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"A rollicking ride of intellectual discovery and emotional growth... unlike his buzzer skills, his comic timing never fails"
-- The Wall Street Journal
"Pulls you in like a good sports story"
-- The New York Times Book Review
"Endearingly frank... jubilant... lighthearted and fast-paced"
-- New York Newsday
"A surprisingly touching memoir"
-- Entertainment Weekly
"Hugely funny"
-- Mental Floss
"Like Jeopardy! itself, it covers a lot of ground and in snappy and informative fashion"
-- Associated Press
"Down to earth and entertaining, even for non- Jeopardy! fans"
-- The New York Daily News
"A very funny writer... the book works like gangbusters."
-- Ken Jennings, 74-time Jeopardy! winner, holder of numerous other Jeopardy! records
"Effortlessly funny and informative... tender, human, and very wise... A must for anyone who loves Jeopardy!, or has ever seen it, or is breathing."
-- Joss Whedon, creator, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
"I haven't seen Jeopardy! since I was a kid, and yet I was charmed and amused by Bob Harris's fascinating and surprisingly suspenseful book. Through sheer force of personality, he takes this brainy TV show and makes it funny and easy to relate to."
-- Ira Glass, creator and host, This American Life
"Eccentric, energetic, and engaging"
-- Publishers Weekly
"The perfect gift for any Jeopardy! fan... I was thoroughly entertained"
-- USA Today, "Pop Candy"
"Surprisingly compelling... a funny and in-depth look at what it takes to win"
-- Long Island Press
"Wise, honest, and very funny... I wish I'd written it. Then again, I wish I'd won $127,000 and his-and-hers Camaros on Jeopardy!, too."
-- Jeff Greenstein, writer/producer, Desperate Housewives, Will & Grace, Friends
"Cleverly executed... solid entertainment"
-- Kirkus Reviews
"Answer: A hilarious, engaging and highly entertaining book. Question: What is Prisoner of Trebekistan? (All right... that was sort of a lame Jeopardy! joke. But what can I say? It's a great book.)"
-- Paul Feig, creator of Freaks and Geeks, author of Superstud and Kick Me
"A surprisingly intimate, entertaining book."
-- Orson Scott Card, author of Ender's Game
" Prisoner of Trebekistan is funny, enlightening -- and just might help you win a million bucks on Jeopardy!"
-- A. J. Jacobs, author of The Know-It-All
"If you don't buy this book -- this funny, learned, charming, and surprisingly moving book -- I will make it burst into flames in your hands."
-- Arthur Phillips, author of Prague and The Egyptologist
"A keeper for anyone who's even remotely a fan of Jeopardy!"
-- TVSquad.com
"If you enjoy... self-aware, geeky good humor, this could actually be your favorite book of the year."
-- The Stranger
"Highly entertaining... laugh-out-loud, absurdist funny... hilarious"
-- Akron Beacon-Journal
"Hilarious... a true treat for all Jeopardy! fans."
-- Strand Bookstore
"Everything you'd hope for... surprisingly compelling... deftly woven together... this sweet, fascinating book is a great read."
-- Book-blog.com
"If super-intelligent space aliens invaded our planet and demanded to interview one member of our species to ascertain whether or not we human beings were logical, bright, kind, and entertaining enough to be allowed to continue, I would nominate, with all my powers of persuasion, Bob Harris."
-- Emo Philips, comedian
"A masterful job of describing the feel of Jeopardy! in the heat of battle... I knew that Bob was a great guy and a fantastic Jeopardy! player. Now I've found that he's also a wonderful writer. I think I'm starting to hate him."
-- Brad Rutter, top money-winner in Jeopardy! history
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“Revelatory... wryly funny about some very serious subjects... Harris's sly wit and infectious curiosity make understanding world chaos fascinating... witty, horrific, and necessary.”
— Boston Globe
“Only Bob could make a user’s guide to our increasingly hostile world this absorbing, this breezy, and—ultimately—this hopeful.”
— Ken Jennings, author of Brainiac: Adventures in the Curious, Competitive, Compulsive World of Trivia Buffs
"Brave... irreverent... charges into the thick of the globe's myriad simmering wars... hilariously relaxed."
