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A letter from the Society of Professional Journalists, to moi:

“Dear Mr. Binks:

What is journalism to you? If it’s just a job, you can probably stop reading this letter right now…”

Oh. All right then.

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When I was shopping for a college, my Dad tried to tell me how incredibly important it is to choose a school with a good basketball program.

Of course, at 18, I knew more than he did. Why the hell should I care if my school’s basketball team is any good? I’m not going to play basketball, I’m going to be a big braniac weisenheimer and pretend to be a student activist for a few years before going to work for the school newspaper. What he couldn’t convince my mushy, short-sighted little brain of was that, by the time I was 33 years old, college basketball would indeed be very important to me.

I love college basketball. I have witnessed what happens at a school that has a good basketball team when the team wins an important game. Every thoroughfare suddenly becomes Bourbon Street. Students start bonfires, girls waggle their boobs, people scream “tarnation” and pee in the streets…oh, gods, it’s wonderful. See everything I missed out on? Where I went to school, the only thing that got students into the streets was the illegal escalation of an undeclared war. (Actually, basketball was quite instrumental in the shootings. As it turns out, when you throw some 2,000 students out of a nice, comfy bar where they’re watching an NBA playoff game into an already tense situation in the street…guess what, LeRoy? You got riots!)

Anyway, so now, Kent is 13-1 in conference standings, which means they’re likely to take the MAC championship and go on to March Madness, which is approaching shortly…(Kent is 19-5 overall)…Kent is having a good season under new coach Stan Heath. They lost to Kentucky and Youngstown State, but by golly, they beat Ball State and Miami of Ohio (vital victories to win the MAC).

So, lookie there, Dad! I DID go to a good basketball school! Just a little too early, is all.

Heh.

“Happy Presidents’ Day! Or as Al Gore would call it…Monday.”
—David Letterman

A few thoughts…

  • Who in his right mind would want to attend Boston Public? If I went to that high school, I’d like, leave.
  • Radio Flier is not a very good movie.
  • Rosie’s gay? You’re kidding! Holy cow, what’s the world come to? (Seriously, tho…more power to ya, Rosie. I can’t wait to read the book…)
  • I wish spring would come.

Late Night

It’s one of those nights (er…early mornings) where I know I don’t have to go into the office tomorrow so I can stay up as late as I want, goddamit, and so, I do. I watched “The Candidate” on AMC, damn, that’s a great movie. Now I’m surfing and looking for something to watch. I saw a commercial for some kind of hair replacement shoobie. I always laugh at that. Can’t help it. Dude, I’m going bald. I know it. It’s a mess up there. My grampa on my mom’s side was a horseshoe man by the time he was 28, I think. He was a man with a lot of integrity, and that integrity was manifested in part in the fact that the man never attempted the dreaded combover. I often tell the people I love, please, if I ever succumb to that, please, please please, unplug the life support immediately. I wrote a song once called “Drive,” and it has a good line in it: “When I get older, someday, man, I hope I lose my hair. At least, then, when I look in the mirror, I’ll know I’m there.” I think I was 24 when I wrote that. Looks like I’m getting my wish. I will admit to you that I’ve actually owned a container of Rogaine. I even kept the routine up for a few weeks. Then I realized the futility of it all and dumped it. There are some things in life that you just accept. For me, one of those things will have to be that I’m going to be a bald man.

So now I’m watching “Battlebots.” I swear, this is some of the best television ever; it was even before they got Carmen Electra. Look at these ‘Bots, beating the shit out of each other. ::laughing like Beavis:: That was cool.

Wow. Maybe I should go to sleep.

Nah.

Doug

VIRGINIA BEACH—I sat for six hours and force-fed standup comedy to my recuperating mother this evening on Comedy Central. (I know I haven’t mentioned this, I don’t want to say much about it here. I will say that she’s being one courageous lady. Power to ya, Mom, I love you.)

Anyway, the best line of the night came from Greg Proops, who referred to Canada as “an entire country named Doug.” Titter.

An Executive Decision

Today, I have come to an executive decision.

