This and That

Boy, this job thing really gets in the way of goofing off. I keep having bloggy ideas, only to get caught up in work, come home, make dinner, and then fall right asleep. Just not a lot of time to make fun of anonymous people on the internet. So, here are abbreviated versions of all of the posts you missed out on. Only 50% less funny. And 75% less interesting.

CONVENTIONS
I am proud that I made it through both political conventions without watching a single second of either. Look, I don't go out of my way to watch a commercials. And that's what a convention is. It's insulting that it is covered as a news event. Nothing newsworthy has happened at a convention in my lifetime. It is meaningless political theatre. However, it did lead to one brilliant moment, Jon Stewart's takedown of political bloviating in the wake of Palin's nomination.

The GOP doesn't hold a monopoly on blatant lying. Pretty much every political shill who shows up on TV is nothing more than a hack who is selling us a product. Do not believe them. And they deserve to be mocked and then shunned from civilized society.

MUDHONEY
Saw Mudhoney at the Grenada this weekend. Let's be honest, I freaking love Mudhoney. When I was 16, I was perhaps a bigger fan of Mudhoney than I have ever been of anything in my life. Seeing them old and gray I thought would be somewhat depressing, but they still rocked pretty hard. And it was kind of reassuring.

See, while all of the counterculture bands of the 1960s were selling toothpaste and cars within a decade. The counterculture bands of my youth are still, well, counterculture. Mudhoney is still cool. They aren't selling cars, they are still making very loud, very dirty, and frankly, very funny songs. Who cares if they are pushing 50?

DRIVING
I was on Haskell, a one way street, when there was a car headed straight towards me. Which is odd. But at no point did it strike me as odd until after the car passed me. I merely pulled into the center land and let him pass on the left, or his right, or whatever. The point is, I didn't even slow down. It didn't register that this guy might kill me until after the moment has passed.

Which means I totally suck at self-preservation.

Hip Hop Punks

Emily brought me along to see Nas and Talib Kwali on Tuesday. Now, I'm not a big fan of hip hop, not because I think it stinks, but because it simply doesn't speak to me. Hey, I'm not the audience for Yo Gabba Gabba either, but I'm not really the guy to cast value judgments over its quality.

Now, the show had everything you could want, even ending in a fight that only failed to be a knife fight because the guy dropped his knife.

Though it wasn't my scene, I had a great time, got into the show, and a thought occurred to me as the night rolled along: this show was more punk rock than most punk shows I've been to. While punk has become more and more commercial and punk-by-numbers, it's become infinitely less interesting. It's safe and stale and it's just the same thing over and over again.

And maybe this was the same thing over and over again for hip hop fans. But I doubt it. Not many shows have the live microphone tossed into the crowd so anyone there could rap along. And that's just fun. But it also had a sense of anarchy, of spontaneity, of actually being dangerous... and I find that irresistible.

PC Cometh

I noticed from Osler's blog that PC has started. I would like to give all of the new PC students some words of advice as someone who survived the experience.

But I'm too busy gut laughing since I never, ever, ever have to do that again. So sorry kids, you're on your own.

Captains of Industry or Robber Barons

I’ve just finished reading Meet You In Hell, a biography of Andrew Carnegie and Henry Clay Frick. It’s a great book, and I recommend it to anyone with a passing interest in the history of the Gilded Age.

Most of the book is dedicated to the Battle of Homestead, which is perhaps the bloodiest episode in American labor history. And it’s a great read full of drama, rich characters, and well, a boatload of violence. It’s amazing this sort of thing doesn’t happen anymore. Not because I think labor conditions are so bad, but because we live in a violent culture, yet we don’t have these sort of armed confrontations between labor and capital anymore.

But what fascinated me about the book was the study of its too central protagonists: Frick and Carnegie. Both were ruthless and not more than a little bit greedy. They were also both brilliant and driven men, who really were self-made men.

Carnegie tried to rationalize his darker side away. Everything he did was for the benefit of others, who he claimed to love so much. And then he felt so guilty of the millions he made, that he spent the last years of his life giving his fortune away, the standard of philanthropy which stands today. The Homestead workers probably would rather have gotten a higher wage than get the library, but whatever.

Frick, on the other hand, almost reveled in his dark side. He made no excuses. He was a ruthless man and he didn’t lose any sleep over the dozens of strikers who died by his orders. Which is remarkable in its own way, but in the end, I end up admiring Frick more for his unflinching honesty. He had no illusions that he was a ruthless, greedy man and he would crush anyone who cost him so much as a nickel.

Which is why, nearing death, when Carnegie tried to reconcile with his former partner and now bitter enemy, Frick refused to meet with Carnegie and make things right. He told the messenger:

“I’ll meet Carnegie in hell, where surely we both are going.”

They just don’t make them like that anymore.

Losing

I’m an Olympics junkie. I love the whole thing, mainly because, as many of you know, I am the King of Obscure Sports. I’m not a big track and field guy, but once every four years, I can certainly tune in and get caught up in the biggest Sporting Event in the World.

And the reason I love the Olympics can be explained by two people: Usain Bolt and Lolo Jones.

Bolt became the first guy to break the 100 and 200 meter world records in the same Olympics. Take that, Michael Phelps. And his 100 meter run was nothing short of spectacular. Not only did he pull up in the last 20 meters, he ran with one shoe untied, and his prerace meal was Chicken McNuggets.*

*Editor’s note: Not made up. I’m dead serious. He ate McDonald’s before the biggest race of his life. How can you not love this guy?

But the greatness of Bolt’s achievements don’t resonate with me like the failure of Lolo Jones. Jones is the greatest hurdler in the world. She dominates the race and she’s the World Champion. And this was her chance to win a gold medal. And, just two hurdles away from her being introduced for the rest of her life as “Olympic gold medalist Lolo Jones”, she hit the hurdle and stumbled her way to seventh place.

Jones crumbled to the track and just cried. She’s 27, and track is not exactly a sport that is forgiving on an athlete as they age. She may not even qualify for the next Olympics, and if she does, she likely won’t be the favorite she was this time around. This was, essentially, her whole career in one race. And it went up in smoke. And she knew it.

Bolt is great. He’s a lot of fun. I’ll remember him when I think back as one of the all-time great Olympians. But, to be honest, I’ll treasure Lolo Jones more. Sometimes failure is just as noble as victory. I will never run as fast as Usain bolt, but I can relate to Lolo Jones. She came so close to her dream, only to have it snatched away. And for that, she is my favorite Olympian in these Games.

LSU Football and Memories

Cross posted on And The Valley Shook!, an LSU blog on which I am a contributor

I have an LSU class ring which I don’t ever wear. I’m not much one for jewelry, but I always put it on for my birthday, which is in a few hours. It used to my dad’s class ring, and he gave it to me for my birthday back when I was a student at LSU. The ring even came with a convenient story, as the ring was sold to my dad my none other than NFL Hall of Famer, LSU great, and well, the greatest fullback of all time, Jim Taylor.

Apparently, my dad and Taylor were casual friends since they played all sorts of sports against one another in high school. According to my mom, Taylor also had a college job selling class rings, and he sold my dad his. So I always called it my Jim Taylor ring.

It’s easy to get caught up in the big business of college football and get lost in it. The coaches are mercenary. The players are only in it for themselves. The boosters are corrupt. Recruiting is sort of creepy. Television has ruined everything. Pick your complaint.

But it’s also a game that passed on through family bonds. I grew up in Maryland, which meant I didn’t grow up going to games in Death Valley. In fact, college football barely made a dent in the sports landscape when I was a kid. But my parents were LSU fans, and they would go to almost any length to catch a game. We didn’t have a cable, so we were always going over to some neighbor who had ESPN so we could catch the occasional Saturday night game. But back then, most games weren’t on TV. So my dad would fiddle with the dials on the old Panasonic radio, trying to catch the broadcast on an AM band that managed to crackle through from Louisiana. Sometimes this meant crawling on to the roof to listen to a game. We’d huddle around the tiny radio on a cold November night, trying to catch the action through waves of static.

I still have the radio. I don’t ever use it, as every LSU game is now on TV on one of the million cable channels out there. There’s no need for me to crawl onto my roof to try and catch a clear channel signal. Hell, I don’t even know if clear channels exist anymore. But I can’t bring myself to throw it out.

I remember those games and the sound of my dad’s voice cheering on the Tigers. I remember him teaching me to sing “Hey! Fightin’ Tigers!” I remember him teaching me about all of those past greats. I remember him describing Pregame, though I wouldn’t ever see it until I finally came to LSU as a student myself. By then, the torch of fanaticism had passed. I remember it all like it was yesterday.

Ten years ago, LSU hadn’t won a national title since 1958. They hadn’t won an SEC title since 1986. And of the last ten years, seven of them had been losing seasons. It was the nadir of LSU football. The next ten years, of course, have been maybe the ten most successful years in the program’s history. My dad would have enjoyed that. But he missed out on it because he died ten years ago. We buried him on my birthday. Of all things he missed out on, I doubt LSU football ranks really high. Then again, some of my fondest memories involving him also involve the Tigers. If I close my eyes, I’m still on that roof, listening to that radio, clutching that hot cocoa for its warmth. Listening to the game. Listening to those cheers.

Since it’s my birthday, I’m wearing my class ring. But it’s not a Jim Taylor ring. It’s an Oran R. Baker ring.

Olympic Objectivity

Michael Phelps won 8 gold medals as NBC set an Olympic record for Most times Camera Cut to An Athlete’s Mom. We get it. Mom’s proud of her son, the Olympic champion. In other news, the water in the pool is wet.

