Fuck, Mu330 and Mustard Plug performed together at the Magic Stick in Detroit in September and I fucking missed the show! A year in fucking Texile without a single fucking rock show and then two of my favorite bands are fucking gift wrapped for me in beautiful and beloved downtown Detroit and I fucking missed the show! I didn't have a fucking clue until weeks after the fact. Fuck! Fuckity fucking fuck fuck! FUCK!

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
Feist, "I Feel It All" via iTunes (Skeeter)

The Victors
Damn damn damn the Big Ten Network (BTN). I received a mass email from U of M Athletic Director Bill Martin (with whom I once had, at his invitation, a face-to-face meeting in his office) explaining why Michigan and all the other Big Ten schools are perfectly justified in their greedy collaboration with the Big Ten Network. In short, he does not seem to give a good Bog damn that the people of Michigan do not receive the Big Ten Network, since the Athletic Department is making money boatloads of money from BTN viewership outside "the Big Ten footprint" of Michigan, Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, Iowa, Wisconsin, Minnesota, and Pennsylvania. Damn damn damn Bill Martin and the Big Ten Network.

My congratulations to the valiant Wolverines for their triumph on Saturday. I am greatly encouraged not just by the win, but by the margin of victory. Notre Dame is a colossal joke and Penn State is its own worst enemy; so, despite the tumble out of the AP poll Purdue was still our best opponent since Oregon. And the valiant Wolverines stomped 'em! Hooray! Mike Hart is hardly human, he's a competitive demigod. I've no doubt that he'll be in the line-up against Illinois barring his right leg falling off and being dragged away by coyotes. And even then he might still play.

He Tasks Me
One week after the chumps in the Pac-10 rained on everyone's parade, the vile Fighting Irish lost again, improving St. Charlie's record to 1-6. Bwa ha ha ha ha! I cannot bring myself to root for the horrid Trojans of USC next weekend, but I do hope that Charlie the Whale leads his team to yet another ignominious defeat. What I really want is for a comet to fall from the heavens, flattening the stadium and annihilating both teams and their partisans, but as that seems highly improbable (lousy, rat fink comets) a Notre Dame defeat, preferably by a humiliating score, will suffice quite nicely.

"He tasks me. He tasks me, and I shall have him."