The Victors: Project OSPREY
The Madness beckons. The "Big Dance" starts on Thursday (play-ins on Tuesday & Wednesday); the valiant Wolverines are the № 4 seed in the Midwest Regional Bracket & face the № 10 seed, the epithetless Bobcats of Ohio University, on Friday. Let us hope the valiant Wolverines are better prepared for the N.C.A.A. Tournament than they were for the Big Ten Tournament. The Madness! The Madness!

Saturday, 10 March
(№ 7) Ohio State 77-55 Michigan (№ 10)
24-9, Big Ten 14-6

Well, that was embarrassing, more a repeat of January's 64-49 drubbing at the hands of those same hated Buckeyes rather than February's 56-51 victory over that same ancient foe. The worst part was the insistent futility of Trey Burke's play; the young man was plainly out of his depth, throwing up brick after brick in an attempt to win the game by himself, rather than passing to teammates with better shooting positions. The fault lies with Coach John Beilein, for leaving Burke on the court to flail; there is a strong argument to make that when a player is struggling he must be allowed to play through the doldrums back to success, but I am of the opinion that there comes a point in a game when a player must be sat down & told that he will indeed have a chance at redemption, but on another day. Oh well, no use crying over spilt milk.

The most annoying part of watching any Michigan game is that at some point my father will drift into the room (or in the case of tournament games he's more likely to emerge from his hobby room in the basement to watch the game with me on the first floor) & immediately launch into a baseless tirade against Michigan's head coach, John Beilein. At least I think the tirades are directed against Beilein ("bee-line"); my father is always ranting against the inadequacies of someone named "Baerlein," whom he regards as uniquely unsuited to the rigors of coaching in the Big Ten. (Side note: O, how I loathe the "B1G" logo!) He provides no reasons for why he believes "Baerlein" to be so uniquely incapable, but this does nothing to shake my father's confidence in the assertion. The only way to shut him up is to initiate a harsh attack on Purdue's, his alma mater, recent lack of success, including the ill-starred Boilermakers' early (at least earlier than Michigan) exit from the Big Ten tourney. He hates Michigan State & Ohio State more than he hates Michigan, but he criticizes Michigan's coaches most fiercely of all. What a jerk!

Friday, 9 March
(№ 10) Michigan 73-69 Minnesota (O.T.)
24-8, Big Ten 14-5

It was worrying that it took overtime time for the valiant Wolverines to prevail over the luckless Golden Gophers. This just wasn't the Maize & Blue's weekend; we seemed never to play our best, never to find a comfort zone.

Go Blue!

Project MERCATOR
Ska Army rang me on Friday & asked if I had plans for the evening, which I did not. He invited me to join him & another fellow at Art Walk, a monthly cultural fête in downtown Flinttown. I told him I'd be happy to join him, but that dinner was presently being prepared & I was ravenous—which I was, having skipped lunch—; so, I would ring him after I finished dinner. It turns out that my mother was preparing her homemade macaroni & cheese, a tasty treat perfect for a Lenten Friday, but a meal with a lengthy, multi-step preparation. Dinner was not served for thirty-five minutes after I rang off from Ska Army & I was not able to ring him back 'til seventy minutes after his original call. I motored downtown, parked along Saginaw Street, & soon joined Ska Army & his pal Seth, whom I've met a few times. We trekked to the Buckham Alley Gallery, an oven just as it's been during every other Art Walk I've attended. We poked fun at the art; said hello to Mr. & Mrs. Dick, the married couple from The Loose Ties; & were predictably disappointed to learn what a serigraph is. We next trekked to the Greater Flint Arts Council, where as usual I would define more of the works displayed as "crafts" rather than "art." Mr. & Mrs. Dick weren't following us, they were just following the same path several minutes behind us; so, we again enjoyed the pleasure of their company. Not long after, the evening was called on account of everything to see having been seen (they'd visited the several other Art Walk venues before our rendezvous) & the gloriously bone-chilling cold. I bid my fellows a good night I trekked back to Lumi the Snow Queen, enjoying the last truly cold night for many months to come.

I had no desire to go out when Ska Army called me, especially after the distasteful incident of ferrying him home from his birthday party, but wanting to stay in & play hermit is not sufficient reason to decline a social invitation under the protocols of Project MERCATOR. I'm lucky to have any friends at all; so, I should not neglect them when they wish to spend time with me. (Imagine if MERCATOR had been in effect in high school, when I declined nine out of ten invitations, to my grave social detriment.) My biggest objection was the spontaneity of the outing. Ska Army called at 6:30 & was already downtown. Had I been waiting by the 'phone for an invitation, I might have been able to join him in a timely fashion—as it was, the time spent at Art Walk was too short, hardly worth my while—, but given the necessary delay for dinner the plan was hardly actionable. Had we previously discussed going to Art Walk, even as late as earlier that very day, the necessary modifications to schedule could have been made for me to join Ska Army & Seth earlier. In the words of John "Hannibal" Smith (portrayed by the late handsome actor George Peppard), "I love it when a plan comes together." I like plans, I like preparation; I like for potential difficulties to have been considered & solutions previously devised. The evening would have been a far greater success with greater forewarning; forewarned, as they say, is forearmed.

The Queue
A bit of wisdom from the great Steve Martin, the veracity of which my own experiences in public speaking/performance confirm entirely, not that such a seasoned pro. needs my amateurish verification. Ahem.

The consistent work enhanced my act. I learned a lesson: It was easy to be great. Every entertainer has a night when everything is clicking. These nights are accidental and statistical: Like lucky cards in poker, you can count on them occurring over time. What was hard was to be good, consistently good, night after night, no matter what the abominable circumstances. (Born Standing Up, p. 139)

The Rebel Black Dot Songs of the Day
The Mighty Mighty Bosstones, "Don't Worry Desmond Dekker" from Medium Rare (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: One of the many things I love about The Bosstones is their propensity to write nostalgic songs, songs in which a small happenstance in the present casts back the mind upon the foreign country that it the past. This suits my innately wistful disposition to a T.

"And I (whoa oh)
I can hear your laughter, (whoa oh)
It stays with me after (whoa oh)
All this time,
And I (whoa oh)
I still got your records, (whoa oh)
Clash and The Selecter, (whoa oh)
And don't worry, Desmond Dekker's doin' fine."

Also, a bit of housekeeping: April approaches swiftly, & with it SKApril '12, the R.B.D.S.O.T.D.'s second month-long celebration of the ska. I'd be grateful for nominations of bands or songs for SKApril. I thank you.

Samstag, 10 März
Fountains of Wayne, "Red Dragon Tattoo" from Utopia Parkway (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary:

"Red dragon tattoo is just about on me,
I got it for you, so now do you want me?
With nothing to prove, will you by my honey?
Oh yeah, in you I confide,
Red dragon tattoo,
I'm fit to be dyed, am I fit to have you?"

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
The Forces of Evil, "Go to Hell" from Friend or Foe? (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: I decided upon today's R.B.D.S.O.T.D. as soon as I woke up, rather, as soon as I was woken up by a persistent, loud, & profoundly irritating Diva, who just couldn't wait to be let into my room on the wrong side of 7:00 A.M. Confound you, cat!

The Explorers' Club
№ CCLXXVII - The lost city of Iram of the Pillars, possibly, but not necessarily found beneath the sands as Ubar.







Operation AXIOM
The Nelson Pillar, landmark of Dublin, was destroyed by the philistine vandals of the terrorist group the Irish Republican Army forty-six years ago to the day, 8 March 1966. The Pillar's modern replacement, the snicker-worthy Spire of Dublin, is so inconsequential that despite being an active seeker of tourist traps to patronize I heard not a word about it during my recent visit to Dublin. The I.R.A. weren't just enemies of Great Britain, they were enemies of all law & order, enemies of civilization itself.

The Queue
The only thing wrong with City of Gold is that it went by too swiftly, i.e., it could have gone on twice as long without losing my interest. I wish it had spawned a series; I'd have loved to read the sequel, City of Brass. Alas! Alas!

Recently
H. Rider Haggard, King Solomon's Mines
Eric Powell, The Goon: Heaps of Ruination (Vol. 3) & Virtue and the Grim Consequences Thereof (Vol. 4)
Len Deighton, City of Gold

Currently
Steve Martin, Born Standing Up: A Comic's Life

Presently
Eric Powell, The Goon: Wicked Inclinations (Vol. 5), Chinatown and the Mystery of Mr. Wicker (Vol. 6), A Place of Heartache and Grief (Vol. 7), & Those That is Damned (Vol. 8)
Rudyard Kipling, The Man who would be King and Other Stories
Victor Davis Hanson, A War Like No Other: How the Athenians and Spartans Fought the Peloponnesian War
Edgar Rice Burroughs, The Gods of Mars

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

Happy Birthday!
Fondest wishes for a happy birthday to my father! The old boy's infuriating & he's getting a little long in the tooth, but he's still my pop & I'd love him even if not compelled to do so by the Fourth Commandment. I plan to visit the cinema later & buy tickets for us to see the new motion picture John Carter tomorrow, since Dad fondly remembers the John Carter/Barsoom novels from his youth, just one part of his birthday gifts. Happy birthday, Dad!

