I try to reserve this space for actual news (not true), but, lacking in actual news (true), I'll just write again.

I think I've spent an inordinate amount of time on the phone lately, but I kind of covered that last time. But I got to talk with Gurs for the first time in, it seems like, ages last night, and that was really nice. I think about an hour combined between two calls, with a break for him to fill up his gas tank and for me to make lunch and do some dishes. And it was all semi-substantive stuff.

Tina and I have a conversation that we never seem to finish, so it's like one long epic. I think it started probably in September or so. I'm happy that I talk to Tina again. She encourages me to think big, and I respond by choking. Or, rather, misreading, perhaps. Or, rather, being misled. Or, rather, well, I'm not sure, but I appreciate her for it. And I'm confident I've made it better, perhaps. And I got a real nice dinner out of it, and I got to sit on the floor and listen to some silly music and I got to drink some somewhat free wine.

I got to talk to my friend Cookie from The 'Port over the weekend, though we got hung up on serious stuff. And then we got to talking about the new Gophs football coach and college football recruiting. A strong finish to a somewhat sad conversation.

My friend Dirtbag called last night - I used the disingenuous-but-truthful excuse - "You were totally on my list of people to call this week," and he was - but it always makes one look like a dork. He sent me some pictures of his son, who is now, shockingly, six months old. 18 months ago, he was just raking an infield and microwaving broccoli for lunch, and now he's a daddy to two, which is pretty wild and fantastic, it seems, from my secondhand perspective. He asked if I'm ready to do not-baseball this summer, and I said there hasn't been a day that I've missed it since I've started my new gig, but that I had no idea if that would change over the summer, and he said, "It won't. Get there in the first. Leave in the seventh. It's a beautiful thing."

I got a really, really nice email from a former colleague two days ago. You'll recall, perhaps, that I had what I considered a pretty big opportunity to call Triple-A baseball two summers ago, and I was beyond excited about it, though I kind of choked on my nerves and didn't sound particularly...professional...when I was calling the game. I mean, at the time I thought I sounded okay, but I didn't. Nerves kept me quiet.

Anyway, the former colleague through whom I finagled the opportunity contacted me a few days ago, just to tell me that I had been under consideration for a job that they never posted. One of a few names that they bandied about in their office. Bear in mind, I hadn't seen him in 18 months, and I hadn't had contact with him since a few back-and-forth emails this summer, so it was flattering. I got to write "Thanks for the consideration. Now stop considering me." And I explained what had transpired since our last contact in, probably, July or so. He was generally happy for me.

So it feels like I've got more friends in different time zones than I do here, and that's probably true, but it seems like that's starting to actually change. In the past four days, I've spent quality social time with four different locals on three separate occasions, plus a nearly two-hour phone conversation with a local, and that's pretty good in a town of 15,000 or so. It looks like I'm officially part of a Tuesday Night All-Weather Outdoor Running Club, which is nice. Or, while I'm not officially part of it, I've been invited back for a third time next week. I don't really have proper gear, though my Alamo Bowl long-sleeved t-shirt and my "Get One Free" kind-of purple gloves are pretty cool. Next week we're running on the side of the road, and it's been recommended that I get something reflective. I think I'll just rely on the free rider problem.

- - - - - - - -

I've already got St. Patrick's Day plans, and they're taking me on the road. Columbus, Ohio. Newport Music Hall. The Thermals. The Hold Steady. It'll be amazing. You should totally come.

- - - - - - - - - -

I absolutely found myself enthralled - again - by Neutral Milk Hotel's In the Aeroplane Over the Sea this weekend. It never disappoints. Jeff Mangum's singing backup on the new Apples In Stereo record, out in a few weeks. It'll be the first Apples In Stereo record that I purchase.

Besides the wild imagery and the psychedelic orchestra featured on ITAOTS, I noticed the rhythm of Jeff Mangum's delivery this weekend. "King of Carrot Flowers Pt. 1" has about the most amazing, Eminem-like (!) internal rhyme in its crucial lyric - "And this is the room one afternoon I knew I could love you." Just haunting and fantastic.

