WAG - No News is GREAT News!

This is the best News I heard all day.

Insiders close to Howard Dean reportedly say he's going to save money by not running ads in any of the 7-states holding primaries next Tuesday.

Guess who is really happy that he lives in Missouri, whose primary, coincidentally, is next Tuesday?

Though other political ads will be run, I take comfort in knowing there will be a little less politics in the air...waves.

So pay attention here for I may not say it again, but "Thank you Howard Dean!"

'Sorry_Michigan_Washington_and_Wisconsin'

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WAG - Okay, I’m a student at MU’s J school. The President’s State of the Union Speech is, for all practical purposes, required viewing.

I know… I know…

But, to make this a bit more entertaining for me, I’m going to do a general overview of the whole sha-bang.

Here we go.

I didn’t realize Congress had a bailiff. I wish they use the bailiff from Judge Judy.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, may I present to you, the President of the United States… Bush in da house!”

I’m sorry about that. I’m trying to drone out the mindless chatter of the analysts as Bush takes 5 minutes to walk 50 meters.

Shake, shake, back pat, shake, hug, shake, shake… Work that crowd man! Yeah!

How ‘bout Bush’s blue tie? I think Tom Brokaw likes it, or else he wouldn’t have pointed it out. Now THERE’s commentary I find entertaining. Why didn’t Joan and Melissa Rivers critique everybody’s outfits as they came in?

“Chief Justice Rehnquist! What’s with the black every year? Why don’t you try gray for a change? And that robe, it makes you look fat. Wear a suit, it’s more slimming.”

I love the observation that they make at the start of every major Presidential speech, how not all members of the President cabinet is present, just in case a major disaster happens.

I’m sure the Democrats would love to re-start a government where John Ashcroft, the one who drew the short-sit-out-straw, was the one in charge.

Man, Senator Hillary Clinton sure doesn’t look too happy to be there. She looks like a high school senior half way through a 3-hour pep assembly.

Tom Daschle looks perturbed about…, no wait, John Kerry looks…

Oh wait, I forgot, we’re no longer a united country like we were last year. I keep forgetting that.

It looks like the sour faces, which I thought was going to be a scattered thing, are going to be standard through out the night.

It sure is easy to spot the Republicans in the crowd when the Democrats refuse to join the standing ovation for tax cuts.

It looks like every Democrat running in 2004 is doing everything they can to look uncomfortable for fear, if they even smile once, they’d appear as if they’re supporting the President.

Okay, it looks like most Democrats will stand when the President talks about medical coverage and environmental subjects (even though Presidential Hopeful John Kerry (D) waited about 10 seconds before being the last one to stand up).

Whoa, we’ve been going for over 20 minutes and no one, besides the political pundits, has said the word “Iraq.”

No human cloning? No danger of Michael Keaton staring in Multiplicity II? I can live with that.

30 minutes and we have our first mentioning of Saddam. Here’s the hard stuff folks.

Talking about the “might of United States of America” is enough to get everybody on their feet again. Well, not everybody. It seems the only people not standing up during the speech are the Joint Chiefs of Staff. That’s understandable though. I’m sure they teach recruits not to stand up during briefings.

Also not standing are the photographers and cameramen crouched in the center aisle. They have the worst seats but the best view. How ironic to see people in suits sprawled out on the carpet like kindergartners during story time.

Bush say’s America accepts the responsibility of leading the world through these troubled times as well as the dangers that exist in them.

Serious hope: May the Lord help us through whatever that will entail.

Bush personally promises to protect the security of the American people. Boy is he going to be held to that.

Bush pronounced peninsula (pe-ni-sue-la) as pe-ni-shoe-la. The Democrats are gonna harp about that for the next couple of weeks (so will the Daily Show, but at least they’ll do it without overt bitterness).

Good, Bush is reminding people that the UN Inspectors aren’t there to prove Iraq has no weapons, but that that is Iraq’s job. A scavenger hunt for anthrax, mustard gas, and uranium in an area the size of California doesn’t sound like fun to me anyway.

For anyone wanting “more proof” before supporting a regime change war in Iraq, Bush went over a long list of previously known violations as well as some new details as well.

Okay, “horror’ came out “hur-rah.” Texas is in the South; that’s excusable.

When one promises liberation to a country surrounded by troops, one knows an invasion is imminent.

Oh…the Joint Chiefs of Staff will stand when Bush salutes the efforts of the armed forces. I see where their priorities are (as well as those of everyone else: that was one of the longest applause breaks thus far).

“The call of history has come to the right country.” Kudos to the Presidential script writer. He may be forgotten for all time, except for a random Grad Student or two who are working on their Thesis, but at least his, or her, words shone tonight. Cheers to what's their face!

Crud...the phone is ringing and I just discovered I was supposed to start my desk shift three minutes ago.

Curse what's their face and their alluring, hypnotizing words!

Curse the 2004 Democratic Candidates and their funny, agitated faces that reminded me of kids in detention!

Curse me too, but not as much as the previous two.

-Pause as I scramble for the elevator-

Okay, I'm now sitting at the desk, after emailing my message to my inbox to finish. I'm wearing my rubber boots, and no socks, because I grabbed the first footwear that came to hand. I spent several seconds trying to pop in a tape but Bush ended his speech right about the time I hit record.

Oh well...

It's gonna be a while before I get to review the various pundits' analysises, and numerous rebuttals, but I hope we all learned something tonight.

Or at least didn't get any stupider.

Sometimes treading water and keeping one's head above the water, even if one doesn't move anywhere, can be a big accomplishment.

Keep your head up and keep on swimming everyone.

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WAG - 1st Annual Haiku Day

No, this is probably not what you expected.

I have long said I am not a good poet. This is a belief I most recently repeated Saturday night. When required to, under threat of F by my English teachers, I was a good rhyming poet (for a 4th grader), but it was a writing style I never actively practiced.

Despite whatever talents I had remaining stagnant, I did maintain an appreciation of poetry; especially my favorite form: haiku.

Brief introduction to the Japanese art form (“borrowed” from Toyomasu.com):

Haiku is one of the most important form of traditional Japanese poetry. Haiku is, today, a 17-syllable verse form consisting of three metrical units of 5, 7, and 5 syllables.

The history of the modern haiku dates from Masaoka Shiki's reform, begun in 1892, which established haiku as a new independent poetic form. Unlike the previous form of hokku, which was a long string of 17-syllable paragraphs, this new form of poetry was to be written, read and understood as an independent poem, complete in itself, rather than part of a longer chain.

Shiki's reform did not change two traditional elements of haiku: the division of 17 syllables into three groups of 5, 7, and 5 syllables and the inclusion of a seasonal theme.

Kawahigashi Hekigoto carried Shiki's reform further with two proposals:
1. Haiku would be truer to reality if there were no center of interest in it.
2. The importance of the poet's first impression, just as it was, of subjects taken
from daily life, and of local color to create freshness.
I include those additions, because I wish to make a contribution of my own:

Working in such tight parameters, but still wanting to give people proper context, I am prefacing each haiku with a 5-syllable title.

