For no reason on which I can place a finger, I'm more The Last Angry Man than usual today. That may be grammatical nonsense, but you take my meaning. By way of example, I "defriended" Frankenstein's Monster on the Facebook because I am sick and tired of his Libertarian propaganda, with its half-truths and outright lies. Life is too short to settle for "good enough" friends and comrades; if I am to retain any respect for myself I must insist upon a higher caliber of boon companion.

Happy Birthday!
Wishes for the happiest of birthdays to The Gal! The Gal is an imposing figure, and by that I refer not to her height but to her razor sharp wit and cool refusal to be swayed by the ritual wackiness and habitual ridiculousness of B.T.W., the exclusive mutual admiration of which her husband, The Guy, is a founding member. The Gal's never exasperated disapproval is like a refreshing splash of water about the neck. Happy birthday, Sarah!

The Banzai Beard Bonanza II: Bonsai's Revenge
Day 127: Over the weekend, two distaff acquaintances, unknown to each other and separated by over two thousand miles of the North American continent, complimented me on the beard by saying that it made me appear more Irish. Jeanette, one of my fellow members of the History Club, remarked during the Club's year-end excursion to Lansing that the beard makes me seem like more of a Michael Patrick, high praise since she, our tour guide for the day, had selected a bar/restaurant called Dublin Square as the site of our "farewell and have a good summer" dinner. A charming new friend to whom you will shortly be introduced under the codename of Comrade Coquettish wrote more directly, (sic) "I like the irishdom of your facial hair." Whatever is it about the beard that fosters thoughts of the Emerald Isle?

I have adored not having to shave beyond my meager power to express. My razor has not lain entirely dormant, I've regularly shorn the few scraggly hairs on my cheeks and maintained a small boundary between the moustache and my nose, to prevent the annoyance of hairs tickling the inside of my nostrils; also, I have kept the unibrow in check by shaving between my eyebrows. But, all of this is as nothing compared to the crushing routine of lathering up cheeks, chins, and uppermost neck and scrapping across the skin with a razor that's always either too sharp, leading to nicks so thin you cannot see them until the blood emerges, or, more often, too dull, grating the skin and excavating the occasional divot just to see if you're paying attention. Oh, joy, I shall be so glad to welcome all that back into my mornings. *grumble, grumble*

The truly extraordinary thing has been how very much more I've enjoyed Bonsai's Revenge than I did the original Banzai Beard Bonanza in '04. Then, I was so eager to get out from under the beard that I aborted the Massive Mustache Mistake entirely. Today, I'm eager to start the Magnificent Moustache Malarkey, but also saddened by the prospect of the beard's demise. Then, it itched, even after eighty-plus days. Today, were I to choose one word for how the beard feels, that word would be luxuriant, and such has been the case since at least early March. This second iteration of the B.B.B. has surpassed my expectations in every possible way. I have been daily pleased by the aspect of the beard, in much the same way my mood is so often brightened by the chance glimpse of my tattoo. I have been thrilled by the intensity of reactions the beard has engendered, from Mrs. Skeeter, Esq.'s withering insults to the awe of drunken jackasses from Brooklyn to Denver to Comrade Coquettish asking if she could please twirl my moustache. The beard has been a conversation piece, a trophy, a talisman. The Banzai Beard Bonanza II has been an adventure, one I am honored to have been able to share with you.

Brace yourselves for ¡Cinco de Moustache! & the Magnificent Moustache Malarkey. The adventure is just beginning!

The Queue
Recently
Ian Fleming, Doctor No
Ian Fleming, Goldfinger
Ian Fleming, For Your Eyes Only
(containing the short stories "From a View to a Kill," "For Your Eyes Only," "Quantum of Solace," "Risico," & "The Hildebrand Rarity")

Currently
Ian Fleming, Thunderball

Presently
Ian Fleming, The Spy Who Loved Me
Ian Fleming, On Her Majesty's Secret Service
Ian Fleming, You Only Live Twice

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
Dropkick Murphys, "Bastards on Parade" from Blackout (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary:

"If can you look into this old face
And try to see the young man,
I swear I once was pretty,
Not the monster you now see."

Dedicated, with love, to Mrs. Skeeter, Esq. & The Watergirl.

This Week in Motorsport
Four grands prix in to the nineteen-round 2010 F.I.A. Formula One World Championship, I can say this about F1: woo hoo! Unlike '09, when the upstart Brawn G.P. (more about them later) stormed to six victories in the first seven grands prix, '10 has seen three different winners from three different constructors (also representing three different engine manufacturers) in the first four "fly away" grands prix of the year: Bahrain, Australia, Malaysia, and China. Ferrari drove to a one-two finish at Bahrain, the victory belonging to '05 & '06 World Champion Fernando Alonso; Red Bull claimed a one-two at Malaysia, '09 runner-up & '10 man-to-beat Sebastian Vettel (more about him later, too) claiming the top of the podium; and '09 World Champion Jenson Button, now driving for McLaren, used brilliant strategy to claim dual victories, at Australia & China. Of the twenty-four drivers on the 2010 grid, six remain within a single victory of points leader Button. Who will win the World Drivers' Championship and World Constructors' Championship remains very much up in the air.

Last season, Brawn G.P. came out of nowhere to dominate Formula One. Button won six out of the first seven grands prix and Rubens Barrichello won two grands prix, Brawn thus winning eight of the seventeen rounds of the '09 campaign; Brawn won the World Constructors' Championship and Button the World Drivers' Championship, with Barrichello finishing third. But Button's championship left a sour taste in the mouths of many, because he didn't win a single grand prix in the last ten rounds of the season, though his performance this year is going some way to proving that he might have had more going for him than just the dominate car of the first half of last season. This year, as mentioned above, Button drives for McLaren (teammates with '08 World Champion Lewis Hamilton) and Barrichello for Williams (using Cosworth engines now that Toyota has withdrawn from F1). What of Brawn G.P.? There is no more Brawn G.P. Very much rather than coming out of nowhere, Brawn was what remained of the prospective '09 Honda team after Honda withdrew from F1 in late '08; Honda sold the team to "team principal" Russ Brawn for a nominal fee ($1 or £1, something purely symbolic like that), and continued to pay almost all the team's expenses throughout '09. (Why Honda would bear this great cost and yet not insist their name to be used, thus accruing no discernible benefit, remains a mystery.) The now-Brawn team used the same Mercedes-Benz engines that had been used to such success by F1 stalwart McLaren and the rising newcomer Force India, and drove on to the great success chronicled above.

At the end of the '09 World Championships, those Kraut bastards at Mercedes-Benz, a division of Daimler A.G., scooped up Brawn, renaming it Mercedes G.P. and thinking they'd bought themselves a future World Championship on the cheap. I am not a bigot, I am not prejudiced against Germans or Germany (nor Austria, for that matter). I am quite fond of Jackie Stewart's "Green Hell," the Nürburgring. I do, however, bear a great deal of antipathy toward Daimler A.G., formerly DaimlerChrysler A.G., formerly Daimler-Benz A.G. The Chrysler Corporation was always a bit schizophrenic, but it was a firm on the upswing before Daimler-Benz bought it up and proceeded to gut Chrysler of everything that had ever given the company any value. (If you think the formation of DaimlerChrysler was a merger, I've got several lovely bridges I'd like to sell you.) Even though I'm a General Motors man, I will never forgive Daimler for what they did to Chrysler; that is why I cannot root for any team that uses Mercedes engines (not even Red Bull, if there is any truth to the rumors of their switch away from Renault power after this season), that is why I refer, without apology, to everyone and everything connected to Daimler A.G., Mercedes-Benz, and Mercedes G.P. as "those Kraut bastards." Both of Mercedes's drivers are German, Nico Rosberg and seven-time World Champion Michael Schumacher, returned to the grid after three years of restless retirement, as is reserve driver Nick Heidfeld. No man has ever won more grands prix nor more World Championships than Schumacher, who reigned over the sport as a colossus throughout the late '90s and the '00s; to put his achievements into a context with emotional resonance for F1-allergic Americans, Michael Schumacher is genuinely comparable to Michael Jordan. Thus far in '10, Schumacher has been badly outclassed by the much younger Rosberg, who is second in points amongst drivers despite having finished no higher than third in any race (but, also, it must be noted, having finished no lower than fifth; there is much to be said for consistency). But all that about Mercedes's drivers is really neither here for there. It will be a cold day in Hell before I ever root for those Kraut bastards.

