A week before Fat Tuesday, I have decided upon this year's Lenten sacrifice. In the spirit of CADMUS, that wide-ranging interdisciplinary endeavor to become the man I wish myself to be, I have decided to face a challenge that has in the past proven insurmountable. Lads and lasses, prepare yourselves for Mission: Unpossible Drei! Further discussion will follow in one week's time, but for now suffice it to say that this is the year the "unpossible" becomes possible.

In the interest of propriety, all Mission: Unpossible Drei posts that consist of more than a status update such as "All quiet on the Western front" or "Nothing to report" and the like will be prefaced by a warning such as, Caution: Lewdness ahead.

Operation ÖSTERREICH
I did not swim today, though I had every intention of doing so. Due to road conditions that were both adverse and steadily worsening, the campus was shut down in the afternoon. I might have been able to fit in my 1,000 yards, but I was running behind this morning and did not have time to pack my gym bag; so, a trip home to fetch it would have been necessary, and in lieu of this I took The Impossible Ingenue out to lunch. I stand by my choice.

In reluctant acknowledgment that my grand schemes of early morning productiveness almost always come to naught, I have taken the precautions this evening of already packing both my box lunch and my pool bag. Whatever else may transpire tomorrow, I won't be caught unprepared for at least two eventualities.

Project OSPREY
(6) Purdue 76-64 Michigan State (10)

Between Drew Brees winning the Super Bowl and tonight's victory by the ill-starred Boilermakers over the dastardly Spartans, these are heady days for the Old Gold & Black faithful. Many couches will burn in East Lansing tonight, in mourning rather than in celebration, and it couldn't have happened to a more deserving bunch of illiterate ne'er-do-wells.

I caught only the last ten minutes of the first half and the last three minutes of the second half, first before and then after tonight's new episode of White Collar, but even that was enough to make me groan at the officiating. I could not call a basketball game, it seems devilishly complicated, but the zebras out there tonight were supposed to be professionals and yet seemed the farthest thing from it. The only saving grace, I suppose, is that they blew calls against both teams; they were inept, not corrupt.

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
Fountains of Wayne, "This Better be Good" from Traffic and Weather (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: I'm not even particularly fond of "This Better be Good," but from the moment I was awakened by a text message from The Most Dangerous Game at 7:59 A.M.—to begin planning the festivities for The Cowgirl's impending 21st birthday—I knew it was going to be the R.B.D.S.O.T.D.