OK, I have legitimately enjoyed Phelps’ dominance, and him staking a claim for Greatest Olympian Ever*. But that has not been the reason to watch the Olympics. No, the real reason has been to catch a glimpse of the barely intelligible rantings of Bela Karolyi.

*The Unofficial Rankings:
1. Carl Lewis – gold medals in four consecutive Olympics
2. Jesse Owens – made Hitler look dumber than usual
3. Bjorn Daehlie – cross country skier with 8 golds, 12 total medals, and his name is Bjorn.
4. Ray Ewry – 10 events, 10 golds. Suck on that. And his Olympic record for standing broad jump still stands, maybe because the event was discontinued in 1930.
5. Larissa Latynina – 18 medals, 9 of them gold. The Soviets could do some gymnastics

Anyway, some people have criticized Bela for, how shall we put this, openly rooting for the US team. It’s not so much commentary as some crazy guy cheering. He’s like an out of control Little League parent, only on the Olympic level.

What’s great about this is that it exposes the central lie in all sports broadcasting and most news broadcasting: the myth of objectivity. OF COURSE the NBC announcers are rooting for the Americans. We’re American and our rooting interest is in our fellow countrymen. Why else would they show us the US men’s solo all-around in gymnastics when they never even cracked the top 10? Any semblance of objectivity would have cut the Americans so fast it would make your head spin. But NBC stuck with them, not because they are evil or bad, but because, get this, Americans like watching Americans.

OK, I did watch the Italy-Netherlands water polo match this morning, but I’m a freak. Most people don’t care.

It’s the same with local sports. That old adage “There’s no cheering in the press box” is simply ridiculous. The only reason the Dallas Morning News reporter is in the box is to cover the Cowboys. And get this, he’s a fan of the Cowboys and wants them to do well. Why pretend that he’s not? It’s silly. And it means it’s all based on a lie. If a guy can’t even be honest enough to say he’s a Cowboys fan, why should I trust him at all?

News reporting is the same thing. We know the reporters have their own opinion. We know some of them prefer one candidate over another. And for a reporter to come out and claim they are 100% objective is insulting to all of our intelligence. Of course they have bias. Everyone has bias. But the way to deal with this bias is not to pretend it doesn’t exist, but to admit it and confront it.

There’s a reason FOX News is popular. It’s because they are so ridiculously biased and so refreshingly honest about it, that it seems much more honest. I think they take the model too far and allow themselves to simply mouth talking points, but nobody’s perfect. Being honest about your bias doesn’t mean you also have to give up critical thinking.

The news media wonders why we don’t trust them. It’s hard to trust someone whose entire business model is based on a lie. And not even a good one.

So you go, Bela. Root your ass off. Who would have thought it? You’re the most honest guy on TV.

A Slight Return

Apparently, I have a fanbase. Not much of one, but enough people have been checking this space and getting irritate by the sheer lack of updates. Because no one can bring the funny like law school funny.

So, after an extended vacation in which I droned on for a long time about the Tour de France on another blog And LSU for yet another blog (that’s right, my dork powers are slowly spreading across the interwebs, eventually I’ll be showing up doing guest columns on music blogs on why your favorite band sucks), I am back. I’m doing some housecleaning around here, cleaning out cobwebs, and I’m certainly disinfecting some of blogger which has gone unused for awhile. The mold in here is sort of scary.

Which begs the question: why no updates? Does Poseur think he’s too good for you? Has he been too busy? Has he found other interests? And why is he referring to himself in third person? Doesn’t he realize he sounds like a pompous ass at best and an absolute moron at worst when he does that?*

*The answers: I’ve been trying to adjust to working life. No. Yes. No, unless tennis counts. Because it’s Poseur’s blog and Poseur makes his own rules. Absolutely.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go back to watch an obscene amount of Olympic coverage. Did you know you could watch team handball online? And that the brackets for table tennis are absolutely incomprehensible? Or that judo’s scoring system is almost impossible to explain? Yeah. Me neither. Of course I wouldn’t watch obscure sports on the internet. What kind of no-life loser do you think I am?

Oh. Right. Nevermind then. Ooo! Fencing! Gotta go.

Goonies Are Good Enough

I've had The Goonies DVD sitting on top of my TV for about a month and I've never found the time to watch it. So last night, while trying to unwind from a particuarly stressful day at work (in which no one threatened to gut me like a fish - in fact, everyone was quite nice), I popped it in.

Then I watched it again with the Commentary Track on. While Sean Astin looks a lot different and I can't believe Corey Feldman was ever that young... Josh Brolin looks exactly the same. Does he sleep in some sort of oxygen tent? Does he hang out with Dick Clark? Because he looks exactly like he did twenty years ago, only now with facial hair.

The movie? Still awesome.

Carlin Dead at 71.

I’ve been busy with this whole work thing so I’ve been unable to really keep y’all up to your eyebrows in goofing-off-at-work content. For this, I am sorry. But I’d rather not get fired since I sort of like my job. Actually, I really like my job. And I especially like getting paid and my nice Uptown apartment. So drafting that will comes before drafting a blog post.

Though I do appreciate when y’all ask if I’m dead or not. While I am not dead, George Carlin is.

I take my stand-up comedy very seriously, and George Carlin is one of the undeniable greats. He had an impeccable understanding of language and fought his entire life against euphemisms, as they are an assault on truth and honesty. His bit on how the term “shell-shock” became “Post Traumatic Stress Disorder” isn’t one of his most famous, but it is one of my favorites. He hated how we stripped the words of all of their meaning to make ourselves more comfortable. PTSD sounds like another BS disorder a shrink has invented to justify their rates. Shell shock sounds exactly like what it is.

His greatness didn’t just lie in funny observations, but he attached meaning to those observations. David Cross has a comment in which he dismissed most comedians as “funny in a who gives a shit kind of way.” Carlin’s comedy meant something. He used it to barely mask his outrage at the way those in power brazenly lie to us through the manipulation of language. It was a losing battle, but most fights worth having are.

First Time In Court

I'm scheduled for my first hearing this Friday. It's not on my case, it is on Lindsay's case. So, she has offered me some words of encouragement along the lines of "If you screw this up, I will gut you like a fish."

I'm feeling pretty good about this. What could go wrong?

Hey Hon

Jim turned to me today and told me that we've been friends for 21 years. So our friendship is now legally allowed to drink.

I'm in Maryland for his wedding right now, which means I've eaten about three crabcakes in a 48 hour period. Got to get while the getting is good. We went to downtown Baltimore today and some of the same stuff is there, and in other ways it's a completely different city. You can't go home again and all that.

I was driving through the valley between Howard and Baltimore County, and my radio (as always) went out because the stone blocks the radio signal. It's the same thing that happened every time I've driven through that valley over the past 15 years. And it felt, albeit briefly, just like home.

Soccer. Yeah, Soccer.

I love the Olympics. I really do. Who am I kidding? I love almost all sporting events. But here's what I don't love about the Olympics: all of that brotherhood crap. I hate soft focus profiles. I hate that it's supposed to be about something other than winning. Which to me, as a sports fan, is kind of insulting. What makes the Olympics great is the best athletes in the world competing on the biggest stage. It's about winning.

During the Olympics, my favorite events tend to be the "smaller" events. Becuase the networks just throw, say, team handball on at 1:20 AM with an announcing duo consisting of some novice too nervous to blow this gig to have some annoying schtick and one former player or coach to explain the game. And it's great. Because for that one and half hours or whatever, there's nothing bigger than the team handball game between Ukraine and Austria. It's great.

Which brings me to my love of international soccer. Sure, there's a little bit of that sportsmanship and bringing the world together crap for the advertisers, but mainly it's just about the game. Even better, some of the teams (countries) absolutely hate each other. Seriously, ask an Englishman sometime about their nation's proud soccer history against Spain.

Don't forget to duck. And then bring up Argentina.

Or enjoy the Swiss and the Turks getting into a fight after their game today. that's right, Euro 2008 has managed to get the SWISS riled up.



So I've been watching lots of Euro 2008. And it is a lot of fun. If nothing else, it's great to watch teams struggle against their own identity to lose in almost the same way every time.

Then again, every so often, a team like Greece wins the thing. And no one sees it coming. Or the Netherlands comes in and beats the ever-livin' snot out of Italy. And you start to believe maybe this is the time they finally will put it all together.

Or maybe it's just Lucy setting up the football for Charlie Brown one more time.

Just for Jeffy....

TIGER BAIT!
TIGER BAIT!
TIGER BAIT!
TIGER BAIT!

Back To the Blog

I'm not dead. So if you had me in your death pool, I'm sorrry that it didn't pay off for you. But I'm not promising I won't drop dead over the next week or so. In the time I've been off, I've been working at our new LSU blog on SB Nation, which is an actual site with advertisers and everything. That's right, I am a national syndicated dork.

I promised stories from Wichita, but now it's been so long it feels like my trip didn't even happen. It's like I watched a movie of us going to Kansas. but a promise is a promise, and here is a quick list of things I learned in Kansas.

- Wichita State is home of the Shockers. It never stops being funny. Trust us, because we drove that joke into the ground.

- When you have a chance to drink beer at a place called Emerson Bigguns, you should do so. I had a Guiness the size of my head. and let's be honest, my head is abnormally large.

- Apparently, doubling down on an 11 is NOT sound blackjack strategy. Because I lost on that. A lot. So much that i really thought about killing our dealer.

- We cut Dustin off. Not from alcohol, but from Red Bull.

- Really, it was a beautiful wedding. Idyllic setting, and even the chorus of bullfrogs made it more memorable. OK, we arrived right as the procession was beginning, so if anyone marred it, it was us. But it wasn't our fault there was a hole in the road. Swear to God, a hole in the road.

- Oklahoma is a truly empty and boring state. However, it does have casinos and really cheap prices at their liquor stores. So its not all bad.

