Alright, so you're Eric Mangini, new coach of the mighty NY Jets (shut up). Now, you're looking to salvage 4+ wins this year (shut up), so you want some weapons in the draft. It is widely considered that the best three offensive players in the mix--Reggie Bush (RB, USC), Vince Young (QB, Texas) and Matt Leinart (QB, USC)--are going to be the first three picks, which is unfortunate for the Jets with pick number four.

Unexpectantly, the Texans choose Mario Williams (DE, NC State). A quick review of the math shows that you can now pick the number two QB in the country, a Heisman winner and a starter that has only lost two games in his college career. Add to this that Chad Pennington, the presumptive starting QB for the mighty Jets has lost most of the season two of the past three years injured (shut up), and will be returning this year with two bad shoulders. Wouldn't you pick Leinart?

Well, the real Mangini spent his first round, fourth overall pick on a lineman: D'Brickashaw Ferguson (OT, Virginia). A lineman. A very good lineman, with long arms and a 4.95 on the 40 (which is nothing short of a violation of Newtonian mechanics for someone 6' 5", 295 lbs.)--but still a lineman.

If Pennington goes down and/or Ferguson does not deflect a whole bunch of passes this year, I'm not going to be very happy this fall.

I received the following spam email this morning. It made me giggle. I thought I'd share:

Happy day to you!

I am ready to kill myself and eat my dog, if medicine prices here [link removed] are bad.

Look, the site and call me 1-800 if its wrong..

My dog and I are still alive

I finished grading my penultimate batch of papers today, and I have a quick breather before I get final exams tomorrow and another batch of finals and papers coming in on Monday. So while I'm in this calm before the storm, let me catch you up on some of the week's happenings.

Karl Rove was called in to testify in front of the grand jury in the CIA leak investigation for the fifth time today. This time, because an email was discovered which Rove sent to Matt Cooper from Time, where he identifies Valerie Plame as a CIA agent. When asked why he did not volunteer the existence of this conversation, Rove said he forgot about it. I expect that from a thrid-grader when asked why he did not do his homework, not from arguably the most powerful political voice in the nation in an investigation concerning the biggest political scandal since Bill Clinton's fated blowjob.

Scott McClellan resigned as White House Press Secretary the other day, in an obvious political move to halt the plummeting approval numbers for the President. Today his replacement was announced. The man filling the post is Tony Snow, conservative radio host and a Fox News talking head. To this I say: fair and balanced, my ass!

Ricky Williams lost his appeal concerning the substance abuse violations against him. He will be suspended for one year. Now, after the press and the public hounded him for a year to return to the Dolphins, he did return. So, he returned just to not play. Go figure. Anyway: good news for the Jets this year!

Speaking of football, Draft Day on Saturday. I will be watching the relevant Sports Night episodes to put me in the right mood beforehand.

If you're looking for new music, check out Icepick, featuring members of Hatebreed, Terror and Crown of Thornz. Thier fist full length came out last week, and the disc is fucking killer. Representing DMS Hardcore!

On the personal side of things, I had a good dissertation meeting with Joanne today. We set up some deadlines for my summer writing. It appears that I will be graduating next spring after all. Then I will require people I don't like to refer to me as "Doctor." That's incentive enough, I think, to haul intellectual ass this summer.

I spent a fanstastic day and a half with the New Rose this weekend. Dunedin for dinner, and then we watched the sunset over the Gulf. She seems to be putting up with me fine so far--

My Marxism class is filling nicely. Actually, a little too well. I was hoping to have 20-25, not 40! I guess that's what happens when you rock as much as I do: everyone wants to take your class. But, at least I'm guaranteed a job this summer.

I've made some decisions about people (in general, not specific ones), which I will explain at a later date.

Wish me luck--see you in another week!

It's about crunch time for me, as the semester is winding down. I will most likely not post as frequently, and I will not be answering my phone as much. See you on the other side!

Happy Easter everyone--or 'Secular Humanist Bunny Day,' as the case may be. I just got back from a glorious weekend of sun and fun in Sarasota, also known as bourgeois hell: a city almost entirely occupied by rich, old people. And, contrary to my paranoia, the car made it round-trip.

I spent most of Saturday with Michele, who always puts a smile on my face. It's impossible to be upset around her: she's got a bubbly energy that is literally contagious. We spent most of Saturday chillin' at the beach, lounging around in the sun. I think I actually got some color on my pallid Scotch-Irish skin.

Saturday night and Sunday I spent with my father. My Easter basket included coffee and hot sauce (do they know me, or what?). I got to see his new house and we had a fun Easter lunch together. He's getting much more equivocal in his old age, barely a remnant of the depressed and violent man I knew growing up. I told him, for instance, that I'd be teaching Marxism this summer and barely a comment was made.

