GodsendJen

One of the strangest yearly rituals in colliegate debate was the tournament banquet at the Liberty University tournament.  At each fall's banquate Dr. Fallwell would spend a few minutes talking about his political experiences and then open himself up for an extended question and answer session with the gruop of overwhelmingly liberal college students.  The questions were often outlandish but Jerry was never short, never rude, and he always had a joke in hand to lighten up any topic.  His speaking ability included some magical tap-dancing skills that he often used to shift his answer away from the question at hand and into a familiar territory.  One year I taped his questions and answer session and analyzed his "answer shifting" technique for a socio-linguistics class. But the most memorable encounter came when Liberty hosted the NDT in 2007. Tournament meals were held in the LU dining hall where an enterprising worker had hung a sign beside the bagel bin assuring diners that despite being a "Jewish" food the bagel provided had been prepared in a "Christian" kitchen.  A Jewish teammate took exception to the sign and when Q & A time rolled around he used the opportunity to ask about the sign.  Rather than defend the sign Fallwell immeadiately said it was innappropriate, that he didn't know about it, and that my teammate had his permission to remove it (our coach promptly took the sign from the wall and returned later during the Q&A with the sign as a trophy).

Love him or hate him, Fallwell was an outspoken advocate for mixing morality with politics.  You have to wonder if his demise will make it easy for a moderate Republican to find acceptance on the Republican ticket in the next Presential elections.

 

 

Vernon Wells hasn't been on my personal radar screen since he left the Expos Nationals to play for one of those American League teams.  Well today Deadspin had a blurb that really makes me appreciate Vernon for his sense of humor.  Too many professional athletes take themselves far too seriously. And they take it personally when someone in the stands trys to take heckling to an all new level.  I'm not a heckler, but I can imagine these guys got a real charge out of Vernon's response.  After several innings of playing to the hecklers just a bit he went into the dug-out and signed a baseball for them.  The inscription:

Dear Mr. Dork,
Here is your ball! Can you please tell me what gas station you work at, so when you are pumping my gas, I can yell at you!!! Now sit down, shut up and enjoy the game.
- Your favorite centrefielder

Go Vernon.  Way to show everyone in baseball that you are just playing a game and fun is of paramount importance.

This week marks the first time in at least 2 months that I've felt good.  Not ok, but really good. I spent much of the last two months trying desperately to funnel enough caffiene and sugar through my body to function.  My house suffered, my yard suffered, and I made sure everyone around me suffer--though hopefully not too much.  The hidden upside to going through cancer treatment is it really makes me appreciate this point, Feeling Good Again.  It's when you wake up in the morning and think you've just gotten a new lease on life.  So appropriately my theme song for this week, and maybe this whole month, is Robert Earl Keen's Feeling Good Again.  How fitting that he's swinging back into town for a show at Variety on May 16th.  Like Robert Earl says,  It feels so good feelin good again.

Feeling good also means I can once again appreciate some of the creative exploits people post on the internet.  It's no secret that I completely dug The Muppet Show as a kid. They were on every afternoon and they were funny. The Muppets didn't try to shove education down your throat with stupid parlor tricks. The shows weren't Brought to You By The Letter 'P' and there was no segment requiring you to slowly count 5 items over and over again.  The Muppets were about entertainment, complete with musical guests.  It was Saturday Night Live for the first-grade set. The movies, they were a little lame.  But the TV show was the best thing on in the afternoon.  What else could make a 6-year-old understand that Harry Belafonte was...cool? Well here is an updated trip down nostolgia lane.  A trailer showing what might have happened if Jim Henson, rather than Quentin Tarantino, had directed Pulp Fiction. Yes, the fountains of blood are missing, but otherwise I say Spot On!

Its NFL draft time and the Falcon's don't have a real shot at landing a marquee player that fans will actually care about. So instead of talking draft Falcon's fans are talking Dog Fights.  No, we don't mean the kind of dog fighter you watch with fascination at the end of Top Gun.  We mean the literal thing.  Dog versus dog, starvation induced limb-ripping action.  All this stems from the recent reports that a Virginia house owned by Michael Vick is apparently the site of dog fights, or at least appears to house a number of neglected abused dogs that look like they are primed for fighting.  Here is some insight provided by the AJC:

The Humane Society of the United States issued the following statement from Wyane Pacelle, president and CEO: "The Humane Society of the United States has heard troubling reports for some time that Michael Vick has been involved in organized dog fighting, and we fear that this investigation may validate that very disturbing allegation."

"We have well-placed sources in the dog fighting underworld," John Goodwin, deputy manager of animal fighting issues, told the Journal-Constitution. "His involvement has been brought to our attention numerous times. We pay people for information that leads to arrests."