- Wichita quickly grows on you. It is now one of my favorite small cities. It's like stepping into a timewarp. It's the kind of place where you canget into a good natured argument over whether Superman is a Kansan considering he is both an alien and, well, fictional.

Gone Fishin'

OK, the blog is on vacation for the next few days. Not that I am, but I’ll be out of contact with my beloved computer. I swear, when I get back, I’ll have tales of a trip to Wichita, which was more fun than Kansas had any right to be. I drank a beer from a mug the size of my head. OK, two.. three. Dammit. Four. You got me, okay?

Who knows how my CLE will go. Hopefully, I’ll learn something cool.

List of Eight: Kansas

I’m going to Kansas this weekend because what better way to celebrate Memorial Day than going to a state that makes you want to kill yourself? Kansas is one of those big rectangle states in the middle of the country we Easterners refer to as “flyover country”. It’s not that I don’t like Middle America, it’s that I really don’t know anything about it. In fact, here is a complete list of things I know about Kansas:

1. The whole Bleeding Kansas thing before the Civil War. It had something to do with slave states and free states, and John Brown getting his biblical rage on.

2. Bill James is from there. So is Rob Neyer. So, really, the two leading baseball stat dorks are from Kansas. Maybe there’s something to that. Sifting through the play by play logs of the May 14, 1897 Louisville Colonels – Cleveland Spiders tilt doesn’t seem so boring when your other option is hanging out in, well, Kansas.

3. Kansas State University is located in Manhattan, Kansas. It’s called the Little Apple. I do think that’s cool.

4. Kansas City is in Missouri. Even a city named after the state wants nothing to do with it.

5. I’ve never met anyone who hates KU’s basketball team more than our former Editor of Law Review. Now, I have some bad feeling towards them for the whole Lester Earl debacle (complex LSU recruiting scandal and you don’t care so I’ll spare you the details), but that was mainly Roy Williams and he’s now in UNC. And besides, now KU fans hate Roy Williams, too.

6. Operation Ivy recorded a live album in Kansas, one of the most bizarre choices for a ska-punk band. I think eight people were in the crowd.

7. In Cold Blood. Good book.

8. The mascot for Wichita State is the Shockers. Which is pretty funny, if your mind is in the gutter. They also had the decency to lose to LSU in the College World Series championship game on two separate occasions. So, thanks.

Used To Could

Our office got new phone systems today. They are the sort of phones that will wake you up and cook you breakfast if you punch in the right code. I mean, they are pretty darn impressive. So they called us into a one hour meeting to explain to us how to use a phone. I think I have the basics down.

In the middle of a meeting explaining to us the wonders of picking up a phone and calling someone, the sales rep used the phrase “Well, you used to could.” She stopped herself, and then proceeded to use the “Used to Could” phrase again. Now, I’m no snob*, but am I wrong for immediately tuning out of the meeting as soon as this phrase was uttered?

ED NOTE – This is blatant lie.

The Worst Song Ever. Really.

A bunch of scientists surveyed music fans to try and find what elements they liked in songs. Using the results of the survey, they recorded "The Most Wanted Song". To call it awful is to be too charitable. It's so bad that it makes you want to drive a Q-Tip through your eardrum. Though when the Tom Waits sounding guy shows up to sing a verse, the song moves from atrocious to merely bad. It is of course one of the funniest things you will ever hear.

Using the same survey results, the scientists had previously recorded "The Most Unwanted Song". While I'm not gonna run out to buy the CD, the song ain't half bad. It's not half good either. It's just so freakishly bizarre that I can't help listen to it. Who doesn't love opera rap?

Weddings and Horse Racing

I spent the weekend at Erin and Wink’s wedding in beautiful Horseshoe Bay. I’ll spare you the particulars but it really was an impossibly beautiful wedding. There were times I felt like I crashed a movie set of a wedding scene. It was that perfect. When talking to the groom, after the usual congratulations and such, the talk turned to sports because, well, we’re guys and that’s all we’re capable of talking about intelligently (except other select topics like action movies and beer).

Anyway, it was Preakness Saturday, a big day for Marylanders such as myself not because we love horse racing (which I kind of do), but because it’s a day we all have fine memories of. Memories so fine I cannot discuss them in a public forum until the statute of limitations expires. It’s a day which usually centers on gambling and drinking, two skill sets I possess.

So Wink and I talked a little about the ponies and it dawned on both of us that Big Brown, the winner of the first two legs of the Triple Crown, might have the best life of any professional athlete on the planet. I would trade places with that horse in a second.

Essentially, he’s a teenager. He’s got a good portion of his life ahead of him, and let’s face it, if he wins Belmont and becomes the first Triple Crown winner since 1978, he’s probably never going to race competitively again. OK, maybe he’ll show up for the Breeder’s Cup, but this is pretty much it. That will mean, his pro career will be only six or seven races. That’s it. Big Brown will have put in seven days work in his life, and still a teenager, retire to his next life of getting busy with the mares.

Big Brown’s stud fee is already millions upon millions of dollars. He’s far more valuable as a stud than as a racehorse, especially if he wins Belmont, so only a moron would ever run him again and risk the millions of dollars he would lose if he got injured. So Big Brown is about to become a gigolo. There are NBA players who would kill for Big Brown’s lot in life. Some of them (I’m looking at you Shawn Kemp), did it for no additional fee.

My stud fee is somewhere around $20. The lesson here is that I’m nowhere near as valuable as a horse. But we already knew that.

No Longer A Pledge

I swore to prevent forest fires, they sprinkled some pixie dust, and POOF! I’m a lawyer. I’ve got a Bar Card and everything. I’m pretty sure there are no more hurdles, I’m official. I can go off and litigate for food now.

Funny, I don’t feel different. Look at me trying to be all serious:

Flotsam and Jetsam

A grab bag of topics...

-- After yesterday's rambling, almost complete non-sensical post, Joe Posnanski goes off and says what I was trying to say, by posting about the virtues of smaller sports in his story about Rulon Gardner. It is insightful, well-written, and funny as hell. It exposes clearly why he is a professional writer and I am not. But it is a great insight on how to write a piece when there is almost TOO much material. Go read it. It's not great sportswriting, it's simply great writing.

-- Osler posted this writer giving advice to choosing a law school. I realize its a a humor piece and he's trying to crack a joke, but something about the inherent assumptions of the writer are inherently depressing. His advice can be boiled down to this: go out and choose a party school in which you won't work hard or learn anything because being a lawyer is a miserable life and you want to put off that misery as long as you can.

Now, I've been a lawyer for all of a month and a half, but that's contrary to my experience so far. Being a lawyer is a lot of work, but it's also a lot of fun. We have a client who I swear is completely insane, and I'm working on my first hot tubbing case. It's a blast.

His advice also can be boiled down to this: DON'T GO TO BAYLOR. Hey, Baylor is hard. And the grading curve is not generous. We work a lot. But I wouldn't trade my three years there for anything. His search seems based on finding a second undergrad experience. Look, I loved undergrad. and I partied my share at LSU. Hell, I partied your share as well. But the idea of doing it again just isn't that appealing to me. How long can one stay in a state of arrested development? Being a grown up ain't that bad.

Though I do agree that one should go South where the girls are prettier, the food is tastier, the weather is better, and the people are nicer.

-- My legal assistant wore a light green suit with a black top today. I only bring this up because I wore a black suit with a light green shirt. It was pointed out several times in the office that we were negatives of one another. I only point this out to demonstrate that I am pretty much a magnet of general mockery wherever I go.

-- Bottle Rocket is on TV. I still hate Wes Anderson, though.

Wasted Weekend

I’m kind of a sucker for obscure sports. I don’t know why, I think it’s my desire to be an arrogant, know-it-all prick, but it could be something else. Doubtful though. There’s really only one reason to follow European soccer, and it’s not “the artistry of the game”.

OK, I’m being harsh to myself. There is a value to watching small-time sports, and that is the almost complete absence of the sports media. Sportswriters, as a collective group, are a bunch of hacks. Sure, there are some good ones (Joe Posnanski of the KC Star writes with such grace that I almost WANT to root for the Royals, I grew up reading and adoring Thomas Boswell of the Washington Post, I read everything by King Kaufman of Salon, and I wish I read more of Allen Parra), but most of the sportswriters are a bunch of shrill hucksters who simply mouth clichés and quote inanities. Read a Bill Plaschke column and I swear you’ll lose at least a point of your IQ. I stopped reading Jay Mariotti columns when I could actually feel my brain cells killing themselves. It’s a rare sports column I’ve read where afterwards I’ve said, “Gee, that was insightful.”

I know it’s not the Paris Peace Talks, but I don’t think I’m asking for the world when I ask that sports journalism actually be more than just marketing for the local club. So when I watch the NCAA lacrosse tourney, I know that I’m not going to be subjected to a whole lot of excess pontificating. OK, the announcers are pretty B-level (that’s being charitable), but there’s a minimum amount of fuss. They just show me the friggin’ game, with a minimum of bells and whistles. There’s nothing worse than “artistic” camera angles and God help us, the sideline reporter.

So, instead of watching the NBA playoffs in between three hours of commercials, I settled in this weekend to watch the NCAA lacrosse tourney, watch a little English Premiership, and listen to LSU baseball on the internet. And I couldn’t have enjoyed it more. I’ve found that the more I enjoy a sporting event is inversely proportional to its level of hype. Big sporting events become more and more about the “event” and less and less about the game. Which is cool for the Super Bowl party, but not much else.

