This morning, like all mornings this week, I was pondering how to steal the Chick-fil-a cows that are on a billboard near my apartment. As I wrote on Monday, this is my new obsession, and each time I drive by, I become more and more convinced that those cows could be mine. I even know where I would put them in my apartment (in the bedroom; maybe in the kitchen when I cook beef).
Then, a vehicle changed lanes, entering mine. It was a police van, and painted on the back were these words: "Stay Back - Prisoner Transport." I took this as a sign from God that I need to stop thinking about how to steal the Chick-fil-a cows.
The rest of my commute was very scary! After being ordered from God to stop thinking about cows, I was forced to think about just what kind of criminal(s) might be in the van ahead. It turns out I have an overactive imagination when it comes to awful criminals and I arrived at work very frightened and worked up. I will not think of those cows anymore, because I don't want God to have to send me any more scary signs.
But I just have to say, I wish I ran a prison of bad spellers. Then I could drive a prison transport van and arrest those cows. I'm just saying.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Book #4: The Post-Birthday World
I just finished up “The Post-Birthday World” by Lionel Shriver. This book caught my eye when Entertainment Weekly named it the #1 novel of 2007, and, as I think I have mentioned before, I tend to pay attention when Entertainment Weekly makes declarations like that. The book is about a children’s book illustrator named Irina McGovern, who’s been in a long-term relationship with a boring but stable nerd named Lawrence. They have a friend named Ramsey Acton, who’s a dashing, handsome, rich snooker player (the book takes place in London, which left me thinking “shite” in my head the whole time I was reading it). One night, alone with Ramsey, Irina realizes that for the first time in her life, she wants to kiss a man that she’s not in a relationship with.
From that moment on, the chapters in this book alternate, with one set following what happens if Irina does kiss Ramsey, and the other half following what happens if she resists the urge. It’s a very clever concept, as you see the same events (for example, a trip to Irina’s mother’s home for Christmas) from both points of view. You see both the benefits and consequences of each choice, and there are neat little echoes from one parallel life to the other. In some ways, it seems, the decision doesn’t matter, and in other ways, it makes all the difference in the world which man Irina chooses.
This is the kind of book that if you had to read it for a college lit class, it would practically hit you over the head with essay topics. For example – in each of her lives, Irina writes a children’s book. One tells two stories diverging from a single decision, and the other features an ambiguous ending—so meta! But the only thing about this book is, I didn’t read it for a college lit class. I kinda wanted to be entertained by each alternate life, and to root for one guy over the other. Based on some things I read on the internet, I thought this would be somewhat light reading, despite the fact that it’s about such a life-altering decision. And it most definitely is not. I guess that makes it more grown-up and realistic, but it was extremely depressing to cringe along as lives are ruined and as expectations are dashed. Surely I’m not giving anything away to say that both good and bad things happen in each of Irina’s parallel lives, but there are definitely times (by which I mean hundreds of pages) when it seems more bad things happen than good. In the end, I was pretty frustrated that she only had two choices. But such is life, I suppose.
From that moment on, the chapters in this book alternate, with one set following what happens if Irina does kiss Ramsey, and the other half following what happens if she resists the urge. It’s a very clever concept, as you see the same events (for example, a trip to Irina’s mother’s home for Christmas) from both points of view. You see both the benefits and consequences of each choice, and there are neat little echoes from one parallel life to the other. In some ways, it seems, the decision doesn’t matter, and in other ways, it makes all the difference in the world which man Irina chooses.
This is the kind of book that if you had to read it for a college lit class, it would practically hit you over the head with essay topics. For example – in each of her lives, Irina writes a children’s book. One tells two stories diverging from a single decision, and the other features an ambiguous ending—so meta! But the only thing about this book is, I didn’t read it for a college lit class. I kinda wanted to be entertained by each alternate life, and to root for one guy over the other. Based on some things I read on the internet, I thought this would be somewhat light reading, despite the fact that it’s about such a life-altering decision. And it most definitely is not. I guess that makes it more grown-up and realistic, but it was extremely depressing to cringe along as lives are ruined and as expectations are dashed. Surely I’m not giving anything away to say that both good and bad things happen in each of Irina’s parallel lives, but there are definitely times (by which I mean hundreds of pages) when it seems more bad things happen than good. In the end, I was pretty frustrated that she only had two choices. But such is life, I suppose.
Monday, March 23, 2009
Monday morning so far
There's a new billboard up on the road I take to work. It's for Chick-fil-a, and instead of just having pictures of cows painting out their horribly spelled words, it has three-dimensional cows. When I see this billboard, I am consumed by just one thought for the duration of my commute:
I WANT TO STEAL THOSE COWS.