I have in the past taken a lot of pride in the fact that I design and build this Web site on my own. However, it’s coming time to make a few decisions about how I want to proceed. Soon, I will have to ante up again to responsor this domain name and this host or to decide if existing service can suit my needs better. After having experimented with the Blogger system and successfully overlapping my existing design onto a Blogger template, it’s become clear that Blogger has a LOT more to offer than my current host for this purpose. With Blogger, I can offer commenting, I can update easily, with automatic date headers?not to mention a timestamp?and I can archive instantly. It is, quite simply, the right tool for the job.

Until my hosting contract is up in May, I will have the old domain point in this general direction. Hopefully, that’s enough time for folks to bookmark, if yer interested. This move will save me a lot of cash and will at the same time make this sucker a lot more fun.

Have a nice day.

Mr. Gibson Scores Again

So like, have you ever seen your personal sound system levitate?

It’s the whackiest thing I’ve ever seen. I got Amelia Ray’s CD (Mr. Gibson Scores Again) from CD Baby, put it into my CD ROM drive, started to play it, and the harman/kardons started floating.

All right, I’m exaggerating. But only a little. This CD is good, ya’ll, and I’m not just saying that because Ms. Ray throws incredible parties and I hope to get back to San Francisco someday. This artiste spans styles and depths that few signed artists can even muster.

Geez, Amelia. How could you give me “Sam He Is,” a zippy story about a would-be messiah, and expect me not to be thankful? I’m just sorry as hell I don’t have a lighter with me right now…I know I’d be waving it over my head if I did. And Ms. Ray, are you waving over at Prince with “Iberian Girl?” This little stroll smacks a little of “Do U Lie?” and its unfortunate cousin, “Strollin’,” and frankly, it’s better than either. “Whosyerdaddy” is funky and gorgeous…”Karma” is a gorgeous heartbreaker in three…Ah, hell, it’s just perfect. Buy it here. Buy two, in case one breaks.

San Antonio

San Antonio was all right. The convention went well, except that I lost my tapes, and those are sort of vital for my coverage. Luckily, they showed up.

I had my first taste of Sam Hagar’s tequila there, Cabo Wabo. He does make a nice tequila.

No pithy observations today. Nothing new to report. Don’t forget to set your clocks back. Ciao.

Subway Ettiquette

A few brief notes for subway riders in the Washington, D.C. metro area:

  • You instantly brand yourself as a tourist if you run after the metro train yelling “Hold the door!” Holding a subway train door is not unlike trying to teach a pig to sing, except that a pig is not likely to crush your body in two and drag you in an unfortunate position down a cement tunnel. You cannot “hold the door,” folks, and that is why I am presently without a decent umbrella.
  • On a related note: When the woman says “please, stand clear of the doors,” dude, stand clear of the friggin’ doors. Do not try to beat them. Another train will be here soon. No job in the world is worth your life.
  • By the way, you look really silly running to catch the train.
  • Gentlemen, there is nothing noble about leaving that seat open for a woman, not if you’re blocking the doors in the process. If you like, you may allow the seat to remain open for the first few seconds of the trip to the next station. But past that, you’re a damned fire hazard. Sit down.
  • Get on the train as quickly as you can, please, and perhaps a little quicker. And, for Christ’s sake, don’t get on and stand there by the door. There is a whole wide world going on behind you, and right now, some folks who live in that world would like to board the train.
  • If you’re standing by the doors, you are obligated to get off the train to let people off. And for those of you waiting for the train, if I get off the train and stand in front of you, this is what I’m doing. I’m not leaving, and damn it, I’m not giving you my spot on a crowded train.
  • Speaking of waiting for the train: Let everyone get off the train before you attempt to board. Courtesy and the mechanics of human traffic flow make this the most generally accepted social standard.
  • Escalators: Stand to the right. Walk to the left. Say it with me…
  • Even those of us who have ridden Metro for years get blue-lined at Metro Center. All you can do is try not to feel too silly, get off at Arlington Cemetery (which is where you probably realized your mistake…hey, what the Hell am I doing OUTSIDE?), and to try not to feel too silly taking the escalators down and to the other side.