Why do people say "I could care less"?

Could you? Could you?

Probably, but that's not what you mean. Idiot.

Why does Jake Gyllenhaal keep appearing on my television?

My hatred of Jake Gyllenhaal is in all ways irrational. I mean, yes, I found Donnie Darko offensively stupid, but I'm usually able to write that sort of thing off. For whatever reason, however, I find Mr. Gyllenhaal viscerally repulsive. He actually makes me sick.

But this was fine, because I was able to avoid him. It was not a particularly great hardship not to go see Prince of Persia.

So whose bright idea was it to have him on the Stand Up To Cancer (no, I will NOT write "Stand up 2 Cancer") campaign? When you think baseball, do you think Jake Gyllenhaal? Because I sure don't. Someone better has got to be available. I bet none of the kids from The Sandlot is doing anything in particular. If Mr. Gyllenhaal needs work he can go get it somewhere else.

(No, those of you who actually know me, this is not secretly Joel or something; I am using "my television" rather generally.)

Why do people conflate random patriotic songs with our national anthem?

Neither "God Bless America" nor "America the Beautiful" is our national anthem. Only "The Star-Spangled Banner" is.

Things you do not need to do during the first two songs:

1. Stand.
2. Remove your hat.
3. Put your hand over your heart. (Strictly speaking, you don't actually have to do this for the actual national anthem either.)

As it's generally the seventh inning stretch when you hear "God Bless America," you are probably already standing, but that's not because of the song. There is no reason for the PA to ask you to remove your hat. You should certainly not assume that bizarre somber and/or concussed expression that people appear to think is patriotic.

This whole thing is so weird, too. All things being equal, it's good to like your country. But rein it in, guys.

Why is Katherine Heigl so ubiquitous?

This blog topic has actually been brewing since the time when I still watched Grey's Anatomy, which was a long time ago. I hated Izzie. Because she was awful. She was unprofessional, sanctimonious, and SHE KILLED A MAN. And then she was so conflicted about coming back to work and all that stupid jazz and then she ruined everyone's lives and tried to save a deer. Because she was insane and self-centered and a useless waste of space.

Right. So. Then people thought that Katherine Heigl was a wagon-hitching type of star, and she started appearing in movies. And these, also, were terrible. Watching Knocked Up is all the tragedy of watching a Nick Hornby movie but without the self-deprecating charm. Watching 27 Dresses is roughly as much fun as removing your own knee-caps. And I'm just going to go out on a limb here and predict that Life as We Know It is not precisely a cinematic tour de force and that she will be bossy and a little bit shrill and completely unsympathetic. I also predict that she will do at least one thing that is so deranged and hurtful that no one with a maturity level higher than that of a psychotic baby sloth would even consider it.

I have also heard that she is a pill in real life, but I don't really care, because that affects my life substantially less than her atrocious movies, because my friends rarely bring the woman herself into my house.

Ugh, and she facilitated the downward spiral of Gerard Butler. Thanks, Heigl. Thanks so much.

Whyyyyyyyyy, Phillies?

CRANKY.

Why are Roman sirens so annoying?

A related question is: "Why are Romans always injuring themselves and necessitating ambulances with infuriating sirens?" Seriously, leave the Vespa in the garage.

Anyway, the siren sound, instead of a good old-fashioned wail, is this two-toned bouncy thing. And that would be bad enough. But it also sounds exactly like the introduction to the song "Chocolate, Lime Juice" from Hum Aapke Hain Kaun. Which is one of the worst songs in that movie, and not just because it's creepily about how Madhuri Dixit is growing up and now must stop eating candy and instead wear make-up so that she can fall in love with and/or marry a suitable young man except then disaster strikes and shenanigans ensue. It's also just a bad song. It's irritatingly peppy and completely inane.

So it's really awful when, every damn time some idiot Roman stubs his toe, this crap starts playing in my head.

Why are some ballplayers wearing those stupid necklaces?

They look like rope, but they're made of plastic, in the team colors. Also important: they look stupid.