It was the first time in months I got the hell outta Dodge, and it was a really good feeling. I spent a lot of time traveling up around the Northeast when I lived up there--weekend trips here or there. And, I usually travelled alone. It was the guarantee of some time by myself to put my thoughts in order, and to just feel the road. White line fever. It's a very relaxing (almost, dare I say--'zen').

I had a blast, although before bed last night I had a weird sensation. Usually when I travel, I check in with someone. "Yeah, I got here alright." "Guess what happened?" etc. But, realizing that no such call needed to be made, I found myself staring at the stars (which you can see much better than in Tampa) and actually missing the feeling of missing someone. But, at the same time there is a freedom, a release in this. And I knew that despite the fact that I had nobody to miss (and also for the first time in a while: nobody to cheat on me while I was gone, like on the NY trip or on the Cocoa trip) it didn't really bother me. I realized that I was there spending time with people who missed me. And that was a feeling I haven't had in a very long time.

I'm going to take a few more weekend trips this summer. My father bought a boat, which I have at my disposal also. But, perhaps I'll take someone else with me next time--roadtrip, anyone?

Some people just see the things they want to see, and will accept nothing you say or do that differs from the intended image--as if they understood me more clearly than I myself do. I don't know how many times and how many ways I'm expected to say the same damn thing. Nor do I understand how others see clear to tell me that I'm wrong about what I think and feel, but yet somehow they know the truth about me. I know that your trust has been abused before, but if you choose to trust a little bit, then you might be pleasantly surprised. But if one is too scared of trusting and opening up that one cannot take a chance--and sabotage things before they even begin--then nothing good will ever come.

I'm not waiting by the phone, but I think it would be cool if you realized your error and called. If not, your loss.

I'm sorry, but I don't like being called a liar.

" . . . hate between human beings comes from our cutting ourselves off from each other. Because we don't want anyone else to see inside us, since it's not a pretty sight in there."

-Wittgenstein (CV 46)

>> 4/8/2006 7:11:09 PM thebunnysuicides wrote:
>> Sorry about all the bitchiness.

>> 4/8/2006 7:11:21 PM philotom wrote:
>> wow. Ok

>> 4/8/2006 7:11:27 PM thebunnysuicides wrote:
>> I have to hate you to keep from getting confused about Nathan

>> 4/8/2006 7:11:35 PM thebunnysuicides wrote:
>> All those feelings onside me

>> 4/8/2006 7:11:43 PM thebunnysuicides wrote:
>> I couldn't take it

>> 4/8/2006 7:11:55 PM thebunnysuicides wrote:
>> I had to shut down the whole operation

>> 4/8/2006 7:12:05 PM philotom wrote:
>> whole operation?

>> 4/8/2006 7:12:08 PM thebunnysuicides wrote:
>> I guess I can't just like you or whatever

>> 4/8/2006 7:12:27 PM philotom wrote:
>> bummer

>> 4/8/2006 7:12:29 PM thebunnysuicides wrote:
>> I couldn't feel anytrhing positive about you or else it began to fuck up my head

>> 4/8/2006 7:12:35 PM philotom wrote:
>> I'd like to think i'm likeable

>> 4/8/2006 7:12:39 PM thebunnysuicides wrote:
>> Shut up

>> 4/8/2006 7:12:48 PM thebunnysuicides wrote:
>> you know what I mean :-)

>> 4/8/2006 7:13:03 PM philotom wrote:
>> I notice the presence of past-tense verbs in here

>> 4/8/2006 7:13:26 PM philotom wrote:
>> does that mean you don't currently hate me?

>> 4/8/2006 7:13:34 PM thebunnysuicides wrote:
>> Don't read too much into it. I'm not that bright, 'member.

>> 4/8/2006 7:13:59 PM philotom wrote:
>> so you do still hate me. But, it's ok, cuz its a choice, right?

>> 4/8/2006 7:13:59 PM thebunnysuicides wrote:
>> All I'm saying is that if I'm evil to you it's because I'm trying to keep my feeling for you in check

>> 4/8/2006 7:14:29 PM philotom wrote:
>> ok

>> 4/8/2006 7:14:34 PM philotom wrote:
>> sure

>> 4/8/2006 7:14:46 PM thebunnysuicides wrote:
>> I dont hate you. I'm just maximizing my anger and resentment to keep my mind off of you.

>> 4/8/2006 7:16:49 PM philotom wrote:
>> whatever floats your boat

>> 4/8/2006 7:18:10 PM philotom wrote:
>> when you're done playing these games, give me a call.

Madball was killer last night. A lot of their set was new material, and I don't know the new stuff so well, but they did play "Demonstrating My Style," "5-0" and (of course) "Set it Off!"