There’s a certain virtue to it being just about the game. So when the Ohio State goalie goes end to end to score a goal, or Notre Dame hits the crossbar and in for a game-winner in OT, or LSU closes down the Box and all of those former players walk onto the field to applaud the crowd… it means more. Because the moment was genuine and not just a marketing gimmick. Sure, in the grand scheme of things, sports don’t matter. But it’s the trivial things that make life, well, life.

End of the Rainbow

Every year, the AFI hosts the 48-hour Film Project, which is essentially a giant improv contest. Each team gets a genre drawn out of a hat, and everyone has to use the same character, line of dialogue, and prop. The winner gets, well, I don’t know what the winner gets. The esteem and envy of his fellow improvisational filmmakers.

Anyway, my sister-in-law participates as an actor every year. And this year’s entry is "The End of the Rainbow". Here’s a link to go check out the not-safe-for-work good times (no nudity, she’s not that kind of girl). Last year’s film by the same team, also starring my sister-in-law, is at the same link: "Guess What's Coming to Dinner?"

Go check it out.

Goodbye To All That

“I've never known what made you get up and go
And what pushed you over the edge,
When we were up on the roof
Was it the truth when you said
You never made a single difference.

Did you get it in your head
That things are better left unsaid
when you up and left town now?
Did you need to rearrange
Or did you need to make a change
Rather than just rotting the place
We used to hang around?

I know that things have gotta change,
I know your never coming back to this town.
I wonder where you've gone,
Who you're with;
I still ask myself,
Where the hell is Mike Sinkovich?”
I loved graduation. I loved seeing everyone again. I even liked being in Waco for the weekend. But there’s nothing like going back to remind you that the era is officially over. The law school belongs to other people now. The BLS will always be special to me, and I really did like seeing people again. And I don’t really want to go back. It’s time to keep moving forward, on to other things.

You don’t want to be hanging around the bar at 3 AM, long after it’s closed. It’s time to go. Look me up if you ever make it to Dallas.

I PASSED!!!!

Woo hoo!!!!

Feeling Locked Out

I was locked out of my apartment last night, which sort of sucked. I came home sort of late, took out my trusty fob to get access to the elevator and… nothing. My magic twanger wasn’t so magic, so I couldn’t work the elevator because I didn’t have access. No problem. I’ll take the stairs. Same problem, I couldn’t get access to the stairwell because the technology gods, as longtime readers know, hate me.

Hey, no problem. I’ll just call building maintenance and they’ll let me in. After a barely civil conversation with the maintenance supervisor, who informed me he didn’t have the power to fix the fobs, he told me, and I quote: “Well, just come on down to the office tomorrow and we’ll take care of it.”

Dude. I’m locked out now. I’m not sleeping in a hotel when I have a perfectly good apartment right here. And I’m certainly not wearing the same clothes for two straight days. Get your ass down to the building and let me in.

But I live 45 minutes away.

Fine. I’ll read a book.

Seriously, why does technology hate me?

Six Demon Bag

The floor shook. I mean, it was really shaking. It was buckling so bad I thought there was a real chance we were all going to fall through and land on the patrons of the bar downstairs. A dancing banana was trying to start a mosh pit. Earlier in the evening, Acosta was trying to bum cigarettes and we suggested the guy in the banana costume, but that idea was quickly shot down as his outfit didn’t have pockets. But just ten minutes ago, we saw him smoking a Marlboro.

Everyone played the drums. Everyone. The lead singer ran around stage and was tapping out the beat against the scaffolding. And as we stomped our feet or danced or jumped up and down or whatever… the floor held up. Even as we felt it buckle beneath our feet.

One of the joys of liking small, indie rock bands is that you have moments like these. When you drag a few friends to see a band they’ve either never heard of, or only heard of vaguely all those times when they are politely ignoring you. And then they come, and the band is every bit as good as you promised. And they are sending text messages to their friends to go check out Man Man. Why? Because Man Man is friggin’ awesome.

Free Tibet (Made In China)

OK, is it wrong that I find this really, really funny? That those "Free Tibet" flags that people wave to protest China are actually made in China. How great is that? Who says China isn't ready to compete in the global capitalist market place?

Which begs the question: since the Tibetan flag is illegal in China, does that mean all of those factory workers are now going to prison. Because that's not the sort of thing I'd put past the Chinese government.

And for the record, I honestly could give a fig about Tibet. I have absolutely no emotional energy tied up in the fate of tibet. It's hard for me to conjure a topic I care less about.

Criticism

Yes, that is a picture of a dog peeing on Natalie Portman. Apparently, everyone is a critic. Then again, this is what you get for making The Other Boleyn Girl. I love the internet sometimes.

Work And Such

Not much to report. Just that it’s amazing how much of this job is ebb and flow. There will be a second I am scrounging for work to do, and ten minutes later, I have a million things in my inbox.

Mental note: must destroy inbox.

God Stuff

Pope Benedict XVI made his first trip to America this weekend, so now seems as good as time as any to re-evaluate my faith. Being a Catholic over the last ten years hasn’t exactly been a cakewalk, as we’re not exactly having our best decade. Osler wondered aloud on his blog what excuse people have for not going to church, and I can only give him mine: anger.

That’s right, I’ve been angry with the Catholic Church. Not God, mind you, just the church. I don’t think it was God who was commanding priests to abuse little kids, and it certainly wasn’t God who tried to cover it up. What got me so angry was the church’s refusal to just come out and defrock the offending priests and lead the investigation. Instead they stonewalled the victims of abuse. And that’s just cowardice. It went from a scandal of “a few bad apples” to an institutional problem. How hard is it to say “Priests shouldn’t rape anybody. But especially kids”? Not very. In fact, it should go without saying.

And then Pope John Paul died and Cardinal Ratzinger became Benedict XVI. And I felt like I was getting slapped in the face by the church. Were they this out of touch? Or am I just out of touch with my own church? Ratzinger was the Prefect of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith for 25 years. It’s a very old office in the Catholic Church, and you might know it by its original name: the Office of the Inquisition. His responsibility was to stomp out any deviation from Orthodoxy and, incidentally, to investigate and monitor the priesthood. So he’s the guy ultimately responsible for the Church’s policy on trying to keep the sex scandal confidential. Which didn’t exactly endear me to the new pope.

But more than that, he’s one of the leaders of the conservative wing of the Church. There’s nothing wrong with that per se, but I’m a firm believer that one of the great things the Church has done in the past fifty years was Vatican II, which was the great liberalization of the Church. And one of the great legacies of JPII was the way he reached out to the world beyond Europe and to the other religions, particularly Judaism. The Catholic Church’s history regarding the Jews is not what you may call stellar, so actually apologizing for the Holocaust was a huge step for Catholics. And I thought that Ratzinger was a symbolic turning away from all of this progress. I stopped going to church because I didn’t feel like the Church had much to say to me anymore. And when I did go, I felt distant and closed off from God.

And who did that hurt? Well, me. So, as we enter Pentecost, it’s time to be open to the Holy Spirit again. It’s a fitting time for renewal, as it’s one of my favorite times of the Christian calendar. It celebrates the birth of the church, so it’s one of those holidays that celebrates the very people doing the celebration. And it’s been remarkably resistant to commercialization. It’s a true holiday in the sense that it is a Holy Day.

I went to my new Church this weekend. And the priest talked about the very things I was angry about and admitted he was angry, too. But part of being a Catholic is to be an example of Christian ideals: humility, faith, patience, and forgiveness. It’s time to forgive.

Pope Benedict, when he spoke at St. Patrick’s Cathedral this weekend, used the analogy that we are like the stained glass windows. From the outside, we are dim and dark, but when we enter, the glass is vibrant and colorful from the light shining through. We need to go out and shine God’s light. It was a message from my pope.

And I felt moved by the Holy Spirit.

Becoming Texan

I am one step closer to becoming a Texan. Not that I’m there yet, and I still am under a strict “howdy” ban, but I’m making progress. I finally registered my car in Texas, got a Texas driver’s license, and registered to vote. According to the state of Texas, I’m a citizen of this fine state.

Now I know that doesn’t actually count, so I’m thinking of the things I still need to do before I can actually call myself a Texan:

1) Wear a cowboy hat without looking like a moron.

2) Beat up someone from Oklahoma.

3) Learn the words to “Deep In the Heart of Texas”.

4) Attend a Pat Green concert.

5) Explain to a total stranger that Texas can secede from the union at any time.

6) Make an impassioned defense to a total stranger that Texas is the greatest state in the country.

7) Actually mean what I say in #6.

8) Go to Lubbock. If a Texan won’t do it, who will?

9) Learn to say the “t” in Baltimore. I’m never gonna have a Texas twang, but dropping Baw’lmer-ese would be a good start.

10) Learn how to navigate downtown Dallas.

Tax Day

My boss isn’t just a lawyer, he’s also a CPA. Which means yesterday was sort of like the Worst Day Ever for him, only it repeats itself every year. Of course, when he was finishing up those tax returns, someone had to bring them all to the post office to fight off the long lines and the protesters (honest to God… protesters, apparently some people aren’t big fans of Alexander Hamilton’s sage words that taxes are the price of ordered society). Of course, it fell to the new guy to drive to the one post office in Dallas open after 7 PM. Not like he just moved to Dallas and has no idea where anything is, so he ended up driving around looking for, and I quote, “a big flag” for about half an hour. Yeesh, I’d hate to be that guy, he got totally screwed…

... oh wait. Damn it.

Paul says it’s good for me. He told me I haven’t been complaining enough, which is the mark of a lawyer.

Bonk

I ran my car into a post. Not intentionally, mind you. And I wasn’t going very fast, but I did scratch up the side of my car. Stupid parking garages.

I’m like a moleman. I just go from underground parking garage to underground parking garage. Every so often I surface and see the sun. One of these days, I might actually go outside. I hear that’s what all of the cool kids are doing.

