Codename: CHAOS
I've got it! Instead of calling Dylweed's sons Dlyweedsons and any potential daughters Dylweeddottirs, all of this kids shall be Dylweedlings! The happy Dylweed family of Kokomo, Indiana: Daddy Dylweed, Mrs. Dylweed, J. Dylweedling, and Z. Dylweedling. Long may they prosper.

As for Steve R (formerly and unsatisfactorially known as Father Steve), I've got several preliminary ideas: Notre Lame, Notre Dude, Stat Boy (becaue of his legendary recall of sports minutiae), the Golden Thunderdome, Laser Zeppelin. Also, because he looks just like David Duchovny: David Duchonvy, Duchovny, Fox Mulder. Suggestions are welcome, especially since a Secret Base codename is not like a nickname. You cannot give yourself a nickname, but you can determine your own codename (though if I don't like it I reserve the right to taunt you and ignore your choice); so, Steve, here's your chance to put in your own two cents. Meanwhile, I'll keep hoping the muses pipe up sooner rather than later.

Idiosyncratic Routine
I am out of step with the personal opinion of the vast majority of ordinary Americans in that I believe homosexuals should have the same right to marry as heterosexuals. My argument goes like this: Britney Spears has already been married twice, once for fifty-five hours and once to Kevin Federline, yet the two gentlemen who have loved each other and lived together for fifty years should not be allowed to say they are married for what reason, exactly? And don't cite religion, because in America marriage licenses are given out by the several states, not the churches, and the several states are not supposed to be able to discriminate on the basis of sexual orientation.

I am out of step with the personal opinion of the majority of Americans who support gay marriage in that I believe one spouse in a homosexual marriage should adopt the other's surname. The point of marriage is that two people become one, yes? Doesn't it then make sense for those two people to have the same last name? Calling dibs, tossing a coin, going by who's older or who makes more money, the more subjective method of determining who has a cooler last name, all seem like fine ways to decide whose surname to adopt. Would not a common name aid the fostering of unity that is so vital to forging a successful marriage, gay or straight?

Attention Captain Malice: I believe I have managed to reverse the ban that prevented you from commenting, Joe. Please leave a comment to let me know that this is so or drop me an email, or whatever form of electronic communication you prefer, to tell me that I have failed; if the latter is the case, I shall try, try again.

BTW South Song of the Day
Jerry O'Sullivan, "Colonel Fraser" from Green Linnet Records: The Twentieth Anniversary Collection (Mt. Love)

"That one may smile, and smile, and be a villain."
--William Shakespeare, The Tragedy of Hamlet, Prince of Denmark Act I, Scene V

Holy Wow
I have been to the Grand Canyon and it is more magnificent than I can describe. I cannot wait to return and see it from the Skywalk.

Also, from our "Lies, Damned Lies, and the News" department, American astronaut Buzz Aldrin legally changed his name from Edwin Eugene Aldrin, Jr. to Buzz Eugene Aldrin nearly twenty years ago; so, the BBC is inaccurate in identifying the second man to walk on the Moon as "Edwin 'Buzz' Aldrin." Factchecking, mates, it really isn't that hard.

Alive
Polarlink. I will never understand so-called animal "rights" activists. Fur is "murder," but Knut should have been killed? Clubbing baby harp seals is wrong, but clubbing baby polar bears is right? How morally superior of you, deciding who lives and who dies by your whim. How very "master race." I wish Knut a long and happy life.

Scrawl down to this week's episode of "The Explorers Club." It's my very favoritest part of The Secret Base.

BTW South Song of the Day
Duvall, "Racine" from Volume & Density (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: I thought about substituting "Racine," one of the most romantic songs in my collection, for "The Body of an American" as Saturday's Song of the Day, in celebration of The L.A.W's engagement to The Maine Man, but it seems like I've got siblings getting engaged left and right; St. Patrick's Day, by contrast, comes 'round but once a year. I have often bitterly denounced Ireland as a den of neutrality, but there should be no mstake, I am proud of my Irish heritage. You see, the Ireland I hate is the Ireland my ancesters left. It was not good enough for them; so, they came to America. Like the rest of Europe, Ireland is full of the complacent and the corrupt, those without the courage to forge a better life in the New World. All that is best about England, France, Germany, Italy, Sweden left; the Europeans we know today are the degenerate progeny of what remained after all the brave and noble souls had emigrated. The Ireland I hate, the Ireland that allied with the Kaiser during the Great War and was scrupulously neutral toward both Hitler and Stalin, is the country my forefathers quit. I would not object so strongly to the bigoted, debauched manner in which "St. Paddy's Day" is defiled here in America if I was not proud of my Irish blood. My middle name is Patrick, after all.

So, Saturday's Song of the Day could not be changed from "The Body of an American." So, here's "Racine," and for lack of a better gesture this one goes out to The L.A.W and The Maine Man. He will make a most excellent brother-in-law.

Codename: CHAOS
And of course all this raises the question of matrimonial codenames. When she married, Ham 'n' Eggs became Mrs. Blinky; Never Girl became Mrs. Sacramento. I usually refer to Daddy Dylweed's bride as "the lovely Kristy," but if the issue of anonymity ever came up I would refer to her as Mrs. Dylweed. Now that I think about it, Father Steve's codename may need to be revamped, as "Mrs. Steve" leaves much to be desired. And what do I call Dylweed's precious sons? How about Dylweed J and Dylweed Z. Or J Dylweedson and Z Dylweedson? (Dylweed, thoughts?) Father Steve's infant son? Yes, Father Steve definitely needs a new codename, one that will be forumlated with the missus and their son in mind.

In all likelihood, the Mountain of Love, formerly known as the Bald Mountain, will become the Mountain of Matrimony once he was donned the irrevocable shackles of holy matrimony. (Though, the wedding will take place in, I think, a Lutheran church; so, there won't really be anything "holy" about the proceedings.) And what of his intended, The Buckeye? Mrs. Mountain of Matrimony? A bit unwieldly, but easily shortened to Mrs. Mountain for practical usage.

But when am I to call The L.A.W. and The Maine Man? I doubt she'll change her name; so, her initials will still be L.A.W. I could call him Mr. The L.A.W. of Mr. L.A.W., but that seems awfully emasculating. At the same time, I've always had a hard time accepting that my aunt and uncle in Austin are really married since a) they have different last names and b) they don't have any kids. I would like for The L.A.W. and The Maine man's codenames to be related to reinforce the sense that these two people are irrevocably shacked one to the other. Mr. and Mrs. Maine L.A.W.? I'll have to keep at it.

Suggestions are most welcome; so, it's time to put you lazy bums to work. Thinking caps, kids, I expect gold-standard ideas.

The Explorers Club
No. XVII - James Clerk Maxwell, 1831-1879, pioneering scientist in the fields of mathematics, physics, optics, and color photography; all-around genius; and the only man on Venus. (See also: Maxwell's equations, the Maxwell-Boltzmann distribution, and Maxwell Montes.)

The Anniversary Party
Words fail me. I wish to articulate a sentiment of some not insignificant beauty, but this is neither the hour nor the day. The words fail. Nothing for it but to wait and to endure. Fear not, lads, to all things there is a season. This blight shall pass in its good time and all will stand revealed.

BTW South Song of the Day
Rx Bandits, "What If" from Halfway Between Here and There (Mt. Love)

Saturday, March 17 - Saint Patrick's Day
The Pogues, "The Body of an American" from The Best of The Pogues (T.L.A.M.)

Friday, March 16
Seamus Ennis, "Rainy Day/First You Must Learn the Grip" from Green Linnet Records: The Twentieth Anniversary Collection (Mt. Love)

Heist!
The really remarkable thing about Japan is that when all is said and done this heist will end up representing about half of the crime in the whole country - a nation of 120 million citizens and the world's second-largest economy - for all of 2007: Operation Grand Slam.

The Victors
On the one hand, the valiant University of Michigan Wolverines lost the CCHA tournament to the vile University of Notre Dame Fighting Irish. On the other hand, my close personal friend Bill Martin fired Tommy Amaker as head coach of the men's basketball team. On the gripping hand, I flipped away from the UNC-MSU game (Thanks, Tar Heels!) just in time to see valiant University of Michigan Wolverine Josh Churella lose the 149-pound national championship at the NCAA Wrestling Championships at the Palace of Auburn Hills. Being the second-best 149-pound wrestler in the country is a highly laudable achievement, but to slightly misappropriate* General MacArthur's words, "there is no substitute for victory." Churella may be valiant, but today he was not the victor; he may be a hero, but today he did no conqu'ring.

So, 1-2, not a particularly good day for Michigan. Still, every day is a great day to be a Wolverine; tomorrow, we pick ourselves up and begin again. Go Blue!

*MacArthur actually said, "In war there is no substitute for victory." And despite furious flurries of hyperbole and bad sportsmanship, there is no mistaking the glory of sport for the horror of war.

The Big News
Sweet fancy Moses, my sister, The L.A.W., is going to marry her boyfriend, The Maine Man! Had you asked me ten minutes ago, I would have wagered that she and he would co-habitate for the indefinite future, but never actually marry; they'd live a very European lifestyle, my sister being something of a Europhile. Shows you how well I know my sister. In her voicemail, she said that she wasn't even sure there would be a wedding; so, a quick civil ceremony could happen at any moment. Wow.

