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.)

Vive le France
Taking all bets! Who ya got in the election to decide the next President of the French Republic, (in order of ladies first) Segolene Royal or Nicolas Sarkozy?

BTW South Song of the Day
Wheatus, "Teenage Dirtbag" from Wheatus (Mt. Love)

Commentary: Say what you will, but I really love this song.

"Her name is Noel
I have a dream about her.
She rings my bell,
I got gym class in half an hour.
Oh how she rocks,
In Keds and tube socks,
But she doesn't know who I am
And she doesn't give a damn about me.

...

Man, I feel like mold.
It's prom night and I am lonely.
Lo and behold, she's walking over to me.
This must be fake,
My lip starts to shake.
How does she know who I am?
And why does she give a damn about...

'I've got two tickets to Iron Maiden, baby.
Come with me Friday, don't say maybe.
I'm just a teenage dirtbag, baby,
Like you....'"

The rest of the album is bollocks, though.

Shoot! I can't believe I forgot to celebrate National Gorilla Suit Day again this year. Dagnabbit! Remember, kids, only two days until Groundhog Day (February 2) and less than four months until Narwhal Day (May 23). Start preparing your gray T-shirt today!

Spy vs. Spy
Spylink. Litvinenko's still dead. We still aren't sure who killed him, though I, of course, suspect the Bulgarians.

BTW South Song of the Day
The Pogues, "Fairytale of New York" from The Best of The Pogues (T.L.A.M.)

Monday, January 29
Blink-182, "What's My Age Again?" from Enema of the State (Mt. Love)

Sunday, January 28
Mike Rowe & Dave Barsky, "The Official Unofficial Dirty Jobs Theme Song" from the Dirty Jobs episode "100th Dirty Job Special" (T.L.A.M.)

"The kid's all hopped up on serum!"

Vote For Kodos
I am considering writing a series of short treatises with the vainglorious ambition of making my Republicanism make sense to my numerous Democrat/lefty/pinko friends. They are a trucculant rabble and quite impervious to logic, but there is something in the endeavour which appeals to me. Until then, here's some grand old propaganda for the Grand Old Party.




Hi-Fucking-larious
A fabulous jest. Hyperlink! If only I'd had access to this gag on my flight from Memphis to Dallas-Fort Worth, for use against the jerkbag in the aisle seat (I had bitch) who persisted in expounding upon the myriad virtues of the Lone Star State. Thanks, MZone!

"We're in the belly of the lair of The Monarch's hideout!"

The Explorers Club
No. X: President Woodrow Wilson's Fourteen Points. (As always when exploring the Great War, have a care not to succumb to the abject sadness and boundless tragedy of the entire affair.)

The Empire of Pictus
Periods of Pic history:
pre-Purik states
Purik Empire
--Purik Union
--Ascension of the Emperors
The Anarchy
--Reign of Tivoria the Pretender
Wars of Parliament
Wars of Empire
--Death of Prince Vykor, Lord Prinzlo
--Coronation of Her Dread Majesty Varek I (the Great), Emperor of the Pic
--Conquest of the Far West
The Satrapy
--Great Rebellion
--The Pox
--secret alliance with the Commonwealth of Phythria
--War of Attrition
The Restoration
--End of the Satrapy
--Battle of the Reconquest
--Fortification of Pictus
The Halcyon Century
--Flight of the Lightrunner
--Reception of the Rynoran Ambassador
--Discovery of Aekyron
--Colonization
Autocratic Wars
--The Viceroy's War
--Erix & Aeloos Wars
--Accession of the Commonwealth of Phythria, Empire of the Pic becomes Empire of Pictus
--Hive Invasion
--Annihilation of the Hive
--Rynoran Blockade
--Rynlander War
--Pact with the Aepyrian Kingdom
--Siege of Aekyron
--War of Maneuver
--Enkari Civil War
--Communion War
--Siege of the Herzabach Line
--Annihilation of Kyryl
--March Through the Autocracy
Empire of Many Nations (First Great Imperial Expansion)
--Accession of the Shogunate of Enkariworld
--Accession of the Aepyrian Kingdom
--Accession of the Hsi Church
--Sarkese Civil War
--Formation of the League of Sarkhala
--The Lost Squadron
Vanguard War
Second Great Imperial Expansion
--Accession of the Republic of Jurai
--Accession of the Suzerainty of the Erixish
--Accession of the Rynlander Palatinate

War with either or both the Celestial Caliphate and the Xiro Hegemony seems inevitable.