Thus, we commence our first annual Haiku Day (hey, it was that or New Hampshire Democratic Primary results; and we all know how thrilling that would be).


Monster Under Bed
A nightly vigil:
I’ll stay safe under blankets.
Just wish I could breathe.


Clark Kent Goes Bye-Bye
Steel man not so strong.
Lex Luthor found Kryptonite.
Sorry Superman.


My Life is a Zoo
Barrel of monkeys.
Illegally imported.
Border Patrol Sucks.


Soon, a Sudden Stop
Parachute missing.
Won’t this be a big, big mess.
I won’t clean it up.


Bomb Squad Dilemma
“Hold on!” I tell him.
Is it the red or blue wire?
I always forget.


Real: Little Green Men
UFOs exist.
Scared of abductions, probings.
I wear tin foil hats.


I Can’t Top The King
Elvis did it best.
Shaking those hips and his lips
I’d pull a muscle.


Questionable Quote
Oft-repeated line:
“Stupid is as stupid does.”
Don’t know what that means.


I Need a New Vet.
He was not funny.
“You should call your horse Glue Stick.”
I shot him instead.


Mothra Can’t Beat Him
Godzilla top ranked.
Brought to life by atom bomb
Then eats Tokyo.


Following the Rules
On rentals, same words:
“Always be kind, please rewind!”
So, I am, I do.


Eulogy for Fish
I miss you Bubbles.
One act can help us move on:
Jiggling the handle.


Immortal Question
Classic query posed.
Required contemplation.
“Paper or plastic?”


Round One: Great White Shark
Jaws got the Captain.
Oceanographer missing.
Need a bigger boat.


Trouble for Tot’s Boats
A rub a dub, dub…
Danger lurks in the bathtub.
“Launch the torpedoes!”


He liked Fantasia
My neighbor took trips.
LSD was his tour guide.
Never found way home.


Too many Haikus
First they count each beat
Later, the timing assumed
Wit soon overlooked.


My Haiku Headache
I am off again.
One loathes lacking single count
Harder than it looks.


And last, spawned by current events:

Voices in my head.
There’s group consensus.
The voting ends in no ties.
Guess we’ll vote for Dean.


'Leave_message_at_click'

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WAG - Rationale for Communication Gap

I have a headache, so let me keep this short:

Saturday was spent at the Royal Ranger Pinewood Derby and out at my friends' duplex watching "Notting Hill."

I picked up a bug somewhere among the previously listed activities (or maybe in the dorm) and the symptoms began to manifest themselves Sunday. (And yes Mom, I am taking medicine).

Today I was juggling classes, staff meetings, floor meetings, and the extra repurcissions left over from the previous two days.

Conclusion: check back tomorrow for a post that will be more than 7 sentences long.

'no_feel_good'

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WAG - This isn't a space mission.
This is a soap opera.

All right...

I spend a lot of extra time putting this post together, and I wake up to find tech support worked for once.... maybe. Spirit is talking back to NASA, though it remains to be seen if full control can be reestablished.

One thing to note is that this coincides with the impending touchdown of Spirit's sister rover Opportunity. She's set to touch down this afternoon. So it may be less of a glitch than a spat of sibling rivalry where one is trying to attract attention away from the other.

Not to be outdone, the European Mars orbiter reportedly has found strong evidence of water on Mars. It’s like the twins put a lot of trouble into hosting a birthday party, but had their thunder stolen when their cousin burst in announcing that she’s engaged.

Spirit's going to have to do something real big to top all this... and today's Friday!

You know what that means.

All the big stuff happens on Friday in Soaps.

When do people get killed off? Friday.

When do previously dead people reappear? Friday.

What day do long-lost relatives choose to show up? Friday.

Kidnappings? Friday.

Demon possessions? Friday.

Auto accidents? Friday.

Natural disasters? Friday.

When are weddings held? They may start earlier in the week (or possibly month) but the bride and groom will attempt to take their vows on Friday.

This ought to be good.

So… Will Opportunity touch down safely? Does the Mars Observer have any more tricks up her sleeve? Has Spirit truly returned to the fold or is she merely biding her time for something else?

Tune in this afternoon to see.

'I_bet_Stefano_has_something_to_do_with_it'

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WAG - Stupid Foreign-Made Piece of Junk!

We've all been there before.

Can you recall the time you got a brand new toy?

You know the one I’m talking about.

Some assembly may have been required and batteries were not included. It took some time to put it together. You may have needed a parent to play the “expert” mechanic to slap it together, but then you were ready for some fun.

Finally getting to try it out after that long wait must have been fantastic. Yeah. Bet it was real sweet.

It only took a short amount of time, however, before something went wrong. Just as soon as the fun had started, it was over.

No matter what you try, the toy remains unresponsive. You review in your head what could be wrong? Have the batteries already run down? Did one of the plastic pieces snap? Did a circuit come loose? Could it have suffered one two many accidental bumps?

Regardless of what the fault might be, the final conclusion is inescapable: your toy is dead.

I’m sure almost everybody can think of a toy story like that. Thus, that is most of us can easily relate to the joystick jockeys at NASA who have lost control of their Mars rover.

Yep, after countless years and development and more money than enough money to buy Pintos for everyone in Idaho (and have enough cash left over to spring for fuzzy dice), NASA’s little electric puppy dog, Spirit, has gone incommunicado.

Bad space rover! No biscuit.

So continues Earth’s love/hate relationship with our planetary neighbor. We’ve sent more probes to Mars than any other object in the Solar System (according to the facts I think I recall from all those old space books I used to read in Elementary School). That’s mainly because it’s close, neat looking, and less likely to melt our probes (an unfortunate lesson we learned on Venus).

Though it’s our favorite target, and we have a lot of practice shooting scientific space junk in it’s general direction, Mars also has the privilege of being at the center of the most failed space missions.

On December 25 of 2003, the British rover Beagle II was supposed to touch down on Christmas day. By most accounts, researchers think it did. Of course, since no radio contact has been made with the probe in nearly a month, the important question isn’t “DID the rover make it to Mars?” but rather “HOW MANY pieces is the rover broken into now?”

If you go to the Brit’s website, their most recent update is expressing their support and best wishes to the Yanks across the pond as NASA. Though not explicitly said, the message read between the line states, “We’ve been there chums. Sucks, don’t it?”

It had been a while since I reviewed a fact sheet denoting the number of space probes or rovers that Red Planet has prematurely taken out of commission, but a quick online search showed me the box score has been pretty poor.

Part of it depends on how you rate a mission (is it a success or failure if your probe lands safely buts stops transmitting 20 seconds after you turn on the camera, as in the case of Mars 3?), but out of roughly 30 Martian missions, only about 1/6 accomplished a respectable percentage of their projected goals. Mars can be deadly.

Of course, the mythical god of war doesn’t always get first shot at the probes. Does anyone else remember back in 96 when that plutonium powered Russian probe was aiming for Mars but ended up just a little bit farther north of Easter Island in the Pacific ? I seem to be the only one. At least that’s one we can’t blame on faulty Feet-to-Meters conversions.