A German for whom I do root is Red Bull's Sebastian Vettel. Before the Chinese Grand Prix, Vettel had lead something outrageous like 110 out of a possible 153 laps. He started from the pole position at Bahrain and convincingly lead the race until hobbled by engine trouble; he limped his car to a fourth place finish, impressive given the crippled nature of his engine. He started from the pole position at Australia and convincingly lead the race until a mechanical failure in his RB6 lead to a shunt and a retirement. The star-crossed Vettel started from the third position on the grid in Malaysia, but was fearless and aggressive in the on again/off again rain, surging to the front and building an ever increasingly lead over his Red Bull teammate Mark Webber (who started from the pole) on the way to the young German's first grand prix victory of 2010. Vettel was far and away the fastest man at the Bahrain International Circuit; Melbourne, Australia's Albert Park street circuit; and the Sepang International Circuit outside Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia. But, wait, that's only one… two… three circuits, only three rounds of the 2010 World Championships. What of the fourth? At the Shanghai International Circuit, Red Bull looked invincible in qualifying, Vettel and Webber starting from the first (pole) and second positions. But Vettel started the race like he was an tranquilizers, and then a miscalculation in tire strategy doomed any chance of a comeback: too many pit stops as Red Bull changed back and forth between "intermediate" rain tires & dry weather "slicks"… and back again. In the end, Vettel finished sixth and Webber eighth, both points-paying finishes, but well short of the dominant pace promised at Bahrain & Australia, realized at Malaysia, and evidenced in qualifying at China.

In 2010, the twelve-team Formula One grid is neatly divided into rather precise thirds. The top tier teams, those considered in contention for the Constructor's Championship, are Ferrari and McLaren (Mercedes engines), the most storied names in F1; Red Bull (Renault), who declared before the season that nothing short of a championship would be sufficient; and those Kraut bastards from Mercedes. Ferrari finished one-two in the Bahrain Grand Prix (again, helped by Vettel's misfiring engine), Red Bull finished one-two in the Malaysian Grand Prix, and McLaren finished one-two in the Chinese Grand Prix. To my delight, rather than marching cheerfully and breezily to a repeat of Brawn's World Championships, Mercedes are the weakest of the elite teams.

The middle-of-the-pack teams are the Renault factory team; Force India (Mercedes); Toro Rosso (Ferrari), the Red Bull "B' team (Toro Rosso is Italian for Red Bull); and Williams (Cosworth). The difference between Renault's performance in '09 & '10 is the difference between night & day. As they were last year, both Force India cars are rockets in straight-line speed, but aren't quite up to snuff in the corners. Accordingly, they should do dreadfully on the tight, slow streets of Monaco, but might do well on the long straights of the Belgian & Italian Grands Prix. The Toro Rosso drivers are both fearless passers, bordering on being reckless, but so far their dashing audacity has paid more dividends than the more cautious approach of Williams's veteran Barrichello, with more grands prix under his belt than another other man in F1 history, including his former Ferrari teammate Schumacher (at 41, three years Barrichello's senior), and rookie Nico Hulkenberg.

The informal lowest division is inhabited by the three brand-new teams, Lotus (!), Virgin, and Hispania (originally to be known as Campos Meta), and the troubled, non-B.M.W.-powered B.M.W. Sauber. B.M.W. announced its decision to quit F1 at the end of last season and for many months the future of the long-established Sauber organization, which was 80% B.M.W.-owned, was in doubt, until at last B.M.W. sold the team back to original owner Peter Sauber. The team now use Ferrari engines, alongside the Ferrari factory team and Toro Rosso, but still bear the name B.M.W. Sauber. I can only assume this is due to some paperwork-borne technicality in dealing with F1's sanctioning body, the F.I.A. The B.M.W.-less Sauber's poor showing is a surprise, the new teams were expected to struggle. (The once and future?) Team U.S. failed even to make the grid; so, that the others have managed to be on-track for all four grands prix is an achievement. Of the three new entrants, Lotus have set the pace, with Heikki Kovalainen's Lotus finishing ahead of Hulkenberg's Williams in the Chinese Grand Prix.

I did not watch a Formula One race until the 2009 Grand Prix de Monaco; so, we are still in that part of the World Championship where I am witnessing my first contest on each circuit. Only one "virgin" race remains before my second Monaco, the first of two held in perfidious Spain, the Gran Premio de Espana, though later in the year I will see my first Grand Prix du Canada (which was not held in '09) and the inaugural Korean Grand Prix. Also, the Grosser Preis von Deutschland will be held at a different circuit than last year. I am so excited to look again at these circuits now that I know so much more about both the history and the technology of Formula One.

Thus far, I have watched each of the first four grands prix on videotape, in part because I have been traveling, but mostly because they have been held in Bahrain, Melbourne, Kuala Lumpur, and Shanghai, places on literally the other side of the globe from sacred Michigan. There are only two grands prix in the Western Hemisphere, Canada in June and Brazil in November; so, even most of the European rounds of the World Championship will be seen on mine own tape delay, as I am chronically loath to waking up early. (And exception to this tendency will of course be made for the non-F1 24 Heures du Mans, of which I intend to see as much as is broadcast on television, sleep be damned.) I am determined to see every round of the 2010 World Championship, to immerse myself fully in the sheer excitement of Formula One.

I hope, also, to be able to influence one or two of you to give F1 a chance. You might discover something you love, as I did last summer when I first saw the race through the streets of Monte Carlo. It isn't for everyone. Bog knows that at many other stages of my life I would have rejected Formula One out of hand, and did reject out of hand other forms of motorsport, but last summer I didn't force myself to watch F1, I just opened myself up to the possibility. (Note that I still reject the boredom of IndyCar racing on staggeringly dull oval circuits. The Indianapolis 500? A great way to cure insomnia.) All I ask is that you open yourself up to the possibility of Formula One.

Formula One? Formula fun!

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
James Keane, "Maud Miller/The Sailor's Return/Paddy Murphy's Wife" from Green Linnet Records: The Twentieth Anniversary Collection (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: Not the inspiration for today's R.B.D.S.O.T.D., but something of which I was reminded by it: my late Great Granny Gray, my father's mother's mother, the only one of my great-grandparents I ever met (though, as I was a wee lad at the time of our single meeting, I squandered the opportunity), was named Maude.

Project MERCATOR
The last Loose Ties show for quite some time last night, and then today, after only a few hours' sleep to recover from a night of skanking in an overheated Woobie's, an all-day History Club outing to Lansing. I'm pooped.

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
Amazing Transparent Man, "Does Your Face Hurt?" from Pounded: The Official Comic Book Soundtrack (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary:

"Does your face hurt?
'Cause it's killing me.
…
I never told you how I feel."

Lies, Damned Lies, & the News
The article to which I've hyperlinked is not a hack job, it is a fairly objective piece of journalism but for one error, one seemingly small misstatement that few people would even be able to recognize as a misstatement, and yet which reflects a pernicious and incalculably dangerous falsehood that has gotten its hooks in the American conscience. Hyperlink. That misstatement? That there is a "constitutional requirement for separation of church and state." Read your Constitution—at least I'm hoping each one of you has a copy of the U.S. Constitution in your home. If you do not, for shame. Acquire a copy posthaste! There are numerous organizations that distribute them free of charge—and nowhere therein will you find the words "separation of church and state." Nor is even the idea to be found in the Constitution.

Those words, which so many Americans in their blissful, irresponsible ignorance assume to be part and parcel of our nigh-scared Constitution, come from the personal correspondence of Thomas Jefferson. The same Thomas Jefferson who was neither a participant in the Constitutional Convention nor a signatory to said Constitution. Not even in a public essay such as those we know as the Federalist Papers, no, but in then-President Jefferson's personal correspondence, fifteen years after the Constitution was written, fourteen years after it was ratified.

What does the Constitution actually say on the subject? The relevant excerpt from Amendment I to the Constitution of the United States: "Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof." What does this mean? The Congress has not the power to declare an established church, a state religion; the Congress cannot create a "Church of America" analogous to the Church of England or the Danish National Church. That is not nearly the same things as a separation of church and state. The innumerable ways in which Jefferson's "wall of separation between church and State" is used to prohibit the supposedly Constitutionally-guaranteed free exercise of religion is a subject for another day, a subject to which one could devote an entire life. The important takeaway from today's brief remarks? Think about the implications of the lie that our great republic is meant to be governed by a "separation of church and state" and try to be aware of the myriad ways in which this lie is perpetuated casually every day, such as in the aforementioned Yahoo! article. (Note to self: consider posting to The Secret Base the paper written on this very subject a year ago.)

Step 1: recognizing the existence of a problem.

Ink
I patronized the hardware store Tuesday afternoon to purchase a few mowings' supply of the enormous, double-lined paper sacks into which Grand Blanc Township's waste removal contractor requires all grass clippings and yard waste be placed for curbside collection. While waiting for the HALs to talk to one another, I set my wallet down on the counter and took up the proffered pen with which I would sign the charge card receipt. The cashier, a girl still in high school were I to hazard a guess, saw the skull-and-crossbones tattooed on my forearm and the different skull-and-crossbones pattern on the wallet and ejaculated, "Hey, your wallet looks like your arm!"

I replied, "Yep, almost like there's a theme." I meant this to be lighthearted and amusing, but fear it came out as snarky.