Science!
Egad! Web-link. I can't be the only one who's reminded of the old Jeff Daniels classic Arachnophobia. I do not have an especial case of arachnophobia, but that movie scared the daylights out of me when I was a lad. *shudder*

Science!

Vote for Kodos: Mean Edition
Not-so-super "Super Tuesday" yielded good news, better news, the best news, & bad news. The best news is that a blow was struck against gold-drunk, isolationist, race-baiting lunacy by Representative Ron Paul, M.D.'s ("R." [L.]-Texas) failure to win a single state, not even any of the caucus states, where wingnuts hold sway. Take that, you anti-Semitic John Birch Society bastards! The better news is that Speaker Newt Gingrich's Ego (R.-GA) carried only his home state of Georgia, proving that the Ego has no appeal outside of the deepest South, the kind of places where they only-too-willingly shriek "Sieg Heil!" before the Confederate swastika. The good news is that Senator Rick Santorum's (R.-PA) double-digit lead in Ohio evaporated in only a week, demonstrating once again that the only people who support the sweater vest are those who know nothing about his record in the Senate & vote "anybody but Romney" out of bigotry against Mormonism. The bad news is that Governor Mitt Romney (R.-MA) is still having to waste his time not attacking President Obama's abysmal record of failure, but defending his own illustrious record of success against straw-man attacks from the sweater vest's campaign, the Ego's "shampaign" (with reluctant thanks to Rachel Maddow), & the physician's parade of the Golden Calf. At least much has been done to restore the rightful air of inevitability about Mr. Romney's bid for the Republican nomination: B.B.C.-link.

Onward to victory!

Urbi et Orbi
During Mass this evening, Father Steve made an aside that not saying anything mean about anyone would be a tremendous way to observe Lent. Whoops! Sorry, Padre, but that ship has sailed. (Maybe next Lent, in what won't be an election year?)

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
"Weird Al" Yankovic, "Polka Face" from Alpocalypse (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: "Polka Face" might be my favorite of all "Weird Al's" polka medleys, & that's no mean feat.

Vote for Kodos
Senator Santorum flooded the State of Michigan with "robo-calls" urging Democrats to undermine the legitimacy of last week's Republican presidential primary, & yet now he's haraunging the Michigan G.O.P. for awarding Governor Romney to two at-large delegates who were always to be given to the winner of said state Republican presidental primary? Mr. Romney carried the statewide vote by 41% to Santorum's 38%, clearly entitling the governor to those two delegates, the winner's bonus. There are few things more revealing of a man's character than how he reacts to a defeat or a reversal. The senator has revealed himself to be, amongst many other things, a sore loser. What a jerk!

'Tis hoped that "Super Tuesday" commentary will be more prompt. Time for reflection is laudable, but a week's delay is ridiculous, Mike.

Obamboozled
I watched President Obama's speech to A.I.P.A.C. on C.-S.P.A.N. The most noteworthy feature was the president's repeated assertions that no one could doubt his commitment to Israel's security & the Israeli-American martial & diplomatic alliance. Were there no grounds for doubting Mr. Obama's fidelity to that decades-old alliance, why are there so many of us—including the reliably Democratic voters of New York's 9th Congressional District in a special election last fall—possessed of those very doubts? Iosif Dzhugashvili had a point when he observed that "quantity has a quality all its own," but the endless repetition of a dubious assertion does little to nothing to augment the veracity of that assertion. I am naturally inclined to view the president as petulant; take my perception of his speech's petulance with a grain of salt.

President Obama looked tired during today's very rare press conference. (Hey, remember the vociferous manner in which Candidate Obama criticized then-President Bush for not holding enough press conferences? Those intemperate remarks are funny, in a very bitter way, now that it is Mr. Obama who hadn't held a press conference for months.) Take heart, Mr. President, with any luck you'll be able to retire & to recover your vim & vigor in just a few short months, at noon on 20 January of next year. I think principally of your well being, sir.

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
Icon for Hire, "The Grey" from Scripted (T.L.A.M.)

Kith & Kin
The ranks of my kin swelled by one on Friday, with the birth of Lucianna (code name pending)—"Lucy"—, my niece & Where's Teddy?'s little sister. Mother & baby came through with flying colors & came home to Xanadu on Sunday. She's been described as "looking like [Where's Teddy?];" I won't comment 'til Lucy has reached the cuter stage that occurs once the wee bairn transitions from being a newborn to being an infant. Lucy! Lucy! Lucy! I can't wait to meet my niece, to begin her indoctrination: Remember, wee Lucy, Uncle Mike is your favorite. Uncle Mike loves you very much.



"And now for something completely different."

The Explorers' Club
№ CCLXXVI - Kuru & the Fore people of Papua New Guinea.









The Savage Wars of Peace
Three cheers for the African Union's forces in Somalia, fighting the good fight against local al-Qaeda franchise al-Shabaab: Somali-link. Hip hip! Hooray! Hip hip! Hooray! Hip hip! Hooray! Somalia is a lovely example with which to refute the isolationist line that failed states in far-off corners of the world represent no threat to U.S. national security. Absent a viable Somali state & the international will to do anything to rectify this sorry state of affairs, lawlessness reigns. Absent any law, criminal gangs hold sway; international trade is compromised through piracy. (Piracy! As if the seventeenth century lived again.) Absent a cohesive state, terrorist groups like the erstwhile Islamic Courts Union & al-Shabaab fill the vacuum. al-Shabaab has already launched terrorist attacks against civilians as far afield from Somalia as Uganda, & has been closely linked to al-Qaeda's franchise in Yemen, al-Qaeda in the Arabian Peninsula (A.Q.A.P.). A.Q.A.P. is infamous for its innovative attacks on the U.S. proper, such as the attempted bombing of Northwest Airlines Flight 253 above Detroit on Christmas Day in '09 & the attempted bombing of cargo planes in September '10. Far from being a response to U.S. troops deployments to Somalia or Yemen, the activities of al-Shabaab & A.Q.A.P. are acts of savage aggression against an international order built on liberal democracy, the rule of law, & respect for human rights, everything which al-Qaeda has sworn to sunder.

Pretending that the international order from which we have benefited so richly does not require the security guarantee that America alone can provide flies in the face of what bitter experience has shown. The world left Afghanistan to its own devices in the 1990s, & as a result the Taliban provided the sanctuary from which al-Qaeda plotted & executed 9/11. What would happen now were the world to turn a blind eye to Somalia, allowing al-Shabaab to consolidate its grip on power? Do not be fooled by the fact that the forces on the ground doing the fighting in Somalia are from the African Union, not the United States; the bulk of the troops operating against al-Shabaab are from Ethiopia & Uganda, two stalwart U.S. allies in the post-9/11 wars. Withdrawing from the world, "bringing all our boys home," is not a feasible—let alone a wise—national security strategy for the United States. Isolationism made us less safe, not more safe, in the decades before the Second World War. Isolation today would make us less safe, not more safe, despite the comforting fantasies spun by some on the Left &, more disturbingly, by all too many on the Right

The Queue
About a third of the way into City of Gold I'm far more reminded of the Bernard Samson novels than Deighton's lesser, non-Samson novels. Blasted shame to have so long deferred this read.

Also, the other week my dad asked me a question about the Athenian Sicilian Expedition during the Peloponnesian War (that's normal, right?) &, to my chagrin, I could not answer his query in anything other than generalities. Consequently, I've decided to take the plunge & finally read A War Like No Other. Hanson's Culture and Carnage was both accessible & coherently argued; so, I have high hopes for the same author's account of the war 'twixt Sparta† & Athens*, the war for the ancient Greek soul.

After that excursion into Hellenic non-fiction, I intend to return to Barsoom (Burroughs's swashbuckling Mars) with The Gods of Mars, after which I'll either continue directly with the next volume, The Warlord of Mars, or alternate between Barsoom & a non-Burroughs selection.