Don’t remember that one? Here’s a brief refresher course, brought to you by our favorite instructor, Robin Williams: "You can't smoke pot and be a rocket scientist! Or maybe you can... considering all of the mistakes that NASA has made. Take the Mars Lander. 'Ok, ok. Listen. I did the calculations in feet... ha! and I programmed the Lander in meters! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! 150 million dollar ‘Whoops!’ Two years. . . SPLAT! Ha! Turned it into the Mars Burrier! Ha ha ha!”

Blame it on bad karma, that suspicious looking face, a finicky Japanese made bolt, whatever. All I know right now is that in the long-term standings, Mars is ahead… and just got another tally in its favor.

One last note: Some of you may wonder why the title of this piece mentions a “foreign-made piece of junk” when referring to an American made probe. There is a simple solution for this. NASA scientists speculate that origins of the rover’s problems came from the South Pacific.

A powerful storm hit Australia and interfered with a ground based satellite dish that was supposed to upload a regularly scheduled batch of instructions. Noting that problems arose after the missed appointment, some experts propose that the lag in expected instructions fouled up the computer’s brain.

See? It’s not America’s fault that our rover is bounding aimlessly around the red planet like it’s lost its master. It’s the Australians’ fault.

'Sojourner_you_made_it_look_so_easy'

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WAG - Looking at this whole thing Cockeyed

Here's a candied delicacy to treat the sweet tooth of you political junkies out there.

This is the crash-plagued results page for the Iowa Democratic Caucus.

I've been dropping by this site off and on all day long. It was crashed for most of the day. Then links weren't matching up. Finally, with less than an hour to go, things seem to be working, but I'm still registering doubts. The goal of this electronic system is to report the final tally two hours earlier than ever before. I'll believe it when I see it.

For those of you whose eyes glazed over when this stuff was being taught in school or just never had the opportunity to pick up this information, you can click on this link and learn how the whole caucus process works OR bypass it and keep living in the ignorance of the past.

For you blissful people who want some of the specifics on the Iowa angle, this link should prove informative.

One note, an observation, and a conclusion:
Even after the final count is in, the Democratic presidential nominee race will still be going. "The boys" will keep facing off on a regular basis until (at least) Super Tuesday on March 3 (when 1,151 delegates are up for grabs [one needs 2,161 to clinch the nomination]).

Next, when one reviews the candidate's pictures one quickly notices that Dean is the only one who isn't smiling. Kucinich is kinda smirking, but from what I know, that's pretty cheerful for him. Is the webmaster trying to do some foreshadowing, did the Dean party submit a poor picture, is there some Democratic inner-circle conspiracy against Dean, or is it simply a fluke?

In conclusion, let me repeat the conventional wisdom concerning the outcome of this race:

Who knows?

'the_SHADOW_knows_but_hes_not_telling'

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WAG - They're Back!

Though more people have been showing up each day since I got here last Sunday, it took me a week to declare the floor "living" again. And that's a good thing and a bad thing.

It's great to have more people to talk to and not feeling a sense of isolation when walking the floor.

On the other hand, along with signaling the impending start of classes, it also means there's more work to do. Specifically, it means rules will have to be even more stringently enforced. It's not like I've been letting residents get by with looting and arson earier in the week (okay, maybe Cory, but he doesn't really count), but I am going to have to work on quiet hours for the first time in nearly a month.

And judging by the earlier sounds of the bongos in the distance, I might be an hour late in doing so.

Sitting on the verge of the next wave, I feel a certain kinship with Frankenstein's assistant Igor.

Dr. F: "Now that the spark of life has been rekindled in this formerly lifeless body, we are now free to watch it interact the world of the living."

Igor (After glancing at the monster-shaped hole in the lab and then out the window): "It seems like the creature is eager to back into interaction too."

Dr. F (looks at window, hole, window, hole for a second longer..., window..., door): "Quite right. Grab your coat and hats!"

Igor: "And pitforks?"

Dr. F: "And pitforks." (Pauses and turns) "Pitchforks?"

Igor (still looking out the window): "They seem to be very popular among the villagers charging up the hill to greet the creature."

Dr. F (joining Igor at the window): "Indeed."

Igor: "That's one rowdy welcome wagon."

Dr. F: "Indeed." (Shrugs) "Oh well. Go pop some pop corn Igor. We'll watch the 'interaction' from here."

Igor: "This ought to be good."

As far as residents and the semester goes, indeed.

'THE_KERNALS_ARE_GETTING_WARMED_UP_and_so_is_the_mob_INDEED'

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WAG - Following the logic that
“No Comment” doesn’t really count as a Comment…

Oh yeah... I forgot.

Um... I guess I could have mentioned this sooner (or at least farther up the page), but I don't feel like posting today.

Trust me, I've sat before the keyboard and played with a few things, but they're not ready yet.

For example: "Something’s pecking at the edge of my consciousness. I wish I knew what it was." I wrote it 30 minutes ago and I still don't know what it means.

So... this is all a rambling way of saying other than, this rambling way of rationalizing my lack of a post, there will be no post.

Tune in tomorrow for

Blasts from the Past

Guest Staring, in alphabetical order,
Dan Culp and Cory West

'to_be_continued_when_I_feel_like_it'

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WAG - BLINK…
When did it get to be Thursday?

Wow. It seems like I just blinked and missed a day.

Though I’ve gotten a lot of small things accomplished over the last 48 hours.

My boards and snowflake door decs are done. Hooray! I got compliments from my boss and fellow staff members, so I’m happy. All I have to do now is sit back and wait for them to be vandalized (Don't laugh. I know someone over in Hatch who kept track of the time between decoration completion and the first desecration and found it took 5 hours).

Speaking of not-so-cheap shots, I’ve spent a little over $375 at the University Bookstore and I still have one book left to buy. Being an English major, I have a lot of books to buy. Unfortunately, most of my books have copyright dates of 2002 or 2003, so I only found a handful of used copies. So despite the fact I got my books earlier than I ever have before, the prices were high.

Speaking of things that are high, my GPA is still hovering around 3.5 (though it went down .019 of a point).

Mom and Dad, here are the grades you’ve been more than just a little curious about:

ENGLSH 50 CREAT WRIT: INTRO FICTION A
ENGLSH 324 RESTORATION & 18TH CENTURTY ENGLISH LITERATURE B
ENGLSH 340 STRUCTURE OF AMERICAN ENGLSH B
JOURNALISM 304 COMMUNICATIONS LAW B
JOURNALSIM 319 PRINCIPLES OF STRATEGIC COMMNICATION A
MUSIC 41 INSTURMENT ENSEMBLE: MARCHING BAND A

By the looks of things, I aced my three final projects (in Creative Writing, Strat-Com, and 18th Century English). I was a bit disappointed by my Com-Law grade, though I knew I kept bouncing back between A- and B+. I knew the grade I got in Linguistics class (Eng 340) even before the end of the semester, and considering how hard the class was, I am very proud of that grade.