— New York Observer
“Fascinating, enlightening, and surprisingly: NOT TOTALLY DEPRESSING. A gimlet-eyed look at the world we endure that’s also suitable for enjoying with a gimlet.”
— John Hodgman, author of The Areas of My Expertise
and correspondent for The Daily Show with Jon Stewart
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Main Travel Entries
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Wednesday, 07 May 2008 |
If you've read about that Chaitén volcano that just went kablooey in Chile, it's one of hundreds down there. It's an amazing part of the world.
That's Villarica, a couple of hundred miles north of Chaitén, but it gives you some of the flavor. Of course, you have to be ready to bolt at the first sign of trouble.
In the town of Pucón, they even have a Volcano Alert Signal on the town hall. You can tell the volcano is exploding when the little red light comes on.
Alternatively, you can also look for the 20-mile plume of ash darkening the sky. Which makes it easier to see the little red light.
The only picture I have of Chaitén is this one, taken on the ferry to the island of Chiloe, from which the view of Andean peaks stretches literally across the entire horizon. (There's no way a jpg on the Internet can do this vista justice, but here it is, anyway.)
I'm pretty sure Chaitén is one of the prominent white peaks closest to the camera on the left. If this picture were taken today, there would be a monster ash plume extending high above those clouds.
Very lucky that the explosion was in a relatively remote area. There are similar volcanoes near Santiago and Quito.
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Friday, 02 May 2008 |
The only snack that really seems appropriate.
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Wednesday, 30 April 2008 |
I'm no expert, so I may be misreading things, but this image from Santiago seems to sum up the competition between expanding social welfare and international investment, not just in Chile, but in much of the developing world:
That's Salvador Allende, the elected Marxist overthrown in 1973 after years of actions against his government by the CIA and several U.S. multinationals (ITT, Anaconda Copper, etc.).
Allende's memorial is right outside the presidential palace -- and right in front of Citibank.
Perhaps not quite what he had in mind. |
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Wednesday, 30 April 2008 |
Also on the side of the road north to Santiago: possibly the strangest billboard ad I have ever seen.
I should begin by noting that IANSA is a Spanish acronym for "National Sugar Industry," although it was privatized toward the end of the Pinochet years.
 There is nothing sweeter.
That's probably true -- because Mom here is serving her daughter an entire bowl of pure white sugar.
While sitting on the kitchen floor, no less. No chairs in sight. Hey, I know what's sweeter -- buying some damn furniture, so your poor kid doesn't develop diabetes and lose all feeling in her butt in a single meal.
Can somebody please call Child Protective Services? No one even looks surprised. This is just how they roll. I mean, look closely -- does that kid even have any teeth? Mom does -- grinning like it's a pepper filet broiled with minced scallions and stone crab claws in lemon butter, and not weapons-grade glucose in a kitty dish.
Um, Mom? Can you get this kid, I dunno, a piece of raw beef, just for balance?
The artist has done interesting things with the details, too. That box has shadows and floor reflections as if it's actually in the photograph. Which means Mom keeps a box of sugar in the house almost as large as her own child.
The weirdest thought, to me: that this image, which actually gets more psychotic the longer you look at it, actually sells sugar. Successfully. Not, say, an urgent national commitment to children's nutrition, mental health advocacy, dental hygiene, and, I dunno, gift certificates to IKEA.
Now if you'll excuse me, I'm making breakfast, and I need to get another oil drum of syrup to go with my pallet of Bisquick. And where did I leave my casket of jam...? |
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Tuesday, 29 April 2008 |
Unbeatable Cydectin -- against the most resistant parasites.
I only pray the picture means that Cydectin is for parasites that attack cows -- not parasites the size of cows, wearing special protective headgear and gloves.
Because those would be some pretty damn resistant parasites.
Been meaning to post a ton of fun pics from South America. Will try to trickle them up here regularly, maybe one a day or so for a while, now that I have a minute. Regular visitors, thank you for your patience. |
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Thursday, 17 January 2008 |
Walking the beach in Bocagrande a couple of weeks ago, I stumbled across some Colombian teenagers burying a male friend in the sand.
The Colombian kids, being exactly like kids everywhere, were giving the guy a large pair of sand breasts and giggling naughtily. Like they were the first ones who ever thought of it.