Recently
H. Rider Haggard, King Solomon's Mines
Hergé, The Adventures of Tintin: The Blue Lotus (Vol. 5) & Red Rackham's Treasure (Vol. 12)
Eric Powell, The Goon: Heaps of Ruination (Vol. 3) & Virtue and the Grim Consequences Thereof (Vol. 4)

Currently
Len Deighton, City of Gold

Presently
Steve Martin, Born Standing Up: A Comic's Life
Rudyard Kipling, The Man who would be King and Other Stories
Victor Davis Hanson, A War Like No Other: How the Athenians and Spartans Fought the Peloponnesian War
Edgar Rice Burroughs, The Gods of Mars

The Rebel Black Dot Songs of the Day
Ivy, "Lucy Doesn't Love You" from Long Distance (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: Been on my mind since Saturday.

"Nothing's every going to make her happy,
She doesn't mind 'cause she's used to it that way."

Sonntag, 4 März
The Aquabats!, "Just Can't Lose!" from Hi-Five Soup! (Captain Thumbs-up)

Commentary: Chosen in Lucy-delayed celebration of the long-awaited premiere of The Aquabats! Super Show!. It's finally here! Yippee! Contrast the never-say-die optimism of "Just Can't Lose!" with the behind-every-silver-lining-there-is-a-dark-cloud pessimism of "You Can't Win" by The Mighty Mighty Bosstones; the beauty of The Aquabats'! indefatigable striving to see the upside of everything is that they possessed it even when they were a ska band.

"'Cause no matter what I do I just can't lose,
And even if I do I'll jump your bike right above your roof,
(Yeah!)
'Cause if I crash real bad,
Your sister will think I'm rad,
No matter, no matter what I do, I just can't lose!"

Samstag, 3 März
William Shatner, "Spleen/Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds" from The Transformed Man (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: By the time Lucy was born on Freitag, I'd already selected the R.B.D.S.O.T.D. I wondered what sort of song was appropriate as a greeting to life, & turned to the births of Where's Teddy? & The Squeak for guidance. On both occasions, I'd picked songs with the babe's given name in the title, "Where's Teddy?" for him & "Believe Me Natalie" (should be "Believe Me, Natalie") for her. Searching my musical library, I came upon two songs with Lucy in the title: Saturday's R.B.D.S.O.T.D. by William Shatner & "Lucy Doesn't Love You" by Ivy. Neither seemed fitting to the occasion, but what song would, aside from Stevie Wonder's "Isn't She Lovely?," a choice that seemed terribly unfair to Where's Teddy? & any subsequent boys, since they could not be so celebrated. Lucy is too young, far too young, to have evinced much in the way of a distinct personality; so, how could I pick a song that was specific to her, expect by her name? Of the two, I like "Lucy Doesn't Love You" better, especially since the overwrought, unintentionally hilarious The Transformed Man is no match for Shatner's later masterwork, Has Been, but I could think of no finer way to welcome Lucy into the clan, a tribe of nerds (science fiction fans, political junkies, & myriad additional nerdy pursuits), than with the dulcet tones of Captain James T. Kirk himself. Welcome to the world, Lucy!

*Athens = virtuous, yet vicious
†Sparta = vicious, yet virtuous

Kith & Kin
My father has recently started watching Grimm, a show I've followed since its premiere in the fall. I would love to be a big enough man not to be irked by this, but watching a show with my father is a grueling experience. He makes unfunny jokes about the on-screen action, jokes at which he laughs loudly, & with a disturbing frequency he misses key plot points & asks me to explain them to him. This isn't necessarily the encroachment of senility—he claims to "zone out," a plausible explanation given his "absentminded professor" persona—, but if he wants us to watch a show together is it really too much to ask that he pay a modicum of attention? Most irritating of all, he always refers to the protagonist, Detective Nick Burckhardt, as "Grimm." This is not necessarily inaccurate, as Nick is a Grimm, & the only living Grimm of whom we are currently aware within the universe of the show, but there is something in the way my dad uses Grimm as the character's name that reminds me of an old bit in which Homer Simpson referred to John McClane, Bruce Willis's character from the Die Hard film franchise, as "Die Hard."

I am well aware of the blessed nature of my life that such a trifling annoyance is one of my bigger vexations. I grouse in part as a way to remind myself of how fortunate I truly am.

The Queue
To blazes with David Ignatius & Body of Lies! The governing principle of my reading selections is "so many books, so little time;" I have not the time to waste on such as that dreck. Bring on City of Gold by Len Deighton!

Also, the other night I caught the motion picture The Man Who Would Be King on Turner Classic Movies, thus prompting the swift rise of The Man who would be King and Other Stories to near the top of the queue. I enjoyed Kim immensely & the time has come to experience more of Kipling's prose.

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
Senator & The New Republic, "Intermission" via iTunes, (free) Single of the Week (T.L.A.M.)

The Explorers' Club
№ CCLXXV - The Forbidden City.







Project MERCATOR | Happy Birthday!
Today is Ska Army's birthday, though he sometimes likes to claim he was born on Leap Day; so, last night he invited a gang of his fellows out for ill-defined revelry to celebrate the anniversary of his birth. I was slightly miffed to be asked to miss the half-season premiere of Psych to celebrate his birthday on a day that isn't his birthday, but that was insufficient reason to refuse the invitation. (Plus, I have preserved Psych though the modern marvel of videotape recording.) Many drinks & many laughs punctuated the evening, & as it wore on it became increasingly evident that Ska Army's plan of drinking to excess was ill-conceived, as he was soon in no shape to pilot his motorcar, his intended means of getting home. Fear not, I acted as (self-)designated driver* & at the close of the festivities conveyed him to his home in Lumi the Snow Queen. I'm a decent enough bloke to have driven him home, but not so decent as to have today assisted him in the retrieval of said left-behind motorcar. I was not aware of the ersatz party 'til mere hours beforehand & I stayed out much later than I'd intended, but it was worthwhile insofar as I believe the quasi-birthday boy had a gay old time. Happy birthday, Aaron!

At one point, April May June, who was at the same public house with a different party, bought a pair of double shots, one each for herself & Ska Army. I fear he's pining for her, despite her stated desire to be "just friends." Ah, well, he's a big boy & if he doesn't know better already he'll learn sooner or later.

*An act of multifaceted sobriety, being both socially responsible & inexpensive.

Project GLOWWORM
I did not wear a hat on Ash Wednesday because I did not wish to smudge or remove the ashes from my forehead. Last weekend, the blonde whirlwind code named Miss Alaska borrowed my flatcap & wore it at a jaunty angle. Circumstances conspired so that I could not retrieve it right away & had to walk around in the (all too rare) winter chill of far western Connecticut without any headgear. I'd cut my hair days earlier & thus my head was quite cold. Later, Miss Alaska asked if she could keep my flatcap (she's insane; so, I have no ideas if she was jesting or in earnest), because it looked better on her. I put my foot down & demanded the return of my hat. Yes, my hats are stylish, but more importantly they are functional. They protect me from the winter's chill & the death rays of the Accursed Sun. A man should wear a hat, a conviction steadily reinforced by a variety of circumstances & experiences.

The Queue
Body of Lies is off to an inauspicious start. The first three blurbs on the back cover are from the detestable Seymour Hersh, the laughable Chris Matthews, & the wretched George Tenet, but those do not constitute the inauspicious start to which I am referring, as their creation & selection might well be outside Ignatius's control. No, I'm referring to Ignatius's snarky asides. Interspersed throughout the narrative, alongside the plot developments & character sketches, are slights & digs that might just as well have been lifted from a MoveOn.org or Kerry/Edwards '04 press release. I expect neither a novelist nor a novel to be without personal politics, but I also think it not unreasonable to expect a novel to have a more sophisticated & nuanced understanding of the world than the infamous "General Petraeus or General Betray Us?" advert. The decision to continue or to abandon Body of Lies will be made in the next twenty to thirty pages; there are too many great books I'll never read to waste my time reading rubbish of which I am constantly suspicious.

Recently
H. Rider Haggard, King Solomon's Mines
Eric Powell, The Goon: Rough Stuff (Volume 0), Nothin' But Misery (Vol. 1), & My Murderous Childhood (and Other Grievous Yarns) (Vol. 2)
Hergé, The Adventures of Tintin: The Blue Lotus (Vol. 5) & Red Rackham's Treasure (Vol. 12)

Currently
David Ignatius, Body of Lies

Presently
Len Deighton, City of Gold
Eric Powell, The Goon: Heaps of Ruination (Vol. 3) & Virtue and the Grim Consequences Thereof (Vol. 4)
Steve Martin, Born Standing Up: A Comic's Life
Rudyard Kipling, The Man who would be King and Other Stories

The Rebel Black Dot Songs of the Day
Spinal Tap, "Stonehenge" from This is Spinal Tap (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: I woke up this morning to the B.B.C. World Service sounding in my ears & "Stonehenge" sounding in my brain. Not a bad way to start the day.

Mittwoch, 29 Februar
Icon for Hire, "Make a Move" via iTunes, (free) Discovery Download of the Week (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: I'm a sucker for poppy rock bands fronted by distaff singers. I'm not proud of this, but I won't deny it.