In socializing news, the student staff members are trying to spend more time together – at least before all our schedules become packed. I’ve been meeting people for lunch and I ALMOST got to go bowling. We made it to the bowling alley, but found the place too packed to fit in. We could have waited for a couple hours, but other people had plans tonight.

I personally had to be on call by 9 p.m., but that still meant I had time to play some of the arcade games. I spent a dollar and earned enough tickets to get a green plastic army man. I had a friend who spent a few more bucks and a bit more time playing skee-ball, and got a harmonica.

It was crazy and foolish thing to do, but it was good clean fun (or at least as clean as it gets in a bowling alley).

My last bonus of the day was the tardy arrival of my Christmas present to myself. Back in November, there was a special deal on Sluggy Freelance books. I ordered The Bug, The Witch, and the Robot, A Very Big Bang, and Fire and Rain (Books 6, 7, and 8). I probably would have bought more (I already own books 1 and 2), but the rest were out of print. Anyway, I was sure to order them early enough to ensure they’d be in by Christmas.

As I said, they only came in today, but they’ve been a fine treat.

I still have paperwork to do tonight as well as rounds to make, but I’m getting back into the groove of things. And as long as I don’t have to write another triple-digit check to the bookstore this week, everything should turn out okay.

'That_bunny_is_funny'

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WAG - Better Put it in for another Minute

You know your day is off to a weird start when to kick it off by nuking orange juice.

Our staff breakfasts the last two days have been completely fronzen through.
Sick of liking a "from concentrate" popsickle, I am now mircrowaving my juice.

It ought to be an interesting day.

'another_30_seconds_should_do'

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WAG - I'm going to dream of construction paper...

Two boards are done.

Four more boards and door decorations to go.

Note: For those of you keeping up to date with the count, you will notice I have an extra board to complete. I forgot about the one in the kitchen.

Still, I'm on track and having fun.

Remind me of that in a week when classes start.

'scissors_and_glue_sticks_and_staples_oh_my'

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WAG - I'd forgotten what the grindstone felt like...

Now I remember...

I'm back at work.

My first afternoon/evening back at Mizzou has gone okay.

I'm glad work doesn't start for another week, because my head is spinning just from the information cramed into my head today.

There aren't as many module workshops before the Winter Semester, I am told, but there is still quite a bit to cram into what time is given. I also have a lot of little projects to finish before noon on Wednesday.

Currently, my first major goal is to put up 5 new bulletin boards by myself. Well, others have offered to help, but I want to see if I can do it the first time by myself.

Just before this quick update, I was pulling together sources to make a board on Ghandi. It's both newsworthy, topical, thanks to Hillary Clinton, and multi-cultural relevant.

Res Life Holy Trio - Three for one! Boom! Boom! Boom!

I'm sure Mr. Nonviolence could still apreciate the joy I'm getting from this one-two-three combination. He's dead now. What does he care anyway?

Part of me is tempted to go on a politically incorect run here, but I still have work to do, and am trying to be respectful of Ghandi's work, even if I don't agree with everything he had to say.

Regardless of our differences when it comes to settling arguements, he was a good scholar of the human condition and had the basics down pat. After all, he is the man who, when asked about western civilization, he classically responded, "I think it would be a good idea."

Being nonviolent doesn't mean you can't slip in a zinger every once in a while.

To close, I want to leave you with my my favorite Ghandi quote of the day:

"'Hate the sin and not the sinner' is a precept which, though easy enough to understand, is rarely practiced, and that is why the poison of hatred spreads in the world."

'Smart_man_that_Ghandi'

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WAG - Adios Again

I’m rearin’ to hit the trail again.

My Christmas vacation (not “Winter Break!” This is my blog and I can be as politically incorrect as I want) is coming to an end. I shall return to Columbia tomorrow.

As is my usual custom, everybody else has gone to bed and only now am I starting to pack up. I don’t know why I always wait to the last minute to pack up. If I wanted to play pop-psychologist, I could say I postpone my packing because doing so signals my sabbatical is about to come to an end.

I could also be plain lazy.

I wager it’s somewhere in between.

So, as I camp out in the basement waiting for loads of laundry to go through, I start to review how I spent my final last few days in Sullivan.

My initial summary is “not too much.”

I’ve gone out shopping a few times. I’ve picked up a few “new” clothes at the local Agape House (our local version of the Salvation Army Store). I’ve picked up all the supplies for going back to school (notebooks to microwavable popcorn to toilet bowl cleaner) besides my textbooks. I’ve bought and watched my first “back to school DVD,” The Blues Brothers: Collector’s Edition. (Note: Usually I spend about $30 on DVDs to soften the return to the grindstone. Since it was a $10 purchase, I figure I can squeeze out one more).

There are two more two major items, but they will take more than a sentence length explanation. They are a movie night and a progressive dinner.

Last night, my sister and I went to new “Sullivan Six” movie theatre. Our expressed intent was to see the movie Big Fish, but upon arriving at the theatre, we found that the paper had printed the times wrong. Even worse, the projectionist has started the movie even earlier than revised time that wasn’t in the paper.

Now you could miss 5, 10, shoot, 30 minutes of some films and still not be missing much, but with Tim Burton movie, that is not an option.

Thus the “reluctant” decision was made to see two movies.

Paycheck, the new Ben Affleck/Uma Thurman manhunt movie with a quasi-Total Recall plot wasn’t bad. It was a pretty good Affleck flick, though it was a sub par John Woo (director) movie. I mostly kept my attention; though the couple next to us, who talked constantly, made it even more difficult.

First, my major complaint was the thought that that Matt Damon wouldn’t get into this mess like this. Then I was reminded of the Bourne Identity. That being pointed out, I’ll stick to my “okay” review, with the qualifiers that I wont’ be buying Paycheck when it comes out on DVD.

Big Fish, however, wow! Heaven forbid I jump on the bandwagon praising this film, but I believe all the accolades are well earned. It’s not just the gently flowing plot, or the carefully crafted characters, thought both are fantastic. I personally loved the little details.

The cursing that flowed out of kid’s mouths when it was pointed out to them that a “lady” was in their presence, the tears on Mr. Soggy Bottom’s (the clown/lawyer) face as he prepared to shoot the silver bullet), the wooden dummy act as the Communist USO show. Minor things like that added so much more scope to this modern classic.

And the ending, well… Part of me hesitates to reveal it, but the truth will get out so…

It has been many years since I cried as a movie. No joke, I think it might have been The Fox and the Hound. Part of that is how sitting in a movie theatre can make people more emotionally involved than watching it on the television. Anyway, I’ll admit that tears were shed.

First I told myself it was allergies, but later the story was so powerful I couldn’t deny it. So I softly cursed myself and Tim Burton for my emotional outburst as the story came to a close.

My sister cried a lot too, but it wasn’t until talking to a friend, who works at the movie theatre, who admitted that he cried too, that I felt better. If you go see the movie, and I suggest you do, be ready for some hilarious scenes, but pack tissues.

The last major activity, which is the acting capstone of my holiday season, was my Sunday School class’s progressive dinner.

