The Explorers Club
No. CLVII - The Seven Wonders of the Ancient World, Part II: the Mausoleum of Mausolus at Halicarnassus, the Colossus of Rhodes, & the Lighthouse of Alexandria.










The Victors: Project OSPREY
Sunday, 29 November
Alabama 68-66 Michigan (15)
3-2, Big Ten 0-0

And just like that, we're 3-2 after a 1-2 performance at the Old Spice Classic. Call me fair weather is you wish, but I went to five o'clock Mass today, missing this game, and I just don't have the energy to dwell on bad news.

Next contest: at home v. Boston College, part of the annual drubbing known as the Big Ten/A.C.C. Challenge. Go Blue!

Friday, 27 November
Marquette 79-65 Michigan (15)
3-1, Big Ten 0-0

It's hard to win when you can't stop the other team's offense. At all. Early days, plenty of time to correct today's miscues before we enter the meaty part of the college basketball schedule. Still and all, perspective be buggered. Drat, I really though we might have actually deserved our No. 15 ranking!

Project OSPREY
Big Ten/A.C.C. Challenge, Tuesday night doubleheader: Purdue v. Wake Forest, Michigan State v. North Carolina. Woot! (Too bad I'll have too much studying to do to watch all of both games.)

He's Dead, Jim
I saw The Loose Ties last night at Woobie's, a pretty cool bar in Flint. I've now seen them thrice, every fortnight since Halloween. Woobie's really is a bar, not a bar-cum-nightclub; so, predictably, there was very little dancing. To blazes with critical mass, I skanked! I skanked alone, I skanked with the band, I skanked in an oval around the pool table, I skanked back and forth along the bar, shaking the whole place. I skanked like it was going out of style, which I suppose it is. And as before at the massive, seven-band ska show in Ann Arbor two weeks ago, all that reckless skanking tweaked a muscle in my left calf. Plus, it didn't do my malingering right ankle any favors. I've been hobbled all day, but it was totally worth it.

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
The Mighty Mighty Bosstones, "Dr. D" (the old way, live) from Live From the Middle East (T.L.A.M.)

Coming Attractions
An unexpected development in Project PANDORA, but I guarantee you it isn't what you're guessing it is.

Project MERCATOR
Without really meaning for it to happen, this Thanksgiving and the subsequent weekend have turned into an orgy of socialization that dwarfs even the "Three Four Days of the Condor" of a fortnight hence. My parents are away visiting my grandmother in Ohio, yet there are four people sleeping in my house besides your humble narrator.

Yes, I'm typing this at five-something in the morning, and no, I haven't yet been to bed. L'chaim!

The Rebel Black Dot Songs of the Day
Samstag, 28 November
Reel Big Fish, "Beer" from Turn the Radio Off (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary:

"Maybe someday I'll think of what to say.
Maybe next time I'll remember what to do.
She looks like Heaven,
Maybe this is Hell."

Freitag, 27 November
Blink-182, "The Party Song" from Enema of the State (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary:

"So when you see her standing there
With green eyes and long blonde hair,
She won't be wearing underwear
And you'll discover
This girl's not the one,
And she'll never be fun,
You should just turn and run,
Because you'll find out that some girls try too hard.
(Da na na, da na na, da na na)
Some girls try too hard.
(Da na na, da na na, da na na)
And some girls try too hard to impress
With the way that they dress,
With those things on their chest,
And the things they suggest."

Operation AXIOM
I am truly blessed, there is so very much in my life for which to be thankful, and for which I am indeed thankful. I am possessed of a mind with which to reason and a body with which to ambulate, I have loving kin and the finest kith for which any man could ask, and, most of all, I am loved by the Creator and assured of undeserved salvation through the Christ. There is so much for which to be thankful!

I hope one and all are having a most splendid Thanksgiving!

The Victors: Project OSPREY
(15) Michigan 83-76 Creighton (O.T.)
3-0, Big Ten 0-0

Perhaps more exciting than the valiant Wolverines needed to make things, but I was quite pleased to see how they clawed their way back into the game in the waning minutes and then took Creighton to task in overtime time. Marquette or Xavier? Either way, bring 'em on! (Tomorrow at noon, don't miss it!)

Go Blue!

The Rebel Black Dot Song of Thanksgiving Day
Green Day, "Macy's Day Parade" from Warning (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: I'm as ardent a fan of commerce as the next fellow, but this "Black Friday" malarkey has gone too far.

The Rebel Black Dot Songs of the Day
Fountains of Wayne, "She's Got a Problem" from Fountains of Wayne (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: Project MERCATOR is no longer solely about having fun. Or maybe it is, maybe "mission creep" should be avoided, but the friendships nurtured by MERCATOR are no longer solely about fun. The Most Dangerous Game is an extraordinary girl, or she has the potential to be, but troubled. Not troubled the way the girl in "She's Got a Problem" is troubled, but the lyrics work well enough.

"I know a girl who you've got to keep on eye on,
I know a girl who you've got to keep an eye on,
Every time she goes outside,
She barely gets home alive,
She's got a problem and she's gonna do something dumb."

Dienstag, 24 November
Less Than Jake, "The Science of Selling Yourself Short" from Anthem (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: My new friends apparently quite dislike my self-depreciating humor—or at least I've always intended it as humor—and have asked me to knock it off. I suppose they think it represents low self-esteem? Sure, I hate myself, but only to the extent that I rue how easy it would have been not to have completely fouled up my life. As with all my friends, I find their genuine affection for me somewhat puzzling, but because it seems to be genuine affection—at least I can discern no plausible outside motive—I've decided to accede to their request. So, for the first time in many, many years, I'm in need of a new shtick. But until then:

"I'm so overdosed on apathy,
And burnt out on sympathy.
…
Let the meaning slip away,
Lost my faith in another day,
Self-deprecation seems okay,
I never thought I'd make it anyway."

Project OSPREY
I caught the end of a game today, Pittsburgh 68-55 Wichita State. It has begun.

He's Dead, Jim
I saw Slapher Sally, one of the Flint City Derby Girls, in the White Building today, and she asked me about my ankle. Sally's not her real name, but within the world of derby everybody seems to go by their derby nickname rather than have to learn two complete sets of names. I'm going to forgo the Ace bandage tomorrow and see what happens; I've got full extension back, there's just some occasional pain and stiffness.

It's been four weeks (complicated by attending two ska shows within that span). I'm ready for this to be over and done with.

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
Beirut, "Nantes" via iTunes (Skeeter)

Commentary: I might as well present today's exchange with Skeeter in its entirety:

Skeeter: "'Nantes' by Beirut. Hated it at first, but now can't stop listening. Give it a chance before you give up on it."

Me: "Oddly enough, I find this a much more compelling endorsement than if you'd written simply, 'Love this song, give it a chance.' Will do."

Skeeter: "Odder still, I think I may still hate it, but it's gotten under my skin."

Me: "Now that's quite off putting, because there are few things in the whole world I hate more than the fact that I know all the lyrics to many songs I despise. Nevertheless, by this point I am curious, and shall give 'Nantes' a fair shake."

I've been listening to "Nantes" on repeat, and I don't hate it. But neither do I think it's getting under my skin. Time has yet to weigh in on that score, though.

The Explorers Club
No. CLVI - The Seven Wonders of the Ancient World, Part I: the Hanging Gardens of Babylon, the Statue of Zeus at Olympia, & the Temple of Artemis at Ephesus.









The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
Fastball, "The Way" from All the Pain Money Can Buy (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: For whatever reason, I could not get this song out of my head this afternoon when I was finally, finally finishing with the leaves. We always have one tree, one holdout that refuses to drop its leaves until after the first snowfall. But this year the snow did not come abnormally early, thwarting the holdout. Woot!