The Rebel Black Dot Songs of the Day
Huey Lewis & The News, "The Power of Love" via iTunes (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: The week of love songs following the week of "anti-love songs" that follows Valentine's Day did not succeed. They've been fine songs, but the selecting has felt forced, resulting in a distinct lack of enthusiasm. I do not regret the experiment, but it shan't be repeated as an annual ritual. However, we end on a high note, with a love song utterly bereft of any romance that I enjoy immensely despite this glaring defect. Just another mystery of the power of love.

"Power of love will keep you home at night."

Montag, 27 Februar
Sam & Dave, "Hold On, I'm Coming" from the Rhino Hi-Five: Sam & Dave E.P. (T.L.A.M.)

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
Reel Big Fish, "Good Thing" from Cheer Up! (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: Not even Cheer Up! is completely cynical, though it must be acknowledged that "Good Thing" is tinged with a fear that the titular good thing can't last forever. But for the nonce, hooray!

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
The Puppini Sisters, "Bei Mir Bist Du Schön" from Betcha Bottom Dollar (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: "Each language only helps me tell you how grand you are."

The Savage Wars of Peace
Now watch is amazement as the "international community" reacts with a swift & decisive shrug of indifference: Tuareg-link. I freely admit that 'til this morning I was unaware that fighting had broken out in northern Mali, much less possessed much awareness of why fighting might break out in Mali. The first step is to delve deeper, to gain a more comprehensive understanding of events on the ground & the underlying causes. The second step is to stew in frustration at how capricious is the world's reaction to humanitarian crises & civil wars. No one ever said building a better world would be easy, but I am constantly shocked & appalled by how many of my fellow citizens don't even consider the endeavour worth the slightest portion of our blood & treasure. Alas!

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
Go Sailor, "Bigger Than an Ocean" from Go Sailor (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary:

"If you moved a million miles away
I'd still visit you every day,
Flying across is sea is not the farthest
I'd go around the world just to see you,
'Cause I know,

My love is bigger than an ocean,
My heart swims in a sea of devotion,
My love is bigger than an ocean,
My heart swims in a sea of devotion for you."

The Explorers' Club
№ CCLXXIV - Gaping Gill, the (second) deepest hole in England.







There's much more to the cave complex than the waterfall shown above, the highest in England, but the unparalleled plunge is certainly Gaping Gill's marquee feature.

Hollywoodland
Yesterday morning, as I prepared to depart for As Wednesday Mass, my mother sat watching Good Morning America (which really should be titled Good Morning, America), as is her regrettable wont. The segment I saw briefly as I filled up my water bottles was title "Before They Were Stars," featuring a clip of the then-unknown Bérénice Bejo, late of The Artist fame, portraying the lady-in-waiting in 2001's A Knight's Tale. A Knight's Tale brought to mind Shannyn Sossamon, who brought to mind 40 days and 40 Nights, which is really not the movie of which one wishes to be reminded at the very beginning of Lent.

For those who've seen The Artist & have a jones to see another film directed by Michel Hazanavicius & starring Jean Dujardin & the aforementioned Bérénice Bejo, I would recommend the spy comedy O.S.S. 117: Cairo, Nest of Spies (original French title: O.S.S. 117: Le Caire nid d'Espions). It's in color, has dialogue, & uses a modern aspect ratio, but the dialogue is in French so you do get to revisit your The Artist reading experience via the English subtitles. Oui! Oui!

The Queue
Jumpin' Jack Pratt, King Solomon's Mines was incredible! I cannot wait to read more of Haggard. I'm tempted to jump The Gods of Mars, the second volume of Burroughs's Barsoom novels, to the top o' the queue, but Body of Lies & City of Gold have been roughly shoved aside too many times already. I dare not read another proper book before tackling them both. Still, I eagerly await more Burroughs, as well as Allan Quatermain & She, & quite probably more beyond, from Haggard. Adventure today!

Recently
Edgar Rice Burroughs, Tarzan of the Apes
Eric Powell, The Goon: Rough Stuff
Hergé, The Adventures of Tintin: The Blue Lotus
H. Rider Haggard, King Solomon's Mines

Currently
Eric Powell, The Goon: Nothin' But Misery & My Murderous Childhood (and Other Grievous Yarns)

Presently
Hergé, The Adventures of Tintin: Red Rackham's Treasure
David Ignatius, Body of Lies
Len Deighton, City of Gold
Steve Martin, Born Standing Up: A Comic's Life

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
Nil Lara, "Fighting for My Love" via iTunes (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: A song of which I would be lamentably ignorant were it not for Scrubs.

Project GLOWWORM
I didn't wear a hat today, Ash Wednesday, so as not to smudge the ashes on my forehead. The sensation of walking around campus with my head uncovered was bizarre; more than ever, the conviction arouse without conscious thought that for propriety's sake a man should wear a hat.

A longer discussion could be had about the potentially contra-Biblical boastfulness of wearing the ashes in the first place, much less trying to preserve them for as long as possible, but the fire's not in me today. Instead, here are a couple of Ash Wednesday gems for times past: Wayback Machine ('05) & Wayback Machine ('08).

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
Mitch & Mickey, "When You're Next to Me" from A Mighty Wind: The Album (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: For my money, "When You're Next to Me" is a more romantic love song than "A Kiss At the End of the Rainbow," even though "Kiss" has Mitch & Mickey's famous on-stage kiss.

Operation AXIOM | Urbi et Orbi
I love Ash Wednesday. In the past I've called Ash Wednesday, "my favorite day of the year to be Catholic," & that holds true unto the present day. The Lenten season has begun, leading to the Passion of Our Lord & the payment in full of the wages of sin. 'Tis a good day.

Operation ÖSTERREICH
I'm now comfortably down a belt hole. I've been in the grey zone betwixt standard & "minus one" for several months now, but standard is finally insufficient to hold my trousers up & prevent exposure of my boxer shorts. This is grand news on the cusp of Lent, a time during which I am genuinely confident moderation will be the order of the day. Here's hoping that "minus one" will become the new "standard."

Diet & exercise, butterball. There's no secret to it, just diet & exercise. The fat or the girl, you can't have both.

Hello, Kitty
Diva likes to come into my room in the morning. She'll jump up onto my bed, meow loudly, scratch her head against the corner of my nightstand, bat alarmingly at the Rosary hanging from the headboard, pace around, meow whenever I neglect to pet her, walk to the foot of the bed where I cannot pet her without sitting up, & repeat these steps in whatever order strikes her fancy for five minutes, by which time her amusement has passed. She then jumps to the floor & exits. All of this starts with her meowing & scratching (without claws) at my door; I get out of bed & let her in before falling back under the covers. I left my door open slightly last night, so Diva could enter directly without waiting for me to let her in. She didn't appear when she normally would, but no sooner had I made a run to the water closet & close my door upon returning to my room than who should meow loudly & longingly outside my door but Diva herself. She didn't stay as long as she normally does; mayhap she was infuriated with my tinkering with her beloved routine. Tonight, I shall again sleep with my door closed.

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
The Hippos, "Celebrate" from Forget the World (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: One last entrant in our now-annual post-Valentine's Day festival of the horrors & failures of love, before… whatever comes next. Last year, I intended to follow the anti-love week with a week of genuine love songs, but was forestalled by an epic bout of the dreadful sick, the bout so bad it drove me to consult a physician for the first time in years. I feel no particular desire to feature a week of heartfelt love songs, but I think I shall in deference to last year's whim, & to see if love week should become the annual companion to anti-love week. But first, "Celebrate":

"Don't you think that I've found somethin' new,
I'm finished with you.

I celebrate, I celebrate,
My days of hate, my days of hate,
'Cause now I see
You're nothin' to me!"

Operation AXIOM | The Stars My Destination
Fifty years ago to the day, 20 February 1962, John Glenn became the third American in space & the first to orbit the Earth aboard the Mercury capsule Friendship 7: B.B.C.-link & Wikipedia-link. I've had the privilege & supreme joy of seeing the Friendship 7 in her place of honor at the National Air & Space Museum, the Valhalla of American aviation & astronautics. We have faltered & lost our way, but we had heroes willing to sunder the veil of the heavens once, & we shall have them again. "Godspeed, John Glenn!"

Science!
Sweet fancy Moses: 28,000 B.C.-link! If all goes well ("well" in this case meaning the growth of more long-preserved plants, a true bumper crop of sweet, sweet abominations), soon botanical gardens will be able to steal the clichéd tagline so long abused by history museums: "Where the past comes alive!"

Science!

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
Fitz & The Tantrums, "MoneyGrabber" from Pickin' Up the Pieces (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: We must remember, & take some small solace in that fact that there are worse fates than being alone. Also, 'tis more fun to dump than to be dumped; so, shrink not from pulling that trigger.