Making Gretzky's Head Bleed

It’s tough goings being a hockey fan deep in the heart of Texas. Not that it’s difficult to get games, as I’ve been able to plunk in front of my TV and just veg out. But it’s tough when you watch a truly outstanding game and there’s no one to rant about it to. Luckily I have this space.

I’m kind of an obsessive Flames fan, for no particular reason other than I liked it back in the day when Jim Peplinski would make Gretzky’s head bleed. So, I settled in last night to watch the Flames play the Sharks, and precisely two and half minutes into the game, the Flames were getting pasted 3-0. I know my readership is not full of hockey experts, but you can figure out that being down three goals in the first three minutes is pretty bad. Then the announcer said something so stupid I can’t believe he is paid money to talk into a microphone: “An early 3-0 lead is the worst lead in hockey.”

Let’s review. The Sharks were averaging just over a goal a minute, which means if they kept up that pace, they were gonna win 60-0. The Flames pulled their starting goalie, Mikka Kiprusoff, one of the best goalies on the planet to put in Curtis Joseph, a guy who hasn’t been good since before anyone had even heard of Britney Spears. The C of Red, the affectionate name for the Flames home crowd which has a reputation for being the rowdiest in hockey, sat in stunned silence. An average NHL goalie allows less than 3 goals per game, and the Sharks goalie, Nabahkov, actually IS the greatest goalie on the planet right now, and he allows about two goals per game. Pretending a 3-0 lead was anything other than an excuse to start watching Deadliest Catch was just silly.

And then this happened:

Now, there’s a lot of cool things about that hit, other than the fact Patrick Marleau ended up looking like Tina Turner after she disagreed with Ike. The guy who made that hit is Corey Sarich, who I believe is the worst player in hockey right now. He’s spent most of this series looking like Bambi on ice, getting abused by Sharks forwards as they take easy shots on goal. Sarich went from lousy waste of space to the Guy Who Saved the Series in the amount of time it took him to break some dude’s face. Even better, the Sharks retaliated and somehow the Flames ended up on the power play. Which they immediately scored on. Somehow, a dirty hit by the last guy on the bench was a penalty on the other team. I would like to say I don’t condone dirty play, but that would be a lie. So I loved every second of it.

The Flames then improbably rallied back from the deficit, and won the game 4-3. The game-winning goal was scored by Owen Nolan, who used to play for the Sharks. So, sometimes the moron in the booth is right. Apparently, a 3-0 lead is the worst in hockey.

Clearing Out The Inbox

And so it ends.

Today I received an email informing me the last of my law school grades have finally been posted. In an odd twist, I got an A. Yeah, great. I get an A when I really don't need it. Thanks, BLS. Actually, this was one of my best quarters.

C'est finis. Law school is officially over.

Opening Day, Sort Of

Yesterday was Opening Day in Texas, as the Rangers played their first home game of the season. Their opponent? None other than my beloved Baltimore Orioles, who brought the beatdown, 8-1. Now, as part of my move to Dallas, I am making a concerted effort to root for Dallas sports franchises and thereby become a real Dallas resident.

Cowboys? A classic franchise with the added benefit of irritating my brother, a diehard Redskins fan. I’m in.

Mavs? Well, they seem to be the most popular team which actually plays in Dallas proper. And the arena is pretty close to my apartment. Besides, I like Dirk Nowitizki. I’m in.

Stars? Dallas needs hockey fans. As someone who actually knows what forechecking and backchecking are, and the difference between the two, I think I qualify. Despite the fact I think Mike Modano is a sissy, I’m in.

Rangers? Nothing personal, but I can’t give up my O’s. Ten straight losing seasons, and you’d think I’d be willing to jump ship, particularly since the owner is one of the few people on earth more irritating than Donald Trump. But I’ve been hardened. Nothing makes a more passionate fans than years and years of bitter defeats. And trust me, I’ve got bitterness. Just ask me about Jeffery Maier. I dare ya.

There are teams I like, and I’m adding the Dallas teams to the “like” list. Heck, I’d even consider myself a genuine fan. But there is only one professional sports team I truly love: the Orioles. The fact that they currently stink right now, and they are owned by a guy bent on the destruction of a once proud franchise actually pains me. Sports franchises are a bizarre public trust, and the Orioles seem bent on violating that trust. But I can’t give them up.

So, here’s 10 reasons to root for the Orioles for despite yet another losing season:

1. Miguel Tejada doesn’t play for the O’s anymore. Neither does Jay Gibbons. Hopefully, they spent their multimillion dollar contracts on some good lawyers who will help keep them out of prison for purchasing all of those illegal steroids. Good riddance.

2. George “Shutdown” Sherrill. The O’s have a new closer every year, understanding there’s no point getting a top closer if there are no leads to protect. Shutdown Sherrill is a freshly minted closer with a cool nickname in tow.

3. Adam Jones, Luke Scott, and Nick Markakis. For the first time in a decade, our starting outfield doesn’t suck. In fact, Luke Scott is the old man of the group, so we can actually expect these guys to get better. What a novel concept. Getting guys when they are still improving instead of purchasing their bloated corpse for ten times market value.

4. Scott Moore is slated to start all three games in the Texas series. He’s also slated to play three different positions (3rd base, 2nd base, and 1st base). I love super utility guys. It’s like Little League.

5. Actual prospects! Adam Jones was the jewel of the Mariners system, and he’s now our centerfielder. No pitcher on the Opening Day roster has more than 15 wins in their entire career, which isn’t that bad of a sign since it’s because they are all youngsters, not piles of garbage (except Cabrera, who is both young and terrible – now that Gibbons has been cut he takes over the mantle of The Oriole Who I Hate). And there’s even more help on the horizon, especially in the form of catcher Matt Wieters, one of the top prospects in all of baseball. This means that while we may suck this year, this is bona fide hope we’re getting better.

6. Habit.

7. The last chance to see B-Rob before he inevitably gets traded to a contender. Brian Roberts has been the rarest of Orioles the last few years: a young, talented, and exciting player. The O’s have already shipped off our best player, Eric Bedard, so really it’s only a matter of time before some team clinging to some delusional playoff dream overpays us for a few month rental of our All-Star second baseman. Operators are standing by. And trade speculation is fun.

8. Camden Yards. Still pretty.

9. The flurry of “Why Not?” emails flooding my inbox from fellow delusional Oriole fans. Kevin Millar guaranteed a World Series this year. Why not?

10. Rooting for the Orioles shows character. Anyone can root for the Yankees. Rooting for the Yankees or the Red Sox shows you are a soulless front runner, and you are going to hell. You probably cheer for the hunter to kill Bambi’s mom, too.

Racism and Basketball

One of the great things about sports is that it is pretty close to a true meritocracy. No one cares about anything except how well you perform, and there is an army of statisticians and guy with cameras on hand to record your every move. Sure, some guys get to rest on their reputations (Brett Favre, Derek Jeter), but despite the fact athletes are grossly overpaid, they can point to verifiable facts of what they contribute to a team’s success, and therefore their bottom line.

On the other hand, most sportswriting is downright awful. OK, that’s not entirely true, it just seems that way. But there is a vast array of code words which do nothing but hide the author’s true intent. “Professional” or “hard-working” usually means a white guy. “Scrappy” means a white guy who isn’t any good. “Athletic” means black. And I think it should be legal to punch anyone in the face who uses the lazy analogy of the 1980s Celtics-Lakers rivalry as a shorthand on race relations. Besides, it’s an analogy which doesn’t work for me, given that I rooted for the Sixers in the ‘80s because they had Dr. J.

I bring this up because Memphis is in the NCAA title game tonight and I couldn’t be happier about. Not because I care about Memphis, I really don’t. But we’ve been inundated by columns and talking heads talking about how Memphis is going to lose because they don’t play “fundamentals” and they rely on their “athleticism” and that they lack “fundamentals”. And it’s all a bunch of crap.

I challenge you to watch Derrick Rose play, and say he lacks fundamentals. And while only a moron would say he’s not athletic, looking at the way he can distribute the ball and his creativity in the air, he’s relying on more than just his athletic gift. He’s certainly hard-working. You don’t get that good without hour and hours of practice every day. It’s insulting to call him and his teammates merel;y “athletic” and they have made a mockery of the criticism in all of their press conferences. Coach John Calipari has pointed this out by claiming he’s just throwing them out there and letting them play and he’s not coaching at all. Which is a lie. Memphis is extraordinarily well-coached and they have a deep rotation of players. It’s insulting to everyone to call them simply athletic.

Hell, it’s insulting to their opponents as well. UCLA’s best player is Kevin Love, who has been described as hard-working and a “student of the game” despite his “limited athleticism”. Any guesses as to what color his skin is? Just as Rose is as hard-working and diligent as Love, Love is every bit as athletic as Rose. Sure, he doesn’t have the same aerial skills, but he’s dominant under the rim. Dorsey, Memphis’ big man, gave him the back-handed compliment that Love is a good passer, but Love IS a good passer and he also scores 20 points per game. That’s two things Dorsey can’t do (though Dorsey is ten times the defensive player Love is).

You’d think we’d be past this point. That we wouldn’t evaluate players and teams simply on melanin. But apparently not. So, I can’t wait for tonight’s game. And I’ll be rooting for Memphis to cut down the nets, if only to cast one small blow against narrow minded sportswriters (nothing against Kansas, a team I picked to win the tourney in my bracket pool – against Memphis). Just because they have tattoos and corn-rows, it doesn’t mean they can’t play fundamentals. And it doesn’t mean they can’t whip your ass.