Now, I have seen these three-dimensional cows on Chick-fil-a billboards before, but never have the cows been such low-hanging fruit. And I mean that quite literally…the billboard seems lower to the ground than other billboards, and I think that I could make those cows mine, depending of course on what kind of adhesive is used to keep them up there.
MUST HAVE COWS.
In other Monday morning news, I rode the elevator up with this lady who was on her cell phone. She said "holy manoley!" in response to something on her call, and it really irked me. She was just trying too hard. However, it gave me the idea for a new phrase that is infinitely more adorable: "holy cannoli!" Look for me to drop this gem into conversation as much as possible.
I WANT TO STEAL THOSE COWS.
Now, I have seen these three-dimensional cows on Chick-fil-a billboards before, but never have the cows been such low-hanging fruit. And I mean that quite literally…the billboard seems lower to the ground than other billboards, and I think that I could make those cows mine, depending of course on what kind of adhesive is used to keep them up there.
MUST HAVE COWS.
In other Monday morning news, I rode the elevator up with this lady who was on her cell phone. She said "holy manoley!" in response to something on her call, and it really irked me. She was just trying too hard. However, it gave me the idea for a new phrase that is infinitely more adorable: "holy cannoli!" Look for me to drop this gem into conversation as much as possible.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
this day in stream-of-consciousness
On this day in 1933, President Franklin Delano Roosevelt signed a bill into law that legalized the sale of beer and wine. As a resident of the state of Georgia, I can’t help but note with sadness that this anniversary fell on a Sunday, a day on which no one in this state can buy beer or wine, or any alcohol for that matter.
Well, I should amend that to say that you could drive to a restaurant, have as many beers as you want, and then drive home drunk, but you couldn’t drive to the grocery store, pick up some beer, and make the return drive perfectly sober to enjoy the beer in the comfort and safety of your own home. That is just not allowed.
To mark the passing of this day, I opened up a beer right at the time I started composing this entry (8:08 p.m.). I intend to type about whatever pleases me until the beer is gone. I have nothing else to say, really, about the stupidity of the Georgia no-Sunday sales situation, except to note that I was reading an article earlier today about how Georgia has some of the worst smoking ban laws in the country. So to recap, a typical Sunday here would be driving to a bar, inhaling a lot of smoke and booze, then driving home with carcinogens in your system and alcohol in your bloodstream. I guess there’s a joke in there about how living in Georgia fosters death wishes in people, but I’m too tired to think of it.
The main thing that bothers me about the Sunday rules is that I tend to do my weekly grocery store shopping on Sundays. Or, well, I used to. Now there’s no point, because you’ll have to make a separate trip back to get the wine and beer, so you might as well just move the shopping to another day, even though that totally messes up your schedule but we wouldn’t want to offend God by buying beer on Sunday.
The beer I am drinking is a Yuengling, by the way. I feel there have been lots of references to alcohol on the blog lately, but have no fear. I am not a lush. It’s just that it’s that perfect time of year for sitting out on the patio and having chardonnay. Except for the damn bees. The bees came back today. I have a balcony, and there are some bees that love to eat the wood that makes up said balcony. The bees are dumb, and frequently they fly into the glass sliding door that leads to the balcony. I could hear them from my bedroom this morning, when I was waking up. I could hear the thwack of bee against glass, and I knew those bees were back. Soon everything will be covered with pollen, and when it rains there will be streams of yellow water making their way down the road.
I just spent some time on Wikipedia, and though Wikipedia claims that Kansas has some of the strictest alcohol laws in the country, that state has allowed Sunday sales in some locations since 2005. Even in Massachusetts, where the Puritans live, they’re okay with Sunday sales now. I really can’t find another state that has laws as strict as these….I would settle for no sales until after 12 p.m. Earlier this year, with the economy so bad, there was a bill to permit Sunday sales, with the thought that people needed as many opportunities to earn money as possible (or that people were so down in the dumps that they needed to be able to get trashed on a Sunday), but that was killed by, as I understand it, religious children coming in front of the legislature to plead God’s case. It just seems like God might have more important things to worry about.
The no sales on Sunday thing is probably the worst thing about living in Georgia. It’s even worse than being a liberal in a red state. But though I have rambled on for several hundred words about the situation, I don’t want it to seem like this problem defines my life. Sometimes it makes me sad, but I never need a drink so bad that I am saddened by the roped-off beer aisle at the grocery store. I think if this is the worst problem I have to deal with, then my state is probably okay.
But then, I might be feeling lovey-dovey since I just killed three-quarters of a beer on an empty stomach. Speaking of which, after I finish this entry I’m going to have dinner, which is some Indian food. Trader Joe’s makes theses lovely boxes of things like Punjab eggplant, and if you put it over some rice, it is just wonderful. I will probably have orange juice with dinner, though, since this was my last beer, and in case I haven’t made this clear enough, I can’t buy anymore until tomorrow. On that note, it’s 8:32 and I have finished the beer. Cheers to FDR for doing the best he could on this day in history.