BTW South Song of the Day
Europe, "The Final Countdown" courtesy of iTunes (Mt. Love)

BTW South Song of the Day
The Blues Brothers, "Looking for a Fox" from Blues Brothers 2000 Original Motion Picture Soundtrack (T.L.A.M.)

Honolulu Blue Forever
The website of the Detroit Lions has a story about inept coach Rod Marinelli's links to successful coaches Tony Dungy (of the Indianapolis Colts) and Lovey Smith (of the Chicago Bears): loserlink. The point, surely, is to reassure Lions fans that even though Millen's Man Marinelli is an abysmal failure, other coaches have succeeded by using his defensive schemes. The aim is for some of Dungy's and Smith's luster to rub off on Millen's Man Marinelli. But to my way of thinking comparing Millen's Man Marinelli to Tony Dungy and Lovey Smith really just serves to highlight just how substandard a coach Rod Marinelli is. The 2005 Lions were 5-11, and that was bad enough to get head coach Steve Mariucci fired; Millen's Man Marinelli's 2006 Lions were even worse, finishing 3-13. Dungy and Smith have coached their teams into the Super Bowl; Rod Marinelli coached his team to two fewer victories than a head coach who was unceremoniously fired midseason.

Of course, thinking can't possibly be encouraged inside an organization run by W.C. Ford and Matt Millen; so, it's no surprise that even the webmasters are bad at their jobs.

Coming soon: "To Be or Not To Be," the debate to remain a fan of the Lions or foresake the Honolulu Blue and Silver forever.

You know what kicks ass? The red panda.

Hat Day!
Though The Office was a rerun, Hat Day shan't be refused! The Mountain of Love wore the Red Army hat I was given by From Russia With Love. I wore the Mountain's Space Ghost: Coast to Coast baseball cap. I love Hat Day!

BTW South Song of the Day
Mono Puff, "Pretty Fly" from It's Fun to Steal (Mt. Love)

Wednesday, January 24
Potshot, "Mu330" from Potshot A Go Go (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: Potshot is a Japanese ska band. Mu330 is an American ska band. Both bands have released albums through Asian Man Records. "Mu330" is a Potshot song about going to an Mu330 show. "Raw Fish" is an Mu330 song about, among other things, touring in Japan. I can't say that Mu330 is big in Japan, because I just don't know, but I do know that if Mu330 isn't bigger in Japan than they are in America, they prefer touring in Japan to touring in America. I don't know if Potshot is bigger in Japan than Mu330, but I think that Mu330 is bigger in America than Potshot. Regardless, Mu330 and Potshot both need to be bigger in both Japan and America.

It's Hat Day at BTW South, boys and girls, get excited. The rules are very simple; so, you can easily celebrate Hat Day wherever you live (which, if you are at all fortunate, is not in *shudder* Texas): simply wear a hat - festive or dignified, it's your choice - while eating dinner on Thursday and PRESTO! you've celebrated Hat Day!

Science!
Death ray. I don't care that the ADS is "harmless," you know and I know that we're now just a hop, skip, and a jump from practical death ray technology. "What a time to be alive."

And in addition to our death rays, we'll be bewildering the enemy with this diabolical little trap: black ice. I love the entire concept of DARPA: better killing through science.

And here's an addendum to the recent "Animals at War" (Part I and Part II) episodes of The Explorers Club: Jaws.

Science!

Vote for Kodos
Red... as in Heinz Ketchup
Drat! Well, poo, this would have been so much fun. Well, still, well done, Swift Boat Vets. As fine a job of dirty tricks politicking as I've ever seen. (In part because I wass too young to appreciate the job Lee Atwater did for the first President Bush in '88.)

White... as in the White Feather
The following is exactly why I am a Republican: bullshit. If you want to oppose the war, that's both right and proper. Contrary to the myth the pinkos in the NEA try to impress upon the all-too impressionable youth of America, vehement disagreement, not bland consensus, is the key to a vigorous and prosperous democracy. I support the war because I supported the war in 2003; I thought going to war was the right decision, and what kind of a spineless nancy would I be if I changed my mind as soon as the going got tough? If you don't support the war, that's fine, too. You're wrong, but in America you are free to be as wrong as you want.