Being in the young adult class in Sullivan, there is more talk about social security, back pains, and death. That can be depressing. But when most of the members have a larger disposable income at their disposal, as compared to the average teen, the class activities can be a bit broader.

Thus, it was decided to have a progressive dinner where each course was served at a different house. Entries at one place, main course at another, and deserts at the final stop with lots of pauses in between.

Also the Rams were in the playoffs, so that had to be figured in as well.

The food was good, the company great, though the double-overtime loss to the Panthers could have been better. It held up the meal over half an hour, because people didn’t want to leave the television when the Rams could rally at any time.

Still, it wasn’t all about football. The conversations were interesting, if you sat near the right people, the few games we played were fun, and it was more productive than an evening spent before the computer.

-----------------------------------------------

I’ll be on the road in less than 12 hours. In final analysis, I find I haven’t gotten everything done that I would have wanted to. Books were left unread, movies unviewed, projects unstarted (or abandoned), and lots of time squandered too.

Still, I would say my vacation was “not too much, but not to little, either.”

I feel rested up and have many grand expectations for this next semester. Of course, even if I didn’t, I’d still be starting work tomorrow.

Since the end result is already determined, I guess I might as well have an optimistic nature about the whole thing. Things could always be much worse.

For example, I could have had money riding on the Rams.

'Let_it_ride'

| Permanent Link

WAG - This is not a travel log.
This should be something better.

Or at least equally as long...

I always intend to write more on trips than I actually end up typing up. I remember old trips where I’d buy a new steno pad and fill up over half of it.

Of course, those were the days before I had a CD player, there were TVs on the bus, and a multitude of other distractions that are more likely to draw my attention than composing.

Other than a page I wrote at the start of the trip, while waiting in the parking lot for more friends to arrive, my output was limited… sorta.

Though I wasn’t cranking out long pages of observations, I was trying to write down all the killer comments that accurately reflected the trip. Reading these quotes should give people an idea how people were acting on the trip.

Of course, I could just tell you that they were kooky, sleep deprived, and just generally nutty, that wouldn’t be as much fun as letting them speak for themselves.

On the Road
8:30 p.m. November 29 to 11:30 a.m. November 30

The first and final Journal Entry:

SWING YOUR PARTNER, DOSI-DOE
Within 30 minutes of my arrival at the practice field, I learned the athletic department had screwed the band, again. It’s isn’t bad. Sometimes it has happened even quicker and to a more serious degree.

A last minute decision was made to consolidate the band and color guards housing arrangements with the cheerleaders and Golden Girls. This is intended to make preparations and executions cheaper and more efficient.

Translation: the previously assigned buses and room numbers will all be mixed up, causing more confusion and general disgruntlement among the newly merged group.

See? Same old same old.

Off we go:
“And the flight of the gypsies begin.”

Directions for addressing the group from the drum line to their instructor, who was the staff member in charge on the bus:
“You have to use the word ‘rapscallions’.”

Percussion Instructor trying to quiet down the bus:
“Hey you guys? I have really bad hearing. I stand in front of a lot of drum lines… Can you hang on for 2 seconds?”

On receiving our $50 per diem shortly after paying $20 on bowl t-shirts:
“If you don’t eat tomorrow, you’ll almost break even.”
“Look at me. Does it look like I’m gonna miss a meal?”

A misunderstanding concerning betting spreads:
“Of course, Arkansas is favored by 2 ½ points.”
“How do you score half a point?”

After someone tells an unrepeatable story about that displays her incredible naivete:
“You’ve obviously stepped on your Jiminy Cricket.”

On the route we were taking to go to Shreveport:
“Are we gonna go through Arkansas?”
“Well… to get to Louisiana…”
“What? Do you think we were gonna go around?”

After a huge, rattling BUMP!
“I like to drive on the roads. How ‘bout you?”

Reactions of a Golden Girl who slept on the trip down and woke up upon our arrival:
“Where are we?’ She looks around. “Oh… We’re in hell.”

First Practice
3:30 p.m. December 30

While our escort cops are doing figure eights in the parking lot:
“Maybe their bosses think that they’re not quite ready for REAL police work.”
“‘Hey you! Go guard the band.’”

“Having a police escort almost makes me feel important.”

Marching on a very dead practice football field:
“Look! A blade of green.”
“No there’s not.”
“There’s more live grass beneath the bleachers than on the field.”

The Band Director addresses the band:
Mr. Stumbo: “Any questions?”
Unknown percussion line member: “Will you kiss me on New Year’s?”

“Battle of the Bands”
7:00 p.m. December 30

“Why don’t you have a belt.”
“Girls don’t need belts.”
“You know… different types of hips.”
“Yeah.” (Places hands on hips) “Nothing’s getting by these.”

“If you think about it, Arkansas is only a couple of letters more than Kansas.”
“Two to be exact.”

“Borrowing” a pep talk backstage before the pep rally’s “Battle of the Bands”
“They make take our pride, but they will never take… our freedom!”
Crowd: “YEAH!”

At the Mandatory Attendance Band Party
8:30 p.m. December 30

After comparing our respective rowdy football fans:
Arkansas Band Member cautioning us: “Well a lot of people from the northern part of the state will be coming down.”
Us: “Hey! There’s plenty of the Ozarks to go around.”

During the karaoke at the party, between the Britney and the OutKast, a guy goes to the stage and does some counter-programming:
“This is for all my Jewish homies out there.”
And then he breaks out into “Hava Nagilah”
Complete with Jewish dancing and the hefting of guys on chairs.

The opinion of our of our Escorting Police Officers on our questionable catering:
“That was not Louisiana fish!”

Returning from the pep gig we pass by a closed liquor store and end up perpetuating some stereotypes:
“It’s 10:30 and the liquor store is closed.”
“What kind of French town is this?”
“It’s not like it’s Amish Country.”
“Liquor stores in Arkansas close at 9 p.m.”
“That’s okay because they make their own.”
“They also marry their brothers and sisters.”
“I think the first has a lot to do with the second.”

Returning to the hotel, we find some fans have spread out along the balcony, dragging their furniture out and draping MU flags everywhere.
“And the tailgating has begun.”

The Night Watch
10:35 p.m. December 30 to 1:00 a.m. December 31

Note: Since I am a student staff member at MU, and school rules still apply on trips. Being caught drinking alcohol (or even being in a room where it was going on) would cause me to lose my job. The odds of ANYONE being busted for alcohol on a band trip are low to begin with; and even lower than usual I would later learn. Still, to preserve my current vocation and my sense of ethics, I decided I wouldn’t spend time in any of the “party rooms.”

That being decided, I still wanted to hang out. I picked a spot on the third floor with a great view and started people watching. I could practice my observation skills, I could still chat with my friends when they came by, and keep out of trouble.

After a while, I became a fixture on the landing and even strangers were coming up to me; providing me with lots of interesting conversations, though my favorite (recalled from memory since I didn't want to bring my notebook) are included here.

Talking to a friend about his gambling losses:
“I’m not upset that I lost $30. I’m just a bit disappointed that it happened quicker than I would have liked.”