A seeming stronghold of anti-matrimonial sentiment has fallen to the relentless advance of The Marrieds. Team Bachelor, retreat and regroup!

The Victors
Once again, the forces of good have triumphed over the forces of evil: the leaders and best. Tonight: the vile University of Notre Dame Fighting Irish. There is no finer opponent to face on St. Patrick's Day. Go Blue! Kill the Irish!

The Queue
Alan Dershowitz, The Case for Peace
Natan Sharansky, The Case for Democracy
William Manchester, The Arms of Krupp ***in progress***
Simon Hawke, The Merchant of Vengeance
Jung Chang, Mao: The Unknown Story
Herman Melville, Moby-Dick
Harrison E. Salisbury, The 900 Days

Because, really, is there a more exciting way to spent one's Friday night than reading, half-watching basketball, and blogging about books?

The Agony and the Ecstasy
While Michigan getting bounced from the NIT doesn't exactly evoke anything as substantial as agony and the pleasant sensation arising from Notre Dame's dismissal from the NCAA Tournament doesn't meet the criteria for ecstasy, "The Agony and the Ecstasy" is a better title than "The Minor Aggravation and the Mild Amusement."

Go Blue!

Science!
I am an enthusiastic proponent of manned space flight (Go Project Constellation!), but that does not mean I am not also an enthusiastic proponent of unmanned missions of exploration. After all, Opportunity and Spirit's mission was nicknamed M2K4 meaning "Mars 2004," and the twin rovers were only supposed to survive for three months. But M2K4 has inexorably given way to M2K5, M2K6, M2K7 with no clear end in sight! We must harness the fruits of the greatest minds on Earth and unleash an armada of robots to wrest from nature the secrets of the seas of Europa. Robots of Earth, your destiny is to be found among the stars! Go forth, you magnificent mechanical minions! For Earth! For glory! For science! Science!

"Journey to Babel" - Star Trek Season 2, 1967-68
"Babel" - Star Trek: Deep Space Nine Season 1, 1993
"Babel One" - Star Trek: Enterprise Season 4, 2004-05

Hat Day!
The Mountain of Love wore his funny chicken hat and I wore my Pith helmet. Long after dinner had been consumed and the requirements of Hat Day fulfilled, I continued to wear my Pith helmet. Life is better in a Pith helmet. I was disappointed that the "special one hour of The Office" turned out to be two reruns of The Office, but pleased that they were such excellent reruns of The Office. Stanley just laughed and laughed and laughed at Ryan's folly, and it was so richly deserved. *hee hee* Stanley!

Also, I have high hopes for Andy Barker, P.I.

BTW South Song of the Day
John Linnell, "Maine" from State Songs (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: Chosen to commemorate Maine's admission into the Union of this day in 1820. Those who just can't get enough of "The Explorers Club" might take the opportuity to learn more about the Compromise of 1820 a.k.a. the Missouri Compromise.

"Maine is the poison you love,
Maine is the hell from above,
Maine at the top of the chart,
Has crushed my evil heart."

"They're killing Independent George! Worlds are colliding!"

In any entirely unrelated matter, I fear my intentions toward her may not be honorable, but I also have a sneaking suspicion that said fear is a result of the dark bastard's relentless scheming and sinister machinations. She was, after all, the original inspiration for the following; so, it seems likely my intentions are above board:

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

The morrow brings the Ides of March, dear friends and treasured readers, two thousand fifty-one years since Caesar fell to a traitor's blade. Be wary.

Parker Posey Appreciation Day
I had the day off; so, I spent the afternoon watching For Your Consideration and then watching it again with Christopher Guest and Eugene Levy's commentary. A Mighty Wind was great, but I think we can all agree it suffered from an acute lack of Parker Posey. Not so For Your Consideration! Score! So, having seen The Oh in Ohio and For Your Consideration, now I still need to get caught up with The Event and Adam & Steve and when possible Fay Grim (though the film to which it is a sequel, Henry Fool, wasn't that good to begin with), Broken Engish, and Spring Breakdown. Crappy remakes of crummy-to-begin-with Asian horror flicks are a dime a dozen; so, I think I'll be forgiven for opting out of seeing The Eye.

Great Caesar's ghost, who doesn't love Parker Posey Appreciation Day?

BTW South Song of the Day
Flogging Molly, "Tobacco Island" from Within a Mile of Home (Mt. Love)

Commentary: I'd rather listen to Aerosmith than Flogging Molly, and I hate Aerosmith's music with every fiber of my being. Bog below, I'd rather listen to nothing but the motherfucking Beatles for a whole year than suffer through another Flogging Molly album.

Note to self: India seems like a fascinatingly exotic place, and sometime in the next thirty-three years I would like to see where Great-Granny Gray, may she rest in peace, lived and where Grandma Wilson, may she rest in peace, was born, but it is also dreadfully hot and humid in much of the country much of the year. And you put the Wilson in "sweating like a Wilson." So, take a cue from the locals and when in Gujarat do as the Gujaratis do. Flower power.

BTW South Song of the Day
The Mighty Mighty Bosstones, "You Can't Win" from A Jackknife to a Swan (T.L.A.M.)

Monday, March 12
unknown, "The MacGyver Theme Song" courtesy of ye olde internet (Mt. Love)

Sunday, March 11
Sixpence None the Richer, "Kiss Me" from Sixpence None the Richer (T.L.A.M.)

Saturday, March 10
Fountains of Wayne, "Small Favors" from Out-of-State Plates, Disc 2 (Mt. Love)

The Anniversary Party
For nearly twenty-four hours between yesterday evening and this afternoon, BTW South was without internet access. This was a nuisance not a crisis, but predictably it did get me thinking about the changes wrought by the passage of time. Ten years ago, in March 1997, President Clinton was less than two months into his second term; few had yet heard of George W. Bush, the first-term Governor of Texas; Barry Sanders was the the best running back in the NFL; two brand-new episodes of Star Trek aired each week, one each of Deep Space Nine and Voyager; the Special Editions of the Star Wars trilogy had just been released in theaters and there was yet no prequel trilogy; and the internet, or as it was called back then the "information superhighway," had yet to "transform" our daily lives.

My father had bought his first HAL by 1997 and had created for each member of the family, even my long-absent sister, an AOL e-mail account, but I dialed in to check mine perhaps a half-dozen times in as many months. I would not become a regular user of what was quickly dubbed ye olde internet until I arrived at the University of Michigan in the Fall of 1997. A scant two years later, by the time the Mountain of Love was a high school senior, he and his compatriots routinely chatted through AIM. Back in my day, we called each other on the telephone. (Or rather, Skeeter or Dylweed, not yet a daddy, called me and I told them I was going to stay in and hang out with my brother; so, not everything has changed in ten years.) And by the telephone I mean the landline in our parents' houses. To quote RBF, "We didn't call have 'cell phones'!"

In 1997, being without internet access for a day would not have seemed worth even mentioning; yesterday, I could not check my myriad email acccounts, obsessively visit The Secret Base to see if anyone had left a comment, read things about the Romulans that I already know on Wikipedia, scan the headlines of the BBC site. None of these activities is vital; a convincing argument can be made than none of them is even vaguely important. The internet is, by and large, a collection fo trivialities. Of course, as the finest Trivial Pursuit player I know, I would never speak out against trivialities; the trivial is the color and excitement of the world. I mean, was 300 a valid history lesson? By Zeus's thunderbolt, no! But was it a heck of a lot of fun? You betcha!

The Secret Base of the Rebel Black Dot Society was founded five years ago. I was introduced to the term "Black Dot Society," against which I am in rebellion, seven years before that. The world, or rather that small fraction with which I interact daily, changed far more between 1997 and 2002 than between 2002 and 2007. I have no highfalutin purpose beyond stating that I believe we all derive inestimable benefit from taking a few moments each day to hold in mind a picture of how we once were, individually and as a culture, and asking why we are not that way today, both for good and for ill.

Alma Mater
My mom attended college for two years before she married my dad and moved into married student housing at Purdue. And where did she go to college? None of than NCAA Tournament-bound Wright State. Meanwhile, Michigan, the school to which she sent her three children, will once again be participating in the NIT. This round goes to my dear mother's "nourishing mother."

Go Blue!

The Explorers Club
No. XVI - Brigadier General Benjamin O. Davis, Sr. (U.S. Army) and General Benjamin O. Davis, Jr. (U.S. Air Force)





I rejected the notion of adding the Generals Davis to "The Explorers Club" during February because that might have been seen as an endorsement of Black History Month. Black History Month is inherently racist, and while it is well-intentioned racism it is racism nonetheless and I do not believe we can improve race relations, generally throughout the world and specifically in this great nation of ours, through racism, ill- or well-intentioned.

That said, the Davises clearly contributed more to the civil rights movement by virtue of their race than had they been a father-son pair of white generals with identical service records. It's a sticky wicket to be sure.

Remember, kids, so as not to appear ignorant it is important not to confuse Zhang He, the general, with Zheng He, the navigator.