In Colorado a couple weeks ago, a one-off teammate (explained in the forthcoming "Master Debaters" post) named Warren made the asinine observation that I am an extremely unlikely person to have a tattoo, because possessing a tattoo stands in direct opposition to my personality. (I am forced to paraphrase, but I swear that I am capturing as accurately as I can the tenor of his words.) A few days later, on the final night before our departure, Warren, who espoused the usual atheist line that possessing religious faith and any significant degree of intelligence are mutually exclusive, was shocked to learn that I am an adherent of the Catholic faith. This revelation knocked his socks off, figuratively. I would be nothing without my faith; every decent thing inside me, every kind or charitable impulse I've ever felt, comes not from my darka nd wretched soul, but from the Holy Ghost, Him operating the levers of my heart. If Warren's pompous and superficial observations had failed to glean that I am—or at least try to be while fairly drowning in my own wickedness—a man of faith, what possible stock could be placed in his opinion that my personality is incompatible with having a tattoo?

In a similar vein, Amelia, one of my economics professors (who is, in fact, younger than me), has observed, more kindly, that I don't seem like the sort of person who would have my specific tattoo, a skull-and-crossbones, worn very publicly on my almost ubiquitously exposed—due to my love of short sleeves—left forearm. As I explained to her, or attempted to explain, that is entirely dependent on what one takes the skull-and-crossbones to mean. Many have asked me if it symbolizes poison, an idea that not once occurred to me before my tattoo was inked; most of these individuals have been involved with elementary education, a field with which I've had no interaction since "graduating" from the fifth grade in 1990. Others have asked if the skull (not so much the crossbones) symbolizes death. My specific skull-and-crossbones tattoo, nor far that matter the distinct skull-and-crossbones design on my wallet, symbolizes neither death nor poison. I am far forgiving of Amelia than Warren for two reasons: a) she knew me far better when first she made her observation, and b) her insight, although incorrect, was based on the (I must admit) easily misconstrued design of my tattoo, whereas Warren's was based on a far broader, and thus even more incorrect, set of assumptions about the nature and purpose of tattoos.

I try not to let people surprise me, yet I am continually staggered by the sweeping assumptions we make based upon the flimsiest of evidence. It boggles the mind.

The Rebel Black Dot Songs of the Day
Vampire Weekend, "Bryn" from Vampire Weekend (T.L.A.M.)

Donnerstag, 29 April
Less Than Jake, "All My Best Friends Are Metalheads" from Hello Rockview (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: Inspired by the above "Ink," which I began composing on Thursday.

"Do you know about his strength and convictions?
Or how she puts all her faith in religion?
Did we take the time to really discover
How little we know about each other?"

Mittwoch, 28 April
John Barry, "The James Bond Theme from Dr. No" via iTunes (T.L.A.M.)

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
Reel Big Fish, "Sell Out" from Turn the Radio Off (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary:

"'Baby, don't you sign that paper tonight,' she said,
But I can't work in fast food all my life."

The Secret Base of the Rebel Black Dot Society is back in business. Thanks, Geniuses!

The Rebel Black Dot Songs of the Day
The Get Up Kids, "Anne Arbour" via iTunes (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: "Last Winter, Anne Arbour was all I had!"

Sonntag, 25 April
William Shatner, "You'll Have Time" from Has Been (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: Death has not been lurking about, not shadowing me lately, and for this I am grateful. I mean not to tempt fate with this R.B.D.S.O.T.D. selection, but now that The Squeak is returned home, restored to her parents, I can think of no finer meditation on the way time slips through all of our fingers than "You'll Have Time." I reveled in The Squeak's visit, but now that she is gone I know I could better have taken advantage of the time allotted us. Curse my slothful bones!

"Why did I waste it,
Why didn't I taste it?"

Samstag, 24 April
The Littlest Man Band, "Always Sayin'" from Better Book Ends (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary:

"You're always sayin'
That it's all goin' better,
We'll I've seen you,
And it needs to.
God, I hope that it's all goin' better for you!
And you're sayin'
That it tastes so much sweeter,
Well I've been there,
And it's bitter.
God, I wish that I could feel sorry for you!"

Freitag, 23 April
John Hodgman, "Slingshot" from This American Life: Stories of Hope & Fear (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: The R.B.D.S.O.T.D. isn't always a song.

"As metaphors for life and death on the Boardwalk go, gambling in Atlantic City is pretty promising, but the Slingshot is better, for two reasons: 1) Though it is unlikely, it may actually kill you. And 2) It reminds you that when you are close to death, and intimate with it, when you are spinning fast and high in the dark night with nothing around you, it is difficult to tell what is happening, it is difficult to be afraid. Far more difficult than it is on the ground."

Donnerstag, 22 April
The Puppini Sisters, "Bei Mir Bist Du Schön" from Betcha Bottom Dollar (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: "It means you're the fairest in the land."

Wilson
I shall be a thoroughly unpleasant and outright beastly piker once The Squeak departs tomorrow, driven to such antisocial behavior by the pain of missing her terribly. Why oh why does she have to go back to her parents? They're the ones who went off to Italy, leaving her behind in the first place! Woe is me, woe is me.

Peril
On the plus side, my HAL is reportedly restored to health and functionality. We shall see if the Geniuses live up to their billing. I type these lines on my father's dilapidated laptop. I thank him for the loan, but this is plainly inadequate. There is so verdammt much about which I wish to bloggy blog! By Lucifer's beard, this is vexing!

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
The Puppini Sisters, "In the Mood" from Betcha Bottom Dollar (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: You can't see this right now, but I'm smiling from ear to bloody ear.

My cute little Mac Mini appears to have given up the ghost. I have an appointment to see the "Geniuses" at the Apple Store on Freitag. "Misery, misery, misery."

Especially in combination with The Squeak sleeping in the room that houses my mother's HAL, this could well put the kibosh on The Secret Base.

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
She & Him, "Please, Please, Please, Let Me Get What I Want" via iTunes (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: From the soundtrack to (500) Days of Summer. Now's as good a time as any to remember, "This is not a love story. This is a story about love."

The Banzai Beard Bonanza II: Bonsai's Revenge
Day 113: I only had to send my dad two emails before he transmitted the latest batch of beard photographs, taken on Day 108 (Wayback Machinelink). Not as fast as the previous batch, way back in the Day 60s, but nothing about which to bellyache. I am grateful for the invaluable aid he has rendered to the B.B.B. II.

Reaction to the beard has grown more and more positive the deeper and deeper we've gone into this second Bonanza. The Most Dangerous Game & The Cowgirl say they prefer the bearded me to the pre-Christmas beardless model, puny debate nerds far and wide are in awe of the beard, and due to my recent foray into campus politics (still working on the title, the only reason this was left out of "Coming Attractions") my bearded visage is now well known even to students & faculty I've never met. The Magnificent Moustache Malarkey, formerly the Massive Moustache Mistake—the epilogue to the Banzai Beard Bonanza that will see my face & neck shorn of the beard, the moustache left in splendid isolation, and my beloved sideburns restored—was originally to last for three weeks, from "Cinco de Moustache" to Where's Teddy?'s first birthday. But he who insisted that I be clean shaven by wee Teddy's birthday has since apologized—unnecessarily, I've assured him—for demanding the moustache's eradication, praised the overall performance of the Bonanza (to which he was always opposed), and left the end of the Magnificent Moustache Malarkey entirely up to my judgment.

I have grown accustomed to the beard over the last four months. I'm both used to & comfortable with how I look; the appearance of the beard & moustache is a routine if small source of joy throughout the day, much in the same fashion as my tattoo; and I am not at all looking forward to returning to the shaving grind. During the first Banzai Beard Bonanza, I was antsy to be rid of the beard; here in Bonsai's Revenge, I'm apprehensive about the impending absence. Nevertheless, the moustache's days are numbered. I am sorely tempted to retain the moustache, to explore the extremes of glorious ridiculousness to which I might carry the handlebar style, but the Bonanza (including the Malarkey) was always meant as a temporary endeavour: it had a very definite beginning; so, to my mind, it must have a definite end. Why I wanted to grow a beard in the first place was unfathomable to most, why I'll shave it all off will surely be unfathomable to many, including many of the same persons. The fathomless mystery of the Bonanza is no small portion of its appeal to me.

The Malarkey will come to an end sooner rather than later, of that let there be no doubt, but mark also that I highly doubt we will have to wait another five years, until the Banzai Beard Bonanza III: Third Time's the Harm, to see a return of my magnificent moustache.



















Banzai!

Jonesin'
The following Jones bottle cap fortunes are taped to the interior face of the door to my room, next to the mirror. Now these are what you should always find when you unscrew a Jones Soda bottle cap!

"Your present plans are going to succeed." (the whole of CADMUS)

"Soon you will be sitting on top of the world." (CADMUS)

"You are heading in the right direction." (Projects EPIMETHEUS, MERCATOR, & RADIANT, maybe PANDORA)

"You have artistic talent. Do something creative." (Projects TROIKA & TRITON & Serma VI)

"You will step on the soil of many countries."

(This last fortune + From Russia, with Love + the moustache = ?, to be continued in the next episode of "Project PANDORA"…)

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
R.E.M., "It's the End of the World As We Know It (and I Feel Fine)" via iTunes (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: This afternoon, I was seized by a sudden and random urge to read Francis Fukuyama's The End of History and the Last Man. (I do not have time to embark upon The End of History until, at the earliest, late in the looming Summer, by which time the urge may well have ebbed, but that's neither here nor there.) I think the subsequent leap to "It's the End of the World…" is fairly short.