Well, I should amend that to say that you could drive to a restaurant, have as many beers as you want, and then drive home drunk, but you couldn’t drive to the grocery store, pick up some beer, and make the return drive perfectly sober to enjoy the beer in the comfort and safety of your own home. That is just not allowed.
To mark the passing of this day, I opened up a beer right at the time I started composing this entry (8:08 p.m.). I intend to type about whatever pleases me until the beer is gone. I have nothing else to say, really, about the stupidity of the Georgia no-Sunday sales situation, except to note that I was reading an article earlier today about how Georgia has some of the worst smoking ban laws in the country. So to recap, a typical Sunday here would be driving to a bar, inhaling a lot of smoke and booze, then driving home with carcinogens in your system and alcohol in your bloodstream. I guess there’s a joke in there about how living in Georgia fosters death wishes in people, but I’m too tired to think of it.
The main thing that bothers me about the Sunday rules is that I tend to do my weekly grocery store shopping on Sundays. Or, well, I used to. Now there’s no point, because you’ll have to make a separate trip back to get the wine and beer, so you might as well just move the shopping to another day, even though that totally messes up your schedule but we wouldn’t want to offend God by buying beer on Sunday.
The beer I am drinking is a Yuengling, by the way. I feel there have been lots of references to alcohol on the blog lately, but have no fear. I am not a lush. It’s just that it’s that perfect time of year for sitting out on the patio and having chardonnay. Except for the damn bees. The bees came back today. I have a balcony, and there are some bees that love to eat the wood that makes up said balcony. The bees are dumb, and frequently they fly into the glass sliding door that leads to the balcony. I could hear them from my bedroom this morning, when I was waking up. I could hear the thwack of bee against glass, and I knew those bees were back. Soon everything will be covered with pollen, and when it rains there will be streams of yellow water making their way down the road.
I just spent some time on Wikipedia, and though Wikipedia claims that Kansas has some of the strictest alcohol laws in the country, that state has allowed Sunday sales in some locations since 2005. Even in Massachusetts, where the Puritans live, they’re okay with Sunday sales now. I really can’t find another state that has laws as strict as these….I would settle for no sales until after 12 p.m. Earlier this year, with the economy so bad, there was a bill to permit Sunday sales, with the thought that people needed as many opportunities to earn money as possible (or that people were so down in the dumps that they needed to be able to get trashed on a Sunday), but that was killed by, as I understand it, religious children coming in front of the legislature to plead God’s case. It just seems like God might have more important things to worry about.
The no sales on Sunday thing is probably the worst thing about living in Georgia. It’s even worse than being a liberal in a red state. But though I have rambled on for several hundred words about the situation, I don’t want it to seem like this problem defines my life. Sometimes it makes me sad, but I never need a drink so bad that I am saddened by the roped-off beer aisle at the grocery store. I think if this is the worst problem I have to deal with, then my state is probably okay.
But then, I might be feeling lovey-dovey since I just killed three-quarters of a beer on an empty stomach. Speaking of which, after I finish this entry I’m going to have dinner, which is some Indian food. Trader Joe’s makes theses lovely boxes of things like Punjab eggplant, and if you put it over some rice, it is just wonderful. I will probably have orange juice with dinner, though, since this was my last beer, and in case I haven’t made this clear enough, I can’t buy anymore until tomorrow. On that note, it’s 8:32 and I have finished the beer. Cheers to FDR for doing the best he could on this day in history.
Friday, March 20, 2009
an atlanta institution
This blog is about Coca-Cola. Writing this blog has been on my to-do list for awhile, because it contains the details of something that happened over a month ago -- my visit to the World of Coke museum in Atlanta, GA with a houseguest who was in town for a week. But it kept getting pushed to the side, first for all the cruise blogs, and then because writing about soda during the first few days of Lent, a time in which I had given up soda yet wanted one very very badly, seemed too hard. But now, with less than a month to go before Easter, I don't really miss soda that much anymore! So this seems like a safe topic to cover now.
Unfortunately, I don't have a ton to say on this long-awaited entry about the World of Coke museum. I think I came to the conclusion that the museum is sort of like Coke itself, in that it has a lot of bubbles at the time, but is kinda forgettable later.
When I was growing up, we all went to the Coke museum in its old location, which I remember being a lot more cool, but then I was younger and probably more easily impressionable. When I went to the museum that time, I got laughed at by some Asians who told me I was drinking the "poo-poo drink" of their country. The old museum also had these cool fountains that sprayed your Diet Coke or Sprite up into the air before depositing it in your cup.