The Victors: Doom Doom Doom
Tuesday morning, one of my two Uncles Bob (my mother's brother, not my mother's sister's husband) offered me a pair of tickets to The Game. Holy wow, I haven't seen the Michigan-Ohio State game with my own eyes in years! I accepted his generosity right away, the potential price of the tickets being all that gave me pause, but by late Tuesday night circumstances compelled Uncle Bob to rescind the offer. He apologized profusely and I had no cause to bear him any ill will; easy come, easy go. Still and all, boy howdy, that would have been something!

For the record, I would have invited The Impossible Ingenue, but in the full knowledge that she'd be working and would thus almost certainly decline. My real plan, then, was to invite Doctor Hee Haw, whom I have not seen in far too long. It would have been classic, Doc!

Ohio State 21-10 Michigan
5-7, Big Ten 1-7

Wisconsin 45-24 Michigan
5-6, Big Ten 1-6

Purdue 38-36 Michigan
5-5, Big Ten 1-5

Illinois 38-13 Michigan
5-4, Big Ten 1-4

Penn State 35-10 Michigan
5-3, Big Ten 1-3

What can I say? I'm sorry I haven't blogged more about the football season. I'm sorry Project MERCATOR prevented me from watching several of this season's games. I'm sorry a year in which we all expected to make a great leap forward ended up resembling (and I'm sorry for the insensitiveness of this reference) the Great Leap Forward. I'm sorry we're terrible.

But I'm not sorry for believing in Rich Rodriguez. Lloyd Carr liked to use the words of Rudyard Kipling as instruments in his job, which he saw as not so much to coach football as it was to guide boys into honorable manhood. So, in defense of Coach Rodriguez, I submit some words of Rudyard Kipling's, from the poem "If—," the pattern after which I am attempting to lead my own life:

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
…
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
…
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:
…
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And—which is more—you'll be a Man, my son!

Go Blue!

Project PANDORA
I had mobile telephone conversations this afternoon with my erstwhile best friend, K. Steeze, and The Guy, seeking their counsel on how, or even if, I should pursue The Impossible Ingenue. Each handled the imposition with aplomb and I thank them for their sage words. I am tremendously fortunate to have such friends. Thank you, kind sirs.

Project MERCATOR
I was out late Thursday night (more to follow) and out late Friday (the second consecutive Friday spent at The Impossible Ingenue's house), but mercifully The Anonymous Friend had to postpone the poker night scheduled for this evening. Instead, I washed up after some post-game leaf-raking (during which I had the confabs with the aforementioned trio of advisers), ate a delicious home-cooked meal, washed the dishes from same, and caught up on the Monk and White Collar episodes I taped during the last two Fridays spent with The Impossible Ingenue. There are tentative plans to see a movie tomorrow with The Most Dangerous Game, and I hope to corner her into a serious conversation about what's been bedeviling her, though she is by turns evasive and vague when the discussion turns to anything substantive.

World of woe, I'm even farther behind on entries in my journal than I am on posts to The Secret Base. Cursed twenty-four-hour day!

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
The University of Michigan Marching Band, "Don't Let the Sun Go Down on Me" from A Saturday Tradition (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: Go Blue!

Freitag, 20 November
The Puppini Sisters, "It Don't Mean a Thing (If It Ain't Got That Swing)" from The Rise and Fall of Ruby Woo (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: Swing dance lesson with The Impossible Ingenue: free. The opportunity to dance with The Impossible Ingenue: priceless.

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
Blink-182, "Dammit" from Dude Ranch (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: Today began in a dark abyss. It ended on a high peak, under Orion's Belt. The baleful tone of this R.B.D.S.O.T.D. reflects the morning's suffering, as well as my continued concern for my friend, The Most Dangerous Game. Alas and alack, you can't help someone who doesn't want to be helped.

"The steps that I retrace,
The sad look on your face,
The timing and structure,
Did you hear he fucked her?
A day late, a buck short,
I'm writing the report
On losing and failing.
When I move, I'm flailing now."

Project MERCATOR: Three Four Days of the Condor
I regret sincerely the lack of bloggy blogging, dear readers. This weekend's originally scheduled "Three Days of the Condor" left me as depleted as I'd anticipated and feared, only then to extend into a fourth post-midnight night on Monday. I didn't leave the house last night, but I still managed to get dragged into the middle of a lengthy, late-night squabble between The Most Dangerous Game and The Impossible Ingenue, one that robbed me of the rest on which I'd been counting. I truly did not want to go out tonight, but was compelled by a sense of obligation and duty (trouble a'brewin' about which I shan't elaborate tonight).

There is a long-scheduled dinner tomorrow evening, I have aspirations of taking The Impossible Ingenue out dancing on Friday, and The Anonymous Friend invited me to a "poker" (Texas Hold 'Em) night at his apartment on Saturday. No rest for the wicked, though I'm starting to feel profoundly unsettled by all of this socializing. It's gone too far too fast, MERCATOR has vastly exceeded expectations, and equilibrium must be reestablished.

"Too much too soon, too little too late."
—Less Than Jake, "The State of Florida" from GNV FLA

Project PANDORA
Thursday's my earliest morning of the week, and I shan't sleep well tonight; so, again, I haven't the time to tell the tale properly. The Reader's Digest version: since the Miracle Ball not quite a fortnight hence, I've been debating which sister to pursue, The Impossible Ingenue or The Most Dangerous Game? There are a million reasons why neither would date me, but that's neither here nor there, I was—I am—determined to do my very best to woo one of them. But which?

The Impossible Ingenue. I'm going to play the long game, I'm going to play all the angles, I'm not going to give her a fighting chance. I'm going to live by Sir Ernest Shackleton's family motto, "By endurance we conquer." I'm going to achieve the impossible.



I'm going to achieve the impossible.

The Stars My Destination
Godspeed, Atlantis! N.A.S.A.link and B.B.C.link.

The Rebel Black Dot Songs of the Day
The Wombats, "Patricia the Stripper" from A Guide to Love, Loss & Desperation (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: The crucial words are love, loss, & desperation.

Dienstag, 17 November
The Ataris, "So Long, Astoria" from So Long, Astoria (T.L.A.M.)

Montag, 16 November
The Ninjas, "Robot Pirates" from Platypus (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: Covered with gusto on Saturday by Gunday Monday, one of the seven ska bands!

Sonntag, 15 November
The Loose Ties, "Becca's Song" from the The Loose Ties E.P. (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: Flint-based ska!

Samstag, 14 November
The Forces of Evil, "Fight" from Friend or Foe? (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: One night. Seven ska bands. Too much fun.

"How come nobody plays ska anymore?
I guess they all forgot what we were fighting for.
They're grown up now and they want to be respected,
And be a part of the business we rejected.
I liked things how they used to be
And now I'm doing what I can to save the scene.

You've got to fight for your right to skank,
You've got to fight for your right to skank,
We can't do it on our own
So pick up the telephone
And tell your friends they've got to fight to skank!"

Project MERCATOR: Three Days of the Condor
I was up before the crack of dawn and on the road to Lansing for a daytrip with the U of M-Flint Historical Society (formerly the History Club, which was clearly a better name for the group). The Supreme Court Chamber at the Hall of Justice was impressive, most impressive, but clearly the highlight was the R. E. Olds Transportation Museum, now my favorite spot in sacred Michigan's capital.

Afterward, though I considered staying in and turning in as early as possible, I was lured out by the promise of cake, baked by The Impossible Ingenue. I joined her at her home for a pleasant confab, though both of us were clearly bushed and on our last legs. I had an invitation to join The Most Dangerous Game, the soon-to-be codenamed Vanessa, and a horde of others for a late night showing of The Boondock Saints II, but I'm confident I made the right call… even though The Most Dangerous Game just texted me, asking me to come out for a late night bite to eat.

Post actually composed at 1:13 A.M.

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
Mustard Plug, "Brain on Ska" from Skapocalypse Now! (T.L.A.M.)