But everything's fantastic about the album, we know.

- - - - - - - -

It's tough to believe, but I've been at my job for almost four months now. I'm a veteran, already on my second desk. Also, on my second water glass, as the first one developed a leak in the past few days. I've had to move to a glass glass, sadly, rather than my preferred rustic blue plastic.

I've also learned euchre, kind of, in the past week or so, and have gone 2-1. I kind of prefer our scrappy Texas Hold 'Em games, but those seem to have fallen by the wayside, and it's a shame.

We switched desks about 10 days ago, and I was pretty bummed about the dissolution of my pod of three. But the new pod of three has worked out, as it turns out that one of my new mates is absolutely hilarious. He just needed to find deskmates willing to talk. He's taken to using The Boy's fantastic post-joke drumbeat-cymbal-crash-silence-with-the-hand trademark, which makes me a bit uncomfortable, but also draws uproarious laughter. We've gone from "I'm gonna get you fired for being too loud" to "You're gonna get me fired," neither of which is true, I don't think. And he's roadtripping to Columbus with me in a few months.

Speaking of The Boy, I miss him. I wonder what he's up to. (Work. Lots of it. No sleep.)

- - - - - - -

I head to New York a week from Thursday. I'm pretty geeked to see my sister.

- - - - - - -

Is it my duty to watch the State of the Union address? Is it your duty? For all it's ridiculousness, it's a pretty neat tradition. Standing ovations, and one night where everyone pretends to get along. Personally, I wish the minority party didn't even get its rebuttal opportunity - let's honor the tradition and let the President have his moment.

Nice touch to emphasize the "Madam Speaker" thing, I think, though he probably didn't come up with it. But it got everything off on a nice note, I thought.

- - - - - - -

Bears Analysis: They were far better, and I knew that they'd be better. (I really did, because Sean Salisbury disagreed with me.) I'm pretty excited for Super Bowl XLI. I don't know who will win yet, though I have an inclination on who will win, and maybe I'll offer an analysis next Wednesday before I depart for Detroit-then-New York. I'm quite happy that I thought of the Super Bowl while booking my tickets. Maybe Skipper will wear a "You've Been Urlacher'd" shirt, because it's a pretty effin' cool shirt. I'm 2-0 with the YBU shirt in the playoffs.

I only wish I were spending more time (any time) listening to Bernstein and Boers over these next weeks.

Things that I have accomplished since my last post, now, incredibly, more than a week ago (and, no, it’s not that incredible, and it’s really quite typical, but still notable):

1) I’ve slept soundly in my new bed, now seven straight nights. As I think about it, only four times have I actually been under the covers, owing once to drunkenness and twice to trying to fight through the fatigue and get through another page or so. I’m quite a trooper. I’d like to tell you that this is the last you’ll hear of my fantastic bed, but I can’t guarantee it.

2) This evening, with the weather at 20 degrees, I ran at The Ring Fingernail’s outdoor track with a coworker. His usual group of between four and ten mates was sliced to him, me, and a husband-and-wife couple that walk separately, so I didn’t get to meet any of the normal crew. But it was a pretty good run – we covered 3 ½ miles in pretty good time. And, yes, it was 20 degrees, and I was running outside for fun. I’m ill.

3) There’s this older guy I work with, and he’s one of the funnier people I’ve ever met, and I like to think we get along pretty well. He’s a creative type, and used to do standup, apparently, and does a fair amount of wandering and muttering – finding inspiration, I guess. Anyway, my eyes tend to wander and his legs tend to wander and, often, when this happens, we make eye contact. Sometimes it’s me with the joke, but usually it’s him. Last Tuesday, the day after I arrived to work with a clean shave and a short haircut, I looked, well, the opposite of what I had looked like before. And he was walking by with a fresh cup of coffee, and he turned, and stopped, and said, “Looking at you right now… all clean-cut and nice looking… it just makes me want to invest in a bond.” Uproarious, I thought.

