Parting Shots: Post

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"Paranoia is the most political of mental illnesses. You need to have enemies." - Jerrold Post


Yes, that's exactly what I said. The ACC, Big 12, Big 10, Big East, Conference USA, MAC, Mountain West, Pac 10, Sun Belt, and WAC can collectively decide that football is too dangerous a sport for them to engage in and I would not be able to care less. In fact, I'd probably just wonder why they took so long to come to that conclusion.

As anyone who lives in the Southeastern United States knows, the thing that separates our football from their football is a little something called tradition. Unfortunately, tradition takes a long time to cultivate. Those other schools have had a long time and they've blown it. The schools of the SEC have, on the other hand, experienced it, passed it down, and kept it going. Trying to explain it to someone who's never experienced it before would be like asking my dog to drive a car. Besides lacking the necessary opposable thumbs, she simply doesn't have the ability to understand. But we do. We SEC fans know what each game means, and what each touchdown or missed extra point means (as well as what a proper tailgate party involves). Gratefully we don't have to wait much longer. In the meantime, download this beautiful 2009 SEC Helmet Schedule (a huge thank you to whoever makes these year after year). Stick that thing on your fridge, put a spare copy in your desk drawer at work, and get ready. This is going to be a good year.

2009 SEC Helmet Football Schedule

High Point, North Carolina may be the furniture capital of the world (I thought it was IKEA...my bad), but it also might just be the epicenter of race relations in these United States. The Red House is a place where, in their own words, "black people and white people buy furniture." Brilliant. Go see Richard and Johnny...they'll take care of you.

When The Going Gets Tough...


I honestly can't remember the second half of this expression, but I think it had something to do with the tough getting gone. Or something like that. It sounds okay, I guess, especially if you don't spend a lot of time thinking about it. On closer examination it doesn't hold up as well, if only because it doesn't make a lot of sense. This will come as bad news for participants of team sports everywhere, because this is something coaches love to use to motivate their players. Two of my other favorites are "explanations don't excuse and excuses don't explain" and "excuses are the nails that build a house of failure." Time-tested classics, those are. But while athletes might find a useful application for these cliches, two of our nation's governors can only stare blankly into the camera and ramble at length.

Wilco (The Review)


I'm always excited when bands I love release new records, especially the band I love the most: Wilco. The fact that the line-up, as it currently exists, is barely the same as it was in 1994, matters little. Jeff Tweedy is still standing behind his guitar and microphone, and bassist John Stirratt is nowhere near a microphone. As it should be. My expectations for this release were mixed. On one hand, Sky Blue Sky was such a departure from what the band did on its two previous records (Yankee Hotel Foxtrot and A Ghost is Born), that I wanted to temper my enthusiasm. As a whole, Sky Blue Sky grew on me, but it took some time. On the other, who the hell knew what Tweedy had up his sleeve? This could be magic. As it turns out, we got Wilco (The Album).

Overheard on the Beach

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"I mean...I can see puttin' on a dress...you know...just to see what it'd look like." - spoken by a 40-something man to one of his buddies as they sat in beach chairs and recounted their glory days

Big thanks to my sister for turning me on to the hip-hop stylings of Sammy Stephens and the Montgomery Flea Market. That said, it's a sad day in post-9/11 America when anything is favorably compared to being "just like a mini-mall." Saints preserve us. Anyway...if this doesn't make you want to buy a sectional sleeper sofa, I don't know what will.

An Open Letter to Facebook

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Dear Facebook,

You remind me of a girl I once dated in that you waste all my free time with the promise of something fun or interesting, but in reality you deliver very little. Sure, I can't imagine life without you. Your hooks are in me now, and there's no way I'm breaking up with you. I mean, I could handle it, but what about all the innocent bystanders. You've connected me to a lot of my other friends, and they would no doubt suffer more than either of us were we to call it quits. Besides, there's a lot I'd miss about you: putting cryptic rap lyrics in my status updates, the high school/college reunion that happens daily, and the ability to tell my friends that I've written this letter to you. However, you're no more perfect than I am, so the time has come for a little heart-to-heart:

A Picture is Worth...

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...the savings on brake shoes were nothing compared to the deal on sandals.

Parting Shots: Thurber

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"It is better to know some of the questions than all of the answers." - James Thurber

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