Operation AXIOM
"The shot heard 'round the world," the Battles of Lexington & Concord that opened the Revolutionary War, was fired two hundred thirty-five years ago to the day. At the time, nearly every inch of the earth was reigned over by a crowned warlord of one title or another, be he a king, emperor, sultan, shogun, prince, or chief. Today, nearly every nation-state is presided over by a president, of greater or lesser democratic legitimacy, dependent on local conditions. More progress toward building a world based on justice and prosperity has been made in the last two and a third centuries than in the preceding five millennia, and 'twas all touched off by the courageous stand against the redcoats by the minutemen at Lexington & Concord. Remember with gratitude and awe the events of 19 April 1775, and above all else take today to cherish the freedom that was bought at an almost unbearable price in blood over the last two hundred thirty-five years.

The Oklahoma City bombing, an act of incomprehensible terror until it was overshadowed by 9/11 six years later, was perpetrated fifteen years ago to the day. The history of the world is one long, seemingly unending nightmare of war, poverty, famine, and injustice; so, yes, the loss of one hundred eight-six souls at the Murrah Federal Building pales in comparison to the crushing of the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising, the then-contemporary Rwandan Genocide, or a thousand thousand other examples of barbarity and horror. But I was fifteen years-old when Timothy McVeigh unleashed his monstrous evil, safe and secure in an America that had defeated Communism and was still dizzy from our heady triumph in the Gulf War; I believe I should be forgiven for being more shocked and frightened by Oklahoma City than by, say, a fait accompli like the Sack of Madgeburg. 1995 feels like it was a lifetime ago, yet I still recall clearly learning the news of that 19 April. We prevail over terrorism when we refuse to forget those who were murdered, but also refuse to allow their murderers to dictate our actions.

Project MERCATOR: Jonesin'
Yours truly attended the "first bonfire of the year" last night, bring as my contributions a four-pack of Jones Cream Soda & a can o' Pringles. My attempts to share the Pringles were politely declined, which I did not mind one bit. The Joneses, too, I shared, though only one was taken. I drank two whilst sitting round the fire pit and a third once I returned home.

My first fortune, read aloud by firelight with some difficulty: "Call an old friend." In this I was thwarted by The Cowgirl, who insisted I ring her mobile. I explained that we'd been friends for less than a year, hardly satisfying the "old friend" requirement, but she'd hear none of it. I called her mobile while standing mere feet from her, and due to the remoteness of our location suffered rather a poor connection throughout our brief conversation. After the fact, I quite enjoyed the ridiculousness of what had occurred.

My second fortune: "You just helped save a child's eyesight. Thank you." Prompting me to ejaculate, "Damn it!" To the rightly confused looks that greeted this strange remark, I read the non-fortune aloud and explained that while I am greatly in favor helping to save children's eyesight, when I read my Jones fortune I expect a it to be just that, a fortune. Or, like the above, an exhortation. I regard this as thoroughly reasonable on my part.

My third fortune, the one unscrewed at home: "Fun and excitement will soon be yours." That's more like it!

The fourth fortune, the one unscrewed by someone else—a churl named Armen, I believe—is quite another matter. Superstition is a sin and I do not believe that the fortunes under Jones bottle caps are in any way fortunes, nor is there any such thing as fortune-telling (though divinely-inspired prophecy as recorded in Scripture is of course real), but who doesn't like a little bit of silly fun now and again? And if that fun takes the form of an almost Stuart Smalley-style daily affirmation or the winking promise of better days ahead? So much the better.

Now, I did not open the bottle of Jones to which this fortune's cap belonged, but a Jones fortune abandoned is like a birthday wish not kept secret: null and void. My hope, then, is that by salvaging the bottle cap when I washed out the bottle in preparation for returning it for Michigan's fat (& phat) deposit of 10¢ per bottle, I might lay claim to at least some portion of the fortune's promise. Here's hoping: "You will find much fulfillment with someone special very soon."

And you knew this was coming:

A short skirt,
A Gimmes shirt,
A Jones Soda,
Ain't life grand?

Coming Attractions
I shall have to devise a name for the Spring that saw a homebody like me on the road for five out of the last seven weekends. 'Twas a grand old time, but taxing when conjoined with the usual rigors of an academic semester. Oddly enough, while enjoying this weekend at home, including helping out with The Squeak, I rather regularly wondered what adventures I might be having were I elsewhere. But, for the nonce, The Secret Base as in dire need of some serious attention.

"This Week in Motorsport" - The first four rounds of the 2010 World Championship, grands prix in Bahrain, Australia, Malaysia, & China; plus, "By endurance we conquer," the 12 Hours of Sebring & I can't wait for the 24 Heures du Mans.

"Master Debating" - Arizona, M.I.S.L., Colorado, & the rise of "Big Mac"

"Project MERCATOR" - The Last Angry Man in The Big Apple

"The Banzai Beard Bonanza II: Bonsai's Revenge" - Success upon success, beyond my most reckless hopes! And a renaming of the follow-on Massive Moustache Mistake.

"Project PANDORA" - Past (The Sardine), Present (The Impossible Ingenue), & Future (eerie that when I met her I was reading From Russia, with Love)!

All this & more! Thank you for reading.

This Week in Motorsport
Behold! The Lotus T127, the first Lotus to compete in the Formula One World Championship since the original Team Lotus gave up the ghost in '94. Any car would be gorgeous in the famous green & yellow livery, but isn't that one of the most beautiful things you've ever seen?



Formula fun!

The Rebel Black Dot Songs of the Day
Barenaked Ladies, "Bull in a China Shop" from Barenaked Ladies Are Me (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: Inspired by a graphic that appeared on-screen during the Acura Pre-Race Show preceding SPEED's broadcast of the Chinese Grand Prix, referring to the two cars from Red Bull Racing starting the Shanghai-hosted race from the first and second positions: "Red Bull in a China Shop?"

Back to B.N.L. & the R.B.D.S.O.T.D.: "I'm a bottle of diet poison."

Samstag, 17 April
The Sandfleas, "My Baby's Got a Poopy Diaper" from Rice Capades (Captain Thumbs-Up)

Commentary: The Sandfleas are enemies of The Aquabats!, thereby making them enemies also of fun, goodness, & decency.

"Don't want to change her,
'Cause that's a real danger,
That's way stinky, oh yeah!
It's her diaper,
I'm not gonna wipe her,
That's your problem, baby!"

Yesterday, my mom laid The Squeak down to a nap and then stepped out to purchase a few items from the green grocer. No sooner had she left than The Squeak awoke with a diaper full of fury. It was harrowing.

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
Fountains of Wayne, "Prom Theme" from Utopia Parkway (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: D.J. with neither taste nor imagination? Check. Souvenir champagne flutes to commemorate an event at which no alcohol was served? Check. Girls with no self-esteem grinding on the dance floor with their douchebag boyfriends? Check. Trying to catch lightning in a bottle—repeating the unmitigated triumph of last November's Miracle Ball by attending tonight's President's Ball—might have been one of Project MERCATOR's more ill-advised efforts. Fun was had by all, there as just a lot more dreck to wade through first.

"But tonight we'll reach for the stars."

He's Dead, Jim
My mom has the cancer. In February, she was afflicted for weeks with a sore nose, sore to the touch and continuously dripping. After this had persisted beyond the bounds of the normal winter sniffles, she consulted her physician who found a polyp in one of her nostrils. A month ago, the polyp was surgically removed; a week later we learned that further examination had revealed the extracted polyp to be a malignancy. Subsequent detailed scans of my mother's body have found no additional traces of the cancer, but even so she is to have another surgery in a fortnight, to remove additional tissue from the interior of her nose and excise one of her lymph nodes for close inspection. Second opinions have been sought and diagnoses confirmed, and she is now under the care of the physician who has successfully seen her dear friend Rose through repeated bouts with multiple forms of the cancer; my mother appears to be in good hands, and cautious optimism are our watchwords. Further reports as events transpire.

Prayers to the merciful Lord for her good health and long life would be most warmly appreciated.

Wilson
Four months old today, The Squeak arrives by aeroplane upon the morrow, conducted by Brother-in-L.A.W. and to be met by my parents. She will reside with us for a week while her parents are on holiday in Italy, briefly visiting the life they left behind when their beautiful daughter was born. I saw Where's Teddy? for but one fleeting evening last week before departing for Colorado and the national debate tournament. I hope to pay a longer visit to him at his home in verdammt Ohio in a few weeks' time, though there is a chance he'll soon be returning to sacred Michigan to meet his cousin, The Squeak. Worlds colliding?