4) On Friday night, I bought Ghostface Killah’s FishScale at my local Borders Books and Music. This is because the album was one of the best reviewed of 2006, and because the reviews made it sound like something that I could appreciate, and because I had a gift card and Rewards Card points to use. So, Why the hell not?, I thought. I had to special order the product, and I picked it up on Friday night and, on the way home, it was quite clear that something wasn’t quite right. And then I realized that, well, every fourth lyric was muted. And then I realized that, well, I had clearly gotten the edited version. Let me tell you, friends, rap records without the word ‘fuck’ are absolutely unlistenable. I was, thankfully, able to make the exchange on Saturday afternoon, though the clerk gave me the runaround before I explained that it wasn’t really my mistake. I’m hard, dude. I think Ghostface is probably too hard for me, even though he’s an oldie now.

5) I had one of the funniest conversations of my life on Friday night. My recounting of this conversation, however, has gotten considerably less sharp as time has passed. It elicited uproarious giggles through the weekend, solid laughter from my sister last night, and only silence from Gurs tonight. But I’ll blame that on his general petulance and fatigue, and not on my lack of conversation-recounting prowess.

6) I nailed a joke at the end of the workday on Monday. I’ve had a picture from my brother’s wedding on my desk since receiving it for Christmas. It’s a pretty great picture, really. So, we moved desks at the office at the end of the day Friday and, for some reason, several people asked who was in the picture on Monday. (Hardly anybody had noticed it at my previous location, it seems.)

The joke:
Coworker: Oh, who’s in that picture?

Me: Well, that’s me. And that’s my younger brother, and that’s my sister. And that’s my brother who got married, and that’s his wife, my sister-in-law, I guess. And that’s my dad. And that’s the whore he picked up on the way over.

All: Laugh uncontrollably.

(P.S. Mom, I love you a lot. Thanks for laughing.)

Twice, I had cracked up before giving the punch line. But right at the end of the day, it was golden.

7) Gas is under two bucks here, which is awesome.

8) The Bears weren’t great, but they won a playoff game on Sunday. And now they’re just one win away from going to the Super Bowl, and two wins away from winning the Super Bowl. So that’s worth something.

9) I’m totally on myspace now. Sorry.

Speaking of the Super Bowl, kind of, I’ll be in New York to see my sister that weekend. In Friday morning, in the city on Friday, out to see her on Saturday, out to see her show on Saturday night, and back to the airport on Sunday morning. It’s pretty exciting.

We got in a conversation last night that wound up lasting closer to two hours than to one, which is probably a record between the two of us. It was pretty awesome. We got to talking about adult kind of things, and she listened to me like my opinions on life are worth something. She’s such a sucker, and I love her for it.

I’ve taken to half-seriously, half-jokingly declaring that I have two friends in the world. But, it turns out, I think I’ve got a lot more than that. The reason for this? Because I got three separate football-related phone calls within 15 minutes of Robbie Gould’s 49-yard game-winner on Sunday. A celebratory call from Nemo. Immediate. A celebratory call from Jenny. Slightly less immediate. A call of concession from Tina. Even less immediate, but still pretty timely. Pretty unreal, really.

The snow’s back, and will be for quite a while. I think that one of my favorite feelings is walking in falling snow in the dark. The sound of boots on fresh-fallen snow is about the best in the world, I think. Chilly enough to let you know you’re part of the world, but silent enough to be peaceful.

I don’t know. There’s not much really here, I guess, and I apologize for that. I’ll write when I’ve got something more interesting, but there aren’t any guarantees of that happening any time soon.

I think I'm going to try to make oatmeal raisin cookies over the weekend. Oatmeal, raisins, applesauce, and brown sugar are four of my favorite things, and I think I'll be able to competently combine them. I'll also watch football, I think.