Conversation with the night watchman:
“Are you all having a good time?’
“Yeah.” [Glances in the direction of the party rooms] Some more than others.”
“Well party all you want. I’m not gonna stop you. I’m just the security guard.”
[Goes back to cranking the volume on his CD player headset]

Band member under the influence of “party favors”:
“By the end of the night, you’ll know everybody’s secrets.”
“Don’t worry. I’m not taking notes.”
[At least not physical ones.]

Game Day
8:30 a.m. December 31

I see an old friend in the parking lot and ask him how he ended up on a an impromptu trip to Shreveport less than 24-hours before the game:
“Well… We were all at Old Chicago [in Columbia] and someone said, ‘Hey! Wanna go to Shreveport?’”

Morning Practice
9:30 a.m. to 11:00 a.m. December 31

Stumbo: “It’s a good day for football.”

Paraprasing the old, "Game Day" cheer:
“It’s Bowl Game Day!”
“That doesn’t quite roll off the tongue.”

Assistant Trumpet Instructor on the on how the free t-shirts from the night before are even more embarrassing for him:
“As if my jazz buddies don’t make enough fun of me already… I now have a ‘Band Party’ t-shirt.”

Favorite band t-shirt:
“One day at band camp…”
Say it to me one more time and see where I shove my flute.
Flics 2003.

An existential philosophical pondering is posed during trumpet sectional:
“What if the hokey pokey IS what it’s all about.”

ON OUR WAY
2:00 p.m. December 31 to 3:15 p.m.

On the winding route to the stadium:
“What did you think we were going to be able to park next to the stadium?”
“Who do you think you are? The football team?”
“You should be lucky you’re even going on this trip!”

After passing the stadium, looping around in the opposite direction, and moving slowly through a rundown neighboring neighborhood:
“Can we park any FARTHER away?”

Sizing up the local neighborhood:
“Ten bucks says they never take down their Christmas decorations.”

After an interesting, but questionable comment:
“Are you writing that down?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I try to keep my site around PG. Maybe PG-13.”
“That’s a good rating to have.”
“Why do you think I haven’t written down 99 percent of what you’ve said?”

After the Game was Over (Part way through the 4th Quarter)
9:30 p.m. December 31

To deserting Mizzou fans:
“Watch your step!”
“Drive carefully!”
“Have a safe trip!”

Stumbo as the clock winds down:
“Hug a Senior.”

After the game on the trek out of the stadium:
“Just repeat the Missouri motto. ‘Next year guys, next year.’”

Adding up the combined MU loses (including the Men’s Basketball teams defeat at the hands of Belmont):
“I think this is one of the worst weekends in MY history.”
“At least we HAD a bowl game.”
“But we’re still in Louisiana.”
“Yes. That doesn’t change the fact that we are still in Louisiana… in a parking lot… going nowhere.”

Starting the bus ride back
10:30 p.m. December 31

Comparing the meal at a local restaurant to the poorly catered meal the previous night:
“it’s not like last night. You don’t have to stay there four hours.”
[The percussion instructor shakes his head slightly as band members crack up]

“Word.”
“Did you say word?”
“Yes. It’s my sarcastic way of ironically expressing my overall whiteness. Wigga wigga yo.”

A mix-up occurs during our caravan:
“A cop’s blocking our police escort!”

My favorite exchange during my New Year’s Eve call to Jessie:
“I told you, you weren’t going to win.”
“I never said we were going to.”
(Laughter from both sides).

YES WE’RE STILL ON THE BUS
11:15 p.m. December 31

When a person attempts to slip into our convoy:
“On no you…”
“What the…?”
Band starts uses an old rallying cheer to encourage the bus driver to pull forward:
“Hit ‘em again, hit ‘em again! Harder! Harder!
Hit ‘em again, hit ‘em again! Harder! Harder!”
“Look.”
“The cop’s kicking him out!”
Bus: YEAH!

Discussions about previous experiences with police escorts reveal a twisted, slightly deranged anecdote:
“We were close enough to the Pope to snipe him. We got really close to him when he came to St. Louis. We could have got him.”
(Followed by a stunned silence)

Calling out the window at the cop:
“Hey mister! I have some constructive criticism about your police escort!”

Finally, a lookout announces that he can see our hotel’s sign in the distance:
“Shoney’s Inn!”
Bus repeats: “Shoney’s Inn!”
“No. A light’s burned out. Sh_ey’s Inn!” [Pronounced ‘sue -ey.’]
Bus repeats: “Sh_ey’s Inn!”
“Man, we’d cheer for anything now.”

THE COUNTDOWN(S)
11:58 p.m. to 12:00 a.m., 12:00 a.m., 12:00 a.m.

Being in the long line for dinner, I find myself in the Mexican restaurant’s parking lot as midnight approaches. Since we have no access to the television, we are counting down using our own unsynchronized watches. During my Third New Year’s Eve countdown:
“Seven, six, five…”
“What the hell. I do it one more time.”
“…, two, one, happy New Year!”

The Festivities
12:00 a.m. to 2:30 a.m. January 1

Commenting on the Arkansas’s band midnight curfew:
“They may have war, but at least we’re out here now celebrating New Year’s. And THAT I believe is a victory in itself.”

Our groups muses about the departure of Andy (a guy who provided many of the previous comments. We talk about how we miss him and how it may be a while before we’d see him again. We ponder ways to that we could see sooner. Finally, a guy deadpans his final solution:
“I guess I could join a Jewish fraternity.”
A brief silence followed by everyone in the room dying with laughter.

THE NEXT MORNING
8:30 a.m. to 8:50 a.m. January 1

Talking to my “bowl crashing” friends, who are cleaning up their camper and getting ready to head home:

“Want a beer bong”
The guy holds up an funnel. I look to my friend for an explanation. He shrugs and says, “We were tailgating in front of an Auto Zone.”
“Quick,” his friend reminisces, “I need a gallon container, some tubing, and a funnel.”

I ask how they ended up in the parking lot of the Insurance agency, located next door to the hotel:
“We were loud and… they kicked us out of the Shoney’s Inn parking lot.”
A confused friend in the back sits up and says:
“They did?”

My friend complains about his sore back:
“That’s what happens when you spend your night sleeping in the front of a Shoney’s Inn parking lot.”
“Actually, you didn’t even do that well.”
Looks around and smiles:
“Yeah…”

Returning North
10:00 a.m. to 11:30 p.m. January 1

“Okay gang. What’s next on the itenerary?”
“10 o’clock [a.m.], depart. 11 o’clock [p.m.], arrive.”
“I guess we’ll have to schedule our own activities along the way.

Passing the Triple JJJ gas station:
“Isn’t Nine J’s?”

“We’re going to Tijuana.”
“Hijack!”
“Yeah!”

We share the most important lesson learned during the trip:
“They don’t like it when you say Ar-Kansas. That bother’s them.”

'You_dont_say'

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WAG - 2004 Resolutions I am Not Making

I don’t do New Years Resolutions.