Zao dropped of the bill a few weeks ago, since the singer broke his hand. So, they played with three young, lesser known bands (Remembering Never, Scarlet and The Banner). I didn't really like any of them so much. The Banner was cool--heavy with lots of additide--but a bit sloppy, and the changes were a bit confusing. Scarlet sounded kinda like they were going for something like Isis but with the emo thing mixed in. I think they are what the kids are calling "screamo." (Correct me if i'm wrong, I don't listen to much of anything recorded after 1994). And, I didn't much care for the headliner: Remembering Never. Sloppy, and kinda confused; and yet somehow too cerebral. The singer spent more time explaining what each song means than the song lasted. At my complaints to that effect, Phil quipped "That's what you get when you have a message."

"What?" you say? "The Headliner? But, Madball was founded in 1988, and they are playing under a bunch of kids?" That's right . . . Madball's not about the spotlight; they prove themselves on stage. And last night they did just that. But, I digress.

There were gaggles of emo kids there, dripping with piercings and hair products. They were all there for the support acts, and it was irritating just being around them. Castle Phil and Chris, a guy I knew from the Mug, were up there and we ended up chatting for a bit. But since I was there by myself (I think this is the first time since I moved to Tampa that I've gone to a show alone), I ended up people-watching most of the time. Overheard in NY? Screw that: Overheard at a neo-hardcore show! That could be its own website.

An emo kid, explaining to another: "Madball? They're kinda like Sick of it All, only older."

Emo Girl: "You heard of Agnostic Front?"
Emo Guy: "No. Are they hardcore?"

And my personal favorite is when the signer of The Banner asked a kid in the front row, who had been singing along with every word, what he wanted the band to play:

Singer: What do you want to hear?"
Kid: "You already played it"
Singer: "Pick something else."
Kid . . .
Singer . . .
Kid . . .
Singer: "OK, we'll come back to you."

Fun night. Hardcore pride, indeed!

I got mine!

Set it off! . . .

"I'm 23. Remember how old 23 seemed when you were little? I thought people would be traveling
in air locks and I'd have five kids. Here I am, 23. Things are . . . they're basically the same. I think time's running out to do something bizarre. Somewhere around 25 bizarre becomes immature."

I guess I'm about that age where things start mattering. Things get serious and complicated. I've been invited to three weddings in the next month. They are pretty evenly distrubuted: one a friend from high school, another from college, and a third from grad school. I'm only going to the one in town, because the other two are right at the end of my semester, my busy time.

Everyone's up and getting married. All my friends are realizing that it's time. They are hanging up their singleness, and resigning to the traditional manifestation of what adulthood should be. Marriage, house, fence, dog, 2.2 kids (Billy, Sarah, and a set of arms)--the whole kit and caboodle.

Now, I've got some issues with marriage, so I doubt I'd take the plunge with my comrades. I've always been of the opinion that one should not get married before 30, because you really don't know what you want. Hell, I still don't think I completely know (evidence can be cited from this last sham of a relationship). But I can't help feeling the icy stare of 30, hardening my soul. And this whole 'depths of love to bitter hatred in one year flat' thing is getting kinda fucking old.

Just some ruminations on the flipping of another digit on the old odometer.

VH1 Classic (which, by the way is the best channel ever conceived) is doing an A to Z of 80's videos. All day long. They just finshed the H's and on to the I's (Billy Idol: White Wedding). It's like getting a birthday present from Viacom. Guess what I'm gonna watch all day while I'm grading?

"A man will be imprisioned in a room with a door that's unlocked and open inwards; as long as it does not occur to him to pull rather than push it."

-Wittgenstein (CV 42)

I'm sick. And I don't mean the drowning kittens kinda sick, but rather the sore throat, runny nose kinda sick. I taught this morning and came home to sleep.

The past few days have been hectic. Grading, reading, and very little progress writing. I need to step back, reload and have at it from a different angle, methinks.

I hope the muffin thing is resolved, but I won't know for sure for two weeks.

The new episodes of Oz came on the HBO On Demand two days ago, and I've already watched them all.

I love the torrents available on this one site, but seeding sucks because there's so little traffic in NYHC.

Madball next week. I'll be there. If you're not, I may consider whether I want to know you.

I'm getting some more ink soon. Got the itch. I will consider it an un-birthday present.

Bought a copy of Singles on ebay. It never arrived. Now if I want to watch a dysfunctional twentysomethings movie I only have Swingers or Reality Bites.

I'm using Willis' book this summer.

I wonder what happened to these being trumped-up charges and his absolute innocence?

Aside from the joy that I get from watching one of the most politically backwards members of Congress resign in disgrace, another perk is a high profile Tom biting the proverbial dust--thus I climb up one more ring on the "Best Toms Ever" list.

Watch out Selleck: you're next!