So, I bought a bed on Saturday. I went to four places, spoke to four salespeople, headed home to watch Northwestern hoops, and returned to the third to make my purchase. I feel pretty good about my performance. So that's pretty exciting, in it's own way. I'm hoping I can finagle use of a coworker's pickup and, well, pick it up, during the week. Otherwise, it's a Saturday delivery. That is, one more week of sleeping on the floor.

So that's news.

I also cut my hair and shaved the 'chops completely. To be honest, I look a little silly. I never realized how odd-looking I was until I spent two months unable to see half of my face, I guess. Perhaps we'll just let it - all of it - grow for the next six months. The Ring Fingernail mountain man look. I'm not sure.

It's been an odd weekend, only because I realized that I am, in actuality, completely uninterested in the NFL playoffs. Is it possible that I'm only actually interested in the NFL for the purposes of following the Chicago Bears and playing low-stakes fantasy football (net profit: $65 this year. Cha-ching!)? Yeah, I think it is.

On Saturday, game one was generally uninteresting - Indy and the Chiefs. I finished watching Northwestern's awful second half against Michigan, and then started flipping through the channels for other college hoops games. I wound up not really settling on one and then, after 12 minutes of Oklahoma-Texas, I realized that the NFL was on. I half-paid attention, then watched the second quarter on the treadmill. I don't know what I did for the second half, but I know it didn't include paying any attention.

On Saturday, game two was generally interesting, though it included two fading teams. Dallas lost to Seattle on an incredible botched field goal. Tony Romo couldn't hold onto the snap, and that was it. So, anyway, the end was a pretty interesting sequence: a late-game drive by the Cowboys, a controversial too-generous spot that would have given them first down inside the three, an official's review and reversal of the too-generous spot that resulted in fourth down, the botched field goal, Seattle taking over inside their two, a punt out of bounds, and a failed heave to the end zone to end the game. So I guess I got the basics of what was happening, but I actually stopped and watched one play - the failed field goal. That was it.

I then went out with a friend I worked with this summer and her boyfriend, a Cowboys fan in for the weekend. I dollar-Moosehead-ed him back to health, thankfully. I then dissuaded him from heading to the ballpark to... well, I won't say. But we went home instead.

To me, today's first game was the most interesting entering the weekend. The Jets and the Patriots, and I've enjoyed watching the Jets offense (L. Coles was on the fantasy team, so I had an eye on them while watching the Bears at the bar this season), and I kind of enjoy the Pats-Jets subtext, and I don't enjoy the way people fawn over Tom Brady, mostly because I get bored of people. So I watched part of the first half on the treadmill, and spent most of the second half cleaning or reading or napping.

And now, during the fourth game, I'm writing about how disinterested I am. Though I was just interrupted by a very nice phone call from The Boy. (And there was just a fantastic Eagles drive and a game-winning field goal, but I didn't see any of the drive, just the field goal.)

Is there a point to this? Probably not, but there's never really a point to any of this.

Well, I guess the point is that I'm interested in my teams - the Cats, the Bears, the Cubs, the Tiges (?), the Bulls if I think about it - and I can probably be convinced to watch a late-game situation involving individuals or teams that are inherently interesting - LeBron, or Johan Santana, or ... Darren McFadden - but that's probably it. (Actually, I can watch just about any college football game, and I particularly liked Arkansas this season.)

That said, I still read Sports Illustrated cover-to-cover (except for auto racing and, depending on time constraints, hockey) on a weekly basis.

Yeah, so no point to this.

- - - - - - -

I'd like to tell you about a grownup decision I just made. I was doing laundry, which is a teenaged decision, or perhaps even younger, depending on the pre-teen's maturity level. And then I was folding laundry, and I noticed a bunch of old undershirts. Tattered necks. Like, torn around the neck. And I thought, I'm a grownup. I just bought a bed. Why should I be wearing undershirts with tattered necks? I shouldn't. So I threw them out. Then I threw out some old socks, or some without matches. Shirts with disgusting armpit stains, however, I kept.