But to fund the war and in the same breath pass a purely symbolic resolution disagreeing with the war? Grant's Tomb, is this what the once proud party of Woodrow Wilson and Harry Truman has come to? If the Democrats are against the war, they should have the courage to pull the plug, to provide just enough funding for a chaotic and cowardly withdrawl from Iraq. You can't have it both ways. Is victory in Iraq important or unimportant? Pick a position, because these lily-livered half-measures do a grave disservice to the Republic.

Blue... as in "Blue State"
Fortunately for America, though certainly distressing for the gentleman in question, Senator Joseph Biden (D, Delaware) will never be President of the United States. So, my lovely lefties, whom do you favor as the Dems' presidential nominee in '08, Senator Hillary Rodham Clinton (D, New York), Senator Barack Obama (D, Illinois), former Vice President Al Gore (D, Tennessee), or ***insert your own candidate here***?

Death to New Blogger
The archives are gone. The posts are still there, editable now that I've switched to New Blogger (synonymous with New Coke) in a way they never were with Old Blogger, but they are no longer available to you, my treasured readers, only to me, your humble narrator. The extremely unhelpful "Help" section says that the archiving feature is not supported by New Coke/Blogger, but it does not say if any of those Google cuntrags are working to correct this grievous shortcoming. For Bog's sake, there's even a graphic in the upper lefthand corner that won't load correctly anymore! How superior is the New Coke/Blogger if it doesn't even work as well as Blogspot Classic?

I do not know how, I haven't an inkling, but even if it takes a thousand years I shall revenge this affront.

I bought the latest issue of Time (or is that TIME?) magazine because of the fetching cover: a photograph of the Great Wall of China color corrected to only shades of red, with an enormous yellow star (borrowed of course from the flag of the People's Republic) rising from behind a hill and the caption "China: Dawn of a New Dynasty." I haven't read the China article yet, but having read a piece in the business section I am seriously jonesing for an iPhone.

BTW South Song of the Day
Mu330, "Neighbor" (live) from Oh Yeah! (Mt. Love)

Vote For Kodos: The State of the Union
Boy howdy, I love the State of the Union address. I particularly enjoyed President Bush's backhanded congratulations to the new House and Senate majorities. Backhanded, you say? He didn't congratulate the new "Democratic majorities," he congratulated the new "Democrat majorities." That's just one of the many ways in which we Republicans show our disdain for the Democrats, by butchering the adjective form of their party's name. Hee hee.

I thought President Bush gave a good speech, cheerful when talking about the homefront but appropriately grim on the ongoing battle against radical Islamist terrorism in both the Sunni (al Qaeda) and Shia (Iran) flavors. And despite loving the "Democrat" jab, I enjoyed the acclaim heaped on Speaker Pelosi for being the first woman to serve as Speaker of the House. I disagree with Pelosi's politics, but any step toward gender equality is a good one. And the "exemplary Americans" part of the speech was the best I've ever seen; between Dikembe Mutombo (whom I'd had no idea had become an American; that's awesome!) and Wesley Autrey, the normally moribund "ain't these bastards great" section of the State of the Union elevated the whole evening. The best State of the Union ever? Maybe, maybe not, but certainly a damn good time at the ol' Capitol!

If you didn't watch the State of the Union adress, please be so kind as to go to hell. An informed, involved citizenry is the lifeblood of the Republic and if you don't want to be a part of that, I'd ask you to please refrain for sullying this blog with your apathy. And now for a rousing chant of "U-S-A!": U-S-A! U-S-A! U-S-A!

America kicks ass.

Oh, those wacky Germans: Rent-A-Mob!

BTW South Song of the Day
The Chinkees, "Merry Mary, Will You Still Marry Me?" from Searching for a Brighter Future (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: I had an anthroplogy professor who liked to make a production of distinctly pronouncing Mary, merry, and marry, but to be honest they all sounded just as much like homophones when she said them as when said by the rest of us, who revel in their homophonic nature. She was a delightful nut.

A day late, but never a dollar short, it's my favoritest feature of The Secret Base...

The Explorers Club
No. IX: The crater Odysseus and the Ithaca Chasm on sundered Tethys, a moon of Saturn. The potentially causal link between Odysseus and the Ithaca Chasm is why I favor the epithet "sundered Tethys."

Jay (and Silent Bob) Strike Back... Some More
An excerpt of Jay (portrayed by Jason Mewes) talking about Becky (portrayed by Rosario Dawson) in one of the deleted scenes from Clerks II: "The girl with the big, big titties? Yo, how was she? She looks like she could fuck a Mormon into monogamy."

No offense, Daddy Dylweed. "Hey, Pete, is it true what they say about Mormons?"