"One, two, three,
O, one is for the money,
Two is for the greed,
The three times that I told you
That you're the one I just don't need."

Urbi et Orbi
From the way the morning had unfolded, the subtle clues throughout, I was fairly certain I'd be going to eleven o'clock Mass alone when I stepped out of my room ready to go at 10:45. Downstairs, I saw Mom sitting in her favorite easy chair, reading the newspaper, still wearing her pajamas. (No condemnation, it's not as if I've never skipped Mass due to sloth.) Before I could say anything she announced that she intended to attend the afternoon's five o'clock Mass. I pondered for a moment: Go alone or wait & go with her later? She told me I could go ahead, but I replied that it was "more fun" to go with someone. We went to the five o'clock, & only when we arrived did I remember that the five o'clock is the Mass that features the blasted hippie music, the "contemporary" music, as if Holy Redeemer was some tiny United Southern Charismatic Evangelical Methodist Baptist Church of God Christ (Reformed) church, the kind of outfit where the most prominent name on the sign outside is the pastor's, instead of a parish of Holy Mother Church. O how I loathe the blasted hippie music! (Wayback Machine.) There is no reason ever to have an electric bass guitar inside a Catholic church! Afterward, Mom remarked how much she liked the music, though she must have heard my eyes roll because she added that she knew it wasn't to my taste. We both agreed that it is preferable to have someone with whom to attend Mass, regardless of the music.

A pair of names I might use at some point for fictional bands, though the latter might also work as the title of a story:

Vox Populi & the Hoi Polloi
Poison Pen & the Purple Prose / Purple Prose & the Poison Pen
--> The Poison Pen & The Purple Prose
--> Poison Penn & the Purple Prose

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
Reel Big Fish, "Suckers" from Cheer Up! (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: "This one's for all the suckers who still believe in love!"

Happy Birthday!
I wish nothing but the preposterously happiest of birthdays to The Guy! An old chum from way back (the halcyon days of endless summers at the Ottawa Hills Cabana Club; yes, "cabana club" not country club), The Guy & I reconnected on a much deeper level in the years either side of the turn of the millennium, the Golden Age of Blue Tree Whacking. It is my privilege to be not only his friend, but his partner on a writing project that I can't believe I've not yet code named. It was a delight to be his & his lovely wife's house guest at the New Year. Happy birthday, Zach!

The Explorers' Club
№ CCLXXIII - The Nazca Lines.







Project MERCATOR
I saw The Loose Ties at their usual haunt, the Soggy Bottom Bar, last night, performing alongside local rockabilly band Badsville. I'm not sure how to dance to rockabilly; so, I sat on a bar stool near the stage, snapping my fingers or slapping my thigh rhythmically, & clapping & cheering loudly after each song. I thought about asking April May June to dance, figuring that a couple dancing awkwardly & uncertainly would be less awkward than a solo awkward & uncertain dancer, but she was busy playing pool with Ska Army, Farr Afield, & Farr Afield's present boyflesh. (I mean no offense by the word "present," but the facts remain that the entirely delectable Farr Afield changes boyfleshes every three to four months with nary a break in-between.) When April May June left the poolroom at the back of the bar to come near the stage she did so with her camera in hand, & I wished not to interfere with her photography. I left after Badsville's set, shortly before The Loose Ties began, to fetch Jojo at the end of her work shift. We missed only one or two of The Loose Ties' songs, & danced our way through both of their sets, skanking during the fast numbers & slow dancing during the musically sweet but lyrically dark "Drinking for Eleven." I was able to cajole The Most Dangerous Game into going to one ska show, & then only because The Cowgirl was going, & The Cowgirl was only going because she was Ska Army's girlflesh at the time. What is truly rad about Jojo is her embrace of the ska show, not necessarily falling in love with the ska music, but loving the atmosphere & the dancing, loving the fun. After the second set we hung around 'til closing time, chitchatting with Farr Afield, her boyflesh, & T. B. Player, an old high-school chum of Jojo's. When the Soggy Bottom closed ("You don't have to go home, but you can't stay here.") Jojo & I repaired to my house, where we watched John Carpenter's The Thing into the wee small hours of the morn, after which I drove her home, shared with her our customary long embrace of greeting & parting, & motored home to my bed.

My convivial persona came back to bite me betwixt The Loose Ties' two sets. I sat on a stool next to Ska Army, joshing with my pal, my back to the wall, catching my breath after the dancing exertions of the first set. Jojo appeared before me, biting her lower lip, & extending toward me a ten-dollar bill. I asked her which item of clothing she'd like me to remove first, but after a smile addressed her real purpose & asked her what manner of drink she wished me to purchase for her. She replied that she didn't know, & she didn't want to fight the throng gathered in front of the bar to find out what they had. I took a guess, a double chocolate beer, & her face lit up; she'd beer jonesing for the double chocolate since the last time we'd been there together. As I made my way to the bar—& it must be noted that I am particularly inept at attracting the attention of barkeeps, be they lads or lasses—I passed a group of jovial chavs & heard them reciting lines from the old Saturday Night Live sketches about Bill Brasky, that "son of a bitch." Without even thinking about what I was going I played the Tim Meadows part & pipped in that I knew Bill Brasky before continuing on my way. I reached the emptiest spot on the bar, flagged down the attention of the one of the pair of distaff bartenders from whom I'd not yet ordered over the course of the evening, & order Jojo's brew. On my way back, brew in hand, i was briefly detained by the chavs who marveled at my knowledge of their supposed inside joke. I was wearing my convivial façade & poured on the charm 'til I was able to break away & make my delivery to Jojo. No sooner had a done so than the leader of the chavs, absent during my second brief interaction with them, tapped me on the shoulder &, true to the Bill Brasky sketches, offered to buy me a round. He wouldn't take "No" for an answer & so I rejoined his little troupe. We indulged in a mutual love of S.N.L.'s past glories & I impressed them as mightily as I do so many people; I cannot explain why my good-time Charley façade is so devastatingly effective, I know only that it is before a wide variety of audiences. I was soon invited by the chavs' chieftain to join them sometime for a game of Dungeons & Dragons, a suggestion that surprised me less once I noticed that the chieftain's stocking cap bore the likeness of Jack Skellington from Tim Burton's The Nightmare Before Christmas. Making friends & influencing people wherever I go, even when I don't intend to do so.

Bier!
I suppose I should not look a gift horse in the mouth, but when the lead chav insisted on buying me a round I had rather thought that I'd be the one to select the brew. Instead, when we arrived at the bar he handed me a newly-opened bottle of Bud Light. I am fully prepared to be pilloried as an ungrateful snob here, because, really, Bud Light? I understand that bottle of domestic were on special (a scandalous $1.50 per), & free beer is free beer, & yet I was disappointed & vaguely outraged. Of course, I thanked my new buddy for his largess &, yes, I did in fact drink the whole Bud Light. I suppose it could have been worse, it could have been a can of Pabst Blue Ribbon (on special for $1.00 per). I had a bottle of P.B.R. around New Year's when I visited The Guy & The Gal in Saint Louis, & all I can say is that it wasn't bad. When I had a double-sized can of P.B.R. on New Year's Eve itself, though, at the Mu330 show, "not bad" was no longer the case. As a blanket statement, beer tastes better out of a bottle than out of a can, we can all agree on that, but the difference made to P.B.R was immense &, out of the can, detrimental to an extreme degree. Last night's Bud Light was offensive only it is utter blandness.

Project PANDORA
I considered ending the first paragraph of today's "Project MERCATOR" post with the words, "…& motored home to my (cold, lonely) bed," but decided against playing up the melodrama of my parting with Jojo. Sure, I like hanging out with Jojo & in a hypothetical world devoid of moral considerations I'd love to screw her brains out, but our friendship is sincere & I genuinely wish not to be her boyflesh.

Hollywoodland*
The Thing, is should be noted, is both my favorite horror movie (even above, yes, Ridley Scott's Alien, another film that beautifully combines the science fiction & horror genres) & the second scariest motion picture I've ever seen. The scariest movie I've ever seen, though frightening for entirely different reasons than The Thing, is Leni Riefenstahl's propaganda documentary Triumph of the Will.

The Queue
Tarzan of the Apes was a rip-roaring adventure, the kind of book I wish I'd read years & years ago so that I could say my love of the book was lifelong. For all that, I must agree with my father that it didn't tickle my fancy quite as much as A Princess of Mars, the first John Carter book, but that's no harsher a criticism than saying A New Hope doesn't tickle my fancy quite as much as The Empire Strikes Back. My plan is to read more of the Barsoom (Mars) series sooner rather than later, but I also fully intend to delve deeper in the primordial world of Tarzan. Next, though, for E. R. Burroughs at least, I think I'll sample the Carson Napier/Venus series. Adventure today!

