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(7 scrolls | spill some ink in the Library)

The Ur-mess. [02 Dec 2004|03:50pm]
My apartment is a thing of nightmares right now.

It's never clean...I'm not a tidy person by nature, and tend to allow snow drift-like piles of paper and books to build up on every available surface (in fact, I once spoke to my brother the carpenter about the possibility of building a set of apartment furniture which wouldn't have this problem, because it'd be made with no flat surfaces. He looked at me like I'd gone slightly mad, which I'm willing to concede may have been the case since the conversation took place around the time of my PhD exams, but admit it--the idea of a coffee table with a gothic vaulted-ceiling style top is kind of appealing). I've learned to live with it, and people who know me are used to hearing me say, while kicking errant papers under the couch and hastily clearing yesterday's breakfast dish from the table, "Um...come on in, but, er, excuse the...er...mess."

But in the last few days, somehow, all the separate piles and drifts have...migrated. I don't know how else to explain it. Like the bits of the bad-ass, big-eared Michael Patrick Terminator in T2, the mess in my apartment has flowed in the style of a bad quicksilver special effect, joining its edges together and forming a huge heap with no beginning or end. It is no longer the "er...mess"--it has become the UR-MESS. It's taken over the whole place--last night, I had to move a box and three shirts to get into bed, and I know I didn't wear three shirts yesterday, so where did they come from? From the depths of the UR-MESS. I half expected to wake up under a pile of living laundry composted with my students' papers.

Something has to be done. This evening, tomorrow afternoon, and possibly into the weekend, I will be girding my proverbial loins with the accoutrements of house-cleanery (proverbial, people--I expect to be girding my actual self in sweatpants and a t-shirt, if I can wrest them from the UR-MESS) and wading in to the heaps with a determined air, a loose organizational concept, and a stout rope tied around my waist and secured to the front door.

The UR-MESS and I have a date with destiny. May fortune favor the one who pays the rent.

(2 scrolls | spill some ink in the Library)

...wet boots and rain... [30 Nov 2004|11:59pm]
[ mood | busy ]
[ music | Tom Waits--November ]

Well, it looks like my new-leaf resolution to be a more consistent poster in November was pretty well blown away by the maelstrom of Thanksgiving and its attendant insanities. Perhaps I'll get back to work next month...which...starts..now.

For the moment, though, I've got some student comments to write.

(2 scrolls | spill some ink in the Library)

Why, yes, thank you, I believe I am ready for some football. [23 Nov 2004|08:02am]
[ mood | Ready for some football. ]
[ music | NPR Morning Edition ]

In the interest of keeping my football obsession under control in my journal, I've got some things I'd like to say about this year's football season, and I'll just get them all out of the way in one post.

Seriously, if you don't like American football, just keep moving. )

(spill some ink in the Library)

In which I sort of ruin the mood... [22 Nov 2004|09:02am]
Sometimes, when the weather turns around here, we get fog. Lots of fog.

Last night, a couple of days of relatively warm and damp weather suddenly shifted over to cool air, and the result was a full "cloud cover" at about four feet off the ground. It was already starting as I drove home, but as the sun went down and everything really started to get chilled, the moisture from the roads, the woods, and the reservoir across the street all combined to form thick white strands of smoke that muted sounds and made seeing more than a few feet away impossible. Fortunately, I had nowhere I needed to be, so I settled in with some tea and read for a while, then graded some student projects with a football game on. I sort of forgot about the weather, except to notice that it was getting chilly in my apartment.

Later in the night, after I'd finished working and was organizing some papers while watching Brett Favre mount yet another comeback in the Sunday Night game (he's going to retire soon, I'm almost sure of it, and I'll miss him, even though he took a Superbowl from my Pats in 1997). After the game, I passed through the kitchen and turned off the lights, and saw out of the corner of my eye something distinctly humanoid in form and glowing really brightly outside the window--which is about 15 feet off the ground.

My heart thumped once, hard--but, to my lasting credit, I didn't react as badly as I have been known to in the past upon being surprised. There wasn't anything to get excited about...I hadn't ordered an alien invasion and any guardian angel of mine wouldn't likely be trying to draw attention to itself. I looked out the window, and saw a nearly impenetrable haze of whitish fog spilled out over the entire view. I couldn't even make out the road, let alone the water across the way. The glow came from a streetlamp about 100 feet from where I was standing--I could see where the lamp was only by where the glow was brighter. The humanoid form was one of those illusions of space and distance--the lamp was shining through a couple of trees, and the branches somehow formed a human shape from the right angle. Even now, if I looked carefully, it was possible to see two of those stickmen from The Blair Witch Project. It was completely silent out (something I tend to notice after weekends spent visiting [info]hezziwig in Boston), and even the background noises of air moving through trees and geese on the water were smudged and muted by the heavy clouds. The scene was something out of one of the mood-setting sequences in a rural horror film, but without the underlying dread of a Sam Raimi steadycam suddenly swooping out of the trees or the menace of unknown figures with chainsaws.