BTW South Song of the Day
Mu330, "Since the Short-Long's Gone" from Chumps on Parade (Mt. Love)

BTW South Song of the Day
John Lee Hooker, "Boogie Chillun" from "Boom Boom" and Other Classics (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: John Lee Hooker is among the thousand reasons why The Blues Brothers is "The Greatest Motion Picture of All Time."

Also, I blame Saturday Night Latham for this. Way to move to Colorado, you jinx.

Vote For Kodos
Also, two years from today we shall have a new President of the United States. I feel that I can safely say the eight years of the Bush Administration (2001-2009) will have gone by much more quickly than the eight years of the Clinton Administration (1993-2001). Tempus fugit.

Laura
Having recently seen both The Oh in Ohio and The Shape of Things, two films in which Paul Rudd's characters, Jack and Adam, respectively, undergo significant physical transformation, staring off looking disshevled and pudgy and ending up looking like Paul Rudd, the thought passed through my head, "If I were Laura instead of Mike, I'd totally want to fuck Paul Rudd." But there is a nagging doubt, something inherent in the declaration that makes me suspect it would wilt before even a gentle inquisition.

My parents didn't know my sex until my birth; quite sensibly, they had made preparations for either eventuality, selecting the name Mike should I emerge a born, Laura should I prove a girl. So, had a different one of Dad's swimmers breached Mom's egg, I'd be Laura Wilson. And had I been born a girl and my brother born still a boy, he'd be Michael Wilson, not David. (The Mountain is always called David. Not Dave. Never Davey. David. Had he been born Michael, would he be Mike, like me, or always Michael? I've always said that one should never trust Michaels, meaning a Michael who is never called Mike, Mikey, or some variation thereof.)

But when I say, "I'd be Laura Wilson," that's not even remotely true. Mom and Dad's middle child would be Laura Wilson. The L.A.W.'s younger sister and the Mountain of Love's older sister, the younger of his two older sisters, would be Laura Wilson, but "I" wouldn't be Laura Wilson. Each of Dad's swimmers and each of Mom's eggs, though cut from the same genetic cloth, had potentially vast differences; one swimmer was not a clone or another. Exhibits A, B, and C: The L.A.W., the Mountain of Love, and me. Had a different swimmer breached the same egg from which I grew, a discrete individual would have resulted. The lovely Laura Wilson, extrapolating from my actual sister's beauty, would be entirely distinct from the paunchy Mike Wilson you all know and loathe. I am Mike Wilson. Being male is not incidental to how I perceive myself, to how I react to the wider world. And that's not even taking into consideration the genetic differences between Laura and Mike.

I really don't have a leg to stand on vis-a-vis Laura wanting to schtup Paul Rudd. I can say that if I, if Mike, felt even the slightest bit of physical attraction to men, he'd desire Paul Rudd, but I cannot in good conscience make any claim to know the foci of Laura's lust.

I am confident we shall revisit this topic.

BTW South Song of the Day
Mono Puff, "Night Security" from It's Fun to Steal (Mt. Love)

The Empire of Pictus
Realm of Her Dread Majesty Tieryn I, Emperor of Pictus, Captain of the Imperial Army, Lord Prinzlo
Parliamentary Prefectures
Commonwealth of Phythria
Shogunate of Enkariworld
Aepyrian Kingdom
Hsi Church
Republic of Jurai
Suzerainty of the Erixish
Rynlander Palatinate
- - - - -
Protectorate of Tehl Laria
Communion Interdiction Zone

Allies of the Empire
Otrosi League
Royal Akari Confederation
Sovereignty of the Spada
Aeloosian Federation

Neither Allies Nor Adversaries
Rynoran Republic
Axis of Freedom
Sur'ka Directorate

Adversaries of the Empire
Caliphate
Xiro Hegemony

Hat Day!
The Mountain of Love wore his black GB Water Polo knit hat, made all the more cool by the embroidered water polo ball. I wore the Mountain's ten-gallon cowboy hat, the one that normally sits atop the gnome lamp next to the TV in BTW South's living room. I love Hat Day!

And this, of course, adds a whole new level of irony to Edgar Snow's Red Star Over China: star wars.

BTW South Song of the Day
"Weird Al" Yankovic, "Everything You Know is Wrong" from Bad Hair Day (T.L.A.M.)

