OK, now that the birthday stuff is out of the way, here's one of those rambling posts. Brought to you by Coca-Cola and pretzels.
First, wake the neighbors and phone the kids, and let there be drunkenness, fornication, and revelry everywhere because commenter per excellence Shawn Fumo now has a blog! There is hope for this wild, wanton world after all.
Belated thanks for the kind words, Sean Collins! Hopefully, you're not just softening me up for when you tear into me over "Heroes" and Velvet Goldmine...
After going 10-4 in week 3 of the NFL season, I'm now 30-15, not too shabby. Lest I get overconfident, I've got to keep in mind that I'm not considering the spread, which as any gambler can tell you is the real test of a prognosticator. I had a hunch that Arizona might be tough for Green Bay in that desert heat, but I wasn't brave enough to pick that way. The loss by San Francisco made me happy on a personal level, 'cause I despise the Niners, and I honestly thought Cincinnati had a shot against banged-up Pittsburgh. And my Falcons. Oh, Atlanta. Little Feat reference there, snicker-snicker. It's pretty obvious that they have deep problems, and unless they find some confidence and fire somewhere it won't matter if Mike Vick comes back or not. Dan Reeves' conservative play calling is, as always, a problem. Reeves coaches like a man who forgot to take his Zocor. I realize that they've had a lot of success with Reeves, but there have been times when I wished they had someone in charge down there that had a better grasp of the modern NFL game. And all the people that were wondering what was "wrong" with Tampa Bay, good God, people, Carolina has a great defense! Were you even watching that game? They're gonna shut a lot of people down, Atlanta included in a week or so, and Tampa's offense isn't all that potent to begin with! There was nothing "wrong" with the Bucs that a trip to Atlanta couldn't cure. Underacheiving offensively, and overmatched defensively, I'm beginning to regret my 9-7 prediction for my hapless Birds.
And o bitter disappointment, but absolutely no surprise, my White Sox completely rolled over and spread 'em for the Minnesota Twins and blew their shot at the playoffs. It's my curse, I suppose, to root for teams with emotionless skippers. Charlie Manuel, who (if there's a God) will surely get canned at the end of this season, had his charges sleepwalking through what should have been the stretch of their baseball lives. You'd look at the opposing bench for both the Twins and the Royals, and the players would be alive, cheering, yelling- look over at the Sox's dugout and everyone would be sitting around, looking out into space or staring at the floor. Only Frank Thomas showed any life at all. Carl Everett looked a little fired up occasionally as well. Sad.
Looking at the new Diamond shipping list, I see where I'll be getting the following:
CATWOMAN #23
FABLES: THE LAST CASTLE
HELLBLAZER #188
JLA #87
LEGION #24
PROMETHEA #27
STRANGERS IN PARADISE VOL III #60
It wouldn't be a bad week, cost-wise, if not for that Fables one-shot which clocks in at $5.95. And didn't I say I was gonna drop Strangers? Can't...stop...buying... Oh well, also looking forward to the finale of the best JLA arc in a while, and best of all, a new Promethea!
Music today, so far: Neil Young- Tonight's the Night (I can't think of very many lovelier songs than "Albequerque" and "Borrowed Tune"); Harry Nilsson-Duit on Mon Dei (original title: God's Greatest Hits, which a horrified RCA immediately nixed), Jethro Tull-Living in the Past (I've had "Boureé" in my head most of the morning), Latin Playboys (love "Rudy's Party"), and No More Sad Refrains- The Best of Sandy Denny.