Sometimes it's good to just stop and notice that things are quiet. Sorry about the horror movie stuff sneaking in...that's what I get for years of watching zombie and werewolf films. It's a shame, really--but it was a nice night.

(spill some ink in the Library)

The C.P.A. forever denied in my soul is cheering... [17 Nov 2004|11:19pm]
Someone on a Yahoo group I was reading made a reference to a site that was serving as a clearinghouse for people who wanted to track paper money in the U.S. and Canada, and I had to go have a look. It's called www.wheresgeorge.com. What a remarkably pointless and brilliant idea for a database...I am awed by its absolute silliness.

Somewhere, the $20 bill I got for my birthday three years ago from my aunt is floating around out there--and these are the people I'll call on if I ever need to know where it's gone. I think I'm going to register the bills I have on me at the moment--I feel it is important to support the arts, whatever form they may take. And if this isn't art, it's certainly a very odd type of economics...

(4 scrolls | spill some ink in the Library)

Vintage hallowe'en candy? [15 Nov 2004|11:01pm]
Does anyone know the expiration date on candy corn? I just ate a handful of it to try to wake myself up for a couple more student papers before bedtime, and it had a distinctly...desiccated texture. They crumbled when I bit them, which, for those who don't eat candy corn, they aren't supposed to do. Aren't they supposed to be one of those foods like Twinkies that last years? This bag is only about a month and a half old.



Oof. I'm going to go find some water or something.

(spill some ink in the Library)

Sunday Morning Notes ('cause all the prospectus work hurts my head)... [14 Nov 2004|09:15am]
A couple of short notes:

Ol' Dirty Bastard (aka ODB, aka Dirt McGirt, aka Big Baby Jesus, aka Russell Jones) died yesterday after collapsing in a recording studio in Manhattan. He was 35. I never listened to his music, and frankly didn't know much about him (his work rarely intersected with the Saw Doctors, Skyclad, or the Indigo Girls). Friends of mine in NYC, though, were huge fans of his, and it was apparently his personality that made him famous--their favorite stunt of his was that he once drove to a welfare office in his personal limousine--with MTV camera crews in tow--to collect food stamps with his kids. I have to admire anyone with that keen an eye for theater of the absurd.

The aptly-named Fallujah offensive is nearing its conclusion. CNN offhandedly mentioned that the American casualties for the assault are 25 dead and over 400 wounded (My, don't we become inured to those sorts of numbers quickly--the anchor's smile slipped for only a second, but she had her pearly whites flashing again in time to banter with the weatherman eight seconds later). Meanwhile, Basrah, Mosul, Buhriz, and Baghdad have all seen new outbreaks of violence in the last 36 hours. In Mosul, a group of Iraqi police are currently pinned down and under siege from a group of "insurgents." Donald Rumsfeld, however, has announced that all's well (even though it looks very much like every single one of the resistance leaders the army had on its capture-or-kill list got away long before the fight started), and that major combat operations are nearly over.
Presumably they keep saying that on the logic that someday it'll be true.

Arnold Schwarzenegger and his supporters are starting their push to get the Constitution amended to allow killer robots from the future cigar-chomping, alien-ass-kicking rogue LRRP commanders Kindergarten Cops naturalized citizens to run for President after 20 years of American residence (coincidentally, Schwarzenegger became a citizen 21 years ago). I don't much care whether the Governator runs for President...heck, at least he's a crazy secularist conservative. But between that, the new post-election rumblings about an anti-gay-marriage Amendment, and the ever-present anti-flag-desecration Amendment (which is always floating around in Congress), does it seem to anyone else that we're getting awfully blasé about the Constitution? I want in on the ground floor here--I'll give 'em the Ahnuld Amendment if I get to have one bringing back Max Headroom. Or maybe one requiring that the President be able to pronounce the word "Nuclear" correctly before he's given the codes to launch any missiles.

Okay. Back to work.