Le Cage Aux Folletes

I was out at a restaraunt the other day, and the table next to me was full of drag queens. Now, like everyone else, I love drag queens .* There's something about a guy who completely rejects the social norms, but does so in a fun, kitchzy way. I mean, there's two ways to go with alienation, and it's a lot better if you just go fabulous. It's not hurting anybody, and almost everyone thinks it's kind of funny. And I like Eddie Izzard as much as the next guy (perhaps even more), but he's an "executive transvestite", not a drag queen. Drag queens take it the additional step and have ended up being accepted as outsiders in their own way. And that's pretty cool.

But midway through their meal, one of the party got up and went to the bathroom, which begged the qustion: does drag queen use the men's or the women's room?

Turns out, it's the men's room.

*NOTE FROM MANAGEMENT - Oh come on. Admit it. You liked The Birdcage.

Two Great Tastes which do Not Go Great Together

The Black Keys are one of my favorite bands, and they just hooked up with uber-producer Dangermouse and put out a critically acclaimed new album. And the general ommentary is entirely correct: Dangermouse has deepened the band's sound and a fuller and cleaner presentation. There's more layers to the music now, and the album is by far the best-produced and best sounding album they have put out by far. It's their most varied and richest work.

It's also their worst album.

nothing against Dangermouse, who is really good at what he does. Hell, he's so talented he made the Gorillaz BETTER. He's earned every bit of his reputation, and he did what he does on this album.

It misses the whole point. The Black Keys are great because they make urgent, violent, and snesual blues songs. Their albums sound like they were recorded on an eight-track in the basemement of a tire warehouse. Their music is dirty, ugly, and urgent. That's what makes it good. Pretty-ing up the sound and adding all of these cool instruments misses the point.

Some great music isn't supposed to be pretty. It grabs you by the throat and shakes you until you stand up and dance or sing along. I like the idea of moving in new directions, but do you know how hard it is to find a good blues rock album that's actually fun?

My Empty Apartment

I have a job, which pays me well more than I am worth. I have a very pretty apartment with all sorts of cool amenities I don't need. But I have not been paid yet, which means I haven't been able to buy things. Like furniture.

So, right now, I'm sitting in a folding lawn chair in the middle of my apartment since I don't own a couch. Theoretically, I can afford furniture. Just not until pay day.

Reporting In From Dallas

OK, there's been a lack of posting here as I moved across the great wasteland and into my new digs in Dallas. After a long fight with Time Warner, I now have cable TV and internet. Not in time for Opening Day, which lead to a lot of recriminations and me not getting billed. Never get between a displaced Baltimoron and the O's.

I'm two days into the new job and I've already sued somebody, so things seem to be going well. I even requested a writ of execution to seize a guy's personal assets. I'm hoping to get something cool, like a dog or something. Anyway, it's a boatload of fun, though a lot of work. Though when i get home I'm exhausted, so after I cook dinner, I'm pretty much ready for bed.

What the hell is happening to me? It's like I'm becoming an adult or something. Nuts.

Last Acts of Law School

Packing up my life and moving to Dallas continues. Just a few more days until I go to the Big Moving Van in the Sky, and kiss off from the BLS. I cleaned out my locker today and took some really ugly clothes to Goodwill. All in all, a productive day. But before I go, I get to do my three last BLS acts.

ONE. Barrister one more time with Jerry. Jerry is just about the smartest person on the planet, and one of the nicest ones, too. We get to sit down a grill first years on con Law issues they don't understand, which will be great fun. It's one last chance to do something law school related with Jerry who I am proud to call a great friend. His friendship of me means one of two things: it means I'm am a pretty good guy to have someone so smart and decent who is willing to call me a friend OR it means Jerry is a terrible judge of character. We're leaning towards the latter.

TWO. Go to immunity day. Why the heck not? I'm not getting called on tomorrow. And hopefully we'll wander over to Scruffy's for one last hurrah at Scruffy's. Rumor has it, there is karaoke. I wouldn't know.

THREE. Get interviewed for a BLS promo video. Someone in the recruitment office had a sudden lapse of judgment and thought it would be a good idea to have someone talk to me and then get someone else to record it. and then possibly use part of the footage to convince people to come to Baylor. Really, who listens to me? I promised Becky I'd even shave, as I've been living out my unemployed hobo fantasies this week and I'm beginning to look like I live under a bridge.

Then it's Dallas, ho.

Brackets and Tree

Osler insinuated that I may be the Western Kentucky Hilltopper. Nothing could be further from the truth. I am moonlighting as the Stanford Tree. Unfortunately, I will start my job as a brand new baby attorney on Monday, so I must give up the duties of Tree-ness. Though the Tree is coming to Texas, so Longhorns beware. There is nothing scarier than a dancing tree.

Unlike Osler, my bracket looks great. I know, no one cares. Talking about your bracket is one step away from talking about your fantasy baseball team. There ought to be a law preventing public discussion of either. But, since that law does not exist yet, I will brag about still having all my Elite Eight teams left, plus I nailed both Siena and Villanova. Too bad that my Butler pick went down in flames. Stupid refs.

Too Much TV

I've watched a truly unhealthy amount of basketball this weekend. By Sunday afternoon, I thought I was gonna need those Clockwork Orange things on my eyeballs just to make it through UNC-Arkansas. I'm a trooper.

Hilltoppers!!!

Hide the children! Beware of the Western Kentucky Hilltoppers! Big Red is coming to celebrate! The best part of the toruney isn't last second shots or gambling on your bracket. It is goofy mascots. And by any measure, Western Kentucky has one of the goofiest mascots in the country.

Big D

Driving to Dallas in a monsoon was not fun, and there were actually times I thought I was going to die. Such is the way of the world. I didn't die, and I got to meet the new boss and find a new place to live. I am two weeks away from becoming a Dallas resident. Pretty cool.

However, today is my favorite day of the year. I will sit in a bar with tons of TV's and watch 16 basketball games, most of which involving teams I barely care about. Really, how awesome is the tourney? I will of course be passionately rooting for every double-digit seed, but especially UMBC (Go Retrievers!) and the B (Go Bears!).

Bears Dance

The Selection Committee made the B wait. And wait. And wait. But after they had their fun tormenting Baylor, revealing the Bears last (that's 65th of 65), the NCAA threw the Bears a bone by giving them a pretty darn good draw. Have you ever watched Big Ten basketball? It's like watching paint dry. Well, if the paint was getting fouled by some awkward post player. Purdue ain't that great, particularly for a sixth seed. Let's put it like this, Baylor will be the far more athletic team.

I'd rather have Baylor's draw than Texas A&M's. And A&M got a higher seed. But at least Baylor will have a puncher's chance in the second round against Xavier. If A&M gets past BYU in the first, they are going to get stomped by UCLA. So, all things considered, maybe it was a good thing A&M beat Baylor last week.

Spring Break

I am not dead. Despite what the people who left me 10 messages on my cellphone think. I was just in Houston without my cell or internet, enjoying life as a soon-to-be-employed attorney. Being in Houston reminded me why I'm happy to have a job in Dallas.

I also learned that it hurts when Random Drunk Guy punches you in the head.

Environmntalists Say You Are A Sinner

Before your gas up your SUV, beware that you are going to hell. Now, there's nothing the Catholics enjoy more than listing sins which are going to damn me to eternal torment, I know this from a lifetime of mass. So, using styrafoam and failing to throw out my fast food leftovers is yet another we add to the things I will not do. I mean, like I need another mark on my ledger.

Not to be outdone, the Baptists joined the failing to go green is a sin party. Because as long as people are getting sent to hell, the Baptists are so there and will not be outdone by anyone.

OK, everyone. Give a hoot, don't pollute.... or you are going to hell.

Black Shroud of Dorkiness

Dorks and geeks everywhere... today is a day of mourning. For today, Gary Gygax, High Lord of All Things Geeky, has died. As the creator of the oft-mocked and oft-imitated Dungeons and Dragons, he had a surprisingly large impact on our culture. Role playing games have reached a certain level of acceptance, and are among the most popular computer games (World of Warcraft). Hey, I freely admit to hanging out in a basement and rolling a 20-sided die. Mock if you will (and I'm sure you will), D&D was pretty fun.

In tribute, here's a link of Stephen Lynch singing an ode to the classic game:

Back to BLS

Not having a job has turned out to be surprisingly busy. Job interviews suck up a lot of my time, but the MPRE looms this weekend and I did manage to squeeze in a trip to the Baylor-Texas A&M riot, er, basketball game.

I also made my triumphant return to the BLS courtrooms, to help Matt judge mini direct and cross. As a rule, everyone was pretty good but still raw. And it's pretty cool to get to sit in there and see everyone's potential and realize that in a few months, they will probably reach it because, well, they won't have any choice. Say what you will about PC, it does make you accomplish things you didn't think you could. It's not a whole lot of fun, but getting to step back and see how much progress we have all made in just two quarters is pretty fun.

And no one got a memo. Making the courtroom 50% less evil.

Awful Injuries

Talk about burying the lede. In the ninth paragraph of a story on Soriano's broken finger, the Cubs official website unleashes this bewildering passage:

The Cubs have had a variety of injuries this spring. So far, infielder Mark DeRosa was hospitalized with an irregular heartbeat, pitcher Jose Ascanio had a bruised face after getting punched in a robbery attempt, and outfielder Felix Pie missed a couple of days early because of a twisted testicle.

This begs a few questions. One, how did Pie twist said testicle? Two, why isn't this a story in and of itself? You didn't think people would notice this sentence? Third, why does he insist that the pronounciation is "PEE-yay" instead of, well, "pie". Because I almost had a new favorite player.

The Real World Beckons

I never knew doing nothing could be so rewarding. Free time is the greatest gift the world could give me post-Bar, and I am gleefully wasting time. I wandered around the HEB for two hours just because, well, I had nowhere else to be.

