Everybody Loves Bob Pollard

I signed up (and failed...like a few of my friends) for NaNoWriMo last year. Honestly, if I had the means, I'd try this next month. I mean, how could something I put together in a month be any less legitimate than the entire Joanna Newsom discography? (Awww, I'm such a hater.)

***

South Side! Congratulations to the 2005 champions of Major League Baseball, the Chicago White Sox!

***

Now that this whole baseball nonsense is over, can we please concentrate on real sports? Jesus.

***

Go Hawks! Marvin Williams for Rookie of the Year!

***

Why Not Rosenfels? You know, that's what I've been saying all along.


In all seriousness...that was a truly excellent World Series. Any time the lesser Sox and the Yankees are at home with their thumbs up their asses instead of getting media reacharounds and worthless inches of newspaper ink is okay by me, but this was actually a great series, low ratings be damned. I don't really care about all of the "this is the way the game is supposed to be played" rhapsodizing that's happening, as it did when the Pats won the Super Bowl and the Spurs won the NBA championship, because I don't have as big a gripe with modern sports as most people do. However, I'll never have a problem when "underdogs" (which, if examined closely, really shouldn't be applied to the White Sox, since they went wire to wire) grab the spotlight.

***

Who's ready for some sweet Halloween action? This guy is. The champ is here, y'all...

Today's Question

...comes from D. Vega$ in Washington, D.C. He writes, "Who the fuck is Cleo Lemon?"

(On the plus side, A.J. Feeley is finally a thing of the past. Again, I have to ask: Can we get The Ultimate Sage Rosenfels Experience on the field?)

Also: bro-in-law finally had his surgery. Everything seems to be right as rain. He'll have to undergo some radiation treatment, and it will likely take months to get back to "normal", but the worst seems to be behind him. Thank you, well wishers.

Thangs and stuff and stuff and thangs....and stuff

-I didn't mention this before, but my brother-in-law did not undergo surgery a couple of weeks ago. Not due to a miraculous recovery, but because they found something else. So they had to postpone so they could run more tests. Surgery will be taking place tomorrow (Tuesday, 10/18). I'm really feeling for my sister. I talked to her tonight and she sounded so tired, which I know she is, since she's juggling school and work and the kids and the looming spectre of her husband's surgery. But the sound of her voice just made me so sad. I think she's barely holding it together, but I know she will keep it together. She's tough like that.

-South Side! (Congrats to the White Sox and their loyal fans.)

-Can Sage Rosenfels get a start? I mean, c'mon.

-I'm a bit put off by the voice they're using for Huey in The Boondocks animated series coming to Adult Swim. I know he's a kid, but when I read the strips, I never hear a kid's voice. I always hear a late teens/early twenties voice, for some reason. I had the same problem when they made that awful Dilbert series. Wally is not supposed to sound like that. Unlike that series, however, I can see myself sticking it out with The Boondocks. I think McGruder's humor will translate to television much better than Adams' did.

-NBA season is almost here. I was going to say "Go Hawks!" as I'm enthusiastic about the team this year, especially with the additions of Joe Johnson, Marvin Williams, and Salim Stoudamire. But then I just read this. That's a shame. RIP, JC.

-Perverted leprechaun or luchador magnifico? When a decision like that needs to be made, you know it must be Halloween.

I can't believe that I'm just now finding this out:

RIP, Nipsy.

America has lost its one true poet laureate. As it turns out, October is the cruelest month.

(Not really. Yankees and Red Sox out of the playoffs? Christmas came early! I can only hope this triggers an end to the hordes of nouveau Sox fans. Now all that's left is for the Patriots to suffer the same demise.)

And because of the company I keep, and because Chicago is the shiznite (and because the A's were unable to seal the deal for the second straight year), I shall also pull for the White Sox. South Side!

You Call This A Comeback?

So...whassup?

This week has been a million thousand hundred lot better than last week. Many thanks go out to the people who contacted me with encouraging and supportive words. French pickles for the rest of you odiodores. (I keed.)

It's really been a nothing week, with the exception of last night, when I got together with The Drizzle for beers at Whitlow's. I got to catch up on all of the goings on with The Driz, have some really cheap beer, and make fun of les canards. As always, a good time was had. Otherwise, it's been work and sleep and media therapy. I'm rotating between Sid Meier's Pirates!, La Pucelle: Tactics, and Sly 3: Honor Among Thieves. (And yes, Dr. C, I look fetching in the 3D Raccoon glasses. But then, I look fetching in most anything, except for spandex. Now e'ybody has to deal with that picture. Ha!) The Sly game is lots of fun and, once I'm done, I think I will finally finish the piece I was writing on the series, which is one of my favorites. As for Pirates, I never played the original, so I cannot make any comparisons, but this one has delivered in the gameplay department, despite its repetitive nature. I usually have no interest in games of this kind, but it got its hooks into me. La Pucelle, I've played the least, but that has more to do with the other games than with its own qualities.

One funny thing re: work. Yesterday, as we do every week, my co-worker and I were collecting the money from the soda machines. So, as I'm opening the machine on the ninth floor, my buddy spots something on top of the machine and grabs it. It's a blue plastic bag from Capitol Video Sales, a local movie rental chain. Like most of your non-Blockbuster stores, Capitol Video has a "back room" for mature audiences. ("Everyone's hugging!") Immediately, I knew that there would be something of the pornographic variety in the bag. I was, of course, right. But it was more than expected. Inside was a magazine (Club), a vibrator (purple and bumpy), and the piece de resistance, a fake pussy! I forget after which porn star it was allegedly molded. We contemplated splitting the booty (tee-hee), but realized how disgusting that would be. Especially since a) there were pages missing from the magazine, meaning it was used and b) it was probably used at the same time as the vibrator and pseudo-snatch. (Aside: having typed that, I just had the George Carlin exclamation "Snatch-o-rama!" buzz through my brain.) So it became junk.

And that's been about it. Today was my bro-in-law's surgery, but I have not heard anything from the family yet.

One last word: good luck to Mrs. O as she runs the Portland Marathon this weekend.