Project PANDORA
I have withdrawn my request for the pleasure of a certain young lady's company for an evening. Jenny (who shan't be mentioned often enough to necessitate a codename) is a casual friend from school to whom I proposed a date while we were out celebrating The Most Dangerous Game's birthday in February. A fetching lass, she is a libertine and so no serious relationship would have been possible between us, but we'd have had a lovely time together and taking her to dinner would have afforded me valuable experience as to how I should comport myself when escorting a comely girl out on the town. In the time since she accepted my invitation Jenny has shrugged off my several attempts to pin down a date for our date. She has her pick of the fellas and I acknowledge that the opportunity cost of going out with me would have been high—this would have been at least one night that ended without sex—but the fact remains that she accepted my invitation, an acceptance that to my mind requires a good faith effort to set a date and arrange a time. I've seen no such good faith in the nigh two months since. I am endeavoring to cultivate patience as a skill and patient I have been, but absent the slightest gesture of good faith on her part I could not have done otherwise than I have done. It must be said, defiance must be served: your loss, Jenny.

Tomorrow evening, I shall have the pleasure of escorting The Impossible Ingenue to the 25th anniversary President's Ball, an excuse to don our finery and dance the night away. I have pending also a date with another girl, the particulars of time and place to be arranged as swiftly as possible. And while in the Mile High City during the weekend just past I enjoyed an encounter that must be considered spooky in light of my then-current, since-concluded reading of From Russia, with Love. Details in the days ahead.

The Queue
Fear not, I have every intention of expounding sooner rather than later on the intersection of Ian Fleming's James Bond 007 and Project PANDORA.

Recently
Ian Fleming, Moonraker
Ian Fleming, Diamonds are Forever
Ian Fleming, From Russia, with Love

Currently
Ian Fleming, Doctor No

Presently
Ian Fleming, Goldfinger
Ian Fleming, For Your Eyes Only
Ian Fleming, Thunderball

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
Fountains of Wayne, "It Must Be Summer" from Utopia Parkway (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary:

"It must be summer
'Cause the streets are bare.
And I try your number,
But you're just not there."

Today got completely away from me. I was supposed to be home by 7:00 P.M., but didn't cross the threshold into the house until just shy of 10:00 P.M., at which point my mom invited me to join her for the series finale of Ugly Betty, which we so used to enjoy watching together.

The Banzai Beard Bonanza II: Bonsai's Revenge
Day 108: Long overdue new photographs were taken this evening and will be posted as soon as I can prize them away from my father. There have been serious developments regarding the moustache, with implications for both the soon-to-be renamed Massive Moustache Mistake and, 'tis hoped, Project PANDORA.

"If you can wait and not be tired by waiting."
—from "If—" by Rudyard Kipling

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
The Wombats, "Kill the Director" from A Guide to Love, Loss & Desperation (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: "I've met someone that makes me feel seasick."

Nemo Me Impune Lacessit
Unbidden but not entirely unwelcome, I have acquired an enemy. I have set into motion the means of achieving my revenge. Naught that I would write could approach, much less surpass, Poe's exquisite commentary from "The Cask of Amontillado":

The thousand injuries of Fortunato I had borne as best I could; but when he ventured upon insult, I vowed revenge. You, who so well know the nature of my soul, will not suppose however, that I gave utterance to a threat. At length I would be avenged; this was a point definitely settled—but the very definiteness with which it was resolved, precluded the idea of risk. I must not only punish, but punish with impunity. A wrong is unredressed when retribution overtakes its redresser. It is equally unredressed when the avenger fails to make himself felt as such to him who has done the wrong.

Or, from Alfred Bester's novel, The Stars My Destination:

"You pass me by," he said with slow mounting fury. "You leave me rot like a dog. You leave me die, Vorga… Vorga-T:1339. No. I get out of here, me. I follow you, Vorga. I find you, Vorga. I pay you back, me. I rot you. I kill you, Vorga. I kill you filthy."

The acid of fury ran through him, eating away the brute patience and sluggishness that had made a cipher of Gully Foyle, precipitating a chain of reactions that would make an infernal machine of Gully Foyle. He was dedicated.

"Vorga, I kill you filthy."

I kill you filthy.

The Rebel Black Dot Songs of the Day
Less Than Jake, "Danny Says" from Hello Rockview (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: "Burnt out on the scene!"

Montag, 12 April
Roy Orbison, "You Got It" via iTunes (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: Ladies & gentlemen, the power of the human voice.

Sonntag, 11 April
Rosemary Nichols, Linda Gardner, & Caryl Little, "Matchmaker, Matchmaker" from Fiddler On the Roof (T.L.A.M.)

Samstag, 10 April
John Williams & the London Symphony Orchestra, "Irina's Theme" from Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull: Original Motion Picture Soundtrack (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: Starting on Saturday night, the weekend took on a distinctive and delightful Russian character.

Freitag, 9 April
Letters to Cleo, "Pizza Cutter" from Wholesale Meats and Fish (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: Whenever I listen to Letters to Cleo I wonder why I don't listen to Letters to Cleo more often.

Donnerstag, 8 April
The Proclaimers, "Love Can Move Mountains" from Notes & Rhymes (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: The love bit is only retroactively applicable, but 'twas always my intention to make reference to the mountainous landscape of Colorado in Thursday's R.B.D.S.O.T.D.

…

Samstag, 3 April
Me First and the Gimme Gimmes, "Danny's Song" from Have a Ball (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: Thanks, Mrs. Skeeter, Esq.!

The next few days are to be the fifth out of the last six weekends that I have spent away from the comforts of home and hearth. Please forgive my neglecting The Secret Base, it has not been due to sloth or disinterest, but rather a suicidally punishing schedule, a baleful confluence of bad timing piled upon yet worse timing.

The Rebel Black Dot Songs of the Day
John Williams & the London Symphony Orchestra, "The Raiders March" from Raiders of the Lost Ark: Original Motion Picture Soundtrack (T.L.A.M.)

Dienstag, 6 April
Denis Leary, "Asshole" from No Cure for Cancer (T.L.A.M.)

Montag, 5 April
She & Him, "Gonna Get Along Without You Now" from Volume Two (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: Magical.

Sonntag, 4 April
Fountains of Wayne, "Michael and Heather at the Baggage Claim" from Traffic and Weather (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary:

"Michael says, 'Heather, have you had enough?'
Heather says, 'Michael, you know that it's you I love.'"

Samstag, 3 April
Commentary: The selection of last Saturday's R.B.D.S.O.T.D. is pending due to difficulty remembering what song we were singing on the march towards the Ethiopian restaurant at which we had such a lovely dinner. All I can offer in my defense are the words of the inimitable Dr. Johnson, "There is a wicked inclination in most people to suppose an old man decayed in his intellects. If a young or middle-aged man, when leaving a company, does not recollect where he laid his hat, it is nothing; but if the same inattention is discovered in an old man, people will shrug up their shoulders, and say, 'His memory is going.'"

Freitag, 2 April
They Might Be Giants, "The Guitar (The Lion Sleeps Tonight)" from Apollo 18 (T.L.A.M.)

Donnerstag, 1 April
"Weird Al" Yankovic, "Another One Rides the Bus" from "Weird Al" Yankovic (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: Was the bus ride from the District of Columbia to Old New Amsterdam naught more than an overly involved April Fools' Day prank?

Mittwoch, 31 März
Katiä, "The Minstrel Boy" from Can't Stop the Love Sled (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: "The Minstrel Boy" is a weird song to sing softly to a little baby, but it was the first song that came to mind when I was holding The Squeak. Do I love "The Minstrel Boy" on its own merits, or is my affection for the ballad a mere extension of my deep & profound love for a good man, Miles Edward O'Brien? Thank you, Chief.

Dienstag, 30 März
The Pogues, "A Rainy Night in Soho" from The Best of The Pogues (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: 'Twas a rainy night in the Lower East Side, not a rainy night in Soho (that was Monday), but close enough for our purposes. In any event, The Pogues are almost certainly referring to the real Soho in London, not the faux Soho on Manhattan.

Montag, 29 März
The Puppini Sisters, "Soho Nights" from The Rise and Fall of Ruby Woo (T.L.A.M.)

Sonntag, 28 März
Nicholas Ginbey, "Amanda Song" via iTunes (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: A future chapter of Project PANDORA.

Samstag, 27 März
They Might Be Giants, "New York City" from Factory Showroom (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: Dedicated with love & thanks to Mrs. & Mr. Skeeter, Esqs. "'Cause everyone's your friend in New York City."

Misery, misery, misery. Too busy to catch my breath, beset by inebriates & buffoons, and my Macintosh appears to be on the fritz. My dad's laptop can connect wirelessly to the internet, and his diagnostics of the wireless router indicate its signal strength is strong, yet AirPort cannot connect to any woreless network. My HAL was working fine last night. I type these lines from my mother's HAL, in her cramped, airless office nook. Man alive, I wish I was still on vacation in Old New Amsterdam.

Wilson
Oliver Hazzard Perry wrote, "We have met the enemy, and they are ours." Walt Kelly repurposed the line as, "We have met the enemy and he is us." I don't know why this seems so fitting to my first meeting with my niece-cum-god(less)daughter Natalie, but it does, at least to me. Her clever father, Brother-in-L.A.W., has given her a delightful, ubiquitous nickname, which I shall henceforth use as her Secret Base codename. No April Fools' gag, this. I have met The Squeak, and she is super rad.