He's Dead, Jim
The damnedest thing happened this afternoon. For complex and convoluted reasons into which I've delve another time, I brought into a full run, a sprint. I knew as I did so that it was a bad idea on my ankle, still a bum ankle almost three weeks after it was first injured (Sunday, the 25th of October) and almost two weeks after it was reinjured/separately-but-relatedly injured (Saturday, the 31st of October). But I don't know everything. Something happened when I ran, and now my ankle feels better than it has in almost three weeks. Following Donna M.'s advice of consistently wrapping the ankle in an Ace bandage and putting myself on a regular regime of Extra Strength Bayer Aspirin had eliminated the swelling and most of the pain, leaving a lingering front and back tightness that I, in my eminent medical opinion, suspected was more the result of the Halloween reinjury than the original twisting. That tightness is not completely gone, but only just, the most significant leap in progress since the aspirin lowered the boom on the persistent swelling. How about that?

There will be plenty of skanking on Saturday, skanking in the company of The Impossible Ingenue & The Most Dangerous Game; so, fear not, there are going to be plenty of chances to go for the hat trick of injury and undo all of today's healing. But if this keeps up, I'll have to get back to Operation ÖSTERREICH—or at least the exercise half of ÖSTERREICH, the semi-dieting has continued—as soon as is feasible.

All things medical will henceforth fall under the "He's Dead, Jim" title, based of course upon the timeless words of Doctor Leonard H. "Bones" McCoy (DeForest Kelley), the second greatest physician in the annals of the Federation Starfleet, second only to the eugenic superman Doctor Julian Bashir (Alexander Siddig).

Project PANDORA
Much is afoot—though almost all of it solely in my head—and a lot is happening, but this has been a bear of a week and upon the morrow I'm to embark on a three-day Project MERCATOR smorgasbord that will leave me on the verge of exhaustion. So, though 'tis not my intention to tease, I must for the nonce leave you in ignorance.

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
The Aquabats!, "Ska Robot Army!" from The Return of The Aquabats! (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: Two days until my next ska show, the second in a fortnight! Woot!

Armistice Day
Ninety-one years ago today, at the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month, the Great War ended. As ever, by refusing to commemorate today as Veterans Day, my intention is neither to insult nor to fail to honor America's veterans, merely to preserve this day as the dire warning for all Mankind it is meant to be. Lest we forget, we live, each and all of us, every day in the shadow of the War to End All Wars, and as soon as we forget this we place ourselves on the march right back to the trenches, to the gas, to a world gone mad and drowning in blood. Today is Armistice Day, Remembrance Day, lest we forget.

"God of our fathers, known of old,
Lord of our far-flung battle-line,
Beneath whose awful Hand we hold
Dominion over palm and pine—
Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,
Lest we forget—lest we forget!"
—Rudyard Kipling, excerpt from "Recessional"



“Have you news of my boy Jack?
Not this tide.
When d’you think that he’ll come back?
Not with this wind blowing, and this tide.

Has any one else had word of him?
Not this tide.
For what is sunk will hardly swim,
Not with this wind blowing, and this tide.

Oh, dear, what comfort can I find?
None this tide,
Nor any tide,
Except he did not shame his kind—
Not even with that wind blowing, and that tide.

Then hold your head up all the more,
This tide,
And every tide;
Because he was the son you bore,
And gave to that wind blowing and that tide!"
—Rudyard Kipling, "My Boy Jack"

Lest we forget.

The Rebel Black Dot Song of Armistice Day
Wilfred Owen, "The Parable of the Old Man and the Young" from The Pity of War: Songs and Poems of Wartime Suffering (T.L.A.M.)

Project MERCATOR
I have not time for the tale of last Friday's ball—the events leading up to it and the evening after—but continued withholding of the photographs from the evening would be a betrayal of the considerable patience you, my treasured readers, have always extended me. As ever, we make use of codenames here at The Secret Base not because I am any great fan of anonymity (note that all fare is posted under my name, Mike Wilson, though I do acknowledge that there is a certain anonymity in my name's commonality) but because in the past requests have been made to protect the identities of my kith & kin, the innocent, as it were. I have the freedom to be cavalier with myself and myself alone, hence the codenames (but not for all, bit players will be identified solely by Christian name). Plus, come on, codenames are awesome!

The Most Dangerous Game—she whom I pursued, fruitlessly, this past summer in "Prelude to Project PANDORA"
The Impossible Ingenue—my date for the evening, and The Most Dangerous Game's younger sister
The Last Angry Man—your humble narrator, the chump lucky enough to have The Impossible Ingenue on his arm

Enjoy! (click on photos to enlarge)


The Impossible Ingenue & The Last Angry Man



Believe it or not, The Impossible Ingenue is even more beautiful in person.



From left to right: Scott & Vanessa; The Most Dangerous Game & her platonic date, John; The Impossible Ingenue & her platonic date, The Last Angry Man.



How impossibly cool is The Impossible Ingenue? She's made this photo her Facebook portrait.



The Most Dangerous Game



Tada!



Vanessa, The Most Dangerous Game, & The Last Angry Man



An unfortunate, transitional facial expression, frozen in time.



Vanessa & the always dignified, always poised Last Angry Man.



"I hate to see you leave, but I love watching you go." Mercifully, you can't really see that I'm lifting up the tail of my suit coat to give the camera a full view of my arse.

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
"Weird Al" Yankovic, "That Boy Could Dance" from In 3-D (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: And now you see why I could not resist the selection of "The Lady in Red" as Friday's R.B.D.S.O.T.D.

"I'll never forget,
The way you look tonight."

The Explorers Club
No. CLV - Daedalus, architect of the Labyrinth, & his son, Icarus.








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

I am sorry, dear readers. I had such grand plans for The Secret Base this evening, such grand plans, but there are not hours enough in the day. And my Christmas list was already two weeks overdue; so, when it came time to subject the clock to triage, "The Explorers Club" and a recounting of the latest project MERCATOR news could not take priority. May the anticipation of what is to come brighten your Monday.

The Rebel Black Dot Songs of the Day
Avril Lavigne, "Girlfriend" from The Best Damn Thing (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: I'm hatching a scheme. It's a bad idea, a bad, bad idea. I don't mean it's malevolent—though it is, sort of, yeah, no, it is—I mean this idea is all but certain to end in tears. Most especially mine own. And I'll almost surely go through with it. Scheme!

Samstag, 7 November
Edna's Goldfish, "Veronica Sawyer" from The Elements of Transition (T.L.A.M.)

Freitag, 6 November
Chris de Burgh, "The Lady in Red" via iTunes (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: Cheesy, I know, but you'll understand how I couldn't resist once you see the photographs from Friday's ball.

Project MERCATOR
Shades of billionaire playboy Bruce Wayne, tonight I am going to escort a devastatingly beautiful girl to an honest-to-Bog charity ball. Further shades of Bruce Wayne, romance isn't on the evening's itinerary. Live by the analogy, die by the analogy.

The Rebel Black Dot Songs of the Day
Donnerstag, 5 November
The Black Kids, "I'm Not Gonna Teach Your Boyfriend How to Dance With You" via iTunes, Single of the Week (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: I knew this was going to happen, but that does precious little to soften the blow: even all these months later, being The Most Dangerous Game's friend is killing me.

"(One!)
I'm bitin' my tongue,
(Two!)
He's kissin' on you,
(Three!)
Oh, why can't you see?"

Mittwoch, 4 November
Reel Big Fish, "Take On Me" (live) from Our Live Album Is Better Than Your Live Album, Disc 1: More Shtick Than You Can Shake a Stick At (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: To be played only at maximum volume.