Eventually I have to get one of those job things I've heard so much about. Actually, I had an interview this morning and I made the rounds trying to drum up leads. So now that I've spent a glorious weekend doing absolutely nothing, it's now time to join the real world. If you happen to be an employer, feel free to hire me.

Sample Questions

The Bar sucks. And it's because of questions which run something lime this:

The police execute a valid arrest warrant and detain Donny Defendant. They read him his Miranda warnings and begin questioning him. He is silent at first until the police officer beats in Defendant's head with a crowbar. Donny Defendant confesses to the crime.

Is the statement admissible?

a) No, because Defendant's confession is inadmissible hearsay.
b) No, because the crowbar was purchased through interstate commerce.
c) Yes, because he was read his Miranda rights and the interrogation was therefore valid.
d) Yes, because all criminal confessions are admissible. What are you, some sort of pinko criminal-lover? Answer (d), you sissy.

Then you start looking for option (e)

Oscars Hangover

I love the Oscars. I love them in all of their bloated, pretentious glory. When you open up your web browser and read the umpteenth article on How the Oscars Can Be Saved, which they have been running every year of my life, you start to believe that the Oscars need saving. And this was the lowest rated Oscar telecast ever, mainly because all of the Best Picture nominees grossed less than Spider-Man 3. On its opening weekend. (OK – a slight exaggeration. But if you take out Juno, it is a true statement).

And I’m really happy No Country For Old Men won. The Coens are by far my favorite directors, and I’m unwinding the day before the Bar by watching Blood Simple, their first movie, for about the one millionth time. But let’s face it, they don’t exactly get people running to the TV set. And they aren’t any better than they were two days ago.

The Academy has done much better in recent years of trying to award the best movie. This is an institution which never handed out a Best Director award to Kurosawa, Bergman, Hitchcock, or Kubrick. It’s the same body which honored Ordinary People over Raging Bull, Dances With Wolves over GoodFellas, and The Greatest Show On Earth over High Noon. Hey, it only took them 30 years to get around to honoring Scorcese. So at least they are trying, dipping into the indie films to flesh out the nominees. Even if they don’t let them win that often, at least they get invited to the party.

But what the Oscars need is to stop being ashamed of themselves. You know what? Be gaudy and tacky. Stop being ashamed of yourselves. Slap yourself on the back and just go for broke. Have twenty minute musical numbers. Wear outrageous clothes. And keep honoring good but not great movies. Because Hollywood is at its best when it goes overboard. Stop being humble. Be your self-congratulatory best. Or worst. And next year, give an Oscar to some actor turned director working on a vanity project instead of a master of the craft. It will be just like old times.

Failing that, let's just have more Gary Busey:

Last Thoughts Before A Three-Day Quiz

T-minus one day until the Bar exam. I wish I had something pithy or insightful to say, but I don't. More than anything, I'm really nervous. This is the biggest exam I will ever take, and I'd rather not have to take it twice. Right now, it all just seems like a form of hazing. Something that old lawyers make the newbies do to demonstrate how much we want to be a lawyer.

But I'm also really excited. And it's mainly for the same reasons. I'm about to take the Bar Exam. In two months or so, I'll get the results and then I will officially be a lawyer. How cool is that? I feel like I'm taking a step outside myself and looking at this kid who is about to be a lawyer, provided he passes. At many points in my life, that just never seemed possible. But here I am, right on the threshold of a new career and a new life.

Second chances happen. Hell, in my case, so do third and fourth chances. Five years ago, this didn't even seem remotely possible, but here I am. And all I can think of is a simple mantra: Don't blow it.

Terps v Chokies

Best Headline of the day:

Terps Gag, Hokies Puke

And they aren't kidding. Click on the link to see the Hokie blow chunks all over the court and then the noble efforts to celan up afterwards. Bonus points to the student section, which adjusted their "Fear the Turtle" signs to say "Fear the Mop". That's thinking on your feet, guys.

I Endorse Another Winner

TJ was named editor of Law Review! Now, I have no real interest in the inner politics of Law Review given that I am both graduated and never was on Law Review in the first place. But TJ's win was an experiement in the power of my endorsing skills.

In my time at the BLS, I was three for three on "official endorsements" on candidates for SBA. Using my name on your SBA advertising was like the Good Housekeeping Seal of Approval. Automatic win. So TJ took the extra step and tried to see if my powers extended not just to SBA but to Law Review elections.

It does. I take full credit for TJ's accomplishments.

Honoring Bad Presidents

Today is President's Day, the day we honor both George Washington and Abraham Lincoln. I went through a phase in college trying to prove Washington wasn't a great president, but that's just because I'm a jerk. These are two men who are actually worthy of their lofty reputations and are actually worthy of a holiday dedicated to half-price bedding. Strangley enough, today is also the anniversary of Jefferson Davis becoming president of the Confederacy. He has no holiday.

But how about our not so great presidents? Can we get a holiday for William Henry Harrison? He died only 31 days into office because he insisted on giving a long-winded speech during his inaguration, caught a cold, and died. He might be the only person to ever die for being boring.

Or Franklin Pierce? A guy described as "genuinely religious, loved his wife and reshaped himself so that he could adapt to her ways and show her true affection. He was one of the most popular men in New Hampshire, polite and thoughtful, easy and good at the political game, charming and fine and handsome." He is also generally regarded as a lousy president.

Or Warren G Harding? Another good man who made a lousy presidnet, he presided over an era of rampant corruption and soaring popularity. He summed up his own career honestly: "I am not fit for this office and never should have been here."

They can't all be on our money. But let's hear it for the guys who at least tried.

Not Relaxing

You know, I thought once you graduated, you'd have time to sit by the pool, drink pina coladas, and otherwise do nothing. Well, that is a big honkin' lie. Not only have I pretty much spent every waking hour of the past week simply studying for the Bar, apparently I'm getting dumber the more I study. My scores on the MBE are actually going down the more of them I take.

This can't be a good sign.

I'm thinking perhaps I should stop studying and should spend more time watching movies. Because that seems to be the only thing which causes my scores to go up. Hopefully, the Bar is easier the second time you take it.

Be My Valentine

Today is one of the greatest days on the calendar. A day in which love blooms and the impossible seems possible. You walk a little bit lighter in your step, armed with the happiness that goes with this day. Lovers dream and the rest of us think maybe this is the year in which the unrequited finally becomes requited.

That's right. Today, pitchers and catchers report. I couldn't be happier. Baseball is back.

Taking It To The Hole

Normally, when a woman dunks it's more of a finger-roll and the player just grabs the rim on the way down. Hey, it's better than what I can do, but it's not always that impressive. Enter Brittney Griner:



That first dunk is pretty awesome. She cuts through the lane and slams it home with some authority. And she's in HIGH SCHOOL. She has already committed to play for the Lady Bears here in Waco, so go buy tickets now. Becuase let's be honest, fundamentals are overrated. I want to see dunks and three-pointers.

Studying Still

You know, I thought graudating would make a big difference in my daily routine. And it has -- I'm studying even more. The Bar is just two weeks away and I'm woefully unprepared for it.

Though a Bar Exam with nothing but Con Law, Evidence, and Civ Pro questions would be cake. Is there a way to make that happen? I mean, I didn't really understand property the first time.

Graduation!

They gave me a degree!

Actually, that's not entirely true. They gave me a tube telling me that I can get my degree on Thursday, so I'm kind of hoping this is not some sort of elaborate prank. I mean, I got hooded and everything.

My family came to town and my mom was a big a hit. Which is obvious because, well, my mom is awesome. She flew into austin and didn't rent a car or anything, so most of ym weekend was spent driving my mom around, which was one part pain in the ass and about a hundred parts great. She even came by to Martin's patio to have a cocojo*.

Graudation day isn't really about you, it's about the people in your life who helped you get there. When I dropped my mom off today, she told me she had a great time and in fact, that yesterday was one of the best days she's had in a long time. Glad I could help, mom. Thanks for everything.

*Ed. Note -- The cocojo is an invention of Martin. It is perhaps one of the most delicious concotions on the plplanet, and it is named after his beautiful wife. You really should become friends with Martin and have him make you one.

Caps and Gowns

I picked up my cap and gown from the bookstore the other day. I look like a giant muppet with them on. I don't think anything has ever looked better.

Dean Essary has accepted our invitation to speak at graduation, which is extremely exciting. I don't think I'm alone in considering her my favorite first year professor, and Baylor suffered a real loss when she went off to become the Dean of Campbell (mascot: the Camels). Here's hoping she says "duty" at least once. I can't think of anyone I would rather speak at graduation.

Hey, it looks like they're gonna let me graduate! Go me!

20 Reasons I'm A Dork

I am a gigantic dork. But finally, I have a way to measure my geek-dom, as The Onion's AV club has helpfully posted the 20 pop culture obsessions geekier than Monty Python (HEY! Monty Python is not... oh, nevermind). So here's how I stack up in their list:

1 STAR TREK
Actually, I'm not a big Trekkie. though I do know the difference between Trekkies and Trekkers, so that can't be a good sign. And I've seen all of the movies. Well, crap.

2 REN FAIRES
Yup. I've been to Rennaissance Faires. I even knew the beer wench personally. No joke, she dated my best friend. I didn't dress up or anything, though I did eat a gigantic turkey leg, which is always fun.

3 FANTASY SPORTS LEAGUES
Kind of my dork wheelhouse. Let's just move on.

4 MICHAEL JACKSON
I don't even know how this makes the list. I know a lot of geeks, and we have never sat around and talked about Michael Jackson. nor were any of us actually Michael Jackson. So, no geekiness here.