The Rebel Black Dot Songs of the Day
Me First and the Gimme Gimmes, "Leaving on a Jet Plane" from Have a Ball (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: "Tell me that you'll wait for me."

Donnerstag, 25 März
The University of Michigan Marching Band, "Only the Good Die Young" from A Saturday Tradition (T.L.A.M.)

The Rebel Black Dot Songs of the Day
Goldfinger, "Superman" via iTunes (T.L.A.M.)

Dienstag, 23 März
The Aquabats!, "Throw Away the Trash!" from the Yo! Check Out This Ride! E.P. (Captain Thumbs-Up)

The Queue
Recently
P. G. Wodehouse, Mike at Wrykyn
Ian Fleming, Casino Royale
Ian Fleming, Live and Let Die

Currently
Ian Fleming, Moonraker

Presently
Ian Fleming, Diamonds Are Forever
Ian Fleming, From Russia, with Love
Ian Fleming, Doctor No

The Rebel Black Dot Songs of the Day
John Williams & the London Symphony Orchestra, "Flight From Peru" from Raiders of the Lost Ark: Original Motion Picture Soundtrack (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: One day I'll explain Peru. Hee hee, Peru.

Sonntag, 21 März
Me First and the Gimme Gimmes, "Stand by Your Man" from Blow in the Wind (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: The Blues Brothers' choreography: index fingers point down on "stand," palms out on "by," index fingers point out on "your," thumbs toward yourself on "man." Also, and you had to know this was coming:

A short skirt,
A Gimmes shirt,
A Jones soda,
Ain't life grand?

Note to self: find a Me First and the Gimme Gimmes T-shirt for The Impossible Ingenue.

Scarcely can I recall an occasion when I needed a day of rest as sorely as I needed today. I woke up this morning exhausted and achy, feeling progressively better throughout, but I am still weary down to my bones. I should have died without today's respite.

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
Jay Unger, et al., "When Johnny Comes Marching Home" from The Civil War: Original Soundtrack Recording (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: The 12 Hours of Sebring was grand, but during the commercials I wandered through the other offers, as is my habit. On one such jaunt I happened upon Stalag 17 on Turner Classic Movies; Stalag 17 is one of my favorite films, and I tuned in just as the men embarked upon their exuberant rendition of "When Johnny Comes Marching Home." Thus, despite having seen The Aquabats! & Mustard Plug in concert on Thursday and The Loose Ties last night, today's R.B.D.S.O.T.D is not a ska song.

Also, the proper lyric at the conclusion of each verse of "When Johnny Comes Marching Home" is "We'll all feel gay when Johnny comes marching home!" Beware of homophobic mutilations of the song that render that last line as "We'll cheer the day when Johnny comes marching home!" There are times when I do not know which facet of homophobia is more offensive, the naked bigotry or the enthusiastic ignorance.

By Lucifer's beard, why am I awake? Oh, because I was up and out of the house before the Accursed Sun rose, at school playing the jackass before the television cameras for charity's sake. However did this happen to me? Is this the comeuppance for my many sins?

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
Mustard Plug, "On and On" from In Black and White (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary:

"By now, you think it's over,
Countdown, it's getting colder,
Come on, tell me it's over,
Goes on and on and on and on again."

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
The Aquabats!, "Red Sweater!" from The Fury of The Aquabats! (Captain Thumbs-Up)

Commentary:

"I'm in love, it's great!
See you again, can't wait!
There's so much to do!
You're such a pretty girl,
We'll travel 'round the world
To see, to see this love through!"

There is no rest for the wicked. I am grieved to type these lines, treasured readers, but there is every chance this will be the last time I bloggy blog before Saturday at the earliest. I am weary, so very weary, and the Thursday & Friday I see before me bear the terrible aspect of being a man-killing buzzsaw. Or a sort of daily Scylla & Charybdis. I will return when I can, and with as much vim as I might muster. There is so very much I wish to recount to you, and more every day.

Operation AXIOM
The American orgy of inebriation known as St. Paddy's Day has naught to do with Eire, Irish culture, nor the Catholicism that is so central to Irish ethnicity. I'll gladly join anyone in celebrating Saint Patrick's Day, but to blazes with all and sundry who engage in the St. Paddy's Day festival of bigotry and ignorance. I never wear green on the 17th of March, but this year I've upped the ante: I'm wearing black & brown (or, for those so inclined, black & tan).

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
Jerry O'Sullivan, "Colonel Fraser" from Green Linnet Records: The Twentieth Anniversary Collection (T.L.A.M.)

This Week in Motorsport
The 2010 Formula One season has begun! Woo hoo! Watching the videotaped Bahrain Grand Prix was just about the only thing I liked about yesterday. Ferrari scored an impressive one-two finish, but were gifted those top two spots on the podium by a return of Red Bull's '09 bête noire: engine reliability, or the lack thereof. Sebastian Vettel (Red Bull) was dominant from the first, his RB6 starting from the pole position and pulling away from the car running second, Fernando Alonso's Ferrari, until something went suddenly awry with his engine; Vettel was helpless as he was passed by first Alonso, then the other Ferrari of Felipe Massa, and then the McLaren of Lewis Hamilton. Given the wounded condition of his car, it is actually quite impressive that Vettel was able to fend off those Kraut bastards from Mercedes, Nico Rosberg and Michael Schumacher (who finished fifth and sixth), and limp home to fourth place. I will never understand why Red Bull stays with Renault engines after the tendency of those engines to fail catastrophically was a major reason why Vettel didn't win the World Drivers' Championship last year. Bog forbid Red Bull should choose Mercedes power, but what about Ferrari engines? Ferrari powers the Red Bull "B team," Toro Rosso. Alas. I don't begrudge Ferrari their victory, the F10 is an impressive car, but you hate to see a race decided by the failure of a spark plug. (I know, I know, kingdoms have been lost for want of a nail.)

So, with the hopes of an American team competing in Formula One gone up in smoke, where do my loyalties lie? I should dearly love to cheer for McLaren, but cannot so long as they are powered by Mercedes engines (the team is officially called Vodaphone McLaren Mercedes, though now that the Huns have their own team in Mercedes G.P., last year's Brawn G.P., they are to divest themselves of McLaren over the next few seasons, though that doesn't necessarily mean McLaren will cease using Mercedes power). I admire Ferrari, there is no F1 without Ferrari, but am unprepared to join the ranks of the tifosi. My top three teams, though I am uncertain of the proper order of the second and third (engine in parentheses):

Red Bull (Renault) - Sebastian Vettel & Mark Webber
Lotus (Cosworth) - Heikki Kovalainen & Jarno Trulli
Williams (Cosworth) - Rubens Barrichello & Nico Hulkenberg

It's going to be another great year in Formula One, folks! Catch the second race of the year, the Australian Grand Prix, in less than a fortnight, televised in American only on Speed. Formula fun!

Coming this weekend: the opening round of the American Le Mans Series, the 12 Hours of Sebring, your first chance to get a look at the Peugeots and Audis that will contest the legendary 24 Heures du Mans in June. "By endurance we conquer."

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
The Aquabats!, "Tiny Pants!" from The Aquabats! vs. The Floating Eye of Death! and Other Amazing Adventures, Vol. 1 (Captain Thumbs-Up)

Yesterday was one of those days when you rue having ever emerged from bed. The cherry on top? The house's wireless internet chose the exact moment I sat down at my HAL to blog to cease functioning.

The Rebel Black Dot Songs of the Day
Montag, 15 März
Fountains of Wayne, "Better Things" courtesy ***VERBOTEN*** (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: "I hope tomorrow you'll find better things."

Sonntag, 14 März
The Wombats, "Here Comes the Anxiety" from A Guide to Love, Loss & Desperation (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary:

"Why'd you have to wear skirts and heels like that?
She's blinding anyway, but now she's floodlighting up the mat."

Samstag, 13 März
David Bowie & Queen, "Under Pressure" via iTunes (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: "This is our last dance."

The Rebel Black Dot Songs of the Day
Freitag, 12 März
Less Than Jake, "Overrated (Everything Is)" from In with the Out Crowd (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: "How can I be satisfied when everything is overrated?"

Donnerstag, 11 März
The Romantics, "What I Like About You" via iTunes (T.L.A.M.)

Happy (Belated) Birthday!
Happy birthday to my father, two days late! My problems with my father are legion, but first, last, and always he is my father. And my father is now sixty years old, old beyond any reasonable objection. Let's hear a few thoughts from Dr. Tolian Soran, the insufficient villain of Star Trek Generations: "[Time]'s like a predator; it's stalking you. Oh, you can try and outrun it with doctors, medicines, new technologies, but in the end time is going to hunt you down… and make the kill." Happy birthday, Dad!

The Rebel Black Dot Songs of the Day
Johnny Socko, "Hasselhoff" from Full Trucker Effect (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: "Seemin' more like David Hasselhoff everyday!"