The Tangled Webber of Lies
Not to indulge in name-dropping, but I have actually had the pleasure of a one-on-one meeting in University of Michigan Athletic Director Bill Martin's office. I have not always agreed with everything Martin has done, but I have agreed with 90% of his decisions. He's a straight shooter, or, if he is a deceiver, he regards deception as not a vice but a craft, one he has practiced to perfection. Kudos to AD Martin for his even-tempered restraint: The Devil Webber.

Pop Quiz
Compare and contrast the meanings of the words Hellenic and Hellenistic.

BTW South Song of the Day
The Hippos, "Pollution" from Heads Are Gonna Roll (Mt. Love)

Tuesday, January 16
Mustard Plug, "Throw a Bomb" from Pray for Mojo (T.L.A.M.)

The Pot and the Kettle
Uproar. Racism must be opposed and racists must be denounced, but where in the high holy hell does a junior minister for the Indian government find the moral authority to claim that India has "firmly rejected all forms of discrimination and racism"? India, where scores of people are slaughtered every single year in interreligious warfare between Hindus and Muslims. India, which still has a motherfucking caste system.

The asinine bastard on Big Brother is worthy of condemnation and ridicule, but not by an official of a country wherein tens of thousands of people are regarded as "untouchable" for purely arbitrary reasons.

The Faustian Tale of Joe D and the Tangled Webber of Lies
Words fail me. The Devil Webber. (The story is by Saturday Night's feisty sister.) I wanted to write "fuck Joe Dumars," but how could I write that about Joe D? "Curse you, Joe Dumars" and "A pox on Joe Dumars" both seemed too flowery and nearly certain to be misinterpretted by readers as a jest. I suppose I shall have to fall back on that great stalwart of bitter disappointment: damn you, Mr. Dumars.

Because of Chris Webber, the Fab Five's exploits and very existence have been purged from the official history of NCAA basketball. Like something out of a Stalist nightmare, the NCAA's and U of M's official position is that those two seasons worth of games were never played. The University of Michigan had a men's basketball team in neither the 1991-92 nor 1992-93 seasons. And now Joe Dumars has recruited this base villain, the Benedict Arnold of the University of Michigan, to play for the Detroit Pistons?

Basketball is a magnificent game, but the National Basketball Association is an abomination. I do not care about the Detroit Pistons, I care about Detroit, and though the Pistons play way out in the hinterland of Auburn Hills, Detroit has benefited in both prestige and morale from the Pistons' recent successes. (A mirror of how I feel about the Detroit Tigers, the paramount difference being I do not regard the entire sport of basketball with contempt and disdain.) So, I have rooted "for" the Pistons as far as I support whatever eases the Motor City's considerable burdens.

No more. Chris Webber is a fiend. Whatever little emotional investment I make in the NBA will be solely devoted to wishing disaster, debacle, and doom upon the hated Detroit Pistons. Damn you, Mr. Dumars. Thank you for everything you've given Detroit, as both a player and an executive, but damn you.

Jerk Store
Ideally, the Mountain and I try to arrive at the exercise room at approximately 4:15. That way, my forty-minute run covers the tail end of Around the Horn and the lion's share of Pardon the Interruption; sometimes we watch SportsCenter through the PTI "Big Finish" and then switch to TBS to catch Seinfeld in progress, but usually we go to Seinfeld right away. (The Mountain lifts while I run, then I lift while he runs.)

As things worked out today, he worked out much earlier and I got to our pleasant little tortune chamber about half an hour later than normal. The guy using the treadmill was watching CNN and by the time he told me I could change the channel to whatever I wanted, I was already ensnared by the siren song of Lou Dobbs. I hate Lou Dobbs and his "let's build a wall around America and pretend the rest of the work doesn't exist" brand of populism. (In fairness, I hate almost all brands of populism, but only because I fear and distrust the populace.) Lousy xenophobes. Anywho, when I finally regained my senses and switched to Seinfeld, I found myself in the Xanadu of the "jerk store" episode, officially titled "The Comeback."

At BTW South, we reference George's "jerk store" line all the cotton-pickin' time. At the most random moments, one or the other of us will tense his body and hiss, "Jerk store! Jerk store is the line!" Glee flooded my mind as soon as I realized "jerk store" was in my future.

George is stuffing his face with shrimp.
Reilly: "Hey, George, the ocean called. They're running out of shrimp!"
***laughter***
George: "Well, Reilly, the jerk store called, and they're running out of you."
Reilly: "That's okay, 'cause you're their all-time best seller!"
***laughter***
George: Oh, yeah? Well, I slept with your wife!"
***stunned silence***
Boss (whispers): "His wife is in a coma."