5 WIKIPEDIA
I don't edit entries, but I do spend waaaaaaay too much time on the wiki. Sometimes you just have to look up 18th century French philosophers.

6 BATTLESTAR GALACTICA
Best show on TV. God, I am a gigantic dork. It's remarkable I've even kissed a girl.

7 ROCKY HORROR
Like I would ever turn down a Barry Bostwick/ Susan Sarandon movie with Tim Curry in drag. And I have thrown toast. This isn't going well for me, is it?

8 JOSS WHEDON
Buffy, no. Firefly, si! Not a huge fan, but i'm still sitting at dork table on this one.

9 MEDIA SPECIFIC ROLE PLAYING
I like my RPG's to enable me to create my own characters. those guys who need an RPG based on Harry Potter are TOTAL dorks. What losers.

10 MAGIC: THE GATHERING
Too dorky even for me, as this is the pyrmaid scheme of dorkiness. The game is won by whoever is most willing to invest the most money into the game. That's not really winning.

11 WORLD OF WARCRAFT
Actually, I don't play any video game. So there. Two straight! I'm not a dork!

12 THE SIMPSONS
Well, they meant Simpsons obsessiveness, which I don't have. Though I do love me Matt Groening.

13 DOCTOR WHO
Now we're getting into the dork underbrush! Huge fan. It was the only reason to watch PBS as a kid.

14 FRANK ZAPPA
Actually, despite my obsessive indie rock geekiness, I do not own a single Frank Zappa album. Not a one. Wow. I suck.

15 GAME SHOW TAPE TRADING
I didn't even know this existed. I'm losing my dork bona fides.

16 ANIME
Not for me. I'll admit it, I like Disney films. Give me a princess followed by small woodland creatures and I'm happy.

17 COSPLAY
I'm not dressing up as a cartoon character. Except maybe, just maybe, Shaggy from Scooby Doo.

18 LIVE ACTION ROLE PLAYING
No comment.

19 FACEBOOK
Baylor Law is doomed.

20 FANFIC
There is nothing good about fanfic. Nothing.


Overall, I'm pretty darn dorky. I'm surprised blogging wasn't counted against me.

Monk Goes To Canton

Art Monk finally got elected to the Hall of fame. It’s about friggin’ time.

I’m kind of a Hall of Fame geek. OK, not even kind of. I’m the person who is genuinely outraged by Tim Raines and Bert Blyleven’s stalled candidacies while Jim Rice keeps getting more and more support. But Art Monk has long been my pet candidate, as his absence from the Football Hall of Fame actually lessened the Hall because Monk isn’t just qualified, he’s obscenely qualified.

Passing in the NFL has radically changed in the past 25 years or so. And passing stats have become larger and larger as teams have relied on the pass. To see this in numbers, of the top 50 players ranked by career receptions, 33 of them started their career after 1990 and 15 of them are still active. That’s just a long way of saying passing stats are weighted heavily towards modern players.

Monk ranks 7th all-time in receptions. When he retired, he was #1. Monk played in an era before the current explosion in passes yet his numbers still stack up favorably against modern players, even Hall of Famers. For example, he had more receptions and more yards than Michael Irvin. He was also the first player to catch 100 passes in a season. And until Jerry Rice came along and broke every receiving record there was, Monk held the career receptions record, the single-season record, and the record for most consecutive games with a catch.

Those aren’t borderline Hall of Fame numbers. Those are inner circle, first-ballot numbers. That’s before we get into the three Super Bowl rings. And he had to wait for inferior receivers like James Lofton and Michael Irvin to get in before he got his ugly blazer (not to pick on Irvin who is a legit Hall of Famer, he just wasn’t Art Monk). Not to be mean to Lofton, but the only person who thought Lofton was better than Monk when they were playing at the same time was Lofton’s mom. The point is not that Lofton and Irvin don’t belong in the Hall of Fame, it is that they DO belong in the Hall and Monk is even better. There’s no better case for the Hall of Fame than being better than the people already enshrined.

It only took a decade, but Monk finally gets the honor he’s always deserved. He’s now a Hall of Famer, and he even gets to go in with his teammate, Darrell Green, who is in the conversation for the best cornerback to ever play the game. So not only do things work out, it works out even better if he hadn’t had the wait. The Hall of Fame is richer for having Art Monk in it. That’s the definition of a Hall of Famer.

Finally Finals

For those of you looking for some insight on the PC III exam, here it is: it was really, really hard. I mean, if this exam was a rock, it would be a diamond. It was that hard.

I will now continue my post-final routine of curling up in the fetal position and crying. Thank you for your concern.

Signing Off But Not Really

Today is my last day of class in law school (provided of course, I do not fail the PC III exam which, let’s face it, is no sure thing). This is it. I’m done. One foot out the door and ready to go off and conquer the world. So it’s a good time to take stock of things in a public forum where I am open to mockery and ridicule. Or worse yet, you could ignore it. Then again, this is going to be rather long-winded, so I won’t blame you for clicking over to Deadspin.

Chris hung up his blogging spurs when he graduated, but I am not going to follow his example. First off, this blog has never really been devoted to law school all that much. It’s been about me. Or more accurately, it’s been one guy’s attempt to stay sane during the pressures of law school and realize that maybe this isn’t all that important. It’s ok to laugh at ourselves and to realize there’s a whole world outside the grounds of this school. I think we lose track of that.

School consumes our lives. We go to school together, we study together, we hang out together. Even when we go out, the conversation always seems to drift to law school. And we’re staring a whole lifetime of this in the face. Only soon we’ll talk about our practice and our trials. Which is cool. You should love what you do, and I do love the law. Maybe not all the time, but I’ve enjoyed my time here. And I do look forward to a lifetime of this. But if I spend all of my days doing nothing but talking about law, I’m going to find a very tall tower and very high-powered gun.

This has been a poor attempt to stay sane. Stop and smell the roses some times. Take a look at our wide world and realize that a lot of it is pretty ridiculous. And that’s the things which make life worth living. And just because I’m (hopefully) graduating next Saturday, that doesn’t mean I’ll stop being interested in UFOs and my fictional album. I’ll always need an outlet like this, if just to make myself laugh. Or just to take the ten minutes to step away from the important things and revel in the trivial. Because the trivial stuff makes life fun.

I would have liked for someone to pick up the void left by Chris, Swanburg, and I and start their own student blog. OK, Swanburg’s still chugging, but he’s off at B-school. I’ve found this to be a rewarding experience, if only to have someone walk up to me before class and tell me they read something on here and they laughed. Or thought I was a moron. Either way, I was happy to help people through in my very small way. I’ve never intentionally taken a shot at anyone, mainly because I know every student here works hard and they don’t deserve some jackass to take potshots at them. You can do anything if you like the people you were with, and I have genuinely enjoyed the company of all of my classmates, my professors, and all of the staff. Especially the staff. You guys rock, and never get enough credit for making this place run and keeping us all sane.

However, this blog has been a burden at times. I’ve felt the need to crank out content, even when I had nothing to say. I did my best, and I hope I was a good read most of the time. I think I know why no one has picked up the student blogger mantle, as we’re told at every turn why one of these things is a bad idea. And I think that’s a shame. I think we are so concerned with scaring off a potential employer who can dig through these archives at the expense of fostering a community. I’d like to think I’ve done that, at least to some degree. It’s always been my goal to make this place a little nicer than how I found it. To give us a small outlet where we could stop being law students for just one second and act like human beings. At the end of the day, being lawyers is something we will do, but it will not define us. I will always need an outlet.

So, after two and half years, my law school career is over. Well, almost. It hasn’t always been fun. Hell, sometimes it’s been awful. But if it would have been easy, then it wouldn’t have been worth doing. And this wasn’t just worth doing, it was the most rewarding thing I have ever done. I’ve learned so much in the past two and half years, and not just about the law. I, at the risk of being even sappier than I have already been, will treasure each and every one of you. Thanks for sharing this time with me. I hope you enjoyed it. I surely have.

I’ll close this off with a quote from SLC Punk, because it’s my blog and I can do that:

“In the end, I was just another poseur.”

My Fake Album

1 - Go to Wikipedia's random article page
The first article you get is the name of your band

2 - Go to the Random Quotations page
The last four words of the last quote is the album title

3 - Go to Flickr's Interesting photo page
Third picture, no matter what it is, is your album cover

The results.

My result?
Contour Canal- Religion and fly fishing


We go on tour next week.

Illegal Aliens Attack

People are tired of being lied to! We demand to know what actually happened in Stephenville last week, as the good people who write letters to the editor are not fooled by the US military's alien cover-up.

In case you haven't been keeping track of the alien invasion, some UFO's were spotted in Stephenville two weeks ago because, as anyone who watches South Park would know, aliens dig cows. The military cover up sprang into action by telling us the that they were F-16's. And people should get a life and perhaps should not watch Fire In The Sky for the seventy-third time.

Steve Hudgeons of the Mutual UFO Network was not convinced:

"I think it's a little late ... then there is a comment here about an error. The military isn't supposed to make errors. I think it's just a standard cover up. That is immediately what I am thinking ... some kind of cover up"

Um.... Steve? The military doesn't make errors? Really? The military is government bureaucracy with guns and heavy artillery. Do we suddenly trust the government to not make mistakes?

And I will point out why I don't believe in alien contact... it requires believing in a government conspiracy involving hundreds, even thousands of people. Our government can't even deliver mail right. And they certainly can't keep a secret. The more people required to keep a secret, the less likely that secret will be kept.

We here at Poseur HQ will work tirelessly to get to the bottom of the Stephenville alien attack. We hope friend of the blog and Stephenville resident, Chase, is safe from all sorts of alien probes. I'd be broken up if he got abducted.