The museum was moved though from those golden oldie days, and this was my first trip to the new location. The highlight is still getting to try different Cokes from around the world, though they got rid of the fountains that sprayed drinks in the air. From the experience, I learned that I never really want to go to Africa. Or if I do go to Africa, I don't want to drink Cokes there. None of the other continents had Coke that stood out as offensively to me as the African ones did, but then, none of them really grabbed me in their awesomeness either.
My houseguest wanted pictures taken of his reaction to every single beverage he tried, but I just wanted pictures of myself with giant objects, preferably inanimate. To wit:
I consider it a feat of strength that I wrote this entry during Lent without succumbing to the power of soda. But I shall always have a weakness for giant bears and funny statues.
Unfortunately, I don't have a ton to say on this long-awaited entry about the World of Coke museum. I think I came to the conclusion that the museum is sort of like Coke itself, in that it has a lot of bubbles at the time, but is kinda forgettable later.
When I was growing up, we all went to the Coke museum in its old location, which I remember being a lot more cool, but then I was younger and probably more easily impressionable. When I went to the museum that time, I got laughed at by some Asians who told me I was drinking the "poo-poo drink" of their country. The old museum also had these cool fountains that sprayed your Diet Coke or Sprite up into the air before depositing it in your cup.
The museum was moved though from those golden oldie days, and this was my first trip to the new location. The highlight is still getting to try different Cokes from around the world, though they got rid of the fountains that sprayed drinks in the air. From the experience, I learned that I never really want to go to Africa. Or if I do go to Africa, I don't want to drink Cokes there. None of the other continents had Coke that stood out as offensively to me as the African ones did, but then, none of them really grabbed me in their awesomeness either.
My houseguest wanted pictures taken of his reaction to every single beverage he tried, but I just wanted pictures of myself with giant objects, preferably inanimate. To wit:
I consider it a feat of strength that I wrote this entry during Lent without succumbing to the power of soda. But I shall always have a weakness for giant bears and funny statues.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
some cat correspondence
Remember when I posted the absolutely adorable picture of my dad’s fourth child…I mean, my dad’s cat eating a Skinny Cow ice cream sandwich? No? Well, then you should go here and scroll to the bottom to review one of my favorite pictures of all-time: http://iwiggleitjustalittlebit.blogspot.com/2008/12/fiery-tempered-king.html
I guess Barack Obama reads my blog, and he found a Skinny Cow coupon in his Shape magazine a few weeks ago, and he mailed it to Tiki in a card that had dogs sitting in front of the White House. This is the letter he enclosed:
Dear Tiki,
You may have read in the press that I am looking for a new dog for the White House. A few options are indeed on the front of this card. However, I don't want the cats of our great country to think that I am forgetting about them. For we are not just red states or blue states, not just cat lovers or dog lovers, we are the United States and we embrace all pets. Even those that belong to men who voted for John McCain.
Tiki, perhaps you have been watching the news and have been wondering just how my economic plan will benefit you. Well, for cats like you, I have included a Skinny Cow stimulus. If you love Skinny Cows, then I am bailing you out! Enclosed please find a coupon for a delicious Skinny Cow treat. Yes we can…enjoy ice cream!
Also, Tiki, I hope you will remember in these hard times to be nice to all siblings, particularly your sister Molly. To truly move forward, we need to reach across party lines and embrace those who we may not want to embrace. It is time to put away childish things and stop scratching her so much.
Tiki, for me to continue my goal of sending Skinny Cow coupons to all cats, I'll need your help. Please consider a donation of $5 to me now. You can send it to Molly.
Love from your friend,
Barack Obama
So when I was home this past weekend, Dad showed me the reply that Tiki had been working on in the meantime. She is one smart cat, I guess:
Dear Mr. President Barack Obama,
Thank you for my stimulus Skinny Cow coupon. I appreciate your attempt at a bailout, however, I think you are definitely not thinking big enough. We need a full-fledged Skinny Cow program. We need to give each American a Skinny Cow. We also need to give each person in the world a Skinny Cow. Everyone would love them. Production and jobs would increase as would sales tax receipts.
In the world people would love them too! Your poor half brother from Kenya would love them. It would lead to third world development. They would need electricity, freezers, delivery trucks..all of which we would hope they would buy from America. This would further help our economy.
People would also be so happy – there would probably be no more wars as long as each country had an adequate supply of Skinny Cows! My plan would lead to full employment and world peace.
As to the dogs, you are not being fair to cats! What about Socks? Cats are self-sufficient. Dogs need to be walked. Do you really expect Sasha and Malia to do this? Kids won’t do it. Just check with George and William. They didn’t do squat when they had a dog. Remember: Cats are cool, dogs drool.
As to Molly – she attacks me on a regular basis. She needs to be nicer to me. But in an effort to help her work through her own aggressive problem, I am enclosing a “Cats for Obama” button your campaign sent me. I backed McCain and could not wear it. You can give it to her. I will attempt to get $5.00 from her and then I’ll see about sending some money to you. The way you are spending it, the government will need it and we poor catspayers won’t have it too much longer.