It’s been a couple of years since I actually made any and even then they weren’t serious.

There are things I would like to do and/or get done, but I don’t make major declarations. If I get them done, great. If not, maybe next year.

You can make life altering or improving decisions any day of the year. You need not wait for 1/1 to roll around (or January 2, or January 3, depending on how busy things were on New Years). The modern calendar is so screwed up, the actual date of New Years has no great significance other than being the date some 2nd century Gregorian cleric thought it was a good time to start over.

Note: For the record, for you calendar junkies out there, I know there were further “corrections” in 1582 and 1752, but I don’t know who to pin those alterations on.

While thinking about the general futility of New Year’s resolutions, both in timing and the inflated importance of following through with them, my mind began to formulate resolutions I’d never make.

It’s not that I’m about to break any of these pledges. I’m not intending to systematically break every one of them. This satire is simply how my mind decided to deal with the concept.

That being said, let’s proclaim the otherwise unproclaimable.

NOT TO DO IN 2004 (OR ANY OTHER YEAR FOR THAT MATTER)

I will lose 378 pounds, per week, but only if I make it to London.

I will help dyslexic children correctly read often more forward.

I will act more humble before people that are inferior to me.

I will stop selling my sister’s property on E-Bay (or at least start giving her a percentage).

I will TRY to stop throttling those who mockingly say “‘Working hard,’ or ‘hardly working.’”

I will stop shaving stray puppies and kittens.

Deciding to put an end to it all, I will finally stop living a lie and publicly announce my eternal love of Dawson’s Creek. There! I’ve said it. I feel better.

I shall stop drawing mustaches on family photos – especially on the female members.

Breaking a long-standing tradition, I will stop dropping sugar cubes into car engines to feed the ponies that provide the horsepower.

I will stop booby-trapping the punch bowl.

I’ll stop chewing my toenails.

I’ll mark all the song lyrics out of my copy of West Side Story and change it back to Romeo and Juliet again (after I’m done turning My Fair Lady into Pygmalion).

I will use feng shui to align the inner Chi of my adobe.

I will take an advanced course in the international language of Esperanto.

I will stop collecting celebrity earwax.

I will stop informing the neighbor’s kids that there is no Santa Claus, after I tell Timmy - he's a jerk.

I will build a better mousetrap – or at least one that is comparable to currently existing models.

I will stop making Carrot Top voodoo dolls. Maybe…

I will stop poisoning the pigeons in the park.

I will strive to stop my constant use of the phrase, “Them’s good people.”

Deeming it my “daily tuber,” I will incorporate potatoes into every meal.

I will stop going to the zoo and mocking the monkeys.

I will stop peddling Rolek watches to nearsighted tourists.

I will dig up all the foreign, slightly illegal objects I have secreted in the backyard and replace them with daisies.

I will attempt to domesticate a random wild animal and name it Mr. Buttercup (regardless of gender.)

I will teach myself how to play the tuba without using my hands.

And finally, taking Prince’s advice, I’m gonna party like it’s 1999.

Happy New Year everybody!

'Make_it_a_good_one'

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WAG - Book Review Time

I think I have a 28-hour circadian rhythm.

Note: I’ll get to the literary evaluation referred to in the title, but first; a short digression.

I am a night owl by nature and typically have no trouble staying up late. Granted, most people can pull a late night if necessary, but I don’t find it too difficult to stay through dawn if necessary.

I pay for it the next day, of course, which is why I rarely attempt all-nighters. However when it comes time to crunch, I don’t require any extra sugar or caffeine assistance to pull it off.

That being said, when I have insomnia, I get it wicked bad.

Last night was one of those nights.

So the first major quandary of the day was posed around 2 in the morning: What to read?

So, early in the morning, I started a 20-hour period where I started and finished 3 books, which I shall now briefly recap.

I read The Lord of the Flies by William Golding, Prey by Michael Crichton, and Shopgirl by Steve Martin.

The common theme was the innate tendency for man to self-destruct, though the methods were different. The instruments were isolation, technology, and love.

The Lord of the Flies is a modern classic that recounts the tales of a "tribe" of British boys that get stranded on a jungle island during WWII and how they slowly turn feral. It’s been on my long-term list of books to read since I first heard about it in Middle School. I had heard snippets of the story, so certain dark twists weren’t as surprising as they could have been, but it still was a gripping read (especially so, when you realize I was still flipping pages around 5 o’clock in the morning).

Society is a hard thing to setup, let alone maintain. Without the guiding hands of an overall authority, all you have is your personal morals to go by. And if your rationale of what is right or wrong conflicts with others, things can get ugly.

That’s true in the wild or in more “civilized” quarters.

Even Silicon Valley can be a fearsome place. In Prey, the quest for improved “artificial life” threatens to consume everyone involved.

(Note: There a key distinction is made in the book concerning the differences between “artificial intelligence” and “artificial life.” A.I., the more commonly known one, is the grail for those looking to reproduce a simulated consciousness. A.L. seeks to mirror biological systems – or the behaviors or protocols that guide life. Think of it as programming instinct guidelines that would help a machine cope with the outside world).

When being summoned to help spruce up some code, the hero of the novel finds himself trying to control (and later contain) an artificial organism gone berserk.

Once again ethics, or the lack of quality ones, prompt the near-disaster. When important questions concerning risks or “how far is too far” aren’t asked, one is destined to be answering the questions after the consequences have hit.

Thus, we drift into the last book, Shopgirl, which I figured would be a nice change of pace after the previous downers.

I was both right and wrong.

Steve Martin has the rare ability to be both tragic and uplifting at the same time. At least that’s what the reviews on the cover said. I recalled the same accolades being given for his short story collection Pure Drivel, but it was truly earned here.

Shopgirl recounts the ups and downs of a fragile girl who starts a relationship with a man 30 years her senior. I believe it is one of the best chronicles or the tragic and hilarious things that go on during courtship.

It perfectly pegged the naïve expectations people have, the frequent miscommunications and missteps, sweat triumphs, heartrending mistakes, and other foolish things people do while under the influence of love.

I knew these lessons, but they were humorously reinforced: Love can hurt and it can heal. It all depends on how and who wields it.

And you need not a “Hollywood ending” where the boy gets the girl for everyone to live “Happily Ever After.”

Mankind has come across many things through which it can destroy itself: unsupervised freedom, miracle machines, and love.

Of course, if they are used properly, they can make life a treat too.

Finding the right balance is the key.

Good luck.

'read_on'

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WAG - Yellow Journalism Lives

TOP STORY: Britney Spears Married, Single!!!!!!!!!!

I know what you’re thinking (or at least some of you).

After seeing me slack off concerning my posting responsibilities, you know think I’m on resurfacing to see what muck I can rake up on the whole “What the crap was she thinking” engagement.

Well you’re only partially right.

While I plan to throw in my two cents, because this is a shot few could resist taking, I would also like to comment on the coverage of the whole debacle.

Yes, the would-be-journalist will attempt to cover journalism.

Wish him luck.

