Project MERCATOR
I didn't intend to take the summer off from MERCATOR, but I should have known from long experience that without an active effort toward socialization I'd follow my instincts back into isolation, or at least back toward isolation. And I have not been making the active effort that MERCATOR requires; last week, on the evening of my return from Los Angeles, I had an opportunity to hang out with The Most Dangerous Game, The Impossible Ingenue, and an uncodenamed friend of theirs just returned from France, but I cited lack of sleep from my recent travels as a reason to stay in. Still, I can say with honesty that a danger of burnout existed after the frenzy of last spring; so, I'll cut myself some slack as long as Project MERCATOR goes back into force in a fortnight's time, after the Labor Day holiday.

Last night, after speech & debate practice, Love/Hate, The Most Dangerous Game, Too Sly, Katie (a friend of Love/Hate's who might be a prospective team member), and I repaired to Love/Hate's apartment.

***Caution: Lewdness ahead.***

An evening of conversing and imbibing ensued, the conversation marred by the appalling lewdness of the distaff trio, e.g., there was talk of the proper spot to which to direct ejaculate summoned by a blow job. Apparently, it's poor form for the chap to ask the girl to swallow; the stomach, breasts, and neck were all cited as acceptable points of deposit. I could have been more uncomfortable, but only with a Herculean effort. For pity's sake, let us never speak of this again.

***All clear. Proceed without hesitation.***

Toward the end of the evening, after Katie had departed, the inebriated trio of Love/Hate, The Most Dangerous Game, and Too Sly decamped to Love/Hate's bed to fall asleep in each others arms. My presence was requested and desired, but as I was not inebriated the prospect of clinging to a sliver of Love/Hate's bed paled next to the promise of mine own pillows, sheets, and mattress. Over some slurred protest, I extricated myself, bade one and all a pleasant slumber, and motored home in Lumi.

Project PANDORA
This afternoon, Love/Hate sent to me what I am rapidly coming to regard as the most loathsome text message in the world, (sic) "Im bored." Bored? What is she, a five-year-old? There is one way to view that text, which I receive several times a week, so that it does not reflect extremely poorly on Love/Hate: it might be a ham-fisted way of saying, "I want to see you." But that explanation is rather far-fetched, no?

I owe you a proper Project PANDORA post.

This Week in Motorsport
As might reasonably be supposed from the name of the American Le Mans Series, the 24 Heures du Mans is a big part of the A.L.M.S. year, even though the 24 Hours doesn't count toward the A.L.M.S. championship. Accordingly, the biggest gap in the A.L.M.S. schedule is on either side of the Grand Prix of Endurance; so, just when my appetite for sports car racing was whetted by Le Mans, I had to wait another month before the American Le Mans Series resumed racing. Drat!

But since then there have been three A.L.M.S. races—all two hour forty-five minute "sprint" races, not longer endurance races of six hours or more—with another this coming weekend and another the following weekend. After the famine, a feast! After the lush countryside surrounding the Circuit de la Sarthe in northern France, the stark landscape of the Utah Grand Prix was startling. The G.T. competition was fierce, with a Ferrari from Risi Competizione claiming the victory, followed by a Rahal Letterman B.M.W. and a Team Corvette Corvette.

Fast forward a fortnight to the Northeast Grand Prix at Lime Rock, Connecticut, providing an almost glowingly verdant contrast to the moonscape of Utah. Lime Rock Park is a madhouse. I kid you not, the track is only a mile-and-a-half long; the Prototypes were lapping at under fifty seconds! Here I'm exaggerating, but 'twas almost dizzying to watch from home, as time and again the cars whipped 'round the same tiny, tiny patch of real estate. (Compare Lime Rock wee distance to the eight-and-a-half-mile track around which the 24 Hours of Le Mans are run.) Lime Rock Park is bughouse, man, bughouse. I've long said that I like my politics just like I like my religion, just that little bit crazy; I've also said that part of what I like about the 24 Heures du Mans is how mad the whole exercise is. So, I like madness, but the jury's still out on whether I like bughouse, a subset of madness.

The next race, the Mid-Ohio Sports Car Challenge, presented a radically different viewing experience. The race was run on Saturday, 7 August—when I was relatively near the Lexington, Ohio racetrack, being myself in Marysville, Ohio—but not broadcast on television until Sunday, 15 August. (There was live online streaming coverage of the race.) In addition to the broadcast delay, the race was carried on C.B.S. instead of Speed. And instead of covering the two-hour-forty-five-minute length of the race, C.B.S. edited it down into an hour-and-a-half-long quasi-documentary. I consider the documentary film Truth in 24 to be a perfect introduction to the 24 Hours of Le Mans, and watching it is part of my annual preparations for Le Mans; so, I've no opposition to motorsport-based documentaries. But I wanted to watch a race, not the highlights of a race. However, here's hoping that the higher profile (?) of being on C.B.S. will help to increase interest in the A.L.M.S.

The last three races of 2010 American Le Mans Series season are this weekend, Sunday, 22 August from Road America (Elkhart Lake, Wisconsin); next weekend, 29 August, the Grand Prix of Mosport (Bowmanville, Ontario, in the Great White North, eh); and then Petit Le Mans from Road Atlanta (close enough to Atlanta, Georgia, back in the States).

Next time on "This Week in Motorsport": Formula Fun! There are ever so many Formula One grands prix on which I've yet to comment. Fortunately for me, over a week remains until the end of the four-week summer break; so, there's time to make up lost ground before I fall ever further behind. It's a race against time? No, that's awful.

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
Sex Bob-omb, "We Are Sex Bob-omb" from Scott Pilgrim vs. the World: Original Motion Picture Soundtrack (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: I tend to believe Stephen Stills when he says that the actual title of the song is not, as Scott Pilgrim claims, "Launchpad McQuack."

Donnerstag, 19 August
Brian LeBarton, "Threshold (8 Bit)" from Scott Pilgrim vs. the World: Original Motion Picture Soundtrack (T.L.A.M.)