Operation AXIOM & Project MERCATOR
Welcome back, Halloween! This year marked the first time I put on a costume and went out on All Hallow's Eve since '01 or '02, a costume party at "the Cove" with Mrs. Sacramento, then Never Girl, as my platonic date. I wore my Aqua-Cadet uniform (and it is a uniform, not a costume) on Halloween in '06 & '07, but only to pass out candy to all the wee trick-or-treaters. If I recall correctly, last year my newly busy schedule allowed this night of rollicking revelry to sneak up on me, and any desire to throw together a costume at the last minute was hamstrung by a lack of potential destinations. What, after all, is the point of getting all dressed up with nowhere to go?

This year, circumstance conspired in my favor. I was not favored with any invitations to Halloween parties, but that's just as well as I would have been forced to decline, for this year I was favored with a rare privilege. This year, I went to a show. And not just a show, a ska show! I went alone, yes, but am budding pals with a lad in the ska band, The Loose Ties. As if seeing a thriving local ska band wasn't treat enough, The Loose Ties were all wearing Star Wars costumes! Luke Skywalker, Princess Leia, Han Solo & Chewbacca, Obi-Wan "Ben" Kenobi (that was my pal, I asked which Obi-Wan he was, and he said original trilogy), a Jawa, a Jedi from Attack of the Clones (the only prequel trilogy costume), and the lamest Darth Vader I've ever seen. Star Wars and ska? Pinch me!

For myself, for my first non-Captain Thumbs-Up get-up, I went as the H1N1 swine flu. I wish I could take credit for such a fabulous idea, but I adapted/ripped off the idea from The All-American Boy, who thought to costume himself as S.A.R.S. when that was the looming apocalyptic plague du jour. I took a white T-shirt and wrote upon it, front and back and on both sleeves, in large red letters, "H1N1," and wore a name tag that read, "Hi! My Name Is SWiNE FLU." I wished to pair this with a pig snout, ears, and a squiggly tail, but, alas, I could not find one in any of the nightmare-inducing—though not for the reason they'd hope—local Halloween stores. I could have ordered all I needed from ye olde internets, but I left it for too late; there simply wasn't sufficient time. So, I substituted a cheap breathing mask and latex gloves to complete the ensemble. It wasn't ideal, but such a costume is always more about attitude than accoutrements.

The right kind of people thought it was a great costume, the wrong kind looked away nervously, and all in all I'd call the evening—the costume, the music, the camaraderie—a smashing success. Nevertheless, I am irked by the pig snout failure and am determined not to be caught flatfooted again next year. I've already three costumes in the works, at three different levels of required preparation: one I could throw together on the day-of if need be; one that hearkens back to the halcyon days of cardboard box costumes and would require a significant but reasonable amount of D.I.Y. prep; and one, The Sandman (Wesley Dodds, specifically from Sandman Mystery Theatre), that requires both bought costume pieces and D.I.Y. props. I have on hand the gas mask I'll need, and in the shower on Sunday I had a breakthrough on how I could manufacture the necessary gas gun. Perhaps not next year, but sooner rather than later I'll haunt the dreams of the guilty as… The Sandman!

In other Project MERCATOR news, I was invited out for sushi last night, only the second time I've ever had it. Sushi's fine, I've no objection to eating raw crab & eel & octopus, but I really fail to see what people love about it. If we hadn't been there specifically for the sushi, I'm sure I'd have enjoyed a cooked steak dish far more than the sushi. However, we had a grand time sharing off the big, communal plate, never quite sure what kind of sushi we were eating. 'Twas a balanced group, two guys and two dolls, but the girls were oft engaged in their own confab and for the life of me I could not get the other chap to utter more than a handful of words. So, I joined the girls and we largely ignored him. Things took a turn for the worse near the end, when both girls compared the sensation they experience after eating sushi to the afterglow of sexual congress. They kept at it and I squirmed prudishly all through the ride back to the parking structure in which I'd left Lumi, and though both girls wanted to keep the night going and I, for the most part, find them charming company, I bowed out and slunk home. *shudder*

Codename: CHAOS
By this point in time, The All-American Boy is a physician; mayhap his Secret Base codename, infrequently used as it is, should reflect this achievement? The All-American Doctor? Dr. All-American Boy? Yeah, probably Dr. All-American Boy. (Note: The All-American Boy should not be confused with The Boy, nor The Boy with The Guy.)

21st Century Bread & Circuses
I have finally taken advantage of my longstanding option to "upgrade" my mobile phone (also known as a cell phine). There are both pros and cons to my new phone compared to my old phone. PRO: My new mobile is equipped with a "qwerty" keyboard for quicker, easier text messaging. CON: Though I have no experience with crack cocaine and would not even know where to purchase crack cocaine were I so inclined, I'm comfortable positing that the qwerty keyboard is as addictive as crack cocaine. In Ohio, I was mocked for texting "like a teenager." PRO: Vibrate! My old mobile was a primitive little thing; it had the ability to vibrate, but had no vibrate mode. Vibrate could only be accessed in conjunction with setting the ringer to the highest volume, so that when the phone rang it seemed a little bit like the end of the world. (These are the settings to which my mother, who has the same model mobile as my old mobile, keeps her phone set.) CON: The alarm clock feature is deficient. Gone are my primitively rendered versions of classical music standards and in their place are horrific quasi-hip hop and electronica tunes. To this point, I'm still using my old mobile as an alarm clock, in conjunction with my two clock-radio alarms. (I sleep like a log. I kid you not, I was once kicked in the head while sleeping on the floor and continued to slumber peacefully as if nothing had happened.) PRO: The new mobile has slightly better reception than the old, though the universality of Verizon's service is greatly exaggerated in their advertisements. CON: The battery does not seem quite up to the job of the frequent text messaging. I'm not recharging the phone everyday, but I am doing so more often than with the old mobile.

PRO: My new mobile is, like the old, a flip phone, and with its larger size even more closely resembles an Original Series Star Trek Communicator. The more akin to Captain Kirk the better. CON: "Khaaaaan!"

Vote For Kodos
'Tis Election Day (woot!), but in an off-off-year (feh). That said, it will be most interesting to see if our charlatan president's parade of horrors will be sufficiently horrifying to enough of the body politic to cripple his agenda in next year's mid-terms before the Chicago mob is able to enact into law the full horror of the parade of horrors. For the sake of our nation, our children, and the world, let us hope the full horror of the parade of horrors never sees the light of day.

One year on, I wonder how many of you realize you were Obamboozled?

Coming Attractions
"The Victors" - doom doom doom
"This Week in Motorsport" - the Brazilian & Abu Dhabi Grands Prix, and the end of my first F1 season (F1 Y1?)

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
The Aquabats!, "The Thing on the Bass Amp!" from The Aquabats! vs. The Floating Eye of Death! and Other Amazing Adventures, Vol. 1 (T.L.A.M.)

Project RADIANT
The financial aspect of CADMUS will take a large step forward with tomorrow's outgoing mail; one of my major creditors will have been paid in full. Now on to the next.

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
Barenaked Ladies, "Who Needs Sleep?" from Stunt (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: This is me, raising my hand to signal that I need sleep.

The Explorers Club
No. CLIV - Theseus, Part II: Trouble with the ladies—Helen of Troy, Hippolyta of the Amazons, & Phaedra—and time imprisoned in Hades.








Operation AXIOM
Today 'twas the Feast of All Saints, the morrow bring the Feast of All Souls. Say a prayer for all your departed kith & kin, that the Lord God might have mercy on their souls, forgive them their sins, and allow them into His Presence.

Operation ÖSTERREICH
Things took a most unexpected twist this past week. When I attended the Women's Flat Track Roller Derby Club basketball game on the Wednesday before last—recounted in this past Wednesday's Project MERCATOR update—a chap invited me to take a more active role in the club, which is one and the same with the Flint City Derby Girls, by becoming a referee. As I could not think of a good reason to decline his invitation, I accepted, though I cautioned him that as my family would be returning from out of state on the date of the next practice—last Sunday, 25 October—I very well might not be able to attend until the following Sunday—today. But when I called him from the road the confirm that I wouldn't be able to attend the 6:00 P.M. practice, he cheerfully informed me the session had been moved to 9:00; to my chagrin, I would be able to attend. I may recount the experience in fuller detail later, but for now suffice it to say that I made it out of the experience alive, though not whole, and I can't wait to give it another try!