Flashback: for longtime readers, this is exactly what a bunch of kids in Singapore were doing, too. The only real difference was the weather.
All over the world, wars and languages and cultures may divide us, but humanity still seems united by one powerful force -- teenagers get a big kick out of sand hooters.
It's stuff like this that makes me think humanity almost has a shot. |
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Tuesday, 08 January 2008 |
Sorry I haven't updated in nearly a month. I've just been busy, and some places in South America have fairly spotty internet access, and I've been doing enough stuff in the real world that the 'net just hasn't been part of my life much for a while. But I'm not gone for good.
Hoping to get more pics from Colombia up, plus stuff from Argentina, Uruguay, Brazil, and more. Assuming real life doesn't just keep on being too interesting to leave.
Favorite thing of late was a visit to my new buddy Fernando's place in rural Chile, roughly fifty miles from that volcano that just blew, in a spectacular area of tree-lined lakes and mountains.
Remember when I linked to a site with a video of a pudu giving birth?
I have now met and hung out with that very pudu. (She says hi.) Also, 17 other pudus Fernando takes care of. Plus a bunch of other strange and wonderful Andean species, some of which I'd never heard of. Pics coming.
More when I get a minute. Thanks for stopping by in the meantime. |
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Tuesday, 18 December 2007 |
As a lifelong fan of the crudely named and endlessly frustrating Cleveland Indians, I couldn't help but smile to see that folks in Colombia are also willing to turn fellow human beings into mascots for a team that never wins the title. Ladies and gentlemen, the last-place Cartagena Indians:
The kids reminded me of my own friends when we were that age. And Cleveland Stadium was about as well-kept back then, too. However, my friends and I never had our psyches gently pummeled quite like this:
Those are three beautiful Colombian children playing with Santa Claus. Right next to a sign twice as big as they are, urgently warning families to stop paying kidnappers.
Can you imagine growing up with that? What would that have done to how you feel about yourself and the world?
I don't even pretend to know the answer for myself. |
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Friday, 14 December 2007 |
Traveling around South America for a couple of months. My Spanish still sucks, but estoy aprendiendo.
You know you're in Bogotá when the airport is filled with signs warning you not to mule.
It would be very sad for your family if you were a mule!
Interesting that the deterrent here isn't jail, violent reprisal, or any other punishment -- they're appealing to shame and family honor.
Not sure what that says about Colombian culture, but it's hard to imagine the US analog having any effect: Kids! If you got involved with drugs, your parents wouldn't like it.
Yeah. That would totally work.
Anyhow. Changing the subject.
Multiple studies have found that security in US airports is no better than before 9/11, so critics often decry various TSA measures as merely "security theater."
One wonders, then, what non-theatrical security might look like.
After having been through airport security in Colombia four times in the last week, I'm thinking I should share with the rest of the class. (Not saying they have things perfectly right, by any means. Just sharing what I saw.)
In recent years, Colombia has seen violence from FARC and ELN, the counter-revolutionary AUC, and multiple major drug organizations. Their airports don't double as political showpieces. They're potential targets in an area rife with active conflict for over four decades. And Colombia is hardly a rich country. They're clearly not in any position to screw around.
Just out of curiosity, let's compare the US and Colombian gauntlets.
WHAT THEY DIDN'T DO IN COLOMBIA (at least in my experience):
- You don't take off your shoes. They don't give a rat's ass about your shoes. They're going through the metal detector anyway.
- You don't take off your jacket. They don't give a rat's ass about your jacket. It's going through the metal detector anyway.
- You don't have to put all your fluids, emollients, and palliative goos into little 3-oz. containers. (Technically, the signs say that you do. But you don't. Nobody bats an eye.) If binary bombs were a real concern, I've just traveled across Colombia with enough shampoo and sunscreen to blow up Cali and Medellín combined. If you really get off on traveling with fluids, Colombia is a holiday paradise.
- You also don't always take your computer out of the bag. Two times out of four. But this was purely perfunctory. They don't seem to give a rat's ass about your computer, either.
WHAT THEY ACTUALLY DID IN COLOMBIA (at least in my experience):
- You will be surrounded at all times by heavily armed men. Fuck with Colombia, Colombia will fuck you right back. This message at least is clear.