Dienstag, 9 März
Paul Simon, "50 Ways to Leave Your Lover" via iTunes (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: A song I sang at karaoke the weekend before last, and which I had not heard in years, though it was always warmly regarded.

Montag, 9 März
They Might Be Giants, "Older" from Mink Car (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: In commemoration of my father's sixtieth birthday.

"You're older than you've ever been
And now you're even older,
And now you're even older,
And now you're even older.
You're older than you've ever been,
And now you're even older,
And now you're older still."

And it's always true.

Operation ÖSTERREICH
While a rock show should almost always be cataloged under Project MERCATOR, I had to go to Friday, February 26's Loose Ties show by my lonesome. The Impossible Ingenue was granted her spring break wish of being allowed to go visit family in rural Indiana, ferried to the Hoosier State by her cousin-cum-sister the Drama Queen. The Cowgirl spent the evening at home with her son (no complaint on my part there, her adorable little boy's case was far stronger than mine). Frankenstein's Monster cited foul weather and worsening road conditions as excuses, though foul weather and worsening road conditions hardly stopped him from so spectacularly flummoxing up New Year's Eve with his puerile dramatics; so, to blazes with him. The Most Dangerous Game is a whirling dervish of frenetic energy until she suddenly and completely crashes; that night, she crashed and was in no way up to coming out. Ska Army was there, but of course he's one of The Loose Ties.

So, I went to the show alone, though the blow was softened when my somewhat tardy arrival was greeted by a collective cheer from The Loose Ties, "Superfan!," reflecting the status with which I was honored after the previous weekend's show at Churchill's. And I did encounter at Woobie's a lad we'll call Hats McGee, for his habitual pairing of those atrocious modern trilbys, the patterned ones, with T-shirts and shorts. Hats is a member of the Econ Club, though not really a member of my Econ Club-centered social circle; he is, however, quite a fan of live music (though his own taste is highly suspect) and an enthusiastic skanker. Because of my abandonment by my faithless friends, I decided early on, as I skanked my way to exhaustion, that I could not really blog about the show as part of Project MERCATOR; due to the exercise I was getting, I could reasonably count the evening toward Operation ÖSTERREICH.

Project MERCATOR
But perhaps I arrived at that judgment a shade too quickly. As mentioned above and at the time, I was invested with the title of "Superfan" by The Loose Ties after their show on Friday, 19 February; when I belatedly walked through the back door to Woobie's Bar & Nightlife one week later, the band greeted me as if I were Norm Peterson entering Cheers (or Morn entering Quark's). Between sets, I chatted not only with Ska Army and Hats McGee, but with Jameson the Bass Player and Matt the Drummer, at their instigation. Now perhaps it's just something wrong with me, but I'm always slightly uncomfortable when interacting with The Loose Ties. The ongoing transition from fan to pal has been slow and cautious and I've watched closely for any sign that I'm the annoying fan the band secretly hates and detected nothing; so, I suspect this lingering ill-ease is a trap of the dark bastard's device, one that now spotted can be readily sidestepped.

In the midst of the third set, as Hats McGee and I skanked away, I suddenly became aware of the presence of Lord Luck, lord high muckamuck and my old manager from my days as a minion at the comic book store. I'd seen him and his party enter, but somewhere between my eyes and my brain the significance of what I was seeing became lost. But he and the pair of girls with him slipped past my skanking hulk to access the short end of the bar and I performed a literal double take. My face lit up upon recognizing him, and he, too, seemed pleased to see me. I was introduced to his girl, Amy, and we three engaged in a lively discourse for a few minutes before I excused myself to turn back to the band and resume skanking.

Just a song or two later, The Loose Ties played (for the second time that evening as they were running long on time and short on songs) their romantic reggae ballad, "Where's the Girl?", and I was inspired suddenly to play social director. I leapt over to Lord Luck & Amy and said to him, "If you're going to dance with her, this is the one." Without a moment's hesitation, and that is what's great about Lord Luck, he slid off his heavy leather jacket and began dancing with his girl. I turned to an attractive couple who had been sitting, nodding their heads to the music all evening, and pointed two fingers at them. After only a moment, they rose from their table and made their way to the dance floor, such as it was. Two couples slow danced where before three single chaps had skanked (Hats McGee; the brother of one of The Loose Ties, who had been the drummer of their previous, largely overlapping band Another Misprint; and yours truly). But why stop there? I mentioned that Lord Luck had with him a pair of girls, his gal Amy and her sister, who I came to learn is named Stephanie. I strode over to Stephanie and offered her my hand. She gave me a brief, quizzical look, then set down her coat, took hold of my offered left hand, and accepted my right hand as it settled upon her waist. We danced for the remainder of "Where's the Girl?" and she mentioned that she'd seen me skanking, but had failed at her one attempt to learn the moves from Lord Luck. When the faster music resumed, I took both her hands in mine and we stood facing each other. Then we started kicking out our legs to the rhythm, both our right legs then both our lefts. It wasn't quite skanking, but it was only just short of the mark.

When The Loose Ties were finished, having no other obligations, I elected for the first time not to leave Woobie's right away, but to stay and have a drink.

Project PANDORA
I was carded when I ordered a Woodchuck earlier in the evening, but by the end of The Loose Ties' set, I was able to order a gin & tonic from a different bartender (who looked like he was sixteen) without producing identification. Andre the Saxophonist boggled at my choice of drink and I offered my favorite facetious explanation, "You need the gin to cut the bitterness of the tonic water, and the tonic water to cut the bitterness of the gin."

We were discussing the vagaries of bar I.D.ing practices when the bartender returned with my G&T and chimed in, "Yeah, ordering a drink like this kind of proves that I don't need to check your I.D." I then offered that this might be a perfect plan for seventeen year olds who wished to imbibe. I soon found myself next to and engrossed in conversation with Ska Army when an idea began to form in my head. 'Twas a bold plan of action, too bold by far for the Mike of days gone by, but after only a few moments of deliberation I put it into effect and excused myself from Ska Army's company.

I found Lord Luck & Amy at the pool table and put my questions to him with only minimal preamble. The aforementioned Stephanie had no boyfriend, no obvious obstacle to my asking her out save her residence in Ann Arbor. No problem, I love Ann Arbor! I know this was quick, damned quick, but even before learning that she lived in A² I was resolved to ask her out that very evening. Yes, we had shared only one casual dance and I could not say that I really knew anything about her, but we'd made each other laugh and she was cute and I simply could not count on this chance ever again presenting itself. I have lost years of my life—years!—pining away for girls, being too afraid of rejection to act, getting to know them over a periods of months and psyching myself out from ever asking them to accompany me for an evening out on the town. That's no way to live. I won't be cowed any longer. I'd rather roll the dice, even an a stupid, reckless toss with no real chance of success. In the immortal words of Admiral Farragut, "Damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead!"

So, I sidled over to the table where Stephanie sat with her friends (the move to Ann Arbor turned out to be recent) and set myself down in an empty seat next to her. After a short conversation about the then-underway Olympics (Woobie's had several of its wall-mounted televisions tuned to coverage of the Games, and one and all had cheered in vain for Slovakia to triumph over Canada in men's hockey, thereby keeping our neighbors to the north out of the gold medal game), I made my radical proposal: I would give her my mobile telephone number and on a night of her choosing I would drive down to Ann Arbor and we would have dinner together. She asked if I liked vegetarian cuisine and I replied that I'd love to try vegetarian. She evaded with a rather lame, "I'm not really dating right now," but I was already satisfied with how events had unfolded. I'd been charming, I'd been bold (yes, arguably too bold), and if she wanted to pass up the splendid opportunity being presented to her, well, that was her loss, nothing to do with me. I told her to call me anyway, should it strike her fancy, that regardless of anything else we'd have a nice meal and lovely night out.

In the week and a half since she has not called, but really and truly aside from composing this past I have not thought about her; so, I am unperturbed. (For those who are curious, nothing substantial could ever have existed between us in any event. Not only did she allude to being a vegetarian, but during the Olympic discussion she explicitly stated her admiration for the nefarious Apolo Ohno; entirely separate for my disdain for the "Olympic Movement," I despise Ohno as a showboat and, worse, a cheater. It is an embarrassment that that scoundrel has been allowed to represent this great country not once, not twice, but thrice at the Winter Games, and I could never harbor any significant affection for someone who so idolized him.) She hasn't called, but that's out of my hands. I acted decisively, a significant victory for Project PANDORA given my sorry history of hesitation and paralysis.

Proud Europa
The Swiss are still crazy, but all hope is not yet lost: animallink.

The Rebel Black Dot Songs of the Day
The Blues Brothers, "She Caught the Katy" from The Blues Brothers Original Soundtrack Recording (T.L.A.M.)

Samstag, 6 März
Less Than Jake, "Conviction Notice" from GNV FLA (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: Yesterday, as I stood in the corridor awaiting my turn to compete in the Impromptu speaking finals at the Michigan Intercollegiate Speech League (M.I.S.L.) State Championships, "Conviction Notice" came to mind, discernibly apropos of nothing, and I paced up and down the hallway singing quietly:

"Money can't buy happiness, but it sure can pay the rent!"