Happy happy joy joy.

But wait, there's more!

Among the myriad glories of Seinfeld is that everyone - EVERYONE - guest-starred in at least one episode over the course of the show's nine seasons. Just the other day, we spied Sam Lloyd, best known as Ted the lawyer on Scrubs. Jerry's masseuse girlfriend who won't give him a massage? (The episode's titled "The Masseuse.") Jennifer Coolidge, Stifler's Mom from the American Pie films and a member of Christopher Guest's mockumentary troupe since Best in Show. In addition to the "jerk store" joy, "The Comeback" also boasts none other than the lovely Ivana Milicevic.




"The Comeback" specifically, and Seinfeld as a whole, is the gift that keeps on giving.

BTW South Song of the Day
New Found Glory, "So Many Ways" courtesy of ye olde internet (Mt. Love)

The Blues Don't Bother Me
"Joliet Jake" Blues and Elwood Blues, the alter egos of the late John Belushi and Dan Aykroyd, are the Blues Brothers. Their band, comprised of Matt "Guitar" Murphy, Steve "The Colonel" Cropper, "Donald "Duck" Dunn, Tom "Bones" Malone, "Blue Lou" Marini, Alan "Mr. Fabulous" Rubin, Murphy "Murph" Dunne, Willie "Too Big" Hall, and sometimes Paul "The Shiv" Shaffer, is the Blues Brothers Band. When the Blues Brothers and the Blues Brothers Band perform their rhythm and blues revue live on stage, the ensemble is known as The Blues Brothers. Get it? Got it? Good.

"The Blues Don't Bother Me" is a song written and performed by Matt "Guitar" Murphy and included on the Blues Brothers 2000 soundtrack.

I Have a Dark Sense of Humor
Hilarious. Anno Domini 2007 may have produced its first nominee for the apocryphal Darwin Awards.

The Explorers Club
Question No. 8: Animals at War, Part II - The 21st Century: the U.S. Navy's Marine Mammal Program.






BTW South Song of the Day
The Reunion Show, "Too Much" from The Motion (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: The Reunion Show crawled away from the wreckage of the ska band Edna's Goldfish. They were better when they were Edna's Goldfish, but The Reunion Show was a fun band, too.

Deep in the Heart of Darkness... er, Texas
On Friday, monsoon season came to what the locals call North Texas (a larger area than the Dallas-Fort Worth "Metroplex"). Note that this designation does not cover the Texas Panhandle (the area immediately to the west of Oklahoma), even though every square inch of the Panhandle is farther north than "North Texas." Yesterday and today, temperatures have been in the 30s F, the rain has been light but constant, and the Texans have been panicking. It's fucking hilarious, you would think the sky is falling from the way these people are reacting; they are beside themselves with fear. In Michigan, this exact same weather is called "November," but down here all the television station are advising people to avoid any unnecessary travel. Bwa ha ha ha ha!

"Don't mess with Texas"? Who in the high holy hell do you Lone Star pansies think you're kidding? A cold rain has not just messed with Texas, it has brought North Texas to its knees. Fantastic, just fantastic.

Death Before Dishonor
Helene St. James, the Red Wings beat reporter for the Detroit Free Press, has a sugggestion for improving the team before the playoffs: acquire Peter Forsberg. Let's hope Helene St. James gets crushed under a bus. Not Forsberg. Forsberg was an Avalanche during the most bitter days of the Detroit-Colorado rivalry. Never Forsberg. Acquiring Chelios from the hated Blackhawks was one thing, because Chelios is just that kind of guy, but trading for Forsberg would be something altogether more vile. Forsberg must never be allowed to desecrate the nigh-sacred winged wheel.

Bus drivers of the Detroit metropolitan area: keep a sharp lookout for the St. James harlot and keep your feet poised above your gas pedals like the sword above Damocles. May Our Blessed Lady of Acceleration guide you all. Bogspeed.

Becks and Posh
Pele, perhaps the greatest soccer play of all time, "The King of (Soccer)," could not sell soccer as a viable professional sport in the U.S. of A., and Becks, my friends, is no Pele. I submit, in fact, that David Beckham is a pussy. I offer two proofs: 1) Beckham made his name and reputation playing for Manchester United; everyone knows that the Red Devils are shite and their supporters are double shite (especially The Guy). Real men stand with Arsenal. Go Gunners! 2) Major League Soccer plays an, at best, second-rate brand of soccer. The players and coaches are wholly inferior to the European and Latin American competition Beckham faced while with Man U and Real Madrid. Becks coming to play for an MLS team is like Peyton Manning signing with an Arena Football League team. Were Becks not a pussy, he'd still relish the superiority of play found in the FA Premiership and the UEFA Champions League.

