No, there's not that much to write, necessarily, but there's never that much to write. Maybe that's the joy of it all.

My sister graduated college on Friday. Who holds a graduation on a Friday morning? A bunch of hippies, that's who. It was reported to be a pretty good time, with my parents and Stumpy (not Stump) making an appearance and, apparently, the bad weather holding off. So that's nice.

Also nice is that all four Ruds are officially done. Done. That's awesome. What took her so long?

- - - - - - - - -

Fueled by booze and sunlight, I was an accomplice in the following conversation Saturday. Let's say it started at 4:45, continued at 5:30, and peaked at 8:15. And then we all fell down.

Coworker: Man, my dog has a pretty good life.
Me: I bet.
Coworker: Man, if I had a genie, I'd totally wish to be a dog.
Me: Yeah, but you'd have to specify what kind of dog.
Coworker: Yeah, so I guess I'd ask to have a good home.
Me: Yeah, but you couldn't talk, dude. You'd be a dog.

.......

Coworker: Man, my dog's got an awesome life.
Me: Sounds that way.
Coworker: Man, I'd totally wish to have a good home if a genie gave me three wishes.
Me: And then you'd wish to be a dog?
Coworker: Yeah. Wouldn't that be awesome?
Me: Yeah, but then you'd be wasting a wish.

......

Coworker: Man, my dog's got an awesome life.
Me: Yeah, sounds like you'd really like to be a dog.
Coworker: Think about that! Someone cleans up your poop!
Me: Pretty cool.
Coworker: So, if I had three wishes, first I'd wish for a good master.
Me: That could be interpreted in a number of ways.
Coworker: Yeah, I guess you're right.

I swear two things here:
1) It was funny. I swear. Uproariously hilarious. Or it was the booze.
2) I'm officially a grownup, you know. Late 20's and everything. This dude's even more of a grownup. Married, too. Man, this world's going to hell, especially if this qualifies to someone (me) as funny.

- - - - - - -

I guess I'd just like to write, so, again, not much here.

- - - - - - - -

I'm kind of a grammar guy, you might know. Not always here, for sure, but certainly in public places. For instance, The Ring Fingernail has a public facility - "Veteran's Park" - that makes me want to vomit once a day. (I see the sign once.) That one veteran being honored must be pretty honored, after all.

Bad English can drive me crazy - "I haven't saw that," sadly, I hear from time to time. Annoying and, more importantly, wrong. (Unless you're a linguistics professor, in which case there's no such thing as being incorrect when it comes to language. Linguistics is pretty dumb, I learned in the spring of 2000.)

But, usually, the stuff that drives me crazy is the grammar - incorrect verb tenses, and the like. That, and the obligatory "apostrophe 's'" that (stupid) people feel like adding to any plural.

I've come up with a new thing that drives me crazy. I also probably know the one person in the world to make this mistake.

Anyway, twice in the last two weeks, a colleague has attempted to use the term "self-deprecating" - as in, pointing out one's own shortcomings, often for humorous purposes. However, he's pronounced it "self-depreciating" - as in, apparently, pointing out one's loss of monetary value in the marketplace. Clearly, however, he meant it in the former case, as the latter case makes no sense. At all.

The question is not whether this is annoying. It is. The question is also not whether this reflects poorly on the individual. It does. (The question is also not whether caring about this reflects poorly on yours truly. It also does.)

The question truly is, How does something like this happen? Certainly, I think that the term "self-deprecating" is one that's used almost exclusively in spoken language - I guess you could read an interview or an article about someone that's particularly self-deprecating, but I'd say it's almost exclusively used when someone says "I'm quite self-deprecating," or "He's so self-deprecating," or, "Rud, you're quite self-deprecating, at times, and that's part of your charm. Asshole."

So, in one way, fascinating.

In another, just flat annoying.

- - - - - - -

I don't particularly enjoy Len and Bob on the Cubs broadcasts, though I do enjoy Len's attempts at showing off how cool he was in college by talking about fringe hip bands. I kind of, in their own way, enjoy Hawk and DJ, but only kind of, and certainly not as an every day thing.

Anyway, I got to see but one of the three weekend Cubs-Sox games - the Sunday game - televised here on WGN with Hawk and DJ on the call and Dan Roan hosting "White Sox Warmup" in advance.

When Hawk and DJ are pulling for the Sox, and they're playing my Cubs, I don't enjoy Hawk and DJ. They're annoying at that point.

However, they did do some of the greatest, greatest, greatest TV production work I've ever seen, at least to this baseball fan who has spent twenty-something years transfixed by the centerfield scoreboard at Wrigley Field. DJ started on a riff about how quickly the count was updated at Cubs games...and then they brought out the big guns: Split screen.

So, we got the centerfield camera. Righthanded batter at the plate (Konerko, I think). Above the lefthanded hitter's box, an image of the centerfield scoreboard. And, yes, it was fantastic.

We got a called strike and, indeed, the strike was on the board before Joe West pointed his finger to make the indication. And then we got a slider low and away and, indeed, it was on the scoreboard before it was even in Barrett's glove.

Truly, it was a landmark day for television.

Also, Hawk made some sort of reference to a plumber and pliers and, I think, someone's 'Hiney,' though I'm not sure. There's his charm, for the record.

You know what a Hineybird is, don't you DJ? A Hineybird is a bird that flies in circles, increasingly smaller concentric circles, until it disappears into its own behind. Poof! Mariotti's a Hineybird.

That's Hawk's real charm, for the record.

- - - - - - - -

I got The Clientele's God Save The Clientele on Saturday. I like The Clientele, a lot, though more in theory (they're clearly awesome) than in practice (I don't listen to their records much, though they're clearly awesome.)

Elliott Smith's New Moon also arrive. Its highlight is, duh, a cover of Big Star's "Thirteen." Because that's about the sweetest song ever.

And I got the Wilco record on Tuesday. My favorite song is "Hate It Here," which is certainly about the least cool song on the record to declare one's favorite. It's stupid country rock, not that far removed from "Passenger Side" from A.M., to be honest. "I even learned how to use the washing machine." It's also not far removed from The Mountain Goats' out of this world "Woke Up New."

Speaking of The Mountain Goats, Pitchfork linked to this, and I'm not the type to embed video, so I'll just link to it:
Death Cab's Ben Gibbard doing The Mountain Goats' Palmcorder Yajna. It's great.

(It's the fantastic one from We Shall All Be Healed where John Darnielle sings, "I hope they incinerate everybody in it."

Balls.