It's been a pretty grownup weekend, I guess. I dissuaded a friend from heading to his old place of employment to ... well, I won't say. I bought a bed. I trashed old, dirty clothing. I made the mistaken decision to shave and get a haircut. I slept til 11 today. I drank three Miller High Lifes, just because. All grownup things.

(I was going to make an off-color joke about all my kids, whose names I don't know, here, but I decided that would be offensive.)

- - - - - - - - -

I was reading my last post yesterday, and I realized that my whole political post-Saddam execution riff was probably over the top.

The juxtaposition at fault:

We know what [Saddam] was responsible for. Or, we've got a sense of what he was responsible for, and it was all heinous stuff.

But what's "Our Guy" been responsible for?

That's over the top. I don't like war in general, and I don't like "Our Guy's" ill-conceived and horribly-planned war in specific, but that went too far.

That's all I've got.

I'd like to write about college football for a moment. I can say that college football is either my favorite or my second favorite sport to follow, behind or ahead of Major League Baseball. The NFL's probably third, maybe Big Ten hoops (not college hoops as a whole) fourth, maybe the NBA fifth, and maybe those other sports after that. I don't care for golf, though spring Sundays spent falling asleep to it aren't bad. I like Wimbledon a lot, but that's really it, unless you include the U.S. Open. I love the World Cup when it comes around, but I like the Olympics a lot less now than I did when I was, say, eight years old.

But, anyway, wasn't that Boise State win incredible? A hook and ladder!? A poorly conceived wide receiver rollout and pass turned touchdown!? A statue of liberty!? I made it up until 1 a.m. to watch the game, and it was totally worth it.

(Notre Dame-LSU, which I'm semi-watching now, probably won't be worth it. And I still love the Irish, but can we be far away from the day when the BCS bowls make a decision that the 'extra' publicity and fan fervor that comes from seeing Notre Dame in their game is negated by the fact that Notre Dame probably sucks? Wouldn't the college football fan have been better-served by, say, West Virginia in this game? It wouldn't be over by the end of the third quarter, I can tell you that.

And let me tell you something: Jimmy Clausen, Darius Walker, David Grimes and a still-crappy defense won't make them a contender any time soon. Or that Aldridge guy when Clausen's a sophomore.)

It's nice to watch a joyful coach, like Boise's Chris Petersen. It's not nice to watch a slovenly, angry, mean-spirited, arrogant coach, like Charlie Weis. He might have Super Bowl rings, but I'm not convinced he'll be good for the school. If any school can be bigger than any coach, it's Notre Dame, with its rich tradition, dedicated fan base, and nationwide following. For all his professed love of ND, Charlie Weis seems to be among those that doesn't realize this or flatly refuses to acknowledge it. The size of his gut is matched only by the size of his ego.

I just hope ND doesn't repeat their Parseghian [sp?] theft of before-I-was-born and try to steal Fitzgerald from us. Fitzgerald always wanted to go to Notre Dame, and they didn't want him. But maybe he'd want to coach there. South Side Catholic. After all, Pat Fitzgerald, as a name, is "right out of central casting." That was good enough for George O'Leary, as you'll recall. Then the school had to cover its ass by hiring a black dude, then embarrassed itself by not giving him the chance it gave to Bob Davie, a certifiable idiot. I can't believe I'm typing this, but I've got to imagine that, in the not-too-distant future, Domers will decide that a young, enthusiastic, charismatic and classy leader is better than a fat asshole. [My dad's a regular reader and he's never commented here, and this off-the-cuff, unplanned criticism might be enough.]

Weis kind of excited me, an individual that definitively holds the Irish as my second-favorite college school/team/program, last year, but I'm over him. I wouldn't mind him heading to the Giants in two weeks.

ND missive over. This game is miserable.

Anyway, I've long said that the reason I love college football is because every game means something in terms of the national title picture. Or, rather, contenders can't take a single week off. There's nothing like it anywhere, I don't think. A playoff struggle would, to an extent, ruin it. (Witness Sports Illustrated, who published a mythical eight-team tournament and how it would play out. It included LSU - who couldn't even win it's own division - and not Boise State, who showed its moxie a few nights ago. There's no eight-team tournament that could conceivably bring in every team who is good enough to deserve a shot.)