And that's the first and last time I'll ever deign to mention the MLS. Now the race is on to see whom can be the first to leave a comment quoting Dan Rydell's famous critique of soccer.

Because It's There
Three cheers for human achievement: polarlink.

BTW South Song of the Day
Travis, "Why Does It Always Rain on Me?" courtesy of ye olde internet (Mt. Love)

Red Berenson and the ravages of time.



Spy vs. Spy
Surrounding the release of the exquisite Casino Royale, I decided to utilize my subscription to Netflix to see all the 007 films I was certain I had not seen; was certain I had not seen from start to finish, though I thought I might have seen scenes; or was certain I'd seen and equally certain I could not recall the plot, villains, or marquee stunt sequence. Not being known for my moderation (I struggle with all seven of the deadly sins, but none moreso than gluttony), I decided to expand the the 007 project to, well, all the Bond films, including the crummy unofficial film Never Say Never Again and the dreadful beyond words spoof of Casino Royale from '67. Forty years and twenty films, from Dr. No to Die Another Day and, brother, it was great.

I also watched The Bourne Identity and The Bourne Supremacy courtesy of the Mountain's DVD collection. My two most recent Netflix movies are the spy film The Quiller Memorandum and the spy-type film The Holcraft Covenant; on deck is Archangel, a spy-type British TV film starring Daniel Craig. The late, great Alec Guinness played a supporting role in The Quiller Memorandum, which brings to mind his masterful performances as George Smiley in Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy and Smiley's People, the Le Carre connection bringing to mind The Spy Who Came in From the Cold and the America-bashing duo The Tailor of Panama and The Quiet American. Did any of you see The Matador? Brilliant stuff that. Not a spy story, but featuring secret lives, clandestine activities, and international intrigue.

The point: I love spy movies - love 'em! - but as I am very so fond of saying the world is a many splendored place. There are so many different kinds of movies I want to see! It has been difficult to resist adding ever more spy films to my Netflix queue (and then invariably jumping those upstarts to the head of the line), but I must. The Oh in Ohio is within the walls of BTW South, just waiting to be appreciated, and not one iota of my being is inclined to deny Parker Posey. (Hmmm, perhaps I should bring back "Parker Posey Appreciation Day"? Yes....) Spies spies spies are what I want, but I also want to watch all the other movies that had finally made it to the top of the queue before being sent back down the ranks by the 007 project and its associates: The Endurance, The Ice Pirates, Lord of War.

Plus, of course, I delight in each week's comics, and a full schedule of original television series, and squeezing books into the relentless comics parade whenever I can, and the myriad joys of ye olde internet, including maintaining The Secret Base (the best bloggy blog on the interwebs if I do say so myself). And of course the pursuit of vanity (exercising) eats up huge freakin' chunks of time; and, like everyone else, my days are not my own, so I have to fit all this into my evenings and weekends. You know, it's no wonder I only sleep five or six hours a night, and I am among those who can easily sleep thirteen hours at a pop without having been particularly fatigued beforehand. Gah! Once again I have digressed rather severely, possibly irrevocably.

I want to watch more spy movies, but for now I cannot. But the hour shall come, the hour shall come.

BTW South Song of the Day
Me First and the Gimme Gimmes, "Come Sail Away" (live) from Ruin Johnny's Bar Mitzvah (T.L.A.M.)

Randomly, I am still trying to devise an epitaph worthy of the unparalleled splendor that is me. I'm going to be dead in a mere thirty-three years (I want to leave my audience wanting more); so, get your submissions in sooner rather than later.

Neat!
I spend a surprising amount of time thinking about the ancient Athenian general Alcibiades, and upon visiting Wikipedia a moment ago whom did I discover is tomorrow's "Today's featured article"? Alcibiades. Hell yeah!

Is it just me, or does it sound as if ours friends in the BBC actually favored the Sharia-based regime of the in-cahoots-with-al Qaeda Union of Islamic Courts? Hyperlink. (Hint: it's not just me.)