Recently
Henry Mazzeo, editor, & Edward Gorey, illustrator, Hauntings: Tales of the Supernatural
Edgar Rice Burroughs, Tarzan of the Apes
Eric Powell, The Goon: Rough Stuff
Hergé, The Adventures of Tintin: The Blue Lotus

Currently
H. Rider Haggard, King Solomon's Mines

Presently
David Ignatius, Body of Lies
Hergé, The Adventures of Tintin: Red Rackham's Treasure
Len Deighton, City of Gold
Eric Powell, The Goon: Nothin' But Misery & My Murderous Childhood (and Other Grievous Yarns)
Steve Martin, Born Standing Up: A Comic's Life

The Rebel Black Dot Songs of the Day
Reel Big Fish, "Dateless Losers" from Cheer Up! (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary:

"We are the dateless losers,
Lonely until we die,
So unappreciated,
Why why why why?"

Freitag, 17 Februar
Reel Big Fish, "Somebody Loved Me" from Cheer Up! (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: This is the meanest week of the R.B.D.S.O.T.D.'s whole year, & there's no meaner band than the Reel Big Fish; the Reel Big Fish have no meaner album than Cheer Up!, not even the meaner-titled We're Not Happy 'Til You're Not Happy. To quote James Coburn from the motion picture Payback, "Man, that's just mean! That's mean, man!"

"I think somebody loved me once,
I think somebody loved me once,
I think somebody loved me once,
But I cannot remember why."

*The title "Hollywoodland" is lifted from the late, lamented, to-be-resurrected zine The Newsletter.

Happy Birthday!
Warmest wishes for a happy birthday to Daddy Dylweed! Capricious Fortune has been especially cruel to Dylweed of late, the only upside being the chance to see my old friend more often than I normally would. Under different circumstances, it would have been ideal. Here's hoping the next year is kinder than the past year. Happy birthday, Dylan!

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
Lily Allen, "Not Big" from Alright, Still (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: Where's the fun in an amiable parting of the ways? Venomous acrimony, now that's how you make a memory.

Project PARAFFIN
The good news is that I'm writing. The bad news is that I hate every word I'm writing. Bite the bullet, old son, & plow ahead. Worry about making it pretty once you've written more than just a short story.

Grow or die.

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
The Proclaimers, "It Was Always So Easy (To Find an Unhappy Woman)" from Notes & Rhymes (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary:

"It was always so easy to find an unhappy woman
'Til I started lookin' for mine…"

Operation AXIOM: Be My Anti-Valentine
I came downstairs this morning to discover a Valentine's Day card & a bag of peanut M&M's sitting at my place at the kitchen table, gifts from my sainted mother. Even disdaining Valentine's Day as I do, I couldn't do nothing; so, when I heard her automobile start outside—remote started from upstairs—I put on my boots & coat & brushed the overnight snowfall, an inch of so, off my motorcar. She came out just as I was finishing, thanked me, received my thanks for her traditional boon, & then was off. When I returned home in the evening, I found a card & a toy car from my father, day-of shopping being his M.O. The habitual tardiness doesn't make his gesture any less heartfelt, the old curmudgeon. Also, proving myself yet more the hypocrite, I could not help but share a bag of fundraising candy with my fellow's at the afternoon's History Club meeting. I can't really be opposed to spreading a little goodwill amongst men, can I?

If it makes you feel better, tell yourself I did it not for virtue but to spite the dark bastard.

The Queue
This weekend, my pop spied me reading Tarzan of the Apes. I remarked that I'd recently read A Princess of Mars & he mentioned that he had the whole Barsoom series squirreled away in the basement. This was jolly news, as my local library's collection of Edgar Rice Burroughs is shamefully skimpy. Without any prompting from me, he searched his massive book collection, but in vain. He was frustrated, as he was sure he'd seen the books in the none-too-distant past, but struggled to remember when & where they'd last been spied. He eventually called off the search, muttering bitterly about possibly having been forced my Mom to unload the books at a garage sale back in the Big '80s. He had a brainwave sometime this afternoon & found all eleven volumes, from A Princess of Mars to John Carter of Mars. Huzzah! I meant to read more of the Barsoom books, & may now do so sooner rather than later.

We're going with a classic photograph this year, because this is still my favorite anti-Valentine's Day image.

Operation AXIOM: Be My Anti-Valentine
I'm not anti-love; I'm an incurable romantic. My objection to Valentine's Day is not rooted in opposition to a celebration of romantic love. I'm not anti-capitalist; I rather enjoy a well-crafted bit of marketing. My objection to Valentine's Day is not rooted in opposition to an orgy of conspicuous consumption. I am lonely, not simply alone, but my objection to Valentine's Day is rooted in more than just envy; I fully concede that envy is a component, just not the only or even the paramount component. Valentine's Day is awful, awful in much the same way that reality television is awful. Valentine's Day reflects the debasement of our culture, the striving to lower rather than to elevate the level of the discourse. I hate Valentine's Day. I hated Valentine's Day in the past, I hate Valentine's Day now, & I will still hate Valentine's Day after I meet, woo, & wed The Last Angry Bride.

Be my anti-Valentine.

A retrospective on Valentine's Days past here at The Secret Base, with all the bitterness, invective, & redirected loneliness you'd expect:

Valentine's Day '11

Valentine's Day '10

Valentine's Day '09

Valentine's Day '08

Valentine's Day '07

Valentine's Day '06

Valentine's Day '05

Valentine's Day '04

The Rebel Black Dot Song of Valentine's Day
The Mighty Mighty Bosstones, "The Magic of Youth" from The Magic of Youth (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: More goes wrong in "The Magic of Youth" than just the failure of young love, but it all stems from that. Welcome to the meanest week in the R.B.D.S.O.T.D.'s whole year.

"She had been counting on some of the lies
That he had been telling her being the truth…"

Project PANDORA
What free time I had in the middle of the day today I spent sitting at a table in the student union, doing my part for a two-bit fundraiser, selling little bags of candy for $1, little plastic bags festooned with hearts for Valentine's Day. For a spell I was joined by a distaff acquaintance (to whom I shall assign the code name "The Bombshell"), a gorgeous friend of Ska Army's with whom he was quite smitten last Fall. We talked of protocol, as she wondered whether when the time comes to dump her boyflesh she should return to him an expensive bow he gifted her. The Bombshell's idea was to keep the bow, but pay him its pecuniary cost. I argued that she ought to retain the bow, that it had been a gift & if he had given such as expensive gift to a girl who would lose interest in him scant months later—because she has lost interest, she just hasn't decided when to break up with him—, well, c'set la guerre. What has this to do with Project PANDORA? Am I infatuated with The Bombshell? No, I am not. She is, as aforementioned, gorgeous, & the vilest part of my mind would love to treat her body as an amusement park, but that's as far as it goes. No, the PANDORA bit as that the fellow with whom I was manning the fundraising table wondered how I did it, how I talked so effortlessly with comely lasses. Then began a quiet but exceedingly bizarre chapter of the PANDORA saga, as I—hapless, terminally single I—attempted to disabuse the poor fellow of the mistaken, risible notion that I have any "game," much less game worth emulating, while simultaneously trying to convince him that he probably has more game than he thinks he does, if only he could, like the Cowardly Lion, find his courage. The poor lad's a twig now, but not so long ago he was a fat buddy & he still has a fat buddy's lack of self-assurance. How did I do it? How did I get past the fear & self-doubt? I struggled to explain that I hadn't conquered those demons, not entirely, I'd just made the staggeringly simple discovery that rejection wasn't nearly so awful as I'd feared, certainly far less awful than the loneliness that was the natural consequence of a paralyzing fear of rejection. No Casanova am I, treasured readers, as you know only too well, but the chap had gotten it into his head, merely from the breezy way in which I chatted & flirted with The Bombshell, that I must know what I'm doing. I'm not comfortable playing Ben Kenobi to his lovelorn Luke Skywalker, but the poor sap was asking for my help; what else could I do but help to the best of my meager ability? Coming to me for guidance on how to woo a girl must mean you've hit rock bottom. The good news about hitting rock bottom? There's nowhere to go but up.

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
William Shatner (& Brad Paisley), "Real" from Has Been (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: "Closing Time" by Semisonic was mentioned by The Bombshell in the portion of our conversation that concerned one-hit wonders, but the parallels betwixt "Real" & my surreal turn as a relationship coach could be neither denied nor ignored.