Your friend and worthy opponent,
Tiki
I guess Barack Obama reads my blog, and he found a Skinny Cow coupon in his Shape magazine a few weeks ago, and he mailed it to Tiki in a card that had dogs sitting in front of the White House. This is the letter he enclosed:
Dear Tiki,
You may have read in the press that I am looking for a new dog for the White House. A few options are indeed on the front of this card. However, I don't want the cats of our great country to think that I am forgetting about them. For we are not just red states or blue states, not just cat lovers or dog lovers, we are the United States and we embrace all pets. Even those that belong to men who voted for John McCain.
Tiki, perhaps you have been watching the news and have been wondering just how my economic plan will benefit you. Well, for cats like you, I have included a Skinny Cow stimulus. If you love Skinny Cows, then I am bailing you out! Enclosed please find a coupon for a delicious Skinny Cow treat. Yes we can…enjoy ice cream!
Also, Tiki, I hope you will remember in these hard times to be nice to all siblings, particularly your sister Molly. To truly move forward, we need to reach across party lines and embrace those who we may not want to embrace. It is time to put away childish things and stop scratching her so much.
Tiki, for me to continue my goal of sending Skinny Cow coupons to all cats, I'll need your help. Please consider a donation of $5 to me now. You can send it to Molly.
Love from your friend,
Barack Obama
So when I was home this past weekend, Dad showed me the reply that Tiki had been working on in the meantime. She is one smart cat, I guess:
Dear Mr. President Barack Obama,
Thank you for my stimulus Skinny Cow coupon. I appreciate your attempt at a bailout, however, I think you are definitely not thinking big enough. We need a full-fledged Skinny Cow program. We need to give each American a Skinny Cow. We also need to give each person in the world a Skinny Cow. Everyone would love them. Production and jobs would increase as would sales tax receipts.
In the world people would love them too! Your poor half brother from Kenya would love them. It would lead to third world development. They would need electricity, freezers, delivery trucks..all of which we would hope they would buy from America. This would further help our economy.
People would also be so happy – there would probably be no more wars as long as each country had an adequate supply of Skinny Cows! My plan would lead to full employment and world peace.
As to the dogs, you are not being fair to cats! What about Socks? Cats are self-sufficient. Dogs need to be walked. Do you really expect Sasha and Malia to do this? Kids won’t do it. Just check with George and William. They didn’t do squat when they had a dog. Remember: Cats are cool, dogs drool.
As to Molly – she attacks me on a regular basis. She needs to be nicer to me. But in an effort to help her work through her own aggressive problem, I am enclosing a “Cats for Obama” button your campaign sent me. I backed McCain and could not wear it. You can give it to her. I will attempt to get $5.00 from her and then I’ll see about sending some money to you. The way you are spending it, the government will need it and we poor catspayers won’t have it too much longer.
Your friend and worthy opponent,
Tiki
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
the madness that is march
Last year, I presented an extremely successful and accurate way to complete your March Madness bracket. I’m sure that way still works, but there’s a certain fluidity in sports that really requires figuring out new methods of bracketology each year. Whatever that means. Anyways, here is the Molly-approved method of filling out your 2009 March Madness bracket:
My methodology this year is based on how fun it is to watch people fight. A shocking statement, you say? Well, what is sports but individuals and teams meeting in a form of combat? But what if, instead of thinking of these college teams as groups of individuals worthy of their own merit, we thought of them as more interesting famous people?
Here is what I mean. I took the first letter of every team as it was written on the bracket that I downloaded from ESPN. Then, I thought of a famous male (since we’re doing men’s basketball) with a last name that began with that letter. I didn’t know what famous man I was assigning to each team. Here’s how the teams shaped up.