Chuck Klosterman, who is a less-dorky version of me, who also makes lots of money, or at least some money, and who might be more-dorky than me, and who certainly has more hipster-like glasses, and who knows more about Saved by the Bell than I do despite the fact that he's probably six or eight years older than I am, wrote a nice column expressing my thoughts on college football's need to maintain some version of its bowl system.

Among the reasons:
- For as stupid as they are, minor bowl games are fun. You can stay they'd still exist if a playoff structure existed, but they'd take on a significantly more minor stature. NIT-minor, and that's not good (though it's not bad if you're an NU hoops fan).

- A list of ten games that were incredibly meaningful at the time, at various weeks during the season, and that he was incredibly excited about. If all of those teams were virtual postseason locks, would the games have had their magnitude? Nope. OSU-Michigan, for instance, would be a seeding matchup.

- The best part about the above: "How, exactly, are three exciting weekends in December better than four or five months of weekly sweeping consequence? Why jam an entire season into 21 days?"

- "Watching college football on TV is probably the best thing about my life." Free. No 'emotional compromise.' No liver or lung damage. "Always entertaining. Always makes me happy, even in August." This wouldn't be the case with a playoff system.

- Really, who cares if we know who the "best" team is?

- And does a tournament ever determine who the "best" team was, anyway? Nope, it determines who the hottest team is, for instance, for three weekends in March and April. There's no way Florida was the best hoops team last year, or Carmelo Anthony's Syracuse team when they won.

My point: College football, as it is, rewards prolonged excellence. No other sport can do that. Well, maybe playoff-free European soccer seasons, but I don't have the patience or interest to follow those.

[The partisan LSU crowd has just started an "Over-rated" chant, mocking the Fighting Irish. The Irish were ranked 11th, and nobody thought they were any good. How does that chant make any sense? Oh, yeah, it's the South. They're dumb down there.]

[Oh, yeah. Draws and screens and dinks and dumpoffs really aren't that fun to watch.]

[Oh, yeah. Say what you will about his size or his arm strength or his skill set, but Brady Quinn is under no circumstances an NFL quarterback. Inaccurate beyond about 15 yards, it seems to these eyes, particularly in big games. I don't think he's had a signature win. I hope he gets his wish and lands in Cleveland; perpetuate their decade of post-return suckiness.]

- - - - - - -

Standard work wear, twice a week, is a t-shirt, hooded sweatshirt, and jeans. Other days, something plaid and ugly and jeans. A few times, a company fleece. Not uncomfortable at all.

I've got about six or eight t-shirts in the rotation. A few rock n' roll t-shirts, a few WNUR shirts, an out-of-character-y hip Old Navy shirt (a gift from Jenny, the sweetie).

Today was my GbV Mag Earwhig shirt. And I was warm in the office (for the first time ever), so I took off the sweatshirt. And I was looking at myself in the mirror and I came to the realization that, My God, I've owned that t-shirt for eight years. Eight years! And it's still in pretty good condition.

It's a nice looking shirt, the turquoise-y color and the dude-with-the-sun-for-a-head-holding-a-deck-of-cards collage. I like it a lot, in fact. Still one of my favorites. It got a compliment today while I was refilling my water glass, and I said, "Huh," and my coworker said, "With that color, it kind of requires a compliment," or something like that. So I told her about how it was eight years old, and how I came to acquire it.

My freshman year at NU, I skipped homecoming to head to Cleveland and Detroit to see GbV with my pal Chuck. It would be my second and third shows of, I think, more than 20 times I saw the band over six-plus years. There was very limited alcohol consumption - probably two or three beers - and we hung out with newsgroup geeks by the tens - but it was a pretty fantastic time. Simpler times, or something.

(It's remarkable that I would've skipped a home football game to see two out-of-town concerts. But the Cats were terrible that year, and I loved the school a lot less that I do now, having only been there for seven or so weeks.)