Oh, how I loathe the very concept of Daylight Saving Time. An additional hour a day spent under the tyranny of the accursed Sun? 'Tis a beastly fate. And who have we to thank for this sorry state of affairs but our perfidious proxies in the bicameral Congress. Pray believe me, good people, for the sake of our honor and our posterity we must rescind Article I of the Constitution!

BTW South Song of the Day
Mu330, "Pool Party" from Mu330 (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: And as we proved with that old F.R.A.T. Party campaign mainstay, the root beer keg on the Diag, "You can be a real man if you can do a keg stand."

The Queue
Alan Dershowitz, The Case for Peace
Natan Sharansky, The Case for Democracy ***resumed***
William Manchester, The Arms of Krupp
Simon Hawke, The Merchant of Vengeance
Jung Chang, Mao: The Unknown Story
Herman Melville, Moby-Dick

You know, the genocidal A.I. in the Terminator films was named Skynet.... This Doomed Earth.

Hat Day!
The Mountain of Love wore his "Smith & Winkler" ballcap, made by Meeker - K. Steeze and The Muppet's mom - for the premiere of Smith and Winkler: The Final Hoe-Down, and I wore his funny chicken hat with the long, droopy legs. I love our Thursday night ritual of eating a dinner of scrambled eggs while watching The Office and Scrubs (and for the last two weeks 30 Rock as well). I love Hat Day!

BTW South Song of the Day
Less Than Jake, "The Rest of My Life" from In With the Out Crowd (Mt. Love)

Commentary: The chorus:

"It's going to kill me,
The rest of my life,
Let me apologize while I'm still alive.
I know it's time to face
All of my past mistakes,
I've got to live with them
The rest of my life."

Rarely have I encountered anything so beautiful and so haunting. I pray Almighty God will forgive me, because I know I'll never forgive myself.

Vote For Kodos
Donkey Punch
Ah, it's good to see the Democrats returning to their roots as the party of surrender: donkeylink. If the French are, in the timeless words of Groundskeeper Willy, "cheese-eating surrender monkeys," does that make the Dems cheese-eating surrender donkeys? Dems in '08: defeat at any cost!

Grand Old Party
I received solicitations from both Senator McCain and former Mayor Giuliani in today's mail. I surmise that both campaigns acquired my address here in Fort Worthless due to the subscription renewal to National Review that was my Christmas gift from my conservative/hippie-hybrid aunt and uncle in Austin. I really don't have a problem will this as long as I don't receive mail from Senator Brownback and former Governor Romney. And at this point, I really do not know if I shall through my support, meager though it is, behind the White Tornado, to whom I actually contributed money in 2000, or Rudy, who seems to be largely the same kind of "liberal" Republican I am. The coming months should be quite interesting.

Go Team Rudy?

BTW South Song of the Day
MxPx, "Yuri Wakes Up Screaming" from The Renaissance EP (T.L.A.M.)

Boldy Go
The latest BTW South DVD Project is the last ten episodes of Star Trek: Deep Space Nine. We've watched "Penumbra", "'Til Death Do Us Part" (preliminarily titled "Umbra"), "Strange Bedfellows" (preliminarily titled "Eclipse"), "The Changing Face of Evil", "When It Rains...", "Tacking Into the Wind", "Extreme Measures", and "The Dogs of War." All that remains is the two-part series finale, "What You Leave Behind." Of all the works of popular culture in my life, the only one that rivals my affection for Star Wars is Star Trek. And as I have said many times before, DS9 is the greatest Trek of all. Watching episodes of DS9 is like visiting old friends. I feel comfortable and right.

But for the nonce, I am enamored not with the 24th century of The Next Generation, Deep Space Nine, and, lamentably, Voyager, but with the 22nd century of Star Trek: Enterprise and the unrealized potential of Captain Archerand his groundbreaking crew. Had Enterprise not been prematurely put to death, we'd currently be enjoying the sixth season (the high tide of both TNG and DS9) and looking fondly forward to the seventh and final season. Oh, the glories that might have been....

Spy vs. Spy
No no no no no. Spylink. If this was just random street crime, that's one thing, but if Litvinenko's killers had anything to do with Joyal's death our retribution must be swift, sure, and severe. The golden shores of the United States are not the private hunting reserve of the Russian security services. If they want a war of assassins, we'll give them a war of assassins. Or has such a war already begun: Spylink II? In the words of The Dude, "This will not stand. This aggression will not stand, man."

BTW South Song of the Day
Fountains of Wayne, "The Senator's Daughter" from Utopia Parkway (Mt. Love)

The Explorers Club
No. XV - The Basilica of the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception.








And why is it exactly that I have visited the District of Columbia on several occasions expressly for the purpose of tourism and never heard of the National Shrine until I discovered it in the course of randomly exploring (!) ye olde internet? Why is the smaller and, in the eye of this beholder, less impressive National Cathedral (a cathedral of the Episcopal Church, an arm of the bloody Chruch of England, against which we fought the Revolutionary War, for Pete's sake!) the subject of far greater renown than the National Shrine? I call shenanigans, specifically in the form of anti-Catholic bias!

No doubt Skeeter, a Lutheran of all things, will accuse me of "popery."

BTW South Song of the Day
Guster, "Ramona" from Keep It Together (T.L.A.M.)

Sunday, March 4
William Shatner, "Real" from Has Beeen (Mt. Love)

Saturday, March 3
The Hippos, "Celebrate" from Forget the World (T.L.A.M.)

Friday, March 2
New Found Glory, "Forget My Name" from Sticks and Stones (Mt. Love)

The Anniversary Party
Five years ago, I'd been told how to intersplice hyperlinks into my blog posts and decided to perform a few controlled experiments. It was quasi-scientific!

Ein. 11:36am

Zwei. 11:40am

Drei. 12:27pm

Vier. 12:34pm

Funf. 6:47pm

Sechs. 6:59pm

I don't think I'm quite done with "The Anniversary Party," I think there's more mindless prattling to be done about the nature of bloggy blogs and the like, but I believe I'm done linking to The Secret Base's infancy. What I shall do is look back at some classic recurring features such as "45 Things She Wishes You Knew" (my own commentary on an article in Esquire), "Have A Day"/"Have A Night," "Retroactively Making Star Trek: Voyager Good," and "Crap." The Secret Base of the Rebel Black Dot Society has been aroud for a full five years; I see no reason not to extend the fifth anniversary celebration out over a longer period than was originally decreed. Viva "The Anniversary Party"!

I'm sorry I was not able to keep my promise of finishing "To Be or Not to Be" this weekend, but I felt a strong desire to watch Star Trek: Enterprise, a LOT of Star Trek: Enterprise. But the rambling treatise on my future "with" the Detroit Lions will be finished and posted sooner rather than later.

The Anniversary Party presents Codename: CHAOS
The following is a haphazard complilation of the codenames used here at The Secret Base of the Rebel Black Dot Society. This list should not be misconstrued as ranking my friends according to personal affection; some of these people are erstwhile friends, others are romantic counterparts of my friends. Again, this list is far from comprehensive; if you find yourself taking offense, might I politely suggest that you bugger off.

You all mean more to me than the few words I inscribe here, they merely serve as the most general and horrifically incomplete description of our relationship.

Blue Tree Whacking
The Mountain of Love - David, BTW high command, my beloved brother and roommate; Fort Worthless, Texas (BTW South)

K. Steeze - Kevin, BTW high command, our fearless leader; Los Angeles, California (BTWest)

The Guy - Zach, BTW high command, formerly an avatar of Loki; St. Louis, Missouri

The Professor - Jon, BTW high command, the smartest person I know; Los Angeles, California (BTWest)

Ki-El - Kiel ("Kyle"), BTW affiliate, my comic book mentor; New York, New York

The Evil Princess - Leah, BTW affiliate; somewhere Colorado (she's nomadic)

The Lizzard - Liz, BTW affliate, RCY's drummer; Chicago, Illinois

The Damn Dirty Lefty - John, RCY's mercenary bass player; I have no idea where he lives

The All-American Boy - Adam, BTW affiliate, a childhood neighbor; Detroit, Michigan

The Last Angry Man - Mike, BTW high command, your humble narrator; Fort Worthless, Texas (BTW South)

Riff Raff
The L.A.W. - Lisa, my wicked and wicked cool sister; Washington, D.C.

Skeeter - Julie, my most inscrutable friend; New York, New York

Daddy Dylweed - Dylan, my best friend in high school; Kokomo, Indiana

The Bradman (formerly Neutral Man) - Brad, my comic book and Gargoyle buddy; Allendale, Michigan

The Watergirl - Katie, proof that real-world friendships can begin online; Boston, Massachusetts

Doctor Hee Haw - Seth, the funniest conversation of my life I had with Doc; Detroit, Michigan

Father Steve - Steve, Bob Davie's personal valet; Syracuse, New York

The Sardine - Amanda, she's as quiet as I am loud; New York, New York

Anonymous Friend (formerly The Squirrel King) - ***classified at his request***

Saturday Night - Scott, we met on the middle school swim team, ranking him among my longest-serving friends; Boulder Fort Collins, Colorado

China Doll - Jessica, who called me "sweet" when I asked to kiss her and then presented her cheek; somewhere in Japan

The Buckeye - Susan, the Mountain of Love's fiance; Dublin, Ohio

The Maine Man (formerly Father Time) - Tim, The L.A.W.'s boyfriend; Washington, D.C.