Louisville --> John Lennon
Morehead St. --> Karl Marx
Ohio State --> Roy Orbison
Siena --> William Shakespeare
Utah --> Bill Paxton (I couldn’t think of any last names that started with U, so I went with Paxton, because Utah=Mormons and Paxton plays a Mormon. This was one of the few exceptions in which I knew what man symbolized which team)
Arizona --> Neil Armstrong
Wake Forest --> Steve Wozniak
Cleveland --> Stephen Colbert
West Virginia --> Walt Whitman
Dayton --> Charles Darwin
Kansas --> Henry Kissinger
North Dakota State --> Richard Nixon
Boston College --> Rod Blagojevich
USC --> Socrates (I couldn’t think of any last names that started with U, so I went with the “S” instead)
Michigan St. --> Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart
Robert Morris --> Joseph Ratzinger
Connecticut --> Dana Carvey
Chattanooga --> Coolio
BYU --> Beethoven
Texas A&M --> John Travolta
Purdue --> Brad Pitt
Northern Iowa --> Nero
Washington --> George Washington
Mississippi St. --> Nicolo Machiavelli
Marquette --> Monet
Utah State --> Romney (See the note about Bill Paxton)
Missouri --> Mussolini
Cornell --> George Clooney
California --> Winston Churchill
Maryland --> Moses
Memphis --> Bernie Madoff
Cal State Northridge --> Bill Cosby
Pittsburgh --> Pele
East Tennessee State -->Albert Einstein
Oklahoma State --> Barack Obama
Tennessee --> Donald Trump
Florida State --> Sigmund Freud
Wisconsin --> Bruce Willis
Xavier --> Malcolm X
Portland State --> Pablo Picasso
UCLA --> Elvis Costello (U was really really hard! Went with the next letter on this one)
VCU -->Martin Van Buren
Villanova --> Vincent Van Gogh
American --> Aesop
Texas --> Harry Truman
Minnesota --> Nelson Mandela
Duke --> Charles Dickens
Binghamton --> Napoleon Bonaparte
North Carolina --> Noah
Radford --> Ronald Reagan
LSU --> David Letterman
Butler --> Bono
Illinois --> Henrik Ibsen
Western Kentucky --> Andy Warhol
Gonzaga --> Bill Gates
Akron --> Johnny Appleseed
Arizona State --> Andre Agassi
Temple --> Leo Tolstoy
Syracuse --> Bruce Springsteen
Stephen F. Austin --> Patrick Swayze
Clemson --> Jesus Christ
Michigan --> Barry Manilow
Oklahoma --> Laurence Olivier
Morgan State --> Maharishi
Now, when I assigned famous men to each letter, I kept them in the order that the teams were placed on the bracket. Then, I filled out my bracket based on what would happen if the two men fought. This was not just a matter of randomly picking names, guys. This involved laying on my floor and very clearly imagining a physical fight between the two contenders.
Here’s how Round One went.
In the Midwest division, Marx trumps Lennon cause Lennon won’t fight as a pacifist. Shakespeare trumps Orbison because while Shakespeare is a little effeminate, at least he’s not blind. Neil Armstrong easily takes Bill Paxton while Colbert defeats Wozniak in a close contest. Darwin takes Walt Whitman by beating Whitman with a turtle. In one of the strangest Round One match-ups, Nixon takes Kissinger. Socrates beats Blagojevich though it’s a very close contest, as Blago never answers a question straight and that pisses the hell out of Socrates. Last, Joseph Ratziner, the man known now as Pope Benedict, takes Mozart because Mozart is weird. You’ve seen Amadeus, right?
In the West, we have two past-their-prime stars dueling, but Coolio is able to pull it out over Dana Carvey, who is too busy doing impressions from the early 1990’s to put up an adequate fight against Coolio’s Fantastic Voyage to victory. Beethoven takes Travolta because he’s not bogged down by the “religion” that starts with the letter S that is known as being very litigious. Nero plays his fiddle around Brad Pitt for the win, while in a very close match, George Washington’s brute strength outtakes Machiavelli’s cunning. It also helps that Machiavelli only sent mercenaries to do the job. Tsk tsk. Romney beats Monet, probably the one person he can beat. Mussolini beats the dapper Clooney, who, while being against everything Mussolini stands for, can’t stand to get hit in that beautiful face. Moses takes out Winston Churchill because of the all-powerful God Factor. Bill Cosby takes out Bernie Madoff cause Madoff is in jail.
Off to some exciting match-ups in the East! Pele has a strong kick, but Einstein knows all about the physics behind the kick and is able to pull out a win. Obama tells Trump, “you’re fired.” Bruce Willis takes out Freud who barely bothered to get up off his couch for the fight, while Malcolm X defeats Picasso. Elvis Costello is just punk enough to get past Van Buren, though the Vans have a win when Van Gogh takes out Aesop. Harry Truman, the man who dropped an atomic bomb, has an easy win over Nelson Mandela, while Bonaparte’s battlefield experience easily overpowers that pansy Charles Dickens.
In the South: Noah (of ark fame) takes out Reagan due to the God Factor (take that conservative Christians!). Bono defeats Letterman just because Letterman can’t be bothered to care. In a bizarre match-up, Warhol takes Ibsen. Bill Gates defeats Johnny Appleseed just by dropping money on him, Tolstoy defeats Agassi, and Springsteen defeats Patrick Swayze because I unfortunately imagined present-day, cancer-fighting Swayze, and not in-his-prime, ass-kicking Swayze. Next year, Swayze. In the easiest match so far, Jesus Christ beats Barry Manilow. The Maharishi takes out Laurence Olivier.