I took pictures, and one still exists, and I'd like to show it.

I guess I look about, well, 18 years old there. Pretty wild.

Shortly after realizing I was wearing an eight-year-old shirt, I spilled coffee on it. But I nailed the post-flub joke: "I have a drinking problem," and all was well.

- - - - - -

I'd like to briefly talk about two current song obsessions:

Imogen Heap - "Goodnight and Go" - Some British chick, and some really lush strings, and bouncy electro-beats. Sappy, awful lyrics: "Why'd you have to be - so - cute? / It's impossible to ig-nore - you." And there's a part about her stalking the dude, or at least, following him home. But it's kind of charming, in a creepy way.

Turns out it was used on The O.C. or something. She was signed when she was 17 or 18, and she was 25 or something when the song came out last year. Rather, two years ago. Ha!

The obsession's now more than two weeks old. I ran outside (seriously) for about an hour on New Year's day and, in my random selection of 24 songs, decided to include this one three times. (So, I guess it was 22 songs.) "Goodnight and Go" came on three times in about a seven-song stretch, including twice in a row, and I didn't regret the decision at all. (I also had Stephen Malkmus' "Freeze the Saints" on the playlist, and it was totally kickin'.)

So that's current obsession one. I particularly like when it ends, not because it's over, but because of the way the final "go" echoes from speaker to speaker. Or maybe just fades out. I don't know, but it's fantastic.

Mojave 3 - "Puzzles Like You" - I've heard this song three times. I think Mojave 3 is led by the guy who used to lead Slowdive, which means less to you than it does to me, but doesn't really mean anything to me, either.

An obsession, yet I've heard it just three times? Yes. Yes. Yes.

In the office, we've been playing this adult pop radio station over the last week or so. Not a commercial over-the-air station, but XM or Muzak or Sirius or something. (It's Muzak, but I feel odd saying that we subscribe to Muzak because Muzak is, you know, elevator music.) So the music's been fantastic of late. A fair amount of Wilco, some Old 97's, the Jayhawks, plus poppier or more known stuff that I get less excited about, but that's generally inoffensive. Recent Liz Phair is on the list, and is definitely offensive. The Pernice Brothers have been on twice.

Anyway, frequently I'll hear a song that I don't know, and that I love. Or that my instinct is to love. Or that fascinates me. So I'll head over to the video display and write down the singer and song.

Three times I've heard this song in the office. All three times, I've checked the display. Under no circumstances did I remember the song from a previous time - it just hit me right every time. So, I guess I can say I'm obsessed, or will be soon.

It's lush and beautiful and sounds like The Clientele and is about a woman named Judy, I believe.

- - - - - - - - -

I don't care who it is. I'll never feel comfortable with the death penalty. Dudes with black cloths over their faces and a former dictator - most certainly the most awful man of my lifetime - being heckled with a noose around his neck makes me incredibly uncomfortable.

In the abstract, I can see how some might say it makes sense. In actuality, it's pretty sickening. I've only seen brief, brief clips of the clip, but they're enough to make me pretty ill.

We know what he was responsible for. Or, we've got a sense of what he was responsible for, and it was all heinous stuff.

But what's "Our Guy" been responsible for? Three thousand and counting, my friends, and those are the people whose side he's allegedly on. And 20,000 more on the way.

I'm never political here, but this whole situation's a freakin' disaster. Getting worse? Seems to be.

"At last, our long national nightmare is over." Oh, wait.

Interpret as you will.

- - - - - - - - - - -

Spraying to all fields, probably because I've not slept in three days and, when I have, it's been on the floor. My right shoulder's in pain.

- - - - - - - - - - -

I've done a little maintenance on the right side of the page. If you've not posted to your blog in a month, you're no longer linked. I'm sorry. I'm a search engine optimizer now, and I can't justify crappy links. Or, rather, it makes me sad to link to August 28th entries, no matter how fascinating they are, or to "Eight wins left!", which only makes me sad.