In the course of one or more of my several falls, I twisted the high holy heck out of my right ankle. (I'm not a doctor, nor do I play one on T.V.; so, I can't be more medically specific than that.) That it was the awkwardness of the falls, not the skating itself, that injured my ankle is evidenced by the perfect condition of my left ankle. I've limped around for the last week, though my not at all selfish and self-absorbed father didn't notice until today. My ankle is stiffest and most painful in the mornings, but improves throughout the day. My ankle improved steadily throughout the week, but Operation ÖSTERREICH has still been derailed all this time. But with my ankle on the mend life was returning to normal…

Project MERCATOR
…Until last night. I went to the ska show telling myself that I was not going to skank. The crowd was sure to be small, the chances of attaining the critical mass necessary for dancing seemed slight. Plus, the layout of the KIVA room, a series of broad, carpeted steps, did not seem as if it would be conducive to dancing. I thought I'd stand and sway and clap and hoot and holler. But, then came the third song, "Becca's Song," and I felt compelled to skank. I got up from my seat on one of the broad, carpeted steps, shuffled off to the side where there would be no danger of accidentally kicking anyone in the head, and began to skank. Even as I danced, I felt the week's healing of my right ankle coming undone, yet I kept going. Even though my ankle surged with pain every time my right foot came down, it felt so great to be skanking again! (I had not skanked at a show in over two years, not since the Reel Big Fish-Less Than Jake-Blue Tree Whacking extravaganza of August '07: Wayback Machinelink. Too damn long.)

Last night and this morning, my ankle felt worse than it had last Sunday or last Monday morning, worse than it had at any earlier point in the injury. I mowed the lawn today, picking up leaves, which I expected to be sheer murder. Instead, I sit here feeling much improved. Make no mistake, I am still injured, and my ankle is clearly more injured than it was yesterday afternoon before the show & the skanking, but I am astonished by the progress since this morning; Mass was a particular chore, the Catholic ceremony being so full of elevation and orientation changes (sit, stand, sit, stand, kneel, stand, process, kneel, sit, stand). The morning, should it follow pattern, bring a regression into stiffness and tenderness, but more progress should be made throughout the day.

Science! & Operation AXIOM
The National Aeronautics and Space Administration gets into the spirit of Halloween: exoplanetarylink.

Science!

The Rebel Black Dot Songs of the Day
Real Can of Yams, "Shiver Me Timbers" from CODENAME: Koala (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: I am so proud to have been a part of this madness.

"A bottle of run, a keg of ale,
Look out, boys, we're settin' sail!
Grab your sword and grab your gun,
A pirate's life is so much fun!"

Samstag, 21 Oktober
Michael Jackson, "Thriller" from Thriller (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: In the year in which we lost the King of Pop and by that loss gained a new appreciation for why he'd been the King, really, what other song could have been Halloween's R.B.D.S.O.T.D.?

"And grisly ghouls from every tomb
Are closing in to seal your doom.
And though you fight to stay alive,
You body starts to shiver.
For no mere mortal can resist
The evil of the Thriller."

Doom!

Freitag, 30 Oktober
They Might Be Giants, "Why Must I Be Sad?" from John Henry (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: Really, by Friday I had shaken Thursday's funk, but I'd already selected "Why Must I Be Sad?" as Friday's R.B.D.S.O.T.D. and saw no sufficient reason to make a change. Plus, "Why Must I be Sad?" isn't even really about sadness; so, weeeeee!

"So I'm writing everything down in a spiral notebook." Like my journal!

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
They Might Be Giants, "Withered Hope" from The Else (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: There's no getting around it, today I was a sad sack. There's naught for it but to pick myself up and try to do better tomorrow.

The Stars My Destination
The devil take Norm Augustine, today is a day to celebrate. Rejoice, gentle readers, for this day of days has seen… the flight of the Ares! The Ares I-X Development Flight Test: N.A.S.A.link & B.B.C.link. To paraphrase Master Qui-Gon Jinn, we've taken our first step into a larger world. Yippee!

And let us not overlook the Spaceman's perspective.

Project MERCATOR
One week ago—Wednesday, 21 October—I attended a most unusual event, a basketball game between two distaff athletic clubs, neither of which is dedicated to basketball: a roller derby team and a cheerleading squad. It was exactly as ridiculous as you'd imagine, the derby girls prevailing by a final score, after four eight-minutes quarters, of 11-10.

Last Friday—23 October—I fielded an invitation to make a grand tour of various haunted houses in Genesee & Oakland Counties, but declined on what I thought were solid grounds not inconsistent with Project MERCATOR's goals and precepts. Staying in that evening was a mistake, even if made for the best of reasons. My parents and I were due to depart for Ohio the next morning, and I do not find travel restful. It's fun, exciting, and even gratifying, but never restful. So, instead of staying out to all hours of the night, I thought I'd catch a quiet night of television. Alas, my father was in rare form, going well out of his way to be unpleasant and grating. So petulant was he that instead of watching either Stargate Universe or Dollhouse at nine o'clock, he preferred to wait and watch them on the D.V.R. starting at ten so as to be able to fast forward through the commercial breaks. Waiting to start the evening at ten o'clock? That's a criminal waste of the evening, and adding insult to injury I'm increasingly coming to the conclusion that not only do I not like Stargate Universe, I think I hate it.

Meanwhile, I received several text messages from my haunted house haunting pals, who were having a whale of a time. Around midnight they invited me to join them at a Coney Island, but by that time I was a miserable cuss and decided that turning in early was the only way to salvage any of the night's already squandered value. This two was a mistake, because swapping a few hours of sleep for some smiling faces probably would have been a good bargain. So, last Friday goes down as the second and so far greatest failure of Project MERCATOR. As ever, failure is more instructive than triumph.

"If every instinct you have is wrong, then the opposite would have to be right."

This Monday—26 October—I was engaged in a frustrating, though ultimately successful, attempt to make a short video for a club to which I belong, essentially an elevator pitch for our club for entrance in a contest that could net us a few hundred clams to put toward various club purposes. This was not a MERCATOR project, but it was a bit like herding cats (an overused expression, I know, but so apt in this case). I had to be in charge or organizing several things at once, but without any authority to make decisions or boss people around; so, I had to cajole, and I find cajoling to be both excruciating and exhausting. At last we finished, and repaired to a local sports bar/buffalo wings chain, finally meeting the standards of Project MERCATOR. We laughed, the six of us shared two sampler plates, we made fun of the drunken douchebag businessmen at the next table, and I managed to make it home on the right side of midnight, given that this was a Monday night. I'm convinced I'm still feeling the ill-effects of Monday-Tuesday's lack of sleep, but after shooting the video a bit of frivolity was most certainly called for.

What will this coming weekend bring? I'm going to a ska show(!) on Halloween, in costume. I do not know what if any festivities Friday might bring, but I've learned the lesson of the previous Friday and stand ready to accept whatever invitations come my way. (So odd to have people around who actively want me to come out and socialize with them; it's been years since that was regularly the case, and it's taking a period of some readjustment.)

Science!
So cool: sea monsterlink. I am disappointed, however, that the B.B.C.'s headline writers chose this moment to exercise tasteful restraint; I think we all know that the headlines for this story should have included the phrase "colossal fossil."

Science!