- You will be metal-detected as the main event. First the big machine. Then the wand. Slowly. Seriously. About the speed of languorous foreplay, except surrounded by armed men and not remotely enjoyable. Then you turn around and get wanded again. Colombia looks for metal. If I ate a diet high in magnesium, I would be wary of traveling in Colombia. All your metal are belong to Colombia.
- You will be given a brisk full-body frisking by a cheerful but lethally armed soldier, in the company of half a dozen other lethally armed soldiers. By "frisking," I mean a procedure roughly halfway between high-speed shiatsu and a drive-thru prostate exam. If you like having your balls bounced casually by swarthy fellows trained to kill on command, a Colombian vacation is for you.
HOW LONG COLOMBIAN SECURITY TAKES:
In my four trips through, never more than three minutes tops, believe it or not. Twice it felt like I barely broke stride until the wand-o-rama.
Maybe I got lucky. And much of this is probably the result of lesser air traffic. Bogotá, for all its charms, isn't quite the air hub Atlanta and Chicago are. Go figure. Then again, Colombian airports also had fewer security lines -- never more than one or two operating, period. So I'm not sure how the size argument works out.
It's also possible that Colombian security is way more focused on drugs on the way out than weapons on the way in. I'm not sure how that necessarily changes anything, though. They sure as hell would have found anything strapped to my keister.
In any case, time and energy do seem to be saved by not wasting time on stupid shit. Colombia doesn't ask every single passenger in every single line to remove shoes, coat, laptop, and liquid goods, all while emptying pockets and juggling their smaller bags into various trays before slowing things down on the far side by undoing and reassembling all the nonsense they just did. Colombia doesn't try to prevent binary bombs that don't exist, nor do they worry about shoe bombs that could just as well be in your knickers.
Colombia (a) X-rays your stuff on a conveyor belt, (b) wands your ass until your fillings come loose, and then (c) asks you to hold still for about twenty seconds of vigorous manual contact that for ten dollars more ought to come with a happy ending.
Granted, there must be considerations I haven't realized. I'm sure there are. Consider this entry pre-disclaimed. I'm not saying Americans would willingly accept twenty seconds of rubber-gloved Kung Fu Grip in exchange for being allowed to pack a whole tube of Gleem. And I'm not saying the US should turn its airports into Colombian style armed camps. Hell no. Just pointing out what was.
That's the experience, anyway. Take from it what you will.
Meanwhile, he's another anti-mule sign posted in front of the McDonald's in the Bogotá airport food court.
And since you told your family you were a mule?(With, I believe, roughly the tone of "and how's that working out for you?") (And note again the emphasis on family shame, above all other deterrents.)
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Wednesday, 12 December 2007 |
Greeting you at the Cartagena airport:
Colombia,
the only risk is wanting to stay.
Um... I'm not sure that means exactly what they intended it to mean.
Still, fascinating place so far.
True story: I asked a guy on a plane what he did for a living here. He said he was in agriculture, but he didn't get into specifics.
A little later he said it was really more of an import/export business.
That's when I found stuff to ask besides what he did for a living.
I'm not completely convinced coming to Colombia by myself was the shrewdest move I've ever made. But damn, beautiful country, friendly people. Cartagena is like a living museum. Put it on your life list.
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Thursday, 15 November 2007 |
Haven't updated all week because I've been running around Northern Ireland, which is filled with beautiful places and incredibly lovely people. It also still has many sights like this one.
I'll post more soon, but at the moment I'm a little overwhelmed by some of the people I've met on both sides of the sectarian divide. Not really sure how to process it all yet. Not even sure I can. Trying to.
In the meantime, read the much more lighthearted post below this (if you haven't already), and then go read this one by Ken Jennings for more.
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Sunday, 14 October 2007 |
I know multinationals are getting more brazen about their increasing power, but yeesh. I didn't think they'd actually brag about it yet.
I give it fifty years before they eliminate government middlemen and simply mobilize their own private militaries. Golden Arches Strike Force, away! |
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Friday, 12 October 2007 |
I guess some people would rather die than just loop around the block. Damn.
And what, exactly, is the penalty for not obeying this particular traffic law? Like a fine is gonna matter. |
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