I desired to work those words into my speech, which, as the name Impromptu suggests, is devised "on the spot," but could find no opening. Instead, I delivered by my own estimation a highly satisfactory speech and, in only my third weekend in competition against seasoned forensics speakers with years of training and experience under their belts, was adjudged the third best Impromptu speaker in the State of Michigan. Woot!

Freitag, 5 März
The University of Michigan Marching Band, "Temptation" from Hurrah for the Yellow and Blue (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: And because "you can't have one without the other…"

The University of Michigan Marching Band, "Hawaiian War Chant" from Hurrah for the Yellow and Blue (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary (cont'd): Go Blue!

The Queue
Note that the title of the fifth Bond novel is From Russia, with Love while the title of the second Bond film is From Russia with Love. The Secret Base codename of my old college pal Olga is, after the film, From Russia with Love. Is there a connection between my fondness for the film From Russia with Love, my warm memories of From Russia with Love, and my favorite sushi roll at Sagano also being named From Russia with Love? Yes, yes there is.

Recently
Marshall Jevons, The Fatal Equilibrium
P. G. Wodehouse, Mike at Wrykyn
Ian Fleming, Casino Royale

Currently
Ian Fleming, Live and Let Die

Presently
Ian Fleming, Moonraker
Ian Fleming, Diamonds Are Forever
Ian Fleming, From Russia, with Love

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
The Eyeliners, "The Promise" from No Apologies (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: An atypical little song in which it is the distaff half of a male/female friendship who wants to be something other than just friends.

"But if you wait around a while
I'll make you fall for me,
I promise, I promise you I will."

The following, and more, was part of a massive post I intended to publish last night, but just as I was getting into the rhythm of the work the wireless internet here at the house ceased normal operation. I had been in the middle of a pair of I.M. chats, one with bearing on Project PANDORA. As the outage persisted, my level of frustration rose, blunting any notion of working on my post offline and storing it until publication became possible. By Lucifer's beard!

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
Mittwoch, 3 März
The Littlest Man Band, "It's You" from Better Book Ends (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary:

"Take a breath and let it out,
If you want go ahead and shout,
'Cause today you've opened up your eyes.
Look around, what do ya see?
It's what you've always wanted to be;
So, get ready for the best surprise.

And this is only gonna get better.
Victory never tasted so sweet.
Now stare directly into the mirror
'Cause there's someone I'd like you to meet,
And it's you.

I know he looks a lot like you,
He even talks the way you do,
But there's something in his face
That you've never seen before.
Faith and hope give a glow
To let everybody know
That he's gonna rock their asses
Down to the floor.

And this is only gonna get better.
Victory never tasted so sweet.
Now stare directly into the mirror
'Cause there's someone I'd like you to meet,
And it's you.

It's you.
It's you.
It's youuuuuuu (and various whoa-whoas)."

The Banzai Beard Bonanza II: Bonsai's Revenge
Day 67: Not much has changed since yesterday.

Day 66: Same day service from my dad, he snapped the photographs below this afternoon and within hours—hours!—they were sitting in my emailbox. Sign of an impending apocalypse? No, I rather think the time he's been spending with the kitty is softening him (and more on that later).















Remember, kids, we've got two more solid months until the beard faces the axe, heralding the start of the Massive Moustache Mistake!

The Queue
I spent the afternoon & early evening finishing Casino Royale in a marathon session. Man alive, what a page-turner! Of all the 007 novels, Casino Royale is the story with which I was already most familiar—the benefit of having seen both "Casino Royale," an adaptation for an episode of the 1950s television show Climax!, and Casino Royale, the first picture starring Daniel Craig as Bond—but even so Fleming's writing fairly leapt off the page. And, holy smoke, Fleming's James Bond is a human person (I love it whenever they say that on Psych), not the demigod I grew up watching on the silver screen.

There's so much more that needs to be said about Casino Royale, but I need to take a little time to ruminate, to let sink in all I read, to let my thoughts take shape. Plus, and let's be frank, I'm not feeling at all an able communicator at the moment, I command none of my required eloquence and wit. But I can say this, I already know that Casino Royale is going to have a discernible influence on Project PANDORA going forward.

The Impossible Ingenue as Vesper Lynd?

Recently
Marshall Jevons, The Fatal Equilibrium
P. G. Wodehouse, Mike at Wrykyn
Ian Fleming, Casino Royale

Currently
waiting for…

Presently
Ian Fleming, Live and Let Die
Ian Fleming, Moonraker
Ian Fleming, Diamonds Are Forever

Go ahead and unleash the hounds, Brenda. What is it you wanted to say about your relatively recent experience reading several of the Bond novels?

What's Eating The Last Angry Man?
I relished the feast for the senses that was the gorgeous B.B.C./Discovery Channel nature documentary Planet Earth. That Planet Earth was narrated by Sigourney Weaver, an actress best known as the voice of the Planet Express Ship in the Futurama episode "Love and Rocket"? A bonus! I'd love to be excited about the forthcoming thematic sequel to Planet Earth, Life (Where are Damian Lewis and Sarah Shahi?), but for the American broadcast Sir David Attenborough was replaced as narrator by… Oprah Winfrey, whose voice is much akin to the sound of fingernails shrieking across a chalkboard. So, I shan't be watching Life, though if it is made available I may at some point rent or borrow from the library the B.B.C. version.

Watching a bit of To Kill a Mockingbird this evening prior to the start of the new episode of Dirty Jobs with Mike Rowe, I saw that the broadcast of the film was being "presented" by Maya Angelou, reputed to be one of our time's premiere thinkers. Dr. Angelou said "the greatest theme" of To Kill a Mockingbird is "social responsibility." Also, "the greatest theme of the film is family. The greatest theme is love… not sentiment, but love." The greatest theme is social responsibility. The greatest theme is family. The greatest theme is love. Forgive me if I'm completely mistaken, but how can a film have three themes as its singular greatest theme? Is not the entire idea of "the greatest" anything to stand alone, apart from all else? Is that not the operational definition of "the greatest"? To Kill a Mockingbird is a phenomenal novel, and To Kill a Mockingbird is a phenomenal motion picture. Must we celebrate them by butchering the English language? Whatever respect I might have had for Maya Angelou was washed away once she became a public proponent of ignorance and idiocy. For shame!

The Banzai Beard Bonanza II: Bonsai's Revenge
Day 65: I apologize for the exceptionally long delay since the last round of photographs. I will try to have my father take a new round of snapshots tomorrow. The beard has come a long way in the more than three weeks since the last photos were posted: The L.A.W. has become… almost complimentary. At the very least, she seems to accept that she'd prejudged the beard without giving it a chance to come into its own. I expect no such softening in Mrs. Skeeter, Esq.'s or The Watergirl's attitudes.

The greatest challenge remains the propensity for moustache hairs to insinuate themselves into the eating and drinking processes. I am walking a fine line between encouraging the moustache to flourish and trimming back those hairs that overhang my lips and pose an, as it were, hazard to navigation. No one ever said the Bonanza would be easy, but, by Jove (who's always represented with a beard, mind you), it's worth the inconvenience!

"Man, I can't wait until tomorrow!"
"Why's that?"
"Because I get better looking every day."

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
Chris Cornell, "You Know My Name" (the theme song from the 2006 film Casino Royale) via iTunes (T.L.A.M.)

Happy (Belated) Birthdays!
Happy birthday to Ska Army! Belated only by a technicality, because he was born on 29 February, obviously during a leap year. As a consequence, he celebrates his birthday "the day after February 28th," which most years works out to be today, 1 March. What are the odds of not only meeting but befriending a lad who plays in, of all the preposterous things, a ska band? In this day and age? I lead a charmed life. Happy birthday, Aaron!

Happy birthday to The Cowgirl! Her birthday is 28 February; so, these well-wishes are belated, but as I was on hand yesterday to help celebrate her 21st birthday, I am confident I've done my duty as a friend. Yes, it's a little unnerving that The Cowgirl was born one year less one day after her boyfriend, Ska Army, but they're so sickeningly cute together that that coincidence is the least of our worries. Happy birthday, Vanessa!

The Rebel Black Dot Songs of the Day
Mu330, "Jason" from Crab Rangoon (The Guy, sort of)

Commentary: Swell bloke and all around lucky devil The Guy heard "Jason" on the radio—the radio!—in his adopted burg of Saint Louis, the mighty city on the mighty Mississippi. As he wrote, "My radio station is better than your radio station." Hands down, amigo, hands down.

Sonntag, 28 Februar
Fountains of Wayne, "Bright Future in Sales" from Welcome Interstate Managers (the as-yet-uncodenamed Brenda, sort of)

Commentary: "Bright Future in Sales" was the R.B.D.S.O.T.D. just a few weeks ago and I wish not to repeat songs too often, but Brenda complimented my relentless efforts to promote the 24 Hours of Le Mans, and there you go.