One could blame it on it being a slow news day (the other “big” stories of the day were another Osama tape and fallout concerning Steve Irwin taking a page from the Michael Jackson book of parenting), but it would have been a circus regardless.

- See Princess Diana’s death trumping Mother Theresa’s death.
- See also The Monica Lewinski “thing” beating out the Pope’s trip to Communist Cuba.

There are legitimate big news stories and there is juicy gossip that is often dressed up as something just as important. I’m not saying I’m opposed to it being out there, I gobble it up as much as anybody else; I just wish people wouldn’t try to give it equal billing on the marquee.

After watching the press go cuckoo for Coca-Puffs while Ben/J-Lo watching over the summer, especially during their “will they?”/”did they?” affair with their nuptials, I shouldn’t be surprised.

I mean during that time they even coined new terms to refer to the couple. Bennifer. You know some punk was proud when they came up with that one. You know the new name given to Mr. Jason Allen Alexander? Mr. Britney Spears. You know that one’s going to stick.

I will give the media a bit of credit. It’s not like The New York Times broke the story; though lately they should be so lucky. It was People Magazine that had the scoop. A quasi-serious, though mostly tabloid-y publication brought it to light.

The trouble came when it seemed EVERYBODY wanted to get a piece and TOO MANY made it the feature story.

I know there are easy shots to make. Many people pulled out the file photos of Britney in wedding dress (left her previous major debacle at the MTV VMA’s). Many smarmy comments were made using her song titles (I won’t repeat any here, because they come to mind naturally without any assistance).

Personally, I’ve being saying for a couple years now I’ve been looking to the “Behind the Music” that finally spills all the dirt. The guys, the plastic surgery, all of it.

I like most people weren’t expecting it to come crashing out into the open so surprisingly and so soon. Usually an artist has to be out of the spotlight half a decade before springing something this serious (it used to be a decade, but people’s attention span got shorter. Go figure).

When the major options are shotgun marriage, a public announcement before entering rehab, a contrived religious conversion, or murder/suicide – I give her some credit for picking a classier option, but that’s like saying you picked the most graceful way to foul out.

It’s human nature to put people up on pedestals. We do that even when they may not belong up there.

But that works out okay, because it’s also human nature to tear people down from the altars we’ve set them on.

Some of us take more pleasure from dethroning people rather than enshrining them in the first place.

- See M. Stewart, K. Bryant, and S. Hussein.

Yes, it is worth taking note when an idolized hot shot flames out. In a time without much moral teachings, they can act as cautionary fables. Be cautious about rushing into marriage. Or at least have the pre-nup worked out far in advance.

Britney’s breakup is news of the “water cooler” sort (not that I’ve seen a water cooler in years, let alone one that was a designated “hang out and chat” spot), but don’t present it to me in a way that makes it seem more important than it is.

In the long run, it has no impact on me. It will make for some entertaining commentary in the short run. It has already been mentioned in late night monologues, SNL scribes are currently coupling together the sketch that will skewer it, and locals back in Lousianna are lining up to be the next one to make a crack at the expense of “Mr. Britney.”

But other than that, and a brief bit of nostalgia I’ll have in 2014 when I catch the latest update in Spear’s Behind the Music (MAKE YOUR FAVORITE SUBSTANCE ABUSE/REHAB JOKE HERE), it means nothing to me.

Concerning the profession I aspire to, telling people about the world they live in, I’ll have to deal with the bruises concerning the sloppy journalism that was going on today, but even that’s not a big deal.

We do it to ourselves all the time.

It’s just a matter of when… and who…

Somewhere out there, a “news” guy is saying to himself, “It’s been 5 minutes. Let’s go check up and see what Michael Jackson is up to.”

And we’re off to the races again.

Pick your pony and away we go.

'Heigh_ho_scandal_AWAY'

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AWAG - nother Day, Another Routine

I made it to Sullivan alive and in one piece.

Not that I expected otherwise, but I thought it’s good to mention these things every once in a while.

Another day without dismemberment. Check.

It’s those days when you can’t say “Check” that you have to worry about.

___________________________________________

As you may be able to tell by the previous section, I spent most of my day camped in front of my computer.

I listened to music, played computer games, and wrote in my room. Coming out only for meals and to call Jessie, I otherwise spent my day camped out in front of the computer screen.

And where am I now that I’ve left my bed/family storage room?

I’m on the living room couch pounding on the laptop.

Am I in a rut? Of course! I’m on vacation. I have the luxury of slummin’.

Soon I’ll be back to a different grind, but you know what they say.

The more things change, the more they stay the same.

And that remains a constant – whether it’s vacation or not.

'still_the_same'

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WAG - Missing Link

Checking my email today brought me news of a tragic loss that occuring during my trip.

The Chrissys Corner blog has been deleted. I have argued with the author before about keeping it going, stalling it from going under, but an even more tragic turn of events forced it to go (permanently) underground.

Her parents found out about it.

Unlike this site, which it often perused by my relatives, her's was meant to be more private. Thus, she felt open to share more insight - and a few more cuss words in times of trouble - with her readers.

Further thus, her parents found it even more "interesting" when they finally stumbled across it.

Final thus, it was deleted to prevent any further discoveries other than the viewing of the opening page; for who knows what (potential) evil lurks in the hearts of archives?

Not her parents.

Adieu Chrissy's Corner. We barely got to know thee, for your parents knew thee to well.

'RID_Rest_in_Deletion'

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WAG - Come in Mission Control
Can You Read Me?

Looking around the largely abandoned Pershing Computer Lab, I am fairly sure I got back to Columbia alright from the Independence Bowl trip.

The schedule said we wouldn’t be getting back till 11:00 p.m., but it was closer to 11:30 – which isn’t great, but is much better than I was guessing.

Most of us were tired, zoned out, etc. Spending roughly 12 hours on a bus will do that – especially, in an attempt to save time, they don’t let anybody off after 6:30 p.m.

Anyway, I unloaded the bus, asked someone to give me a ride to Cramer, turned in my uniform, found the person who was going to give me a ride had forgotten and/or didn’t understand me in the first place, got another ride, dropped my stuff off, went out for pizza with a handful of friends who were sticking around in town a bit longer, read for a bit, and crashed around 1:30 a.m.

Since the majority of my memories for the last 12 hours are fuzzy at best, that’s why I’m only now starting to believe I made it.

But what of my Bowl Game memories - fuzzy and otherwise?

I took lots of notes during the trip. I will do my best not to make it too long, but there are several random rants and observations I’d like to get into.

I also kept a running log of interesting comments from the trip. These aren’t just from me and my friends. They also come from Hotel Security Guards, Police Officers, and more.

In a couple of hours, I’ll be pulling out once more and heading back to Sullivan for a few days before cruising back to MU.

Though life may never slow down, I never have to worry about it getting boring.

Especially when you have a $25 per diem, a police escort follows you everywhere, and the whole trip you have an aching feeling you’re going to end up spending your New Years in a parking lot.

Now THAT’s is, and was, a recipe for a good time.

'roger_coming_in_loud_and_incoherent_as_usual'

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