An Easter thought...

Which potential lesson that a child might take away from Easter is more dangerous:

A. All eggs are gifts from a friendly bunny who likes nothing more than to see children smile as they fill baskets up with candy?

... or...

B. The Easter Bunny is an evil minion of the Big Alliance of Dentists (B.A.D.) who puts on a happy face, but is really passing out candy in order to promote the rotting of teeth and visits to the dentist office?

Ponder, won't you?

(This Writing composed by Derek's 8-year-old, dentist-fearing self.)

People in your Neighborhood - The Frogurt Edition

I have never gone water-skiing. I have never whittled a woodwind instrument. I have never eaten at a frozen yogurt place... One of those statements in no longer true. Apologies who love the sweet tunes that come from a home-fashioned pan flute, but the item I can cross off that list involves frozen yogurt (which I, along with many others, call frogurt). I had some reservations about giving the place a chance, but it turns out that it's not bad dining. Beyond that, the crop of customers available for observation was one of the bumper variety. Read on to learn about a few of the people at your local frozen yogurt shop. 


The Dancer
In the land where frozen yogurt cascades like congested waterfalls, club music is king - at least it was on this night. As I waited in a horseshoe-shaped line to populate a bowl with fro-yo* and enough toppings to cripple one's mind, bass beats that sounded eerily techno-ish provided a very strange take on background noise. This may come as a shock to any and all reading this, but I'm fairly sarcastic and cynical by nature. (GASP!) As a result, once I noticed the music playing I prepared to make some sort of snarky comment about it to my brother; something along the lines of "Where do we pick up the glowsticks?"^^ Alas, when I turned to speak, I noticed the guy about 10 people ahead of us in line. He wore a navy blue t-shirt, which was at least one size too small if you asked his belly, and had hair caked with more grease than most items on the Long John Silver's menu. His look was one thing, but I barely had a chance to let the ridiculousness settle in when I noticed that he was pigeon-necking to the beat of the music. Yes, he was into it. Surely he's doing that as a joke, I thought, but he did not seem to be attempting to catch anyone's eye as he did it. The story was the same when I saw him reclining back on one of the establishment's couches later. He was simply grooving to, and enjoying, the beat. Apparently the Frogurt place needs a cover charge.

*This is my attempt to connect with the youth of America... I'm hip. I'm with it...

^^Hey, it was funny in my head.

Crocs'n'Socks
I have never worn, nor do I ever intend to wear, a pair of Crocs. I understand that they're very comfortable, but there's something about wearing "shoes" that look much more like bath sponges that I am just not comfortable with. That said, if I did ever wear Crocs, I would not wear them with socks. No, I'm not one to keep tabs on styles or fashion (What do you mean my Homer Simpson t-shirt isn't "in"?), but wearing glorified sandals along with socks pulled up to one's knees seems like a curious move even to me. I guess this guy's lower legs could incredibly prone to insect bites or he might have once made the unfortunate mistake of having socks surgically attached to his legs; perhaps the explanation is that easy... Whatever the case, I'm concerned.

*Would I, could I, in a house? Would I, could I, with a blouse? I could not, would not in a house. I could not, would not, with a blouse.

Pajama Patty
Locations where the donning of one's pajamas is appropriate: one's home; someone else's home, should one be invited for an overnight stay or to a pajama party there.
Locations where the donning of one's pajamas is NOT appropriate: anywhere else. (Note to the lady with the weird tattoo on her neck: "anywhere else" includes the frogurt shop. I'll admit, I was rather confused when I walked through the door and saw you standing in line... I thought I'd wandered into someone's home kitchen.)

The Writings' guide to the Royals

If you have read/heard/interpreted-through-a-form-of-telepathy-that-is-beyond-my-comprehension anything about the Kansas City Royals this year, odds are strong that such details involved "the future." You see, the Royals currently have a collection of talent in the minor leagues that - according to some experts - rivals any farm system* in history. The potential for future success is great, but it's just that: potential. I've heard many folks comment that they've heard all this before; that the Royals have had good young players in the past and KC has either ruined them or traded them away for beans that weren't even advertised as magic. "How will things be different this time?" people ask. The answer: It looks like ownership is finally willing to part with some money to support a winning team.

*Note for those unfamiliar with Major League Baseball: "Farm system" refers to a Major League club's minor league affiliates. It has nothing to do with irrigation or eliminating pesky boll weevils.

The youth is on the way, with top prospects Mike Moustakas and Eric Hosmer expected to debut at some point this season, and several young pitchers already on the big league club. While many look to the future, we at The Writings are enjoying the present. Since it's been far too long since we've written anything about the KC club, let's take a quick look at the 2011 Royals.*

*Note: "Quick" is a relative term.