(5 scrolls | spill some ink in the Library)

Y'know, my brother's been to 47 of 'em... [13 Nov 2004|10:26am]
Clearly, I need to get back to work...



create your own visited states map

How the heck did I miss West Virginia?

(4 scrolls | spill some ink in the Library)

Georgia on my mind (and a monkey on my back). [12 Nov 2004|08:06am]
I remember from past conversations that I have about half a dozen LJ friends living in Georgia. So I feel obliged to ask, after reading this fairly stilted article about the Great Evolution Sticker Debate...

What, exactly, is going on down there?

(spill some ink in the Library)

When the revolution comes, South Dakota is the first against the wall... [06 Nov 2004|08:07am]
So it looks like the newly sharpened republican claws are already coming out...

Sen.-elect John Thune (R-S.D.), who defeated Tom Daschle, suggested that nothing would make him happier than for the Democrats to [stonewall Bush's agenda]. "There's going to be a hesitancy by some of these [Democrats] to get too far out there" resisting Bush's policies, he said, because they know from Daschle's experience, "if you do that, there's going to be a price."

What a charming fellow this Thune person appears to be. Didn't there used to be a policy of freshman senators keeping their yaps shut for the first two years?

(13 scrolls | spill some ink in the Library)

Eureka! [05 Nov 2004|08:00am]
I have a daring new plan for the 2008 election. It's what my slightly hipper friends tell me is "thinking outside the box." It's simple, but I think it just might work.

In 2008, we call dibs on Red.

(4 scrolls | spill some ink in the Library)

... [03 Nov 2004|11:44am]
Kerry just called to congratulate Bush. It's over.

(16 scrolls | spill some ink in the Library)

Brave Neo World. [03 Nov 2004|07:42am]
So now I'm up, and facing the prospect of an indefinite Republican Regime in this country on three hours' sleep and without even the benefit of coffee.

Kerry's going to fight for a while, but he's toast unless a miracle happens.

Edwards is out of a job, replaced by a neocon.

Daschle (even though he was pretty terrible, he was one of the leadership) is out of a job (and how bad is it when the House leader of the party gets defeated by a relative unknown?), replaced by a neocon.

Gore is out of a job.

The Democratic party is leaderless, rudderless, and all but powerless. And the American people, apparently, like it that way. The pundits are no nonplussed about good news for the Boys in Blue that they were crowing last night about Barack Obama, who beat Alan Keyes for a Senate seat in Illinois. Alan Keyes. They said, and I quote, "Some people in the party think this young man has a future on the national stage."

That's it. That's the good news. We're only five seats away from a filibuster-proof majority in the Senate, the House slips a few more seats every year, and the Presidency, as Wolf Blitzer observed, has in the last forty years only been held by a Democrat when the Republicans gift-wrap it for them. Except, of course, for Bill Clinton. The party is in tatters, and the days when I could complain about the two-party system are officially gone--I'm no longer convinced we have that many.


This is gonna be a long day.

(spill some ink in the Library)

Thank you, Dan. [03 Nov 2004|03:12am]
Bush 249, Kerry 242 (according to CNN).
Bush 269, Kerry 211 (according to NBC).

Dan Rather, in the first outright honest assessment of the night's activities I've heard from anyone covering the election, just said of Southern Democrats that they were "beaten like a rented mule."

What he was referring to was the cyclone-like sweep of the southern Senate seats...eight states, all clustered together in the southeastern corner of the country, now have two GOP senators apiece. Collectively and when combined with the other sitting GOP southern senators, this constitutes a policial power base akin to the Republican Revolution of 1994. But this time, it looks very much like they're going to have a President only too happy to help them shove their agenda through Congress and right down America's collective throat.

Imagine--Newt Gingrich with all the safeties off. Won't that be nice?

In other news, it looks like Iowa and Ohio are both eventually going to fall to Bush, but probably not tonight. It's going to be another protracted fight, but this time the Republicans should be perfectly content to let the Democrats whine and spin it out as long as they want, since the end is a foregone conclusion...

(2 scrolls | spill some ink in the Library)

I'm too fucking angry to be coherent right now. [03 Nov 2004|01:34am]
Bush: 249
Kerry: 211

Ohio's pretty much in the bag for Bush, but CNN is holding off on declaring it for him.

It's all over but the shouting.

This godforsaken cesspool of a country is signing on for another four year helping of smug, self-righteous neoconservative shit. It deserves what it gets. I pity the rest of the world for having to put up with the fallout from our collective trip to hell in a handbasket.

