildcats then, with stronger hearts, drove down the field and scored a touchdown.

Yeah, maybe the website should put the more recent headline...

Wed, 31 Aug 2011 17:05:24 -0500

Yeah, maybe the website should put the more recent headline — the one about the ban getting overturned — on top. Just sayin’ …

They Might Be Giants and a bunch of AV Club interns cover...

Fri, 08 Jul 2011 10:41:09 -0500

They Might Be Giants and a bunch of AV Club interns cover Tubthumping. I nominate this to be Rebecca Black’s successor in welcoming us to the weekend.

I don’t know exactly what this says, but I’m pretty...

Mon, 27 Jun 2011 14:52:08 -0500

I don’t know exactly what this says, but I’m pretty sure it’s funny. (via the appropriately-in-this-case named chartporn.org)

Science! just proved that songs are getting more danceable every...

Thu, 23 Jun 2011 14:04:50 -0500

Science! just proved that songs are getting more danceable every year. By 2053, Bad Romance will seem as dance floor-ready as 4’33”.

One quart of this and one spoon, please. (from the website...

Wed, 22 Jun 2011 15:16:51 -0500

One quart of this and one spoon, please. (from the website meatbeerbabes.com, which I would be wary about exploring while at work.)

Entertaining, and informative. “Coffee’s holding...

Wed, 01 Jun 2011 11:11:00 -0500

Entertaining, and informative. “Coffee’s holding time is 30 minutes that’s how long it can stay there before it starts to taste to strong.” (via @adamcountee)

Hiroshima, October 1945

Sat, 28 May 2011 17:13:34 -0500

I ran across this in a letter my grandfather wrote to his parents when he was in the Navy in 1945.

It is about 15 miles from Kure to Hiroshima, but after about 7 miles you begin to notice that all the buildings are leaning a little in your direction. People here don’t seem as cheerful as in Kure or Hiro. A little further there aren’t any roofs or windows and some of the houses are turned over on their sides.

It isn’t much farther until you begin to realize that all the talk about atomic power wasn’t just talk. Hiroshima, like all Japanese towns here, sits down in a hole with mountains around it. As far as you can see from one side to the mountains on the other side, 7 to 10 miles, there is a broken, battered, heaving pile of rubble. All that breaks in the horizon is the shattered pieces of about seven huge stone buildings in the center of town that have a few stones on each other and one or two empty windows, a smokestack that oddly remains standing, and the twisted, charcoal remains of the blasted trees. The streets have been scraped open and a trolley line put through the debris. The people here don’t smile or look up. They just walk around and look sadly at the ground.

The ground is covered with broken tile and twisted bits of metal. I have seen pictures of the last war’s No Mans’s Land that were like it, with the gaunt, broken limbs of leafless trees pointing skyward.

Oddly enough throughout all the concussion and fire none of the bridges seem to have been damaged. There was no hole in the ground like most bombs make (there is said to be a hole at Nagasaki), but there are miles and miles and miles of city simply obliterated.

When you don’t see much you’re in Hiro, when you don’t see anything you’re in Kure, but when you see less than nothing you know then you are in Hiroshima.

And the people walk around dazed, looking at the ground, picking in the ashes of their houses, perhaps thinking of the dead, too numerous to bury, who were put in piles on the street corners and burned.

I felt a lump in my heart.

-Bernard Murtaugh, 25 October 1945

"New York has always been a great crowd for you guys. But, truthfully, what is your favorite city to..."

Tue, 17 May 2011 16:45:38 -0500

“

New York has always been a great crowd for you guys. But, truthfully, what is your favorite city to play in?

Davey: Surprisingly, Mobile Alabama has very recently taken that spot. Just blew everyone outside of the water. They’re insane down there, they’re amazing. The crowds are so into it. They’re having so much, they’re just so nice. It’s incredible actually.

”

- Davey Pierce, of Montreal, speaking the truth.

Not getting the whole no comment thing ...

Tue, 17 May 2011 11:22:44 -0500

Emerson Spartz, 24, the defendant in the case, declined to comment on the ownership issue directly because of the pending litigation.

(snip)

“Mr. Deck has hardly lifted a finger throughout most of the growth of OMG Facts, but people have been telling him he’s a genius for so long now that he’s starting to believe it,” Spartz said.

http://hosted.ap.org/dynamic/stories/U/US_TWITTER_FEED_FIGHT?SITE=AP&SECTION=HOME&TEMPLATE=DEFAULT

One of our photographers took this photo of me yesterday for a...

Fri, 13 May 2011 15:40:00 -0500

One of our photographers took this photo of me yesterday for a story I’m doing about taking the Physical Ability Test that anyone who wants a job at the fire department has to pass. My face is this pink on the second of eight activities.