The Goldbricker - my father; Grand Blanc, Michigan (Curiously, my mom has never been given a codename. I just call her "Mom" or "my mom.")

Six Years in Ann Arbor
The Thin Man - Justin, linked at the hip to Saturday Night and Boof Daddy; still in Ann Arbor, Michigan ? I should know this but don't

Boof Daddy - Steve, virtually a mirror image of Saturday Night; Midland, Michigan

Mrs. Sacramento (maiden codename: Never Girl) - Lindsay, whom I really, really wish hadn't kissed me that night; Sacramento, California

The Plate - Jim, co-founder of The Newsletter; Washington, D.C., I think Somerville, Massachusetts

Uncle Jerry - Mike, co-founder of The Newsletter; Lake Whitmore, Michigan at last report

A Girl Named Hell-ya - Jessica, whose loveliness was such that blowing my opportunty with her caused me enough pain to finally prompt a change to my romantic m.o.; I have no idea where she lives, but in a way I owe a great deal to her

From Russia With Love - Olga, the first girl for whom I cooked a meal; Washington, D.C., I think

Lifeguard Girl - Jodi, in whose eyes I was such a eunuch that all we talked about was her inability to decide between the two guys she was actively sleeping with, but still I found her intoxicating; no idea

Swimmer Girl - Laura, "huge tracts of land," I last saw her at Salenski's wedding; no idea

The Flying Dutchman - Mike, who loved Holland, Michigan with all his heart; I should know where he lives, but I can't remember

Captain Malice - Joe, the storm to The Bradman's calm; Chicago, Illinois

Q-Girl - Leanna, thank Bog I recovered my reason before lust made me do something I'd have regretted; no idea

Psycho Hose Beast - Alisa, the first girl I ever kissed, at 20; don't know and don't care

Notorious B.I.N.C.E. - Vince, freshman year roommate, we named my character in The Fantabulous Misadventures of Skip Carmichael after him; don't know and don't care

Odd Man Out - Brian, other freshman year roommate, never mentioned before and probably never again. Anytime three people are forced to share a small room together, two are going to ally in common cause against the third; to my surprise, I was part of the winning duo and Brian moved to North Campus after the fall semester.

High School Confidential
Danny Boy - Dan, my childhood best friend and the only friend I've ever called my "brother"; Chicago, Illinois

Nicky the Greek - Nick, he made fun of me more than anyone else in middle school, but later we bonded; Columbus, Ohio?

The Muppet - Brad, K. Steeze's big brother; Chicago, Illinois

Mrs. Blinky (maiden codename: Ham 'n' Eggs) - Emma, a friend in two distinct phases: elementary school and years later in high school; at last report, Okemos or somewhere like that in the area of Lansing, Michigan

Coach - Coach, my swim coach, biology teacher, and one of the handful of adults I admired; Grand Blanc, Michigan?

As stated above, this list is not a comprehensive guide to everyone I know and all of my friends. Specifically, I have not mentioned most of my colleagues from the Gargoyle, my fellows from Animania, and Genesee County All-Stars and House of Delicious Candies teammates. This is a compendium of "blogosphere" codenames, and most of those extra-curricular chums have never been given codenames. That should not be misconstrued as impinging upon my fondness for each of them.

Invasion!
I knew it! All that talk about neutrality and hot chocolate and the precision of their infernal watches was just a snow job! They were lulling us all into a false sense of security, making us feel safe, all the while plotting and conniving and hatching their schemes. Their nefarious, nefarious schemes! Fortunately, our complacency marched in lockstep with their confidence; they grew first bold and then reckless, and finally misstepped: The Swissing Link! Where will it all end? Today, Liechtenstein; tomorrow, Luxembourg? Freedom loving peoples of the world, we must defend the Grand Duchy of Luxembourg!

"What makes a man turn neutral?"

Poetry Smackdown
"Sea-Fever"
by John Masefield

I must down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by,
And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking,
And a grey mist on the sea's face, and a grey dawn breaking.

I must down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.

I must down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,
To the gull's way and the whale's way where the wind's like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over.

The Anniversary Party
Five years ago to the day, The Secret Base of the Rebel Black Dot Society was still in its infancy: growing, to be certain, but in fits and starts. I entertained the idea of correctly all the flaws that the second post lamented, but decided against it. I have very mixed feelings about the Special Editions of the A New Hope, The Empire Strikes Back, and Return of the Jedi, but as a general principle I despise revisionist history. The past is what it was, warts and wonders both, and we should attempt to neither cover up those blemishes nor overemphasize them to serve some modern aspiration. Codenames had not yet been added to my bag of tricks; yes, I called my housemate Mike "Uncle Jerry" in the second earliest post, but that was his to-his-face nickname long before it was his Secret Base codename. The Plate is the later codename of the Jim mentioned, and you all know that David is the one and only Mountain of Love. And SLC Punk is still a great film.

As to the clearly ridiculous statement, "I'm a punk," I can offer nothing in my own defense. Here's the past, warts and all.

Hat Day!
The Mountain of Love wore his Space Ghost: Coast to Coast (it was a great show before the advent of Adult Swim) baseball cap and I wore my medal-strewn Red Army hat, a gift from Mother Russia by From Russia With Love, who actually grew up in the Ukraine. I love Hat Day!

BTW South Song of the Day
Duvall, "True" from Volume & Density (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: A cover of the classic '80s ballad by Spandau Ballet.

The Anniversary Party
So, it seems as if blogging is experiencing something of a renaissance, or at least a resurgence, amongst my glorious friends. Huzzah!

Five years after I was introduced to the hurly-burly world of web logs, fear plays a much larger role than when this world was young. The Mountain of Love lost a job because of his blog (actually, he lost it because of his evil boss, but the blog was at the heart of the instigating incident). The Watergirl has fled a succession of stalkers and sundry lurkers (lousy lurkers, always lurking and skulking avbout). Others have given up entirely. A joyous and frankly reckless spirit of liberating anonymity has given way to a witch's bew of paranoia, sober and responsible caution, pseudonyms, oblique references, and codewords. The banal pleasures of YouTube aside, ye olde internet is not fun the way it once was. Once, the all-encompassing point of the exercise was that virtually anyone virtually anywhere in the world could read the idiosyncratic drivel you pounded out while sitting in your dorm room in your boxers. Now, Bog forbid anyone should find you out. The world was once each and every blogger's oyster; now (brace yourself, this one's a groaner), we wish the web to be anything but world wide.

"When did the future go from being a promise to the threat?"
--Chuck Palahniuk, Invisible Monsters

As ever, and as in every other occurrence for this you have my apologies, I have questions by the English ton and naught in the way of answers. When did we all become so afraid? Was that bygone unbridled enthusiasm proper and the current dread a perversion, or were we carefree fools who have now woken to the sobering restraint of respectibility? Were we wrong then or are we wrong now? Or wrong both then and now, with right as the exclusive province of some unknown alternative? Is blogging here to stay or a passing fancy of these early, untamed years of the interwebs?

Of one thing only am I certain, I must make a point of working "hurly-burly" into far, far more posts. Down with Google! Death to New Blogger! !Viva los bloggy blogs! !Viva los bloggerinos!

Parker Posey Appreciation Day
And also, because Parker Posey is part of the ensemble cast of The Anniversary Party, here's a neat banner from the fine folks at parkerposey.org!

BTW South Song of the Day
Oh My God, "February 14th" from Interrogations and Confessions (Mt. Love)

Et Tu, Brute?
What the devil is going on? It is as if the men in charge of Detroit's professional sports clubs have gone out of their way to recruit the most vile, reprehensible players money can buy. You'll never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy. First, the Pistons signed the greatest villain in the modern history of the University of Michigan, Chris Webber, and now the Red Wings have acquired a genuine criminal, Todd Bertuzzi. How many times has Nicklas Lidstrom, Steve Yzerman's successor as team captain, been nominated for the Lady Byng Trophy? Pavel Datsyuk won the Lady Byng last season! Goons are an integral part of hockey, but there is a world of difference between the goony intimidation of Darren McCarty and the malicious brutality of Todd Bertuzzi. Outrage is not a strong enough word for this betrayal.

I cannot be a party to this. As long as the monster Bertuzzi wears the once noble winged wheel, I cannot support the Detroit Red Wings. I am not a Red Wings fan for as long as that foul creature is on the roster. Sports must be about more than winning at all costs, because if it's not we might as well cut out all the pretense and revert to the Roman gladitorial games, where Todd Bertuzzi would feel right at home.

I promise to finish and post "To Be or Not to Be" this weekend.

Cheaters Never Win
Actually, cheaters usually win, but not always: what's bad for Airbus is good for Boeing, and what's good for Boeing is good for America. Airlink.

Caution: Vulgarity Ahead.