The second round doesn’t really hold any surprises, but the third round is where things start shaping up. Some highlights:
--Charles Darwin faces the Pope. The Pope loses. Critics say that if the fighting pope had been John Paul II, then maybe Darwin would have lost. This pope is just not as powerful. I take that to mean that the team represented by Ratzinger (Robert Morris) was probably better in other years.
--God’s right hand men fare better elsewhere, such as in the west where Moses defeats fascism by taking out Mussolini.
--Bono faces his African aid relief partner when he faces off against Bill Gates. Bono wins, because he has the cooler glasses and the power of rock and roll.
Those highlights lay the groundwork for the Elite Eight. In which:
--Colbert finally admits defeat to Darwin.
--Washington cedes to Moses (God factor)
--Bruce Willis takes out Bonaparte in a very hard-fought match, but as it turns out, Bruce Willis really does die hard.
--Two men with Messiah complexes meet when Bono faces Christ in the South. Obviously, Christ wins, but the crowd could just not believe the symbolism.
To take a step back, Darwin, Moses, Willis and Christ are going to the final four. Those real life teams are: Dayton, Maryland, Wisconsin and Clemson. Sure, that may be a far cry from what all the statisticians are telling you….but did they consider what would happen if men with last names beginning with the same letter as the team fought in my imagination? Of course they didn’t.
In the final four, Darwin defeats Moses cause Moses is soooooooo old testament. Christ defeats Willis. That means the big game will be between Darwin and Christ. I know, my mind is blown too! I can’t even decide who wins…..evolution or the bible. So, I won’t tell you. Decide for yourself and fill out your brackets accordingly. You can thank me when either Dayton or Clemson win the whole tournament. Cause I guarantee you’ll be the only person who picked those teams.
My methodology this year is based on how fun it is to watch people fight. A shocking statement, you say? Well, what is sports but individuals and teams meeting in a form of combat? But what if, instead of thinking of these college teams as groups of individuals worthy of their own merit, we thought of them as more interesting famous people?
Here is what I mean. I took the first letter of every team as it was written on the bracket that I downloaded from ESPN. Then, I thought of a famous male (since we’re doing men’s basketball) with a last name that began with that letter. I didn’t know what famous man I was assigning to each team. Here’s how the teams shaped up.
Louisville --> John Lennon
Morehead St. --> Karl Marx
Ohio State --> Roy Orbison
Siena --> William Shakespeare
Utah --> Bill Paxton (I couldn’t think of any last names that started with U, so I went with Paxton, because Utah=Mormons and Paxton plays a Mormon. This was one of the few exceptions in which I knew what man symbolized which team)
Arizona --> Neil Armstrong
Wake Forest --> Steve Wozniak
Cleveland --> Stephen Colbert
West Virginia --> Walt Whitman
Dayton --> Charles Darwin
Kansas --> Henry Kissinger
North Dakota State --> Richard Nixon
Boston College --> Rod Blagojevich
USC --> Socrates (I couldn’t think of any last names that started with U, so I went with the “S” instead)
Michigan St. --> Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart
Robert Morris --> Joseph Ratzinger
Connecticut --> Dana Carvey
Chattanooga --> Coolio
BYU --> Beethoven
Texas A&M --> John Travolta
Purdue --> Brad Pitt
Northern Iowa --> Nero
Washington --> George Washington
Mississippi St. --> Nicolo Machiavelli
Marquette --> Monet
Utah State --> Romney (See the note about Bill Paxton)
Missouri --> Mussolini
Cornell --> George Clooney
California --> Winston Churchill
Maryland --> Moses
Memphis --> Bernie Madoff
Cal State Northridge --> Bill Cosby
Pittsburgh --> Pele
East Tennessee State -->Albert Einstein
Oklahoma State --> Barack Obama
Tennessee --> Donald Trump
Florida State --> Sigmund Freud
Wisconsin --> Bruce Willis
Xavier --> Malcolm X
Portland State --> Pablo Picasso
UCLA --> Elvis Costello (U was really really hard! Went with the next letter on this one)
VCU -->Martin Van Buren
Villanova --> Vincent Van Gogh
American --> Aesop
Texas --> Harry Truman
Minnesota --> Nelson Mandela
Duke --> Charles Dickens
Binghamton --> Napoleon Bonaparte
North Carolina --> Noah
Radford --> Ronald Reagan
LSU --> David Letterman
Butler --> Bono
Illinois --> Henrik Ibsen
Western Kentucky --> Andy Warhol
Gonzaga --> Bill Gates
Akron --> Johnny Appleseed
Arizona State --> Andre Agassi
Temple --> Leo Tolstoy
Syracuse --> Bruce Springsteen
Stephen F. Austin --> Patrick Swayze
Clemson --> Jesus Christ
Michigan --> Barry Manilow
Oklahoma --> Laurence Olivier
Morgan State --> Maharishi
Now, when I assigned famous men to each letter, I kept them in the order that the teams were placed on the bracket. Then, I filled out my bracket based on what would happen if the two men fought. This was not just a matter of randomly picking names, guys. This involved laying on my floor and very clearly imagining a physical fight between the two contenders.