Hat Day!
The Mountain of Love wore a close-fitting Gatorade green knit wool hat adorned with the company's trademark orange lightning bolt. Bog knows where he got such a thing, but I like to think a Good E. Bag Wednesday was involved. I wore my porkpie, though, sadly, my lip is not currently adorned with my trademark imperial. Curses! Still, life is always better in Joliet Jake and Elwood's hat. I love Hat Day!

BTW South Song of the Day
The Tragically Hip, "My Music at Work" via ye olde internet (Mt. Love)

Deep in the Heart of Darkness... er, Texas
The Mountain of Love and I arrived at our apartment complex's dingy exercise room for our daily constitutional to find the treadmill occupied by the woman we've nicknamed Oprah. We call her this because of her infuriating habit of watching Oprah Winfrey's insipid show while she's ever so slowly strolling on the treadmill.

Not long after we arrived, a third gentleman entered the exercise room. Oprah said "Hi" over her shoulder and the gentleman and I exchanged nods of acknowledgement in the whole-wall mirror opposite my seat at the arm curls station. Less than a minute later, the gentleman's mobile phone chimed, he answered the call, stepped outside to conduct his conversation, and walked away from the exercise room. I presume he was heading to his apartment. As soon as he had gone, Oprah asked, "Have either of you seen him before?" Neither of us had. "He asked me a bunch of questions about this room when I was on my way over here and I was afraid I was going to be alone with him in here."

It is at this point in our sordid tale that I should add a few telling details. I am white, as is my brother. Oprah is white. The other gentleman is black. Though the Mountain and I prefer to work out at the same time, bantering as we agree and disagree with Mike Wilbon* and Tony Kornheiser and laughing to the immortal grandeur of Seinfeld. But we cannot always coordinate our schedules. I have been in the exercise room alone except for Oprah. I am fairly sure the Mountain has been her sole companion at some point. Was she afraid to be alone with either of us? You'd be inclined to think otherwise given her constant, earnest, and witless attempts at conversation.

And then Oprah's mobile phone rang and, still reeling from such shameless racism, the Mountain and I were subjected to her side of the phone conversation. So, not only is this horrid wench a racist, not only did she blithely assume we shared her despicable prejudice, not only does she adore Oprah and Oprah while in the same breath casting wicked aspersions on the characters of a man she didn't even know, but mere moments after accusing this blameless man of being a rapist, a robber, a thief, or all three and worse, she practiced demonstrably worse mobile phone etiquette.

That fucking cunt.

Of course, to my great shame, I said nothing. I exchanged unbelieving looks with my beloved brother, but I challenged neither her racism nor her assumption that I shared her poisonous views. I'm such a coward. I am considering writing a letter of apology to Mike Park, and promising him that next time, and sadly there will be a next time as surely as the Sun will rise upon the morrow, I will have the courage of my convictions.

*As long as I've watched Pardon the Interruption, I've been amused that only one letter's difference separates Mike Wilbon and Mike Wilson.

The Stars My Destination
One step closer to Man's return to the Moon and first journey to the Red Planet: Ares.

Blowlink. Cocaine is the new potatoes. Erin go bragh, indeed.

In other news from Europe, is the far-right taking a page from the far-left's handbook: fascistlink? Instead of workers, xenophobes and reactionaries of the world unite?

BTW South Song of the Day
Skankin' Pickle, "Turning Japanese" from Sing Along with Skankin' Pickle (T.L.A.M.)

Science!
Hyperlink the First. Lunar Albion? Lunalbion? I can't believe it's taken the British this long to set their voracious sights on the Moon; after all, A Grand Day Out was made seventeen years ago! That Moon cheese is ours, you Limey bastards!

The War for Civilization
It was with much glee that I greeted the news of Ethiopia's military intervention on behalf of Somalia's provisional government. The Union of Islamic Courts aspired to do for Somalia what the Taleban had done for Afghanistan: bring an end to the chaos through ruthless tyranny. Furthering the comparison, the Islamic Courts are overly cozy with the local franchise of everyone's favorite laugh-a-minute pranksters, al Qaeda. So, hip hip hooray, the AC-130 rides again! Hyperlink the Second.

Spain gave in to al Qaeda's demands following the Madrid trains bombings in 2004; so, what possible incentive would ETA, the bloody Basque terrorist group, have to negotiate with the Spanish government? Kill just shy of 200 people in the nation's capital city and the cowardly Spaniards, the same lackeys who were only too willing to submit to Franco's fascist dictatorship, will do whatever you want. Madre de Dios, when will the Spaniards display that legendary machismo and stand up to those murderous Basque thugs? Hyperlink the Third.