Mission: Unpossible
At the risk of jinxing myself, so far so good. A week ago, I thought I'd be in much greater trouble by this point. I do not have a girlfriend; so, the only "sex" in my life is with Miss Michigan. I am experiencing neither of two scenarios I lifted from the fine folks at Seinfeld (after all, if you're going to steal, steal from the best): I have not experienced a Flowers for Algernon-esque increase in mental prowess as George did when his girlfriend was thought to have contracted mono. George was of course not deprived of the self-serve option, but for the first time since puberty his brain was freed from the tyranny of lust, thus unleashing his true potential; my encounters with Miss Michigan are, as mentioned, the only "sex" in my life, thus creating the tenuous parallel between my situation and George's. Neither am I experiencing the difficulty sleeping and generalized irritability that plagued Jerry, George, and Elaine during the infamous contest from "The Contest."

Riding again at the edge of hubris, all but engraving an invitation for disaster to be visited upon my head, I appear to have become the eunuch I always claimed to be, at least regarding my numerous gal pals. Marvel before the asexual "man"! Of course, we are a day short of a week since Ash Wednesday, and Lent is six long weeks long. My Lenten sacrifice my yet go as terribly awry as I initially predicted. As in all things, only time shall tell, and Easter is yet quite far off.

BTW South Song of the Day
The Mighty Mighty Bosstones, "Devil's Night Out" (live) from Live From the Middle East (T.L.A.M.)

BTW South Song of the Day
William Shatner, "Common People" from Has Been (Mt. Love)

The Anniversary Party
Five years ago to the day, this is what was on my mind: third post Until last spring, when the Mountain of Love, The Guy, and I jointly visited K. Steeze and The Professor at BTWest in Los Angeles, that was the greatest Spring Break of my oft-extended collegiate career. I didn't go anywhere. I worked a few lifeguard shifts, watched a lot of TV, and read a lot of comic books. I was all alone at 1213 for nearly a week, the longest period of serene solitude in the three years of my residence. Ann Arbor was buried beneath a nearly unbroken blanket of virgin white snow. I kept most of the lights off and walked through the darkened hallways by the illumination from the powerful lamps around Yost Ice Arena and Schembechler Hall, our neighbors across South State Street. It was the best Spring Break of the six years I spent in Ann Arbor and I spent nearly every minute of it alone. In the long nights of loneliness to follow this coming summer's dissolution of BTW South, I shall rememberly fondly the coziness of that blessed solitude now five years past.

BTW South Song of the Day
The Blues Brothers, "Viva Las Vegas" (live) from Live From Chicago's House of Blues (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: Lead vocals by Brother Zee Blues, the blood brother of the late "Joliet Jake" Blues. And as the last song on the album, included on the track with "Viva Las Vegas" is "I Can't Turn You Loose," the traditional entrance and exit music of the Blues Brothers.

The Explorers Club
No. XIV - The oddly unrelated red panda (Ailurus fulgens) and giant panda (Ailuropoda melanoleuca).





Very few people know that aside from eating bamboo a giant panda's favorite pastime is driving English and/or Japanese automobiles (left side steerage).




2151
Earth Starfleet
Vulcan High Command
Andorian Imperial Guard

Tyger, Tyger, Buring Bright
Were the world a cheesy summer sci fi blockbuster, our "endearing" everyman-type hero, or perhaps his long-suffering but yet-undaunted wife, would say, "It's like the animals know something." By Lucifer's beard, I hate that New Age, pseudo-animistic nonsense! Still, it does seem odd that two so similar incidents should take place in such a short period of time: the tiger in China and the jaguar in America. Of course, there is no other of Almighty God's creatures so mercurial and capricious as the cat.

Fun With the Mother Tongue
There is only a one-letter difference between the words imperial and imperil.

Lent
After having a tuna sandwich for lunch yesterday and tuna fillets for dinner, sweet merciful crap, the roast beef sandwich I had for lunch today tasted great. Stupid Lenten prohibition on meat on Fridays. (And yes, I am thankful that I live in the post-Vatican II world. Back in the day, the Catholic Church prohibited the eating of meat on all Fridays.)

I wrote M I K E on my left hand today for the first time in ages; it looks as awesome as ever. I really have to settle into a career that will allow me to get M I K E and the accompanying cross tattooed on my hand.

BTW South Song of the Day
MxPx, "Chick Magnet" from Life in General (Mt. Love)

Science!
A dynamic duo from the frozen splendor of Antarctica: the Lake Country and I(sis), Robot. I remember the astonished disbelief I experienced the first time I became aware of Lake Vostok, and how quickly my mind turned to frigid Europa and several of the other moons of our neighboring gas giants. Life beneath the ice? It's all too fascinating!

I have never felt the slightest inclination to scale Mount Everest (though taking the clog train to the top of Mount Washington was qute a thrill), but in the thirty-three years left to me I sincerely hope I am able to see the pulchritidinous desolation of Antarctica. preferably on a vessel named either Discovery or Endurance. Science!

Also, it may be time to emulate the ancient Spartan tradition of declaring war upon the Helots once a year, just to remind those uppity chimpanzees who's still the apex predator around here: chimpan-a to chimpanzee.

The War for Civilzation
With friends like this, who needs enemies? Maplelink. It's genuinely sad that the Canadians are so desperate to establish an identity, any identity, separate from America that they'll climb in bed with the dread foes of all the noble thigns for which the Dominion of Canada has always stood: tolerance, peace, and as much freedom and democracy as the Queen will permit.

BTW South Song of the Day
The Ataris, "Teenage Riot" from End is Forever (T.L.A.M.)

The greatest T-shirt ever? Maybe, maybe not, but it's definitely in the running. Hyperlink.

H₂O

Success! Now I can blog about chemistry as much as I've always dreamed!

Boldly Go
The Mountain of Love and I have just completed our latest TV-on-DVD project, the last seven episodes of Star Trek: Enterprise's third season, the thrilling conclusion of the season-long Xindi saga.

"Azati Prime"
"Damage"
"The Forgotten"
"E²"
"The Council"
"Countdown"
"Zero Hour"

"E2" should be read "e-squared." I do not know the code necessary to represent squares. My thanks to The Watergirl!

By the stars, I love Enterprise! The show was never really given a chance and was gone too soon, and I fear Star Trek will never rise again. (J.J. Abrams is a hack par excellence; for proof, look no further than the abysmal Mission: Impossible III. His "Star Trek" project will be {a} an abomination and {b} not Star Trek.) Our next project was to be the last ten episodes of Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, the grand conclusion to the years-long Dominion War storyline, but we're so enamored of Enterprise that we're going to watch a selection of episodes from the superlative fourth season, which was cholk full of "continuity porn."

"Storm Front, Part I"
"Storm Front, Part II"
"Home"
"Affliction"
"Divergence"
"Demons"
"Terra Prime"

The Mountain and I consider, as indeed any right thinking person would, "Terra Prime" to be the true series finale of Star Trek: Enterprise. Boldly go, my friends, where no man has gone before.

BTW South Song of the Day
Reel Big Fish, "New York, New York" from Cheer Up! (Mt. Love)

The Anniversary Party
Five years ago today, inspired by the now-defunct once and future blog of The Watergirl and the abandoned blog of Skeeter, I founded The Secret Base of the Rebel Black Dot Society. The depredations of New Blogger have deprived you, my treasured readers, of this august weblog's archives. To inaugurate this quinquennial anniversary celebration, it is my pleasure to present The Secret Base of the Rebel Black Dot Society from Thursday, February 21, 2002: first post and son of first post. Note that at this early juncture I had not even mastered such simple HTML commands as italicization and so denoted the title of The Newsletter with quotation marks. Oh, the jovial recklessness of youth....

The Haloscan commenting boxes were added later and applied themselves retroactively. There would be many other changes to The Secret Base, reflecting the changes in my life, but one thing has remained a constant: the anger. Yes, it's vitally important what brought us all together in the first place, a deep and abiding hatred for almost everyone and almost everything. Five years on and The Secret Base of the Rebel Black Dot Society's mission is the same today as on the day the credo was composed, "To kill some time and take my mind off other people, a topic that is altogether depressing."

"The Anniversary Party" will continue through Sunday, March 4 and I shall be republishing The Secret Base's first ten posts and commenting upon what this blog means to me, what I hope this blog means to you, the rise and fall of the blogging phenomenon, and the critical importance of pie to any family gathering. As ever, you have my most sincere thanks for your kind attention and my most sincere hope that I have not wasted too much of your time.

Ash Wednesday
Today is Ash Wednesday. I love Ash Wednesday. Ash Wednesday is my favorite day of the whole year to be Catholic. I am grateful every day for the existence of Christianity, but I wait all year for Ash Wednesday. The deadly sin of pride be damned, I love walking around all day with the ashes on my forehead. Back in Ann Arbor, I'd skip Flounder polo on Ash Wednesday because I didn't want the ashes to wash off. Today, I skipped the daily running and lifting sessions for the same reason. I was thrilled to see that Tony Reali, the host of Around the Horn, had ashes on his forehead during today's show. My glee was irrational, my exuberance excessive, but there it was. I love Ash Wednesday!

A caution, there is vulgarity ahead.