We'll start in the outfield, where one of the season's biggest question marks tracks fly balls. Alex Gordon - once one of the top prospects in baseball; once subject of a Sports Illustrated article oozing more fluff than fan letters to Justin Bieber; once touted as the next George Brett; once prophecized as the person that will one day lead humanity to galactic dominance* - enters 2011 searching, yet again, for a breakout season. Gordon has dominated the minor leagues in the same manner that a video gamer handles a video game after entering a cheat code, but injuries and holes in his swing have never allowed that success to translate to the Major League level. Gordon arrived at Kansas City as a third baseman, but moved off the position last season, perhaps in anticipation of Moustakas' anticipated arrival. Through a handful of games this season, Gordon seems to finally be in his happy place (whether he sees grannies winning the lotto and little people on tricycles, we may never know). His defense in left field has been above average and he has been one of the hottest hitters in baseball. Can he keep it going? That's a question that puzzles more folks than those mind-benders involving trains leaving stations at different times only to eventually wreck into each other because neither is one of Doc Brown's time machines. (Sorry if that's not quite accurate... I haven't taken a standardized test in awhile.)

*I only made one of those up.

 Joining Gordon in the outfield are centerfielder Melky Cabrera, the former-Yankee who played for Atlanta last season while attempting to prove that chubby kids can be outfielders (the results were not good, hence his signing with KC on just a one-year deal), and rightfielder Jeff Francoeur, another one-time top prospect, who was once featured on the cover of Sports Illustrated despite the fact that he was barely old enough to legally consume any of the alcoholic beverages featured in the issues ads. Backup Jarrod Dyson is not a hitter, but his speed alone makes him a rather valuable member of the roster.

In the infield, KC should see significant improvement defensively thanks to the addition of shortstop Alcides Escobar. Escobar, who came to the Royals as part of the Zack Greinke trade, has shown the sort of range at shortstop that makes one think the Royals would be safe with a hippopotamus playing next to him at third. (No, I am not calling Wilson Betemit and Mike Aviles hippos... Placeholders for Moustakas, perhaps... Hippos, no.)  Escobar's double-play partner is second baseman Chris Getz, another player who brings plenty to the table defensively, but isn't exactly setting fine china on offense. Billy Butler and Kila Ka'aihue share duties at first base and designated hitter. Butler is just 24, but has been the team's best hitter for the past two seasons. Ka'aihue is a Hawaiian slugger who is finally getting the opportunity to prove himself as an everyday player... My guess is that he also enjoys hearing people attempt to pronounce his last name and butcher it slaughterhouse fashion. Matt Treanor and Brayan Pena share catching duties until 83-year old Jason Kendall (What do you mean he's only 36?) returns from injury. 

The Royals have a bevy of young, left-handed starting pitchers, but all are young enough that they will begin the season in the minor leagues. The names of KC's big league starters (Luke Hochevar, Bruce Chen, Jeff Francis, Kyle Davies, Vin Mazarro) may not strike fear in the hearts of opposing hitters, but they possess the ability to keep the team in games long enough to pass along to a strong bullpen - a bullpen led by closer Joakim Soria. Soria, who declared he no longer wanted to be referred to as "The Mexicutioner" in the offseason, is one of the best relief pitchers in all of baseball. He is joined in the bullpen by a lot of young talent, from the 21-year-old, hobbit-sized Tim Collins (or Timbo Collgins, in Tolkienese) to Aaron Crow, a Topeka-native who pitched collegiately for the University of Missouri. In previous seasons, the thought of handing a game off to a KC relief pitcher brought feelings of dread and/or despair (plus far too many frustrated mutterings from my couch). This season, a call to the 'pen is accompanied by an unfamiliar feeling... I think some call it optimism. Weird.

Will the Royals be contenders in 2011? The odds are certainly not overwhelming, but, for the first time in many, many years the club has mixed a fine cocktail of potential and direction... I like it.

Ending the madness

It's the first Monday in April and the last night of the 2010-2011 college basketball season. Seems like a good opportunity to force you to read all the random thoughts that wade through my mind, no? Joining me for the festivities, we have a half-finished strawberry shake from Coldstone Creamery (when you're paying for ice cream, make sure you pay plenty), my next door neighbor's voice that I can hear through my wall (note to self: buy a home), and a degree of snarkiness that increases with every minute of unnecessary pregame coverage (23 minutes total... Look out!)

-----

I've been told that I look a bit like Butler coach Brad Stevens, and - frighteningly enough - I can see a bit of resemblance. This is horrible news for Stevens, but good news for me... I can put that on a resume, right?

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Has any film franchise ever had more unnecessary sequels than "The Fast and the Furious"? Vin Diesel's character likes to drive fast cars... I get it. That's not really a plot that requires five films worth of exploration.

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Charles Barkley has the be the greatest college basketball analyst who ever threw someone through a plate-glass window, doesn't he? (Note: This is not a rhetorical question... If you really do know of a better one, I really do want to know.)