Even the pacifiers I've been sucking on for the past four years won't help this time. Bush won the Presidency. He won. All his fuckwittery, all his wrongheadedness and stupid, malignant, foul-souled hypocrisy, all his fuckups and lies and more lies have earned him another four years in the eyes of the majority of my fellow citizens.

The Republicans gained two or three more seats in the Senate, too. They're already crowing on CNN about how much easier this is going to make it to crack open the Alaskan wilderness for oil, to roll back taxes even further, to make the Patriot Act permanent, to get more conservative judges on the bench. Bush will be able to mold the Supreme Court in his image, an act which will shape American domestic culture for the next twenty years. Ten states approved anti-same-sex marriage laws, essentially enshrining legislated prejudice in a manner that will take years or decades to undo--and that's only if we ever shake the national mania for enforcing white "Christian" middle-American values on each other, which at present we seem to have an unending appetite for.

And the people who dominate the middle and south of this country approved all this. They rewarded it; they begged for more. I don't understand the way these people think, and I don't want to. I'm sickened by what's been done tonight, and I'm fucking scared for what it means for the future. I wish to God there were a way out--a way to get shed of this country and its insane geopolitical domination, its smallminded cultural myopia masquerading as "morals", its dedication to mediocrity and conformity, its horrible sureness that it's so fucking right all the time. I wish every one of these people could know what it feels like to be on the outside of their cultural juggernaut and praying like hell not to be crushed.

(8 scrolls | spill some ink in the Library)

193-112... [02 Nov 2004|10:32pm]
193 for Bush, 112 for Kerry. ohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuck...

Ohio, Florida, Wisconsin, Michigan, Minnesota, Iowa, and Pennsylvania still too close to call, and another 15 states left to vote.

I'm dying here.

(spill some ink in the Library)

I wish I may, I wish I might... [02 Nov 2004|05:06pm]
As I was just saying in [info]lizsybarite's journal, I offered up a little prayer this morning in the booth before yanking the lever against Dubya. Something about the voting booth just seems to bring it out of me--I think it might be the similarity to a confessional. After I did it, I thought, He said in the third debate that he knew Americans pray for him and his family because he can feel it. Well, I sure as shit hope he felt that one.

Then it occurred to me that this was not entirely in the spirit of the praying concept, and so I figure I ended up about even on the whole thing, spiritually speaking.

(2 scrolls | spill some ink in the Library)

My own attempt to prove Archimedes' Principle... [02 Nov 2004|06:46am]
I just got back from voting.

Yes, it's 6:45 a.m. Yes, I got up early and got out of the house at 6:10 in order to be one of the first at the polls. Yes, I made hideous sleep-blurred small talk with people on line. I got into the booth, made my selections, checked them to make sure they were right, checked them again, reached for the lever, checked them again, and cast my vote to get the hell rid of George W. Bush.

It felt good. Damn me, it felt really good. I hate that I'm such a sucker for participatory government, but there it is. I get a rush from voting. I can't help myself. I love everything about it, even down to the goofy, half-assed way its run--here in CT, the polling booths are monitored by jolly old biddies in their seventies with red, white, and blue sweaters and cheap romance novels sitting primly next to their stacks of voter printouts (I saw on the printout that my landlord, who lives next door to me and is therefore right above me on the sheet, is indeed a registered Republican, which I suspected from his discomfort with my Dean for President sign and his bumper sticker that simply says, "W. The President." I'm hoping his job calls him out of town for the day). The happy septuagenarians even smile at me, a man who looks like every grandmother's nightmare of what her granddaughter might end up dating. There's terrible coffee, a bakery table, and a general sense of bonhomie, especially early in the morning when the lines are comprised of people who care enough about voting that they got up early to do it before work (and since no one gives a hoot about CT this election year, we are free of sour-faced Republican volunteers standing behind the monitors and demanding to see I.D.). Even the laughably incompetent manner in which the lines were set up (A-L and M-Z by street; predictably, as one might have guessed from any perusal of a local map, there wasn't a soul at the A-L table while we stood in a line twenty deep at M-Z) couldn't dampen people's spirits. I was feeling so expansive afterward that I bought a small individual-sized loaf of pumpkin bread from the bakery table to take home for breakfast, and even sparred with the woman selling them (who had an unusual, possibly Portuguese accent) over whether raisins should be in baked goods. Now I'm going to eat it with some coffee, watch a few minutes of election coverage, and then get in the shower...and then spend the rest of the day growing steadily gloomier as I face the possibility of another four years of Dubya.