Look, lads, everyone knows to which team you belong. Because, in case you didn't notice when getting dressed for this game, you are wearing exactly the same thing as everyone else in the dugout. It is called a uniform, and it is designed for the express purpose of making you recognizable as part of a group. Were you really so confused that you needed the extra hint of a plastic piece of junk?

This goes for you too, England cricket. Those little England bracelets are dumb.

Update: It has been brought to my attention that these excrescences are probably of the type that is made of magnets and has approximately the same effect on your baseball prowess as being bitten by a radioactive spider, or something. Fair enough. They're still heinous.

Why do people keep claiming that Tim Lincecum looks like the kid from Dazed and Confused?

Because he doesn't. At all.

Grow some eyes.

That is all.

Why am I an idiot magnet at sporting events?

I am always surrounded by morons. It is astounding. I know, this is the point at which all my hippie readers go, "HAW HAW everyone at sporting events is a moron, now I am going to go off and be self-satisfied and joyless." So I guess we'll wait for them to do that. Ciao, guys.

Anyway. I'm not judging people on how many of the novels of Marcel Proust they have read. I am judging them because they know nothing about sports, and they go to major games. If you are attending the US Open final (tennis), you should probably know how a double fault works. If you are at a game of the National League Championship Series, you should probably know that, if there are already two outs in an inning, a double play is both unnecessary and impossible. And yet, people do not.

Why is this? These games and matches involve monetary investment (not insignificant), forward planning, and effort. You cannot just walk up to the National Tennis Center on a whim. There are probably other people out there who even know the infield fly rule and couldn't get tickets.

Why are you here? And why won't you shut up?

Why are political candidates so annoying?

I'm not even referring to attack ads. Everyone else has bemoaned those to a fare-thee-well, and I don't listen to the radio or watch television enough to be more bothered by them than anyone else.

And I don't mean on the telephone either, although that is also awful.

Nope, my beef is with the candidates who actually approach me in public places. Specifically, candidates who approach me when I am giving off very clear "don't approach me" signals. Here's a hint: if someone is wearing headphones in a public place, he does not want to talk to you. He probably would not want to talk to you even if you were going to give him a Rolls-Royce. He certainly does not want to talk to you if all you have going for you is a little pamphlet and some predictable pablum.

Go away.

Why can't people spell "marshmallow?"

It's not "marshmellow." What the hell is a "marshmellow?" Is it a Beatnik from the Black Lagoon? A swamp stoner?

There's a marshmallow plant. That's how we used to make marshmallows, before gelatin came in handy packets.

MALLOW MALLOW MALLOW.

Why do athletes wear goggles when spraying champagne?

Sure, it stings to get champagne in your eyes. But there are a lot of levels on which this is offensive.

1. It involves planning to win, which looks like swank and should doom you to failure.
2. It involves an extra step before celebration, which makes the whole thing even less spontaneous.
3. It makes you look like a moron.

But, perhaps most importantly, it also makes you a sissy. Tops, you do this three times a year, unless you're a Formula 1 driver, in which case you obviously don't even remotely care about what happens to your body, so you wouldn't take these precautions. Really? You can't risk champagne in the eyes three times a year in moments of victory? Why are you such a hateful little girl?

(On a related note, there's been champagne celebration inflation. I don't think the Division Series rates champagne. The League Championship Series probably does. But come on, people. It's become like "graduating" from kindergarten.)

Why is French film so inexplicable?

Eddie Izzard used to rag on British films for consisting entirely of people arranging matches and not speaking. And this was largely true, and they were all named Sebastian.

But in French films, they do this while also smoking, and almost certainly without clothes on. Well, they don't arrange matches all that often. But they certainly don't speak much.

If you saw Coco Chanel & Igor Stravinsky, you know what I mean. Everybody was nuts, no one except Stravinsky's poor wife ever said anything to the point, or really anything at all, and everything happened in a haze of art nouveau cigarette smoke. If you hadn't seen Coco Avant Chanel, you didn't know who some of the people were, and no attempt was made to explain.