"I have saved the world in the movies,
So, naturally, there's folks who think I must know what to do.
But just because you've seen me on your T.V.
Doesn't mean I'm any more enlightened than you…

I'd love to help the world in all its problems,
But I'm an entertainer, and that's all.
So, the next time there's an asteroid or a natural disaster
I'm flattered that you thought of me, but I'm not the guy to call."

I'm not the guy to call. Really.

The Explorers' Club
№ CCLXXII - The bathyscaphe Trieste & Project NEKTON, the conquest of the Challenger Deep.







The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
The Hippos, "So Lonely" from Forget the World (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: Perhaps my favorite characteristic of third wave ska/ska-punk is the juxtaposition of peppy melodies with sad lyrics, a smile & snarky cynicism barely glossing over a profound, persistent gloom. The masters of this were & are the Reel Big Fish, but in their now-bygone time The Hippos were no slouches, though "So Lonely" is perhaps not the best example of those peppy melodies.

You're no idea how thrilled I was to be able to shovel snow from the driveway this morning. I say that without the slightest trace of irony. I've missed the winter, "the dark, killing winter," like a drowning man misses dry land. The snow! The ice! The bone-chilling wind that cuts through your parka as if it wasn't even there! I enjoy immensely each of these things & have been by & large denied their splendor all this long, pathetically warm & sunny winter. I know this won't last, that the misaligned jetstream will soon enough return us to the abominable warmth, but for a few days at least my beloved winter is here & I am so very, very happy.

Project GLOWWORM
As much as I love both winter & my whiskers, & as much as I reveled in today's snowy wonderland, icicles in my bear & my moustache are no fun at all. Through two winters, I've not devised a way around the problem. In the same fashion, though I have breakfast cereal more mornings than not, I've not yet devised a method for keeping milk from soaking the lowest-hanging strands of my moustaches's flying handlebars. Small prices to pay for the day-in & day-out pleasure of the whiskers, but prices to pay nonetheless.

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
The New Main Street Singers, "The Good Book Song" from A Mighty Wind: The Album (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: "It's scary, but it's true…"

The Queue
Some of the short stories in Hauntings were magnificent triumphs, others were spectacular failures & utter wastes of time. I discovered authors whose works I wish to investigate further & authors whom I would not read again for love or money. Overall, I was reminded that I greatly prefer to the novel to the short story, prizing the virtues of the longer form. Still, I declare Hauntings a success as an experiment.

Recently
Hergé, The Adventures of Tintin: The Calculus Affair, The Red Sea Sharks, & Tintin in Tibet
Hergé, The Adventures of Tintin: The Castafiore Emerald, Flight 714, & Tintin and the Picaros
Henry Mazzeo, editor, & Edward Gorey, illustrator, Hauntings: Tales of the Supernatural

Currently
Edgar Rice Burroughs, Tarzan of the Apes

Presently
H. Rider Haggard, King Solomon's Mines
David Ignatius, Body of Lies
Len Deighton, City of Gold

The Rebel Black Dot Songs of the Day
Fountains of Wayne, "Valley Winter Song" from Welcome Interstate Managers (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: Snow, clouds, ice, at long last.

"What else is new? What can I do,
But sing this valley winter song I wrote for you?"

Donnerstag, 9 Februar
Brian Carpenter's Ghost Train Orchestra, "Ghost Train (Orchestra)" from Hothouse Stomp: The Music of 1920s Chicago and Harlem (T.L.A.M.)

Happy Birthday!
Warmest wishes for the happiest of birthdays to the most enigmatic of all my kith, The Ace! If ever you hear that I've relocated to Thailand to open a Mexican-style cantina called El Norteamericano, you'll know that The Ace & I are up to no good & looking for trouble. In the meantime, I'm reading his manuscript of the Project TROIKA novel & looking forward to an illustrious career in letters as his collaborator. Incidentally, The Ace is either the smartest or the second-smartest person with whom I've ever been acquainted. Happy birthday, Jon!

Project PANDORA
This afternoon, whilst walking about campus in the—at long last—bone-chilling cold in the company of Ska Army, he told me that he'd taken my advice & asked out April May June, an eager young photojournalist for the campus rag whom I met a few weeks back the last time I saw The Loose Ties at the Soggy Bottom (she was on assignment, taking snapshots of the band). April May June is cute as a button, one of those girls who still looks like she's sixteen well into her twenties, & I well understand Ska Army's interest. He made what I regard as a fairly obvious blunder, not in asking her out but in asking her out for Valentine's Day. Of what would I accuse Ska Army? Overreach, I suppose. Asking a girl to go out with you for the first time on Valentine's Day has to be setting yourself up for failure. (Perhaps I shouldn't judge, as Ska Army has had two comely girlfleshes in the time I've known him, compared to my none, but I will judge, because I remain confident in my reasoning.) I reassured him that he'd made the right move, that it was better to ask a girl out & be rejected than to delay & pine & end up never casting the die. I then jested that with his rejection the field was open for my advances, using a tone & phrasing that set us both about a good laugh.

The question is, Should I make a move on April May June? I think not. We hit it off at the Soggy Bottom & I am attracted to her insofar as she's {a} a girl & {b} a cute girl, but I'm not infatuated with her. My instincts have often lead me astray & perhaps I should ignore them, but I cannot; deaf & blind as they are, they're still the best tools I've got. But if not April May June, whom? Who are my current prospects? It's fair to say that PANDORA is in the doldrums. There's nothing for it but to shake out the rust & shake off the winter's lethargy. If there aren't any intriguing lasses in my everyday orbits, it's time to resume using ye older interwebs to cast a wider net. Plenty o' fish in the sea, as they say. Ahoy, ladies!

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
Elvis Costello & The Attractions, "Radio, Radio" from This Year's Model (T.L.A.M.)

Project MERCATOR
In a rare midweek outing, & a reunion with chums of longstanding, I rode down to Great Lakes Crossing with Daddy Dylweed, & we were joined there by the Anonymous Friend for dinner & a motion picture, The Grey. 'Twas delightful seeing them both, though once the film Cowboys & Aliens was mentioned my mind kept casting back to last summer & a date with The Redhead, when I saw the mediocre film at her insistence. The circumstances of today's reunion were less than ideal, but such is life; when given lemons, make lemonade.

Also, this morning I awoke to a report on the radio about the wolf population in Michigan. It seems that most of the wolves are in the vast wilderness of the Upper Peninsula ("the U.P."), but some have made their unholy way down to the Lower Peninsula ("the Mitten"). Yeah, so even in downtown Flint I'm going to be paranoid about wolves for the next few days; not perhaps the most auspicious day on which to have seen The Grey.

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
Flogging Molly, "Every Dog Has Its Day" from Swagger (T.L.A.M.)

The Explorers' Club
№ CCLXXI - The Marianas Trench, including the Challenger Deep, the deepest point on the Earth's surface.







Project MERCATOR
This Super Bowl Sunday (or, as our guest priest pointed out at Mass, the Fifth Sunday of Ordinary Time), I found myself in the horns of a dilemma. I'd received invitations to two discrete Super Bowl parties, but the dilemma was not in deciding which to attend (one was in Grand Blanc & the other in Lapeer, past B.F.E.); rather, not being a fan of the No Fun League, whyever should I want to watch Super Bowl XLVI? (Aside from a fondness for Roman numerals that will surprise no regular reader of "The Explorers' Club," that is.) In the end, in clear violation of Project MERCATOR's strictures, I stayed home. I made good use of my hermitage, though, watching This is Spinal Tap, laughing & laughing & laughing…

Obamboozled
President Obama left United States allies the Czech Republic & the Republic of Poland twisting in the wind over ballistic missile defense in order to foster his prized "reset" of relations with the Russian Federation. Later, in order to curry favor with the People's Republic of China (P.R.C.), Mr. Obama declined to put American defense industry workers back on the job when he refused permission for Taiwan (the Republic of China) to purchase vast quantities of weapons from the U.S. The fruits of the president's suborning of American security & economic interests to generate goodwill with Moscow & Beijing? The Russian Federation & the P.R.C. vetoed an already watered-down United Nations Security Council resolution concerning the ongoing civil strife in the Syrian Arab Republic: veto-link.

Normally, the title of this feature, "Obamboozled," refers to the way in which then-Senator Obama bamboozled so many non-hardcore left-wing voters into supporting his '08 campaign. In this specific instance, though, it perhaps more rightly reflects the way in which the Russians & the Chinese bamboozled President Obama & Mrs. Clinton, his hapless Secretary of State, tricking them into making vital compromises of American interests & American values in exchange for empty promises & all-too-predictable betrayals. He who Obamboozled has himself been Obamboozled. I'd guffaw but for all the innocent Syrian blood shed.