Perchance to Dream
Yesterday morning, I dreamt of driving Lumi through an unfamiliar subdivision in the dead of winter. The road was a sheet of ice and all the houses were obscured by monstrous snowbanks. I lost control around a corner and Lumi ended up rather improbably on top of a snowbank, flipped over onto her roof. (I hadn't the velocity for such a leap; so, how did Lumi end up so far off the ground? Stupid dream non-logic.) More improbably still, I possessed the strength to lift Lumi off her snowbank perch, right her orientation, and set her on the ground. From there, though, a degree of reality set in and I had to face the fact that Lumi had sustained extensive damage. I awoke before anything so mundane as summoning a wrecker occurred. But, by Janus, that snow was beautiful! I cannot wait for the advent of winter.

The Rebel Black Dot Songs of the Day
The Articles, "Ska's the Limit" from Flip F'real (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: Because Joel Rash of the Flint Local 432 predicts we're a year and a half away from the next ska revival. I wonder what "fourth wave" ska will sound like, and from whence it will come….

Dienstag, 27 Oktober
Green Day, "Song of the Century" from 21st Century Breakdown (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: I don't even necessarily like "Song of the Century," but all day long I kept repeating over and over again the incorrect lyrics, "It's the song of the century." Irksome, that.

Montag, 26 Oktober
The Rolling Stones, "Paint It, Black" via iTunes (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: We heard "Paint It, Black" during yesterday's drive home from Ohio. I remarked, "This is a great song," which elicited a nod of agreement from my pop. It would have been Sunday's R.B.D.S.O.T.D., but I needed to celebrate having once again eluded Ohio's necrotic grasp and returned to the sacred soul of Michigan.

The Stars My Destination
Godspeed, Ares I-X: test flightlink.

The Explorers Club
No. CLIII - Theseus, Part I: versus Medea & myriad monsters to claim his birthright, versus the Labyrinth & the Minotaur, the betrayal of Ariadne, and the black sails.








The Rebel Black Dot Songs of the Day
John Linnell, "Michigan" from State Songs (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: "Don't hold us back, don't hold us back, we must eat Michigan's brain!"

Samstag, 24 Oktober
William Shatner, "You'll Have Time" from Has Been (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: "Why did I waste it? Why didn't I taste it?"

Holy Mother Church
In a week when the Church of Sweden, a branch of the insidious Lutheran heresy, decided that conformity to the constantly shifting standards of 21st century humanism is more important than devotion to the Christ, I am glad for a reminder that with Europe almost hopelessly fallen into godlessness and paganism, Africa is increasingly a beacon for all of Christendom: bishoplink. Let us hope the bishops' call helps to give the peoples of Africa the governments that they deserve.

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

I carried a girl in my arms for, ballpark, about a hundred horizontal yards today, interrupted by an interlude in an elevator, still lifting her. Not piggy back, in my arms, like a bridegroom carrying his bride over the threshold of their new home. Sure, she's skinny, but also tall. In any event, it damn near killed me, but I did it, and had an S.K.P. Machine moment along the way. Almost to our destination, my conscious mind decided to set her down, just for a spell. But something within me refused. It didn't harangue, it didn't insult, it wasn't even angry; a voice chockablock with cold, steely determination simply said, "No." No, I wasn't going to set her down short of the finish line. So, I kept carrying her, over a hundred awkwardly-balanced pounds, cradled in my arms. Fortitudine vincimus.

Yeah, it was a weird day.

The Queue
I cannot say how long this book holiday will last, but it can't be more than some short span; the pull of the page is too potent to postpone in perpetuity. And it's not as if I won't be reading daily through titanic academic tomes during this time "away" from books. I'm not sick of books, I just need a chance to catch my breath. And all too often absence makes the heart grow fonder.

Recently
Karen E. Olson, The Missing Ink
Agatha Christie, Murder Is Easy
Agatha Christie, The Witness For the Prosecution and Other Stories

Currently
book holiday

Presently
Agatha Christie, Crooked House
P. G. Wodehouse, Mike at Wrykyn & Mike and Psmith
Agatha Christie, Passenger to Frankfurt

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
Fountains of Wayne, "Hackensack" (live) via iTunes (T.L.A.M.)

The Stars My Destination
Just under one week until the first flight of an Ares rocket, the Ares I-X (the next generationlink), and approximately four weeks until the next flight of the Atlantis (star treklink). "Go Ares I-X!"

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
Fountains of Wayne, "Sick Day" from Fountains of Wayne (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: It doesn't matter how many scores or hundreds of times I've heard "Sick Day," I never, ever get sick of these lines:

"She's a hell of a girl,
She's alone in the world,
And she likes to say, 'Hey, good-lookin'.'"

Pluto's astronomical symbol is a monogram of the capital letters P and L, both for the first two letters of Pluto and the initials of the influential astronomer Percival Lowell. Since the shame declassification of noble Pluto as a "dwarf planet" three years hence, those letters have taken on a new significance: Pluto Lives!

This has been a communication of the Pluto Restoration Front.

Project MERCATOR
I received a text message tonight just after ten o'clock asking me if I'd like to join my new pals for, "A short interlude from studying…." Fortunately, I was able to decline with sufficient craft to merit a further text message, translated from text pidgin into standard English, "You are missed." Moderation is our watchword.

Operation AXIOM
There was no occasion of any particular significance today.

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
They Might Be Giants, "The Mesopotamians" from The Else (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: "And no one's ever heard of our band."

Project MERCATOR
Both Saturday night and tonight, I partook of outings that had no more than an hour's advance planning. At the risk of sounding like Roger Murtaugh, this spontaneous cack is going to be the death of me. Fear not, I have taken note that too much socialization can be just as corrosive as too little. Going forward, moderation must be Project MERCATOR's watchword.

Operation ÖSTERREICH
It's a good news/bad news situation. My waistline is shrinking after the summer's bloat, and I am now between two holes on my belts. This is progress, but not without its cost. The hole I'm moving away from is now a tad too loose when I stand up, and the hole toward which I'm moving is a tad too tight when I sit for extended periods. Sure, I could use the hole punch on my Swiss Army Knife to bore the Goldilocks hole, but I prefer to keep my belts as they are, and let the existing holes function as benchmarks.

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
The Soulutions, "Do Right" from Rice Capades (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary:

"Be good, do right,
Be kind to that beautiful girl.
Hold her close, tell her why
That you want to be a part of her world.
Don't be scared, do be fair,
Try to laugh about the worries and cares.
Give a laugh, give a smile,
Don't be cruel to that beautiful girl.

And if things aren't right
Don't hold on to her.
And if she loves some other guy,
Watch what you say to her.
Remember that you love her, and…

Be good, do right,
Be kind to that beautiful girl.
Be good, do right,
Be kind to that beautiful girl.
Be good, do right,
Be kind to that beautiful girl.
Be good, do right,
Be kind to the most beautiful girl in the world."

The Explorers Club
No. CLII - Perseus & the rescue of Andromeda.








Medusa, and by extension her slaying by Perseus, was the subject of a previous episode of "The Explorers Club," No. XLIV: Wayback Machinelink.

The Rebel Black Dot Songs of the Day
The Toasters, "Thrill Me Up" (live) from Live in São Paulo, Brazil (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: Because I watched today's thrilling Brazilian Grand Prix… live from São Paulo, Brazil!

Samstag, 17 Oktober
The University of Michigan Marching Band, "M Fanfare" from A Saturday Tradition (T.L.A.M.)