Vote, people. No excuses.

(5 scrolls | spill some ink in the Library)

So... [01 Nov 2004|03:25pm]
So here's why I haven't been writing about the election.

Four years ago, I got really upset by the election. Really, really upset. The injustice of what went on, the blithe way in which the Supreme Court overstepped their bounds, the appalling manufacture of a "crisis situation" (thank you, CNN, FoxNews, etc.) necessitating that the Supreme Court get involved in the first place...all of it just absolutely steamrolled the entirely rational and measured system the Founding Fathers built into our election process. I didn't necessarily feel that Gore should have won--he didn't get a majority of the electoral vote either. The Florida disaster meant that, if that state couldn't declare its votes (which was starting to look like a real possibility), neither candidate would have had the requisite 270 votes needed for a majority. In that situation, Congress is called in to starting making decisions, using an extremely lopsided system that gives equal voting power to each state regardless of population. Is this a fair system? No. But it's the way things are supposed to work. It was designed to run this way specifically because the idea of a President appointed to the position by a group of cognoscenti appointed to their positions by former Presidents smacked of the kind of oligarchic kingmaking that the Constitution was designed to stop. Why? Because it's possible that allowing that kind of backdoor power-brokering to go on can result in potential conflicts of interest when, just as a hypothetical example, the son of one of those former presidents is running for office and is appointed mostly by judges appointed during his dad's twelve years in the White House.

For me, it's not a question of whether the Supreme Court's actions ultimately changed the outcome of the election...I don't believe they did. It's the ease with which they appropriated for themselves a power they should never have had. It's the myopia of our government and the ahistorical understanding of what America is supposed to be for that disgusts me. It's the small-minded politicians who endorse any strategy that's "legal" to get and keep themselves in office, ignoring the one implied tenet of the Constitution--that it must be guarded over and nurtured by people who believe in what it's supposed to do, not in what it lets them get away with. It's the knee-jerk flag-wavers who have a child's belief in the infallibility of their government, despite mountainous evidence that that government has been steadily rotting away the principles by which it is raised above the people it is mandated to govern.

It's this mix of apathy, opportunism, and the mindless devotion of the masses that leads to an administration that writes up documents proving that, due to loopholes in language, torture is technically legal so long as the victim is not considered an enemy combatant, in contravention of nearly a century of international law; a people who cheer songs like "Osama yo Mama" and allow the president to tell us that we are under attack by foreign boogeymen because "they hate our freedom"; a military that, in its Western ideas of how to root out Iraqi resistance, humiliates men before their wives and parents before their children in a culture in which honor is synonymous with life. Honor is very nearly a dead husk in America; we've forgotten that it means something more than doing what we're told and being proud of our religion or our country, two things which for most of us are circumstances of birth. There is no honor inherent in being an American; honor comes from upholding the principles that led to America's founding. There is no honor in breaking down the door to an Iraqi homeowner's house and forcing him to his knees while his children watch. Those children have a far more developed, and far less nuanced, sense of honor than our own, and they are learning a definite lesson about America.

In 2004, we are less protected from one another and our own government in this country than we have been in my lifetime. The Patriot Act is a travesty, an end-around circumventing some of the most important Constitutional amendments we have--the right to free speech, the right to speedy trial, the right to privacy, the right to avoid self-incrimination, and others have all been effortlessly ash-canned by an administration whose collective sense of what is right appears primarily based on a combination of self-righteousness and a dogmatic belief that America exists for some higher purpose, the execution of which is their God-given duty--and fussy issues of Right, of what Rousseau called "a moral and legal equality which compensates for all those physical inequalities from which men suffer," ought not to interfere with that grand goal. We have lost our sense of what is Right; worse, we have actively shed it, in favor of what is allowed, what is possible, what is acceptable. Make acceptability the benchmark for Right, and our moral stances become shifty things, slippery and reversible as we begin to define Right in terms of what we want. Our government no longer recognizes the difference; it has gone far down the path into mistaking what it wants for what it has a right to, and what it already has for something it earned, rather than a gift passed down by more careful custodians than they. It is like a child, quick to assert its own "rights" but slow to understand those of others, and slower still to respect them.