Goodwin said The Humane Society did not know the location of a dog fighting of Vick's until Wednesday's investigation.

According to a records search by the Journal-Constitution, Vick owns the property at 1915 Moonlight Road in Smithfield, Va.

Vick, of course, blames the apparent degenerates among his extended family:

"The issue will get resolved. It's unfortunate I have to take the heat behind it. If I'm not there, I don't know what's going on. It's a call for me to really tighten down on who I'm trying to take care of. When it all boils down, people will try to take advantage of you and leave you out to dry. Lesson learned for me."

Thanks Mike.  We love it when you do your part to help improve the rep of the Atlanta Falcons and the Virginia Tech Hokies. Vick is supposed to appear at the draft with several other former Hokies as part of a ceremony related to the recent shootings at VT.  Does anyone else wonder if Roger Goodell is arranging a flight delay?  Also makes you wonder if Goodell is going to exercise his new ability to punish players for hurting the game.  Vick might not be Pac-Man Jones yet, but I wouldn't be surprised to see some discipline come down if these reports are true.

Here it is, tax time, and I haven't sat down to watch a baseball game start to finish.  I haven't made it down to Turner Field for a game either.  Crazy isn't it?  One of the reasons I moved to Atlanta was so that I could have the opporutnity to watch all the baseball and football I wanted.  And here I am, mid-April, so thoroughly entrenched in my hockey-playoff mindset that I have completely missed all but a few choice innings of what looks like a very good start for my Bravos.  As of Sunday the Braves 8-3 give them a .727 winning percentage, the best in all of baseball.  Take that Mr. Met. Of course any baseball team is simply one elbow away from disaster at any given time.  So here's hoping that Smoltzie keeps on ticking, Hudson found his missing mojo, and that Bob Wickman continues to be the savior of our bullpen.  And I promise I'll make it down there soon.  They award the Stanly Cup in June...so pencil me in by then.

Note: I've gone hockey crazy this week.  Check out Southeast Shootout to see exactly what I mean by that.  Here is a wee little sample.

I'm not in the prediction business. My passion and excitement for this game is strange and complex, filled with hope and optimism, and often based more on wishful thinking and dreams not spoken than it is on the facts, figures and empirical findings born out through game play this season or last. I respect the facts and figures. I greatly admire the selfless souls who spend hours crunching numbers through modeling algorithms to predict outcomes. If I were a coach I’d have a handful of these people on my staff, and I’d listen if they made a recommendation about who to scratch come game time. But with all do respect to the great math nerds of the world, that doesn’t mean jack come playoff time. This is the time to put your heart on your sleeve, your mind on the back burner and rely on your gut.

Without further ado, here are some predictions born in that place where fear and fragility meet rainbows and sunshine.

Just for tonight, the unsung will be heroes. Andy Sutton will do something dumber than dye his hair blue only to dye it brown the next morning. He’ll play less than 15 minutes and be responsible for giving up a goal. Ilya will try too hard, get too frustrated, and make an early visit to the sin-bin. But the rugged veterans of this team, Scott Melanby, Keith Tkachuk, Slava Kozlov, Bobby Holik and Alexie Zhitnik will come through as difference makers. With steady emotions they’ll make the right passes, ease the right emotions, and make sure we hit the Rangers hardest on the scoreboard. Kari Lehtonen will recover from an early goal and give these Thrashers their first playoff victory, ever.

Embolden by victory this team will win the series in 6 games. The losses will come back to back and our third victory might even come at home with Moose in goal. This team has a recent trend of clinching the big ones (a playoff birth, a SED championship) on the road. So its fitting we advance in these playoffs by defeating the Rangers at MSG in game 6.

If the microchips prove me wrong, as they might do, that’s ok. When you write software for a living you get used to it.

I spent some time on hold with the good folks at Emory University Hospital today. While I'm waiting to talk with Nuclear Medicine about my treatment options I am subjected to a number of adds.  Do I suffer from uterine fibroids?  Am I a 40 year old male in need of a prostrate screening?  Fine, good, whatever... I'd rather not listen to this prattle but I can at least tune it out.  Then comes another add....Are you a woman between the ages of 21 and 34? (As a matter of fact I am.) And just what are the good folks at Emory suggesting to me based on that?  Well they think it would be swell if I'd sell my eggs to infertile couples at their baby making center.  They would even pay me up to $6000 for my effort.

I don't know what is scarier.  That they would subject someone to an advertisement seeking their eggs....or that they would suggest someone on hold discussing radioactive treatment options should be the donor.  No couple in their right mind would want my eggs...and I'd run screaming if I new they were being solicited this way.

The "We Won the Division Dance" is so much more fun!  Enjoy the celebration.  The real work starts next week.