Vote for Kodos
Misfortune befell me today insofar as I found myself engaged in a political discussion with a wretched Libertarian, a supporter of Representative Ron Paul's bid for the Republican presidential nomination. (He was not especially wretched, beyond the de rigueur wretchedness of all that misbegotten ilk.) Our discussion was fairly grounded in reality until he got to the "real reasons" for the Iraq War & the recent Western intervention in the Libyan civil war: in 2003, Saddam Hussein was about to start selling petroleum in euros; in 2011, Muammar Gaddafi was about to begin selling petroleum in a "gold-backed pan-African currency." Wow. A slow, ironic wow. You never have to dig too deeply into the beliefs of a Paul supporter before you find the break from reality. The misfortune ended shortly thereafter when I was able to make a lucky escape.

I strenuously wish those duplicitous Libertarians would go back to their own screwball party & stop pretending to be Republicans. I want my G.O.P. back, you rat finks!

CADMUS
Operation VAUXHALL is back in effect, & so far so good.

The Queue
There is a noticeable decline in the quality of The Adventures of Tintin at the end of the series, specifically in Flight 714 & Tintin and the Picaros. I'm confident that much more goodness awaits in the early & middle adventures, based on the strength of Cigars of the Pharaoh & Tintin in Tibet. For now, back to ghost (short) stories.

Recently
Stephen Weiner, Jason Hall, & Victoria Blake, illustrated by Mike Mignola, et al., Hellboy: The Companion
Hergé, The Adventures of Tintin: The Calculus Affair, The Red Sea Sharks, & Tintin in Tibet
Hergé, The Adventures of Tintin: The Castafiore Emerald, Flight 714, & Tintin and the Picaros

Currently
Henry Mazzeo, editor, & Edward Gorey, illustrator, Hauntings: Tales of the Supernatural

Presently
Edgar Rice Burroughs, Tarzan of the Apes
H. Rider Haggard, King Solomon's Mines
David Ignatius, Body of Lies
Len Deighton, City of Gold

The Rebel Black Dot Songs of the Day
Fountains of Wayne, "The Girl I Can't Forget" from Out-of-State Plates, Disc Two (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: One of my very favorite songs. I will need The Last Angry Bride, whether I've met her & just not yet realized who she is or our paths have not yet crossed, to have the sense of fun & generosity of spirit of the titular girl.

Sonntag, 5 Februar
Spinal Tap, "(Tonight I'm Gonna) Rock You Tonight" from This is Spinal Tap (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: I am a persnickety chap, insisting on ångström instead of angstrom, for example, but I cannot countenance the "official" spelling of Spinal Tap due both to the ridiculous & ungrammatical umlaut over the "n" & the lack of a dot over the "i". The characters are so outlandishly unreal—which is the point of them, yes, I know—that even when I cut & pasted that spelling of Spinal Tap into this post's H.T.M.L., it would not display properly on the published post. The R.B.D.S.O.T.D. was a toss-up between "(Tonight I'm Gonna) Rock You Tonight" & "Big Bottom," because I do love that bass line.

Samstag, 4 Februar
Flogging Molly, "Devil's Dance Floor" from Swagger (T.L.A.M.)

My Macintosh is no longer able to connect reliably to the house's wireless internet. My Macintosh's wireless modem, Airport, can occasionally find the house's network, but the network will then immediately disappear from the menu. At other times, Airport is entirely unable to find the network. I do not know if the fault is in the network—which has been glitchy in the past, sometimes failing for days at a time only to be restored to functionality without any intervention—or in Airport itself, which went on the fritz not long before my Macintosh crashed & burned a couple years hence. In either event, I've dug my old cable out of storage & connected my Macintosh to the house's modem physically. Only time will tell if this wireless outage is temporary or permanent.

Project MERCATOR | Project PANDORA
I ran into Jojo on Wednesday & she was looking particularly delectable. A host of good reasons remain why not even to attempt to pursue her romantically, & I abide by my decision to be nothing other than her friend, but not everything I feel for her is strictly… friendly. *insert wolfish grin here*

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
Golem, "Citizen Boris" from Citizen Boris (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: "Boris Hoffman, you are now a citizen of the United States, so help you God."

Operation AXIOM
Happy Groundhog Day, treasured readers! Punxsutawney Phil prognosticated six more weeks of winter this morn, though the "more" part is risible in the midst of this, the worst winter ever. Temperatures have been in the forties more often than they've been in the twenties, & in the fifties at least twice every fortnight. This winter is a disgrace. Let us hope that the Inner Circle aren't just blow smoke, because these next six weeks are the last chance we have for the ill-fated Winter of 2011-12.

All I ask is everything in its season. I don't ask for cool summers, I ask only that Summer's heat be confined to the period of May through September. I ask not for winter is July, I ask only for winter in its season. Come on, Aeolus, let's not make a liar out of Phil!

Also on the theme of better late than never...

The Victors: 2012 Sugar Bowl Champions
(№ 13) Michigan 23-20 Virginia Tech. (№ 11) (O.T.)
11-2, Big Ten 6-2

My father & I watched the Sugar Bowl at a family friend's house, because that evening(3 January 2012) my mother was hosting her monthly bunco game at our home. Our host, Bob, a casual football fan, was unfamiliar with the, shall we say, unconventional play of the valiant Wolverines. I do not deny that watching the valiant Wolverines under the leadership of junior quarterback Denard "Shoelace" Robinson is often frustrating, sometimes infuriating, & very much unlike watching almost any other football squad. My father in particular railed against Shoelace's "fundamentally unsound" play, continuing at such length & with such venom that at last I had had enough & struck back viciously, reminding him of the habitual futility in which his alma mater, Purdue, labors on the gridiron, & pointing out the utter unfairness of his comparing the valiant Wolverines to the New England Patriots, an elite squad even amongst the other teams at the pinnacle of American football, the N.F.L. But as I reminded my father & instructed Bob, the paramount thing to keep in mind is that Shoelace & the boys get the job done far more often than not. The valiant Wolverines might not be pretty, but they are winners, this year prevailing in eleven out of thirteen contests (a feat unequaled anywhere in the annals of ill-starred Boilermaker football). If fans can never be sure what to expect from Michigan, neither can the Maize & Blue's opponents. There is much to be said for aesthetics, much to be said for conforming to the traditional view of fundamentally sound football, but at the end of the day we are Americans, & as Americans we embrace General MacArthur's words about war, applying them to virtually all circumstances: "there is no substitute for victory." The valiant Wolverines played inconsistently, & downright poorly for long stretches of the game against the epithetless Hokies, but well enough to thwart Virginia Tech. time & again. Shoelace was at his improvisational best when the valiant Wolverines needed points, showing the signature flair of making something from nothing that has endeared him to every Michigan man. In the end, special teams play was the margin of victory, something that would have been unimaginable under Coach Rodriguez, who neglected the specials teams as severely as he did the defense. The Sugar Bowl might have been disappointing to anyone who thought Brady Hoke's arrival would mark an immediately return to the days of yore, to "three yards & a cloud of dust," but it was the perfect send-off for the 2011 squad of the valiant Wolverines. Well done, men! "The team, the team, the team."

In the final poll, released after the appallingly dull "B.C.S. Bowl," Michigan was № 12, Virginia Tech № 21. (As always, we here at The Secret Base adhere to the Associated Press poll, even if the Coaches' Poll rates the valiant Wolverines more highly.) Eleven wins, a B.C.S. bowl, a bowl victory, &, best of all, a reunified Maize & Blue faithful. "This is Michigan," indeed.

Go Blue!

The Queue
Recently
Hergé, The Adventures of Tintin In the Land of the Soviets & Cigars of the Pharaoh
Stephen Weiner, Jason Hall, & Victoria Blake, illustrated by Mike Mignola, et al., Hellboy: The Companion
Hergé, The Adventures of Tintin: The Calculus Affair, The Red Sea Sharks, & Tintin in Tibet

Currently
Henry Mazzeo, ed., & Edward Gorey, illustrator, Hauntings: Tales of the Supernatural
Hergé, The Adventures of Tintin: The Castafiore Emerald, Flight 714, & Tintin and the Picaros

Presently
Edgar Rice Burroughs, Tarzan of the Apes
H. Rider Haggard, King Solomon's Mines
David Ignatius, Body of Lies
Len Deighton, City of Gold

The Rebel Black Dot Song of Groundhog Day
Reel Big Fish, "'Til I Hit the Ground" from Monkeys For Nothin' and the Chimps For Free (T.L.A.M.)

The Explorers Club
№ CCLXX - The Giant's Causeway, Northern Ireland.







The Giant's Causeway is in Northern Ireland, a constituent nation of the United Kingdom. My recent visit to the Emerald Isle was to the Republic of Ireland & I did not see the Giant's Causeway, alas.

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
Allister, "Fraggle Rawk" from Dead Ends and Girlfriends (T.L.A.M.)