We are little better as a people. We are fickle and foolish; easily riled, easily distracted; quick to anger but quick to forgive. The government needn't concern itself about disguising its relentless assault on human rights because we are so very, very quick to forget. Guantanamo Bay upset us a litte, but we forgot, and hundreds of people are still there, held without charges against them or access to counsel in a manner that would horrify us if it were done by another government; the tortures at Abu Ghraib was repulsive, a blot on the idea of America that the rest of the world will be slow to forgive, yet only months later most Americans can't remember the name of the prison, let alone any of the soldiers involved. I'll avoid the trite observation that reality television has replaced reality. In any case, it's not true. We have a reality--it's just not a pretty one. We no longer expect our government to treat individuals with dignity or with consideration, and we are rapidly approaching the point where we behave in the same way ourselves. We get on with our lives, keeping our heads down and our voices low, and believe that we'll get by because we haven't done anything wrong. As one of my students told me in a discussion of the Patriot Act, "it's only people who have something to hide who care about it. If they're not doing anything wrong, why should they be worried?"

I don't think either candidate is going to substantially alter the new course of this country. We have jumped the rails but good, and I don't know whether there's much any one person can do to stop it. I'll keep trying, keep getting behind people I believe in, keep heading out to the voting booth every chance I get--because otherwise I'd have to admit that we've passed the apex, that America is irrevocably on the accelerating downhill slope all political experiments have eventually faced. I'll vote for Kerry tomorrow, in the belief and hope that he can't be worse than what we have now, even though I dislike the man and his politics and have for a long time. I'm a pessimist with a broad streak of stubbornness, and I'll keep plugging away at the system even though I lost faith in it a long time ago. But I'm always a little afraid that I might turn others off to the system with my bitterness, so I try to clam up about it whenever possible...because, as completely and utterly fucked as I think things are right now, I am far more disgusted with people who don't vote than I am with those who disagree with me and vote that way. And so I've been trying to keep my mouth shut about the election (aside from hassling my students incessantly about the importance of voting) as much as possible, for fear that through my bile and anger I might inadvertently turn someone off to participating in the system. And then today I woke up and thought it was high time I got the hell over myself, and so I've written this. I know it's a little long, but it felt good to get it down.

Okay then. Election day tomorrow, everyone--get your stickers early and show them off to your friends and co-workers.

(1 scroll | spill some ink in the Library)

Baseball as religion, big-money silliness, and political prognostication... [21 Oct 2004|04:46pm]
Here's the thing. My students have collectively had a religious experience--their beloved Red Sox have beaten the Evil Empire. Good, at least as it is oriented on their New England-raised internal compasses, has vanquished evil. All is right with the world, except for a pesky World Series still to be played.

So I say hooray for the Red Sox for beating the snot out of the Damned Yankees. I don't buy into the whole scrappy-underdog-finally-winning-one-for-the-gipper stuff the Sox were trying to sell in their interviews (and their fans were feeding me today), though, because, well...this series was about Goliath vs. Slightly Bigger Goliath, and Goliath won. The Red Sox, nearly as much as the Yankees, buy their way into the post-season. They get into bidding wars with the Yankees for marquee players (and sometimes win), the result of which is to drive up the going price for player talent to the point that only a handful of teams even have a realistic shot at putting together a championship without a whole lot of luck. These two teams, along with the Braves, Mets (hey, I can admit it--and at least the Sox get something for their money, unlike the Mets, who spend heaps of cash and suck anyway), and a couple of other teams, have essentially turned the league into a 24-team farm system for the reigning half-dozen teams who pilfer their talent pool on a regular basis. No wonder I'm more of a football fan.

But I cheered for the Sox last night because I'm also a Mets fan, and the enemy of my enemy is my marginally less odious temporary ally. And I'll root for the Astros tonight, for at least four reasons:

1. I am a long-time proponent of the theory that, in any one-game situation in baseball, pitching is more reliable than hitting, and the Cardinals/Astros contest comes down to that. It'd be nice to be proven right.

2. The Astros and the Red Sox were the two teams the Mets beat in 1986 to win the World Series, and I'd get to drive Sox fans nuts for the next couple of weeks talking about "it'll be nice to see one of them finally get one."

3. I hate Roger Clemens with a passion. He's a whiny, short-tempered, brutish ass with a bullying attitude and a mercenary style, and I'd love to see him get humbled by his old team and fail utterly on the national stage (and yes, I know he's pitching tonight and that I'm functionally rooting for him to win. It's all part of my diabolical plan, you see).

4. I would really enjoy the spectacle of a Texas/Massachusetts World Series in the week before the election. Sports and political writers alike would be pushed to new heights of purple-tinted hyperbole trying to wring some meaning from the connection, and that sort of thing is always good for a chuckle.

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