Formula Fun!
Similar to the case in Suzuka a fortnight ago, during qualifying the the Japanese Grand Prix, rain washed out much of the qualifying session at Interlagos for the Brazilian Grand Prix. However abbreviated, though, qualifying did go ahead and the grid for tomorrow's start is set, with some big surprises and potential championship implications. To remain in contention for the World Drivers' Championship, Sebastian Vettel (Red Bull) needed to finish first or second in tomorrow's grand prix; while still technically possible, the chances of this are remote as Vettel had an absolutely miserable qualifying, failing to get out of the first round, and will start from 16th on the grid. Championship leader Jenson Button (Brawn) hardly did much better and will start 14th, but with a sixteen-point lead over Vettel, Button can weather a failure to score any points and still keep his Drivers' Championship alive. So, with Vettel essentially eliminated, Button's only real competition for the season title is his Brawn teammate, Rubens Barrichello. And the only Brazilian driver on this year's grid after the horrific shunt that ended Felipe Massa's season, how did he do in qualifying for the Brazilian Grand Prix? Barrichello, fourteen points behind Button, is sitting on pole position, P1 for the start of tomorrow's race! A Brazilian on pole in Brazil, the crowd is going to go absolutely nuts tomorrow! The way the ten grands prix I've watched since May have gone, it is extremely unlikely that either Button or Vettel will score a single point (an eighth place finish). Barrichello is far from guaranteed a win and the ten points it would net him, but, should he prevail tomorrow, not only would be win his home grand prix, but he would enter the final race of the season, the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix, only four points behind Button.

The 2009 Brazilian Grand Prix, live tomorrow at 12:00 P.M. noon on Speed (and Speed H.D.). Give Formula One a try, gang, you'll be glad you did. Tomorrow! Live! Tomorrow! Woo hoo!

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year
Purdue 26-18 Ohio State

Thank you, Purdue! Ha ha ha ha ha, death to the hated Buckeyes! (Or at least defeat.) There's nothing in the world wrong with enjoying the suffering of your enemies, especially in light of next weekend, which I will spend in Ohio, much to my chagrin. So, thanks and congratulations go out to the ill-starred Boilermakers. What a win!

The Victors: Michigan 63-6 Delaware State
5-2, Big Ten 1-2

I'm glad Delaware State didn't get shut out, because when the score was 42-0 I just didn't like what was happening. I'd love to beat Ohio State 70-0, but heading in that direction against such an outmatched opponent didn't feel right. That's not the Michigan way. So, I was glad when Rich Rod sent in the devil Sheridan at quarterback, as guaranteed a way to stop the offense of the valiant Wolverines in its tracks as you could find. Okay, so now the valiant Wolverines have had what amounts to a high-stakes scrimmage before tackling the back half of the Big Ten schedule. If we can avoid the self-destructing mistakes we made against Iowa, we've got a halfway decent football team on our hands, a year or two ahead of schedule. Of course, that's a big if against the ferocious Nittany Lions, but I believe in the valiant Wolverines.

Go Blue!

On Saturdays, I wake up to the dulcet tones of Click & Clack on Car Talk. Alas, this week I woke up to the cacophony of harpies screeching for money. Man alive, I hate N.P.R. pledge drives.

Perchance to Dream
I awoke Friday morning to the realization that I'd been having a nightmare. It wasn't a nightmare in the televisual sense, wherein the hero encounters something that foreshadows the dramatic peril to come, nor in the sense of being an unrelentingly grim augury of real life peril, a nightmare in only that it was deeply unpleasant and gave me the willies. In the dream, I was doing combat with a giant, metallic purple beetle. It wasn't giant as in the size of a mastodon or a house, that would almost have been preferable, but giant in that it was the length of my fully extended hand. *shudder* The purple horror flew about me with a speed and agility that defied its size. I faced the dread beast armed with a rubber mallet from the garage; yes, in my dream, though I felt myself in the full grip of a mind-killing panic, I retreated to the garage not for safety, but to arm myself and to return to slay the monster. And slay it I did! The beetle flew around me almost too fast to track, and I swung the mallet blindly again and again. In time, purely by chance, I landed a solid blow, leaving the beetle immobile and gravely wounded hanging from the mallet. After some twitches indicated the fell beast was not yet slain, my father took the mallet, lowered it nearly to the ground, slid the beetle off the mallet with his foot, and stepped on the purple terror, crushing it with a satisfying crunch.

I remember precious few of my dreams, too few to waste my time on verdammt nightmares. You hear me, randomly firing synapses? Nein!

Formula Fun!
The penultimate Formula One race of the year is upon us, the Brazilian Grand Prix! Coming into this weekend, three men are still in contention for the World Drivers' Championship: Jenson Button and Rubens Barrichello of Brawn Grand Prix, and Sebastian Vettel of Red Bull Racing. Button won six of the first seven grands prix of the year, but has finished no better than second in the eight races since; he leads his teammate Barrichello by fourteen points and Vettel by sixteen. Barrichello is, at thirty-seven, the oldest man in the F1 grid; winner of two grands prix so far in '09, he has never won the World Championship, nor won at Brazil, his home grand prix. Vettel, winner of three grands prix this season, is in only his second full Formula One season and, should he prevail, would become the youngest ever World Champion.

With only thirty-six possible points remaining in the World Constructors' Championship, Brawn leads Red Bull by thirty-five and one-half points. Brawn need only score a single point—eight place—to claim the title; to remain in mathematical contention, Red Bull needs Vettel and his teammate Mark Webber to finish in first and second places (in whichever order), and for Brawn not to score a single point. Really, Brawn have already won the Constructors' Championship, they just need to dot the I's and cross the T's and collect their trophy.

The last two World Drivers' Championships have been decided by the last grand prix on the calendar, and by only a single point: Lewis Hamilton (McLaren) over Felipe Massa (Ferrari) in '08 and Kimi Räikkönen (Ferrari) over Lewis Hamilton (McLaren) in '07. In both seasons, the Brazilian Grand Prix was the finale to the F1 season. There is every chance that Brazil will once again determine the Drivers' Championship, but I am hoping against hope for the stars to align so that the '09 Champion won't be decided until this year's finale, the inaugural Abu Dhabi Grand Prix, in a fortnight's time.

But let's not get too far ahead of ourselves. Before Abu Dhabi comes the Brazilian Grand Prix that may decide everything. And before the Grande Premio comes tomorrow's all important qualifying sessions. The 2009 Brazilian Grand Prix! Button, Barrichello, Vettel, or any one of the seventeen other men who will be vying for the center spot on Sunday's podium? This is going to be great!



Brazil is a wonderful country, yes, a wonderful country full of wonderful people.

The Victors
It's time to put an end to this two-game slide, time to get back to putting checks in the win column. It's time to stop saying we lost and time to start saying the valiant Wolverines won. It's time to be victors.

Go Blue!

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
Less Than Jake, "Short Fuse Burning" from Anthem (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: "I forgot who I used to be."

I brown bag my lunch. I don't technically brown bag it, I pack my lunch in a wicked sweet Blues Brothers 2000 tin lunchbox, but "I lunchbox my lunch" is pap; regardless of the container, "brown bag" is the appropriate verb for bringing your lunch from home. So as not to ferry my lunch about all morning, I keep it out in Lumi. So as neither to ferry the empty lunchbox about all afternoon nor to make another trip out to the parking garage after I eat my lunch, I prefer to eat in the parking garage. And though the weather is rapidly growing too cold to continue doing so, I prefer to eat on a bench set up as a smoking area rather than sitting behind Lumi's wheel. As I was unpacking the lunchbox today, a passing motorcar honked at me. How do I know the honk was directed at me? Because when my head snapped up I saw the driver waving to me as he or she slowly rolled past. He or she? I saw the wave, but the glare of the window and the non-transparent solidity of the door post conspired to obscure the driver's face. I suspect a distaff personage, based on subtle, almost subconscious visual clues and body language, but I cannot say with any degree of certainty whom it was who found the spectacle of me sitting on a cold bench carefully unpacking my boxed lunch so thrilling.

This curious little scenario added a dash of color and a glimmer of silly fun to what was otherwise a long, wearying day. Neato mosquito!

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
Sufjan Stevens, "John Wayne Gacy, Jr." from Illinois (T.L.A.M.)

I find Joel McHale's acerbic brand of humor quite entertaining, and I find his reality-T.V.-based The Soup to be a worthy successor to Greg Kinnear's Talk Soup. That may not sound like much to you, but Talk Soup and Kinnear's humor were hugely important to me between the ages of twelve & fourteen—the darkest depths of adolescent awkwardness & alienation—and are fondly remembered even now. So, I elected to give McHale's new ensemble sitcom Community a try, and I rather enjoyed it.