Here’s how Round One went.
In the Midwest division, Marx trumps Lennon cause Lennon won’t fight as a pacifist. Shakespeare trumps Orbison because while Shakespeare is a little effeminate, at least he’s not blind. Neil Armstrong easily takes Bill Paxton while Colbert defeats Wozniak in a close contest. Darwin takes Walt Whitman by beating Whitman with a turtle. In one of the strangest Round One match-ups, Nixon takes Kissinger. Socrates beats Blagojevich though it’s a very close contest, as Blago never answers a question straight and that pisses the hell out of Socrates. Last, Joseph Ratziner, the man known now as Pope Benedict, takes Mozart because Mozart is weird. You’ve seen Amadeus, right?
In the West, we have two past-their-prime stars dueling, but Coolio is able to pull it out over Dana Carvey, who is too busy doing impressions from the early 1990’s to put up an adequate fight against Coolio’s Fantastic Voyage to victory. Beethoven takes Travolta because he’s not bogged down by the “religion” that starts with the letter S that is known as being very litigious. Nero plays his fiddle around Brad Pitt for the win, while in a very close match, George Washington’s brute strength outtakes Machiavelli’s cunning. It also helps that Machiavelli only sent mercenaries to do the job. Tsk tsk. Romney beats Monet, probably the one person he can beat. Mussolini beats the dapper Clooney, who, while being against everything Mussolini stands for, can’t stand to get hit in that beautiful face. Moses takes out Winston Churchill because of the all-powerful God Factor. Bill Cosby takes out Bernie Madoff cause Madoff is in jail.
Off to some exciting match-ups in the East! Pele has a strong kick, but Einstein knows all about the physics behind the kick and is able to pull out a win. Obama tells Trump, “you’re fired.” Bruce Willis takes out Freud who barely bothered to get up off his couch for the fight, while Malcolm X defeats Picasso. Elvis Costello is just punk enough to get past Van Buren, though the Vans have a win when Van Gogh takes out Aesop. Harry Truman, the man who dropped an atomic bomb, has an easy win over Nelson Mandela, while Bonaparte’s battlefield experience easily overpowers that pansy Charles Dickens.
In the South: Noah (of ark fame) takes out Reagan due to the God Factor (take that conservative Christians!). Bono defeats Letterman just because Letterman can’t be bothered to care. In a bizarre match-up, Warhol takes Ibsen. Bill Gates defeats Johnny Appleseed just by dropping money on him, Tolstoy defeats Agassi, and Springsteen defeats Patrick Swayze because I unfortunately imagined present-day, cancer-fighting Swayze, and not in-his-prime, ass-kicking Swayze. Next year, Swayze. In the easiest match so far, Jesus Christ beats Barry Manilow. The Maharishi takes out Laurence Olivier.
The second round doesn’t really hold any surprises, but the third round is where things start shaping up. Some highlights:
--Charles Darwin faces the Pope. The Pope loses. Critics say that if the fighting pope had been John Paul II, then maybe Darwin would have lost. This pope is just not as powerful. I take that to mean that the team represented by Ratzinger (Robert Morris) was probably better in other years.
--God’s right hand men fare better elsewhere, such as in the west where Moses defeats fascism by taking out Mussolini.
--Bono faces his African aid relief partner when he faces off against Bill Gates. Bono wins, because he has the cooler glasses and the power of rock and roll.
Those highlights lay the groundwork for the Elite Eight. In which:
--Colbert finally admits defeat to Darwin.
--Washington cedes to Moses (God factor)
--Bruce Willis takes out Bonaparte in a very hard-fought match, but as it turns out, Bruce Willis really does die hard.
--Two men with Messiah complexes meet when Bono faces Christ in the South. Obviously, Christ wins, but the crowd could just not believe the symbolism.
To take a step back, Darwin, Moses, Willis and Christ are going to the final four. Those real life teams are: Dayton, Maryland, Wisconsin and Clemson. Sure, that may be a far cry from what all the statisticians are telling you….but did they consider what would happen if men with last names beginning with the same letter as the team fought in my imagination? Of course they didn’t.
In the final four, Darwin defeats Moses cause Moses is soooooooo old testament. Christ defeats Willis. That means the big game will be between Darwin and Christ. I know, my mind is blown too! I can’t even decide who wins…..evolution or the bible. So, I won’t tell you. Decide for yourself and fill out your brackets accordingly. You can thank me when either Dayton or Clemson win the whole tournament. Cause I guarantee you’ll be the only person who picked those teams.
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