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At the first media timeout, Butler and UConn have combined to shoot 3-for-18 from the field. "Defense wins championships!" ... True, but horrendous shooting loses them, as well.

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Is it safe to say that the folks working for HP in 1996 could not have predicted that Dr. Dre would be one of their company ad spokesmen 15 years later?

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Hey, it's a basketball game... and the score is 16-15 with fewer than seven minutes left in the first half. This is the sort of offense that only a mother could love. A mother who hates basketball.

-----

This just in: I have a horrible "multitasking" habit, meaning I am continually looking at thinks online even while watching a basketball game. This means that I'm subjected to reading rumors of potential college basketball changes (some concerning my alma mater) as I watch this game. So, not only am I continually reminded that K-State lost to Brad "not Derek" Stevens' Butler squad last season, but now I must digest rumors that there could be another coaching search in the future... I need to find something less depressing.

-----

... Hey, Ken Burns' Civil War documentary is on PBS!

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Butler guard Shelvin Mack sinks a buzzer-beating three to give the Bulldogs a 22-19 lead at the half. It's a beautiful shot and a great moment... Until the broadcaster fouls it up by saying "Mack is back!" Note to broadcasters: Dr. Seuss wrote children's books. He did not provide play-by-play for college basketball games. Don't cross the streams!

-----

Butler's up, they lead by three, but never count out a UConn Huskie.
20 minutes done, 20 remain. Such little time with so much to gain.

-----

Please forgive the Seuss vibe.

-----

Barkley at halftime: "Both teams need to play better."

And people wonder why I find halftime analysis worthless.

-----

After a UConn turnover, with the Huskies leading 26-25, coach Jim Calhoun shakes his head in disgust. If any college basketball coach were to be cast to play a grouchy old neighbor in a motion picture, I think Calhoun would have the role hands down. The simple sight of him standing with his arms crossed causes me to check my feet to make sure I'm not standing on his lawn.

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With 10 minutes left, UConn leads 39-28. I keep waiting to hear the broadcasters mention that this is actually a scrimmage and the real game will take place next... Thus far, they have failed to mention this fact.

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Seven minutes left, and Butler is shooting 2-for-24 in the second half. 2-for-24!

To put this in perspective, I succeed in making jokes 3 times out of every 24 attempts. Poor Butler.

-----

With two minutes left, Butler is on track to break the record for lowest shooting percentage EVER in a championship game. Hey, a record! Congratulations!

... Oh, nevermind.

-----

Aaaaaaaaand, that's the game. UConn is your champ, winning 53-41. Congrats to the Huskies for winning, to the Bulldogs for making it to the championship game two years in a row, and to you for making it through the written summation of such an ugly game. Eeesh.

The Heard

Communication, if you really sit down and ponder it, is a mind-boggling thing. Consider that it’s possible to convey the message “Did you hear that? What the hell is this guy thinking?” with nothing more than a raised eyebrow.* From a quick wink (which is almost always creepy) to a rambling soliloquy spoken in effort to express one’s true appreciation for oven mitts, thoughts can be conveyed in a myriad of ways. Because there are so many dynamics that come with communication (or because I have been hurting for blog topics lately… I really need something awkward to happen to me soon), I think it’s time that we analyze some of the things that I hear (or read) every day (figuratively). Perhaps we’ll unearth a better understanding of communication… More likely, we’ll discover that I should really keep my thoughts to myself.

*Yes, I know this from experience.


A speaker amplified voice recently asked me if I’d like to add cheese sticks or ice cream to my lunch order…
For the 432nd time, the answer is no. I operate by a simple premise: if I want to purchase something, I’ll ask for it. I don’t tiptoe around ordering ice cream like the person who doesn’t want to ask another person how they got a scar*, and I’m also not going to succumb to any sort of peer pressure that involves fried foods. Sorry.

*Fell in the bathtub. Thanks.


A voice on the radio recently told me far too many things about car racing…
I do not intend to become a racing fan, nor will I ever test my 2004 Impala’s engine in any sort of fast and/or furious manner. Thus, “The Racing Boys” segment on sports radio is one that I have no interest in. If you require an illustration of the precise amount of interest I have in hearing folks discuss advertisements disguised as race cars, consider the amount of interest your pet has in reading Stephen Hawking’s “A Brief History of Time”… Now cut that level of interest in half.



A friend recently told me that I can’t take a compliment…
I’m not sure that this is true. I’ll gladly take compliments on the rare occasions that they come my way… I just have a tendency of responding to them with the sort of self-deprecating remark that might make a person wish to enroll me in a self-affirmation course taught by Stuart Smalley. Rest assured, readers, I don’t suffer from any crippling personality disorders (that I’m aware of). The self-loathing nature is just part of a continued effort to make sure my head doesn’t get big in the figurative sense (since it’s already too large for my body in the physical sense).

I’m good enough, I’m smart enough, and – gosh darn it – people like me… sometimes.



A former