Last week's episode, however, stated bluntly that the first three Indiana Jones movies were great, but that the fourth, Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, was terrible. My ire was roused, but I was going to let it go until the same "joke" was reprised at the end of the episode. And that was that. Let us hope Community is canceled sooner rather than later, and that misfortune drives the writer(s) of the offending episode to both a bad end and an early grave. I will not suffer insults to George Lucas, not from pissant, puerile sitcom writers.



Attention: Jerks at the Peacock Network, the Great Horned Owl is not amused.

Obamboozled
A follow-up to yesterday's item: Muscovylink. I've several questions for Secretary Clinton: if the Russians truly acknowledge the threat of Iran's atomic ambitions, why is it that they have publicly proclaimed their opposition to any sanctions against Tehran? Do those sound like the actions of a nation that has genuinely recognized the threat Iran poses to the whole of the civilized world, or the disingenuous machinations of a nation that is playing yourself and President Obama, in the Penguin's memorable phrase, "like a harp from Hell"? Since you know so little about the Russian Federation that you can't even pronounce the name of its president, what confidence can we have that those tricky devils aren't pulling the wool over your preposterously naïve eyes?

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
Sufjan Stevens, "The Predatory Wasp of the Palisades Is Out to Get Us!" from Illinois (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: Which will happen first, Sufjan Stevens completes the remaining forty-eight albums in his fifty-state initiative (anyone get that reference?) or John Linnell releases a second volume of State Songs? In neither case would holding your breath be advisable.

Project MERCATOR
Whilst out and about last evening I had the first Guinness of the Fall, even though at home I'm still stocking Grolsch. Memorial Day and Labor Day provide bright, shiny lines for when to switch to and away from Red Stripe, but no such convenient demarcations exist for Guinness and Grolsch. Mayhap I should devise and impose some? I'll give the matter some thought and report back if I decide in the affirmative.

In any event, I'll credit the evening as a success on two counts: {a} I both enjoyed myself and, so far as I could tell, proved good company to others, thus satisfying two objectives of MERCATOR: successfully fighting my antisocial nature and putting myself in position to engender further invitations. {b} I discovered that it can be quite fun to socialize with my professors. And, truth be told, though the main object of both Friday's and yesterday's outings was to ingratiate myself to my fellow students, the more interesting conversation was to be found at the professors' end of the pushed together tables around which the eleven of us were gathered. It must also be said that I don't want to sleep with any of my professors; so, I kept an ear on the conversation at the students' end of the tables and piped in whenever it seemed to my advantage.

The Dark Bastard would like to take this opportunity to remind everyone that girls only like me when they think of me as a friend-cum-eunuch, amusing and asexual. Not for nothing do I call him a bastard.

Operation AXIOM
Project MERCATOR does have its price, it must be noted. Not only does Operation ÖSTERREICH suffer, but so too does Operation AXIOM. Yesterday was Columbus Day, the five hundred seventeenth anniversary of Christopher Columbus's first landing in the New World, and I did naught to mark the occasion without which almost everything that I love would be impossible. Had the New World not been discovered when and by whom it was, there is no telling what effect that might have had upon history. Where would the world be without the beacon of the United States? Where would Holy Mother Church be without the vast populace of the continental Americas from the Rio Grande to Cape Horn? The world would be unrecognizable without the Admiral of the Ocean Sea's voyages of discovery, and it was perilously near to unforgivable of me to allow the anniversary to pass unremarked upon. Columbus Day, everyone, let's have a round of cheers.

Hip hip! Hurray!
Hip hip! Hurray!
Hip hip! Hurray!

Obamboozled
It's true, there was no quid pro quo between Presidents Obama and Medvedev over missile defense and Iran. That would imply, and quite wrongly, that the United States gave something up in order to get something from the Russian Federation. With friends like theselink. Instead, President Obama gave the Russians exactly what they wanted and they've given us less than nothing in return. Yep, no quid pro quo in sight.

When the Islamic Republic of Iran has a nuclear arsenal and uses it to destroy the State of Israel, I request each and every one of you who voted for President Obama to pause for a few moments to reflect upon the fact that you voted to stand by idly, to allow Iran to wipe Israel off the map in an atomic holocaust. You will no doubt insist that you didn't want that to happen, but the fact will remain that you voted for that very tragedy to come to pass, and I hope that knowledge will haunt you the rest of your days. Until then, I hope you're enjoying the parade of horrors.

The Rebel Black Dot Songs of the Day
Less Than Jake, "Just Like Frank" from Losing Streak (T.L.A.M.)

Montag, 12 Oktober
Smash Mouth, "Beer Goggles" from Fush Yu Mang (T.L.A.M.)

"The Explorers Club" is back on schedule for the first time since October! And in the nick of time, with the Club's third anniversary looming.

The Explorers Club
No. CLI - Bellerophon & Pegasus versus the Chimera.








Jules: "Sorry, Shawn, no time for your tomfoolery and silliness."
Shawn: "Actually, we—"
Jules: "That also goes for your nonsense, malarkey, and shenanigans."

Formula Fun!
The most accessible Formula One grand prix of the 2009 calendar will be run next weekend, the Brazilian Grand Prix/Grande Premio do Brasil from Interlagos in São Paulo. The only race in the Western Hemisphere in '09, the Brazilian Grand Prix will start next Sunday at 12:00 P.M. E.D.T., noon. Interlagoslink. No tape delay, no getting up early or staying up late, this will be the first grand prix that I watch 100% live. I've developed a successful routine to prevent inadvertently learning grand prix results via the internets, and most of the races I've watched have been videotaped live broadcasts, but sport it meant to be experienced live, in the moment, as it happens. For that reason, this race is going to be rather special to me, and even more so because it is the best chance I shall have to share with my friends my newfound love for the Formula One World Championship.

A year hence, I had next to no interest in motorsport, and had never watched a complete race in my life. I'd been taken as a youngling to one N.A.S.C.A.R. race at the Michigan International Speedway, but all I remember of the experience is that it was deafeningly loud and that I'd hated every minute of it. I make no guarantees that any of you will like F1, but I've found it to be both tremendously exciting and dazzlingly addictive. I invite you all to give the Brazilian Grand Prix a try. Who knows, you might discover something you'll genuinely enjoy. (I don't call these posts "Formula Fun!" solely because it's a convenient pun, it's also spot on.)

12 noon on Sunday, the 18th of October, on Speed (and Speed H.D.), the 2009 Brazilian Grand Prix. The grands prix vary in length of track and number of laps, but the longest race I've seen lasted just over two hours; so, the checkered flag should fall by two o'clock Eastern. Are you in or out?

Project MERCATOR
Friday's outing was more successful and enjoyable than I'd anticipated. Score! This evening's Flint City Derby Girls bout was a rousing good time. All in all this was a grand weekend for Project MERCATOR, but it's not quite done: tomorrow evening I am scheduled to carouse, at least briefly, with many of the same crew from Friday. The final leg of a triumphant MERCATOR triple crown? Fingers crossed.

Operation ÖSTERREICH
Project MERCATOR's boom times have come partially at the expense of another branch of CADMUS, Operation ÖSTERREICH. Friday's frolic prevented me from exercising then and Monday's malarkey will keep me from exercising then; so, today was the day, the first time I'd run since last Wednesday (7 October) and the last time I'll run until next Wednesday (14 October). And it felt fan-freakin'-tastic! I ate up all three stints and was all set to go on to a fourth, but stopped for fear of overdoing it and setting back what little progress has been made.

I can feel it, I'm flirting with a swagger.

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
The University of Michigan Marching Band, "Saturday Night's Alright for Fighting" from A Saturday Tradition (T.L.A.M.)