Well, with the return of Flop (incidentally, frequent fellow commentor Tommy O and I were just discussing the other day that we hadn't heard from him in a while, and were hoping he had not ended up in an Eastern European prison...while simultaneously hoping he would bring back a Magyar woman looking for a green card marriage, instead of a Hungarian guide book...but alas), it appears as though my usefulness here has ended.
Anyway, thanks a lot, I had fun, and if the idea I'm kicking around to start up my own blog--which will give me an outlet to obsess over the impending minutia of Election '08, post the pale-impression-of-Digby thinkpieces I've been working on, and allow me to mock the free-to-be-eight-and-three 2006 Michigan Wolverines in peace--comes to fruition, CSB will be first on my blogroll.
It may happen, it may not. If not, I'm still taking applications for my team for the next World Series of Pop Culture. Look for me, my roommate, and a third person yet to be named (although we're considering Flop, since he and I have past televised trivia competition experience together) next year. We'll either be called "Donna Martin Graduates!" or "Little Lebowski Urban Achievers."
Until then, go Buckeyes.
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6 comments:
Your football taste is the only reason you don't get a permanent invitation. And that your signoff reads "go Buckeyes" instead of "go Commodores" reveals a philosophical clash far beyond team preferences.
Well, I don't want to even think about the poor Commodores. The post-Jay-Cutler era is going to be a particularly bleak one, even by Vanderbilt standards.
But we all have to pay some price for our youthful college football team attachments. I, myself, had to shave my beard after the recent glut of OSU-fans-with-facial-hair incidents (although it should be pointed out that I did not have just the mustache like the victim of Carl Monday).
Not all of us have to compromise our youthful college football team attachments.
I suppose not. USC fans, I suppose. But the rest of us have to pay some price. For some of us, removal of facial hair is necessary. For others, it's having to pretend that 0.5 national championships is really a title. It's always something...
Sigh. Typical, reflexive retort.
To be honest, there's nothing about that 1997 season I consider a compromise, other than having to roll my eyes and sigh every time an Ohio State fan forces a clumsy reference to a supposed half title, with all the evident pride of a seven-year-old who has learned that his big brother's barbs can be stayed by repeating 'I know you are, but what am I?" ad infinitum. Yes, yes, you're all very clever. Now why don't you say it one more time, add the qualifier 'infinity' and we can move on to something of real merit, like Andy Katzenmoyer's ministry to AIDS patients in Africa and Chris Webber's dissertation on number theory.
Now leave me alone before I board the next Acela and come down there to give you a dead-arm.
I've been trying to hold back on all this during my guest-blogging time, since, again, you just don't come in and trash the place when you're a guest in someone else's house.
Now that I'm back shouting from a street corner, though...
Prediction: Mike Hart rushes for less than 400 yards this season (since, obviously, he'll be injured)
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