Of course, Ash Wednesday is not just a day to parade around like a peacock with incinerated palm leaves on your noggin, Ash Wednesday is the first day of the holy season of Lent, the time of fasting, prayer, and preparation for Easter, the most sacred day of the Christian year. And one of the most prominent, though Scripturally unsupported, parts of Lent is the personal sacrifice. I have given up chocolate more often than any other sacrifice. I've contemplated giving up pop for Lent, but dismissed the idea as the fevered dream of a madman; I could no more give up pop than give up oxygen and the other precious gases. Yet this year I have decided to brave the impossible. In the second bit of inspiration owed to The Watergirl in the span of a single post, I have decided to give up masturbation for Lent.

In this, I will fail. I have no doubt that I will fail. I am devoted to Almighty God, but I am also weak. I have not the willpower to resist my basest instincts for the entire Lenten season, but by the stars I will try. I will put every meager ounce of self-control I possess to this endeavour. Whether I masturbate tomorrow or successfully refrain will not determine if my immortal soul burns in the purifying flames of Purgatory or the punishing flames of Perdition, but it will stand as a symbol of the depth of my dedication to Christ. And symbols are important. I will surely fail, but what is more important is that I shall dare.

Addendum: I am fond, perhaps overly fond, of nicknames, codenames, and codewords. When I grew a beard, I christened the project the "Banzai Beard Bonanza." Sould I ever grow a mustache it will be the "Massive Mustache Mistake." The first time the Mountain cut his hair into a mohawk was called "Project Cobra." I thought about calling this endeavour "Operation Mongoose," but dismissed the name as it would invite all manner of puns about snakes and snake-like anatomical curiosities. Thus, welcome, long-suffering readers, to "Mission: Unpossible." (Thanks, Ralph Wiggum!)

Addendum to the addendum: Believe it or not, one of today's episodes of Seinfeld on TBS was "The Contest." I don't believe in signs and potents, but that's just spooky. Or in the sage words of plain, simple Garak, "Oh, I believe in coincidence. Coincidences happen every day. But I don't trust coincidence."

And so it is with a nod to the Herculean labor before me that I present to you the...

BTW South Song of the Day
Lit, "My Own Worst Enemy" from A Place in the Sun (T.L.A.M.)

Two consecutive posts, both at 11:07pm, exactly twenty-four hours apart? On my honor, I did not monkey with the time stamps. Great Caesar's ghost, this day's getting spookier by the minute.

BTW South Song of the Day
They Might Be Giants, "Minimum Wage" from Flood (Mt. Love)

Also, tomorrow is a very big day in the history of The Secret Base of the Rebel Black Dot Society. Brace yourselves.

BTW South Song of the Day
Skankin' Pickle, "I'm In Love With a Girl Named Spike" from Sing Along With Skankin' Pickle (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: I once loved a girl named Hell-ya, more commonly known by her full codename, A Girl Named Hell-ya. I blew my chance with her in extraordinary fashion: afterwards, I changed my modus operandi, the one small positive to crawl from the smoking wreckage of that debacle. A Girl Named Hell-ya....

The War for Civilization
Doom and gloom. However this turns out, whether to the satisfaction or dissatisfaction of the United States, the European powers, or Israel, it is increasingly unlikely to end well for the Iranian people.

Happy Chinese New Year!

Happy Birthday
Happy birthday to The Guy! Back in the halcyon days of youth, both of our families belonged to Ottawa Hills; so, I've known and liked The Guy for pretty much the whole of my life. But there's no other bond like Blue Tree Whacking. Happy birthday, buddy!

The Explorers Club
No. XIII – The Jacobite Rebellions, Part II: The Glorious Revolution of 1688, the First Jacobite Rebellion of 1715 a.k.a. “The ‘Fifteen,” and the Second Jacobite Rebellion of 1745 a.k.a. “The ’Forty-five.”






Some prefer the more more neutral terms "the Revolution of 1688" for the Glorious Revolution and "the Jacobite Risings" for the Jacobite Rebellions. The Jacobite cause stood for the restoration of the Catholic House of Stuart to the thrones of the British Isles, especially as that very Catholicism was the paramount reason the Stuarts were deposed in favor of the foreign, Protestant prince William of Orange. I am a Catholic partisan well known for scoffing at the charlatanry and arrogance present at the foment of the Protestant Reformation and for using the phrase "Protestant bastards." Why then do I use "the Glorious Revolution" and "the Jacobite Rebellions"? Because I believe that history not only is, but should be written by the victors; that this is so is right and proper. To the victor go the spoils, and what greater prize than dominion over history's judgments? Parliamentarianiam and Protestantism triumphed over Jacobism and Catholicism and earned the right to set the terms of the argument.

That said, the world is a dreadfully complicted enterprise with as many factors and variables to weigh as there are stars in the sky. Might does not make right, but sadly neither does right necessarily make might. The opinion of the victors is not always correct, as we shall discuss further in a later episode of "The Explorers Club" pertaining to the "Black Legend" of the Spanish Inquisition, but neither does losing automatically make one's cause noble (see: the Confederate States of America). A dreadfully complex enterprise; I favor the Glorious Revolution and the Jacobite Rebellions.

BTW South Song of the Day
Dashboard Confessional, "Again I Go Unnoticed" courtesy of ye olde internet (Mt. Love)

BTW South Song of the Day
The Mighty Mighty Bosstones, "She Just Happened" from Pay Attention (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: I love "She Just Happened" and it's a sweet and lovely song, but The Bosstones sing about love so sparingly that I always find it a bit disconcerting. Dicky Barrett "singing" about social injustice? Par for the course. But love? Man, that's almost wrong. Almost, but not, because it's love, and love is awesome. Valentine's Day is evil, but love is awesome.

I have been examined by an amateur chiromancer, but never by a phrenologist, neither professional nor amateur. I wonder, have I been missing out? In this matter, I am caught in a paradox. I would dearly love to believe in a Fortean world full of the fantastic and the bizarre, but I am a man of science. I believe in the power of science and reason to overcome all obstacles, yet at the same time I also believe there are, to crib from the Bard, more things in heaven and earth than can be explained through a purely rational view of the world. It's a pickle.

And of course there is quite a bit of weirdness in the world without invoking cryptozoology and the other pseudosciences: John Frum.

Have I mentioned how fond I am of J'onn J'onzz, the Martian Manhunter? Martian Manhunter, as an ongoing series, is my second most well-developed idea after The Magic of Shazam!

Happy Birthday
Happy birthday to Daddy Dylweed! Two rapidly growing sons, a lovely wife, and sooner than we'd like to think he'll be staring down the barrel of turning thirty. Odd to think that Dylweed's been my friend since middle school, which means I've know him for fully half my life. Cool. Scary, but cool.

I don't know a lot of your birthdays. I remember The Girls of September '79, of "The Girls of September '79" fame, because they are all attractive girls who are my friends and who were born in the same month of the same year; it's like its own mnemonic device. So, kindly send me an email informing me of your birthday and I will add that date to some manner of list and wish you, too, a happy birthday on your birthday. Happy birthday, Dylweed!

BTW South Song of the Day
William Shatner, "Has Been" from Has Been (Mt. Love)

Batman (Bruce Wayne)
Batwoman (Kate Kane)

I haven't been reading DC's series 52 as a matter of principle (that principle being spite), but I've been thinking about this and I think I'm okay with Renee Montoya becoming The Question.

Here's a neat little theory, pardon the pun, to explain the prevalence of conspiracy theories. And as Scary Go Round pointed out, "You can't say 'conspiracy' without 'piracy' and they can still hang you for that." The Beckwith siblings (in Wales!).

Hat Day!
The Mountain of Love wore his black velvet hat and I wore his green transparent Las Vegas visor. Also, Jim's a vampire. I love Hat Day!

BTW South Song of the Day
Johnny Socko, "Shiznit" from Full Trucker Effect (T.L.A.M.)

The Holy Land
This is a broad statement, but one from which I shall not retreat: Muslims around the world need to calm the fuck down. The Temple Mount.

Damn the Man, Save the Empire
The Mountain's blog has been discovered by his manipulative and mercurial boss, who dispatched an email with the ominous subject "your blog." The Mountain deemed a scorched earth policy the most sensible and prudent response. This must be the "theft, pillage and rapine" Bester was talking about when the Mountain quoted The Stars My Destination.

Damn the Man, save the Empire.

BTW South Song of the Day
The Aquabats!, "Lovers of Loving Love!" from The Aquabats! vs. The Floating Eye of Death! and Other Amazing Adventures, Vol. 1 (Mt. Love)

Commentary: "Lovers of Loving Love!" is the second most romantic song in the world after "New York City" by They Might Be Giants. Second place, but it's close.

Hooray! The Red Wings defeated the Stars 3-1 after entering the third period down 1-0. Man alive, the Wings are so good in the third period this year. Not bad for a team of old timers, eh?