How well do you keep track of Louis XIV's mistresses? Because apparently I don't keep track quite well enough to watch Le Roi Danse. All I know is that at some point a woman shows up in his tent and then isn't wearing clothes. It can't be his wife, because, after all, he is French, and that wouldn't make sense. It is therefore either Mme de Maintenon or Mme de Montespan, but since both of them are listed in the credits, and I can never remember which one is the wacky religious one of his middle age who makes him revoke the Edict of Nantes, I'm at a loss. Lully has a psychotic episode, but, since that seems to be his reaction to everything, it doesn't help.

And, okay, fine, in Le Pacte des Loups people spoke (although they still did not wear clothes), but it still didn't make any sense at all and Vincent Cassel had an impossible flail-sword made of bone. And it was about the Revolution? But not really?

Why is that lady at the liquor store such a liar?

It's bad enough that they had run out of Angostura bitters. But then to offer me some other kind of bitters and tell me "it's the same thing" is just inexcusable.

Look. It is not the same. It may also be bitters, but it is not the same secret recipe. It is clearly inferior. I wasn't raised on it and I don't want it.

Why is "beer pong" tossed about so promiscuously?

Beer pong is played with paddles. And, yes, what's-his-bucket who insisted to me that no one has ever in the history of the world played a game that is essentially just ping pong with added cups and beer: people do, in fact, play with paddles. I have personally seen it done. I have not played it, because I'm lousy at table tennis when sober, and "aiming" is not exactly my specialty.

It doesn't matter what you call the game that's just tossing ping pong balls into cups of beer. I call it "Beirut," though it has other variations depending on the booze involved: "Bristol" for gin, "Nizhni-Novgorod" for vodka, and "Glasgow" for scotch (NB: these are also all known as "A Bad Idea"). You can call it whatever you like, as long as whatever you like is not "beer pong," because that's wrong.

Why do teams run the 3-4 defense when all their linebackers are old and slow?

Here's a hint: it doesn't work. At all.

Why didn't Halladay throw a perfect game?

What the hell was that walk all about? That is weak, Mr. Halladay, and you know it. I expect better in the future.

I can't even look at you! Go sit in the port-o-john.

Why don't people know what "khaki" means?

It's the color, chumps. Also known as British tan, it's the color you might make your uniforms if you were garrisoned in an inhospitable desert climate. Especially one where they speak Urdu, whence the word itself. Which is from the word which means "dust." Which is a reference to the color. Are you following me?

If you are wearing cotton twill trousers in any color other than "kind of like sand," they are not khakis. They are probably chinos. "Chino" is not a reference to the color, but rather to the fabric, which was apparently popularized in China at some point in the fairly distant past, or the 19th century.

Is all that straight? Thank you.

Why are we supposed to believe that Tina Fey is heinous?

There are a bunch of things about 30 Rock that are played out, even to someone who watches the show intermittently, but one of the worst of them is the absolute and total fiction that Tina Fey is gross. This also came up when she was a guest judge on some cooking show a million years ago, when she made a large number of completely unfunny and completely untrue jokes about how she does all her eating in secret.

She may not be Deborah Kerr, but she is an attractive and slim woman, as we all know because she enjoys taking her shirt off on camera (see Mean Girls and whatever episode of 30 Rock it is with the high school reunion). She herself clearly eats no more than is good for her, and it's not exactly plausible that Liz Lemon does either, since shockingly enough she looks exactly like Tina Fey. And if they want to make her unattractive, it's going to take more than indie glasses and striped knits, because both of those are kind of in right now.

I could even take it if she were supposed to be normal, and a little bit unsuccessful with men, because she's busy or nuts. But the constant jokes about how she's enormous or repulsive (which she isn't, even compared to other women on television) got old a really long time ago.

Why am I not at a football game right now?

It is a perfect day for going to a football game. The trees are changing a little, the sky is cloudless and a particularly gorgeous azure, and it is cool enough for hot chocolate but still warm enough to have a beer. It's the sort of day that encourages tweed and a university stripe muffler. It cries out for cider, fight songs, and the endearing thud of pigskin on turf as yet another Princeton pass drops incomplete.

But everyone I know who lives in my state hates sports. Or at least has no sympathy for fake college football. So I am sat with a cup of coffee in my tweed and a deep funk, because the Harvard game is not going to happen on as gorgeous a day.

Honestly, who doesn't like sports?