MythBusters is a rerun and I had my heart set on a new episode; so, the question now is, What shall I watch? Rudy Giuliani is on Larry King Live. On the one hand, at this point in time it seems Rudy is the candidate I will most likely support in next year's Republican presidential primaries and it would behoove me to hear more about his views. (A pro-choice, pro-gun control Republican? Pinch me.) On the other hand, Larry King is an animated corpse, an honest-to-Bog zombie. Creepy. Ooo, on the gripping hand, the Red Wings are playing the (should still be the Minnesota North) Stars on FSN. Three cheers for the gripping hand.

Also, a reminder: tomorrow is Hat Day. Prepare yourselves accordingly.

BTW South Song of the Day
Liz Phair, "H.W.C." from Liz Phair (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: I chose "H.W.C." to lampoon Valentine's Day. The first verse and chorus and a warning, there is vulgarity ahead:

"Give it to me, don't give it away.
Don't think about what the others may say.
My skin's getting clear and my hair's so bright.
All you do is fuck me every day and night.

You're my secret beauty routine.
Na na na na, what my body has seen!
I am looking good and I'm feeling nice.
Baby, you're the best magazine advice.
Give me your hot, white come.
Give me your hot, white come."

The Mountain of Love didn't seem to enjoy my little jest. Of course, we have very divergent views of Valentine's Day. Even before he ever had a girlfriend, the Mountain claimed Valentine's Day as his own, making it a celebration of the very concept of romantic love. I'm all for romantic love, but I don't think the corruption of St. Valentine's feast day that we celebrate as "Valentine's Day" has a single damned thing to do with the splendor of romantic love.

Valentine's Day is an abomination. As a capitalist, I'm all for marketing, but the incessant Valentine's Day drumbeat of "If you love your girlfriend/wife you'll buy her a huge diamond" drives me up the wall. The question is never, "So, do your realize what a lucky bastard you are that a girl like Pandora has somehow seen past your myriad faults and found it within her self to love you?," the question is always, "So, what'd you get her for V-Day" or "To what restaurant into which you would otherwise never set foot are you taking her?" I would adore a festival devoted to the wonder and purity of romantic love, but the orgy of falsehood and banality that is Valentine's Day as celebrated in my beloved America is dreadfully far removed from that idyllic carousal. To my way of thinking, "H.W.C." is an abundantly apropos Valentine's Day anthem.

Steel yourselves, Team Bachelor. Don't let the tyranny of The Marrieds grind you down!

Vote For Kodos: Great in '08
I love John Howard. Aussielink.

Lies, Damned Lies, and the News
The amount of ignorance abounding in the world about the Roman Catholic Church is staggering. Aren't newspapers supposed to have factcheckers? Sickening. What the Associated Press arrogantly calls the "last rites" is actually the sacrament of the Annoiting of the Sick. There are only seven sacraments in the Church; so, is it too much to ask that they at least be described correctly? The Annointing of the Sick is not given to people only on the verge of death, it is for anyone who is gravely ill. That Weis was given the Annointing is not an indication of how close he might have been to death, it is a commentary on the fact that he was a) Catholic and b) in the hospital. A minor error? Perhaps, but if the Associated Press (and by virtue of disseminating the story the Detroit Free Press) cannot get the details of their stories correct, how can they be trusted to properly interpret events of greater import? The self-appointed tribunes of the Fourth Estate lie to you all the time. Be wary.

I'm glad Weis survived, though, since now I can laugh at him for being too weak and undisciplined to lose the weight on his own. Ha ha! I don't want Charlie Weis to die, I want him to fail.

BTW South Song of the Day
Blink-182, "Story of a Lonely Guy" from Take Off Your Pants and Jacket (Mt. Love)

Sunday, February 11
The Jamons, "Positive Friction" from Mailorder is Still Fun!! (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: The Asian Man Records compilation album Mailorder is Fun! has one exclamation point. The follow-on album, Mailorder is Still Fun!!, has two exclamation points. Subtle and brilliant. Bravo to Mike Park and Co. Sadly, the third Asian Man comp, Mailorder for the Masses, has not three but zero exclamation points. Way to fall asleep at the switch, guys.

The Mountain of Matrimony
I thought about putting all posts concerning my brother's wedding under the title "Buckeye Wedding" since the wedding will take place in the Buckeye State; after the wedding my brother and his blushing bride will reside in the Buckeye State; my sister-in-law-to-be is herself a Buckeye; there is a decent chance the Mountain of Love will attend THE Ohio State University and thus become a hated Buckeye himself; and any children resulting from the aforementioned union will themselves be raised in the Buckeye State, will likely root for the hated Buckeyes, and may very well aspire to become hated Buckeyes by attending tOSU. And my brother is quite senstive about his impending assimilation into the Buckeye Collective; so, "Buckeye Wedding" would be an unnecessarily provocative title. At the conclusion of this sentence, discretion shall henceforth be the better part of valor.

On Saturday, the Mountain and I sojourned to one of the local malls and at Tuxedo Junction I was measured by an apathetic employee. It was a far more cursory affair than I'd anticipated, but looking back I cannot think of what else might have taken place. I was there, after all, specifically to be measured for an out-of-town (thank Bog for small mercies) wedding, not to try on a tuxedo. The measurements were gathering in a jiffy and rightly so. This afternoon, I contacted the tuxedo emporium in Ohio and made all the necessary arrangements. I hope to be more lean by the time the wedding rolls around in September; so, with a little luck Saturday's expedition will have been for naught and a new set of measurements will be required.

Ricky Fitness
During Saturday's run, I was as usual talking to the Mountain inbetween gulps of air, which in hindsight might not be the least reckless thing to do, and to my surprise I swallowed my gum. And then, caught off guard, I damn near fell off the treadmill. Recovering in the nick of time, I lept off and once back on solid ground took a moment to access my condition. My breathing was not obstructed. The gum had apparently gone down the right pipe with a minimum of fuss. I took a moment to ponder my good fortune and with the usual half-false protestations of reluctance resumed by laborious trot. I coughed periodocally through the rest of the run, but I suspect this was largely psychosomatic.

Oh, the perils of vanity.

Perchance to Dream
Friday night/Saturday morning, I had a dream in which I was married. I was talking to my wife through the passenger side window of a car in which she was sitting, about to depart for I do not recall where. I do not know who was driving the car, nor what, not who, was seated in the backseat. How do I know she was my wife? It was a dream. In dreams we know things like that. I cannot picture her face, but she was not anyone I know in the waking world. She was beautiful, and though I cannot picture her face I'd know her again in an instant if I saw her.

And that was the whole dream, us talking for a few minutes about I know not what through a car window. Dreams, go figure.

As I type this, the Mountain of Love is sitting on my bed, also harnessing the power ye olde internet. We aren't talking, except for the occasional question about spelling, but this is really, really nice. Super Wilson Bros. Woot!

Well, that's awesome: pulp fiction Iron Man by Paul Conrad.

Before President (for Life) Mugabe began illegally seizing land that belonged to white Zimbabweans and redistributing it willy-nilly to his supporters, Zimbabwe was known as the breadbasket of Southern Africa. Hyperlink. And please do not misconstrue my opposition to Mugabe's autocracy as fondness for Ian Smith's Apartheidesque white minority government. I only hope that some day soon the people of Zimbabwe, all the people of Zimbabwe, get a government worthy of them.

The Explorers Club
No. XII - The Jacobite Rebellions, Part I: James Francis Edward Stuart a.k.a. "The Old Pretender" to his opponents and "King James III and VIII" to his supporters and Charles Edward Stuart a.k.a. "Bonnie Prince Charlie" to all, "The Young Pretender" to his opponents, and "King Charles III" to his supporters.





Extra Credit: Henry Benedict Cardinal Stuart a.k.a. "King Henry IX" to the supporters of the Jacobite cause.

Brick Malloy
I've got an idea for a story set in an alternative, steampunk version of the Edwardian era. Young American soldier Brick Malloy (I don't yet know if "Brick" is his Christian name or a nickname) is kidnapped during the Boxer Rebellion by agents of the worldwide criminal empire known as Perfidious Albion. A member of the upper echelons of Perfidious Albion known as "The Doktor" forces Brick to ingest the mysterious Antaeus Serum, imbuing Brick with prodigious strength and astonishing durability; The Doktor's colleague "The Egyptologist," a mentalist and master of the hypnotic arts, bends the now inhumanly strong Brick to Perfidious Albion's will.

Later, in combat with Severus Kincaid, a pirate, supervillain, and implacable foe of Perfidious Albion, Brick is freed from The Egyptologist's thrall. Though a gentle and decent man before The Doktor's depredations, Brick dedicates himself solely to revenge, using his monstrous power to force Kincaid to act as his mentor in the ways of the supercriminal underworld. Later allies include a British spy Brick and Kincaid nickname "Agent Crowne" since he will identify himself no further than to say he is an agent of the Crown; Dr. Simon Westinghouse, an American inventor and science hero; and "The Dreadnaught," another victim of Perfidious Albion's ghoulish crimes against nature and Dr. Westinghouse's Man Friday. Other adversaries include "The Leper," Perfidious Albion's master assassin, and "The Croatian," the shadowy organization's even more mysterious leader.

I'm not yet sure if The Doktor's ministrations will leave Brick with his nautral appearance or a freakish deformity.

The Gnomes of Zurich
It turns out the Swiss have grown so comfortable with running their country off plundered Jewish gold, which is presumably "buried" in the vaults of the secretive bankers of Zurich, long nicknamed the "gnomes of Zurich," that they decided to bury their entirely cowardly populace in the event of a doomsday war between those who had had the courage to fight the Nazis, the United States and the Western allies and the Soviet Empire. Gnomelink.

The Cold War
The good old days are here again: Sovietlink? More likely, even a decade and a half after the collapse of the Soviet Union, the Russians' pride is still hurting. The Russians are a proud, brutal people, still coming to terms with the notion that, really, theirs is a backwards country with almost more in common with the Third World than with the affluent Western democracies. So, bully for Secretary Gates for recognizing that Putin needs to puff himself up now and again and for not taking the Russian bluster too seriously.

Seriously, though, if those punks get out of line we can still come down on them like a ton of bricks. We beat the vaunted Soviet Union like a drum, chumps, we'd have no trouble crushing the rotting husk that is modern-day Mother Russia.

I want to write about several topics, but my brain is refusing to cooperate. Consequently, I sound retarded; so, we shall postpone all non-essential blogging.

a) Buckeye Wedding & my tuxedo

b) Perchance to Dream: The Last Angry Wife

c) I swallowed by gum & other perils of the "gym"

BTW South Song of the Day
Less Than Jake, "Robots One, Humans Zero" from B is for B-sides (Mt. Love)

Church and State
Hyperlink. I stand with Cardinal Zen; on this point there can be no compromise, only Rome can ordain bishops. The Roman Catholic Church has stood for nearly two thousand years and will be standing as the one true church millennia after the People's Republic of China has turned to dust. In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti.

Also, His Eminence's name is Joseph Cardinal Zen, not "Cardinal Joseph Zen," you Anglican bastards.

BTW South Song of the Day
Catch 22, "Keasbey Nights" from Keasbey Nights (T.L.A.M.)

Hey, neato mosquito, the Norwegians are building themselves a Fortress of Solitude: superlink. All they need now is a giant, golden key and a white dog with a red cape.

Hat Day!
The Mountain of Love wore my Pith helmet and I wore his black knit hat bearing Otis the bulldog and the initials "MMB" for The Mighty Mighty Bosstones, who are dearly missed. Also, our jaws dropped to the floor at the end of Scrubs. Dude, what the hell? Anyway, I love Hat Day!

BTW South Song of the Day
OutKast, "Hey Ya!" from The Love Below (Mt. Love)

One week until the feast day of Saint Valentine, a holy day desecrated in the United States as "Valentine's Day," the day set aside by the Marrieds and their dating lackeys to promote the societal view of singleness as the worst of all possible states, the saddest of all possible fates. Team Bachelor, prepare for Action with a captial A!

BTW South Song of the Day
Dance Hall Crashers, "Street Sweeper" from The Old Record (T.L.A.M.)

BTW South Song of the Day
Pet Shop Boys, "Go West" courtesy of ye olde internet (Mt. Love)

Monday, February 5
The Peacocks, "Older Than Punk" from It's Time for The Peacocks (T.L.A.M.)

Sunday, February 4
Electric Light Orchestra, "Mr. Blue Sky" courtesy of iTunes (Mt. Love)

Commentary: I was introduced to "Mr. Blue Sky" several years ago in the excellent Volkswagon commercial I think we all still recall. I still think there's legitimate potential for a highly-successful television show in that ad's protagonist, a wage-slave named Bill Briggs. There's even a build-in love interest with the mysterious woman in the office across the street! Mr. Blue Sky the television series will never materialize, but I still maintain there's more raw creativity in that commercial than in 90% of the situation comedies currently on network television. Long live Bill Briggs and his dream of owning a convertible VW Beetle!

Superman
The Batman
Aquaman
Hawkman
Elongated Man
Starman
Hourman
The Sandman
Plastic Man
Animal Man
Ragman
Robotman
Bulletman

Am I missing anyone, not counting bad guys like Catman, Tally Man, and Calendar Man?

The "-men" I Missed (Ki-El's additions in italics)
Immortal Man
'Mazing Man
Deadman
Negative Man
Amazing Man (a completely separate character from 'Mazing Man)
Resurrection Man
Doll Man
Hitman
Minute-Man
Skyman

The Explorers Club
No. XI: The life, career, and misadventures of the actor William Atherton. (Frivolous, I know, but I have a cold - thankfully, 'tis not the dreadful sick - and so am in a mood for something light and airy. If you feel like you need more to explore, compare and contrast the homonyms airy and aerie.)






Super Bowl XLI
I'm dismayed at the prospect of Peyton Manning appearing in even more television commercials, but, come now, did the Bears seriously expect to be able to win with Rex Grossman at quarterback? Take heart, Lovie & Co, you get to play Millen's Man Marinelli's Lions twice next year; so, that's two guaranteed wins right there. (I started "To Be or Not To Be" today, but was hindered by a bout of writer's block... and my own uncertainty as to how it will end, i.e. will I remain a fan of the Detroit Lions or forsake them forever? I am determined to have it polished in time for next weekend's Pro Bowl.)

Dieu Et Mon Droit
Memorizing the kings of England (from the Norman Conquest to the present) is a skill like any other and requires practice. (It is through practice that I got to the point where I could list of the Presidents of the United States in my sleep.)

William the Conqueror (I)
William II
Henry I
Stephen
*Matilda
Henry II
Richard the Lionheart (I)
John
Henry III
Edward I
Edward II
Edward III
Richard II
Henry IV
Henry V
Henry VI
Edward IV
*Edward V
Richard III
Henry VII
Henry VIII
Edward VI
Mary I
*Jane
Elizabeth I
James I
Charles I
Interregnum of the tyrants/hypocrites Oliver Cromwell & Richard Cromwell
Charles II
James II
William III & Mary II
Anne
George I
George II
George III
George IV
William IV
Victoria
Edward VII
George V
Edward VIII
George VI
Elizabeth II
~Charles III
~William V

*Never actually ruled anything.
~Probable line of succession.

BTW South Song of the Day
The Blues Brothers, "Going Back to Miami" from Made in America (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: "Going Back of Miami" was chosen in honor of Super Bowl XLI, the last real football game until the Fall, to be played tomorrow in Miami between the Chicago Bears and the Indianapolis Colts. There are two reasons behind the selection: a) Seemingly every other other Super Bowl is played in Miami; so, yes, the Super Bowl is indeed going back to Miami... again. b) The Blues Brothers are, of course, from Chicago, and as a loyal son of Big Ten Country, the very heartland of football and home to the NFC Norris, I very much want for da Bears to triumph over that smarmy Peyton Manning. Sure, sure, the Colts' current home in Indianapolis is very geographically close to Chicago, but this is s sham; we all know that Baltimore is the only true home of the Colts. Additionally, the Colts play in a dome, like pussies; the Bears man-up for games in wintery Soldier Field, on the frosty shores of Lake Michigan. (Yes, I also think my Detroit Lions are pussies for playing in a dome, as are the Minnesota Vikings.) Come on Bears, let's win this one for sweet home Chicago, the City of Broad Shoulders, the home of This American Life, a truly Midwestern metropolis.

Justice League Unlimited Analogs
The Ultimen for the "affirmative action heroes" from SuperFriends
Wind Dragon for Samurai
Long Shadow for Apache Chief
Juice for Black Vulcan (himself based on Black Lightning)
Downpour for Zan of the Wonder Twins
Shifter for Jayna of the Wonder Twins

Fortunately, there's no analog for the Wonder Twins' space monkey, Gleek.

Fate's Merry Fellows for the Defenders (from Marvel Comics)
Dr. Fate for Dr. Strange
Aquaman for The Sub-Mariner
Amazo for Silver Surfer
Solomon Grundy for The Hulk

BTW South Song of the Day
Less Than Jake, "The Brightest Bulb Has Burned Out/Screw Fall Out" from Anthem (Mt. Love)

Groundhog Day
Fucking groundhog. Due to the capriciousness of Punxsutawney Phil, whose one job is to see his shadow and give me a longer winter, I've been doomed to an early spring, which in Fort Worthless means 90 F on Easter. Thanks, Phil, you jerk.

Perchance to Dream
Last night, I had a dream that was essentially a short episode of Ugly Betty. Thanks for the cheerleading, PTI's Mike Wilbon, your persistance is what convinced me to give Betty a try. Ugly Betty is ever so much fun, edging out USA's Psych to be the best new show of the '06-'07 season, and satisfying and entertaining in ways the ponderous, self-possessed, and perpetually disappointing Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip should be but isn't. Be Ugly in '07: uglink.

Dreams! Woot! Now to dream of revenging myself on that cursed groundhog....

Hat Day!
The Mountain wore his weird black hat that we agreed can best be described as sort of like Mushmouth's hat in that it descends far below the forehead and has a slit for the wearer's eyes. I harkened back to the very first Hat Day and wore my Pith helmet, the hat of choice of The Psychotic Mouseketeer's dread foe Pith Helmut. I love Hat Day!

BTW South Song of the Day
Blues Traveler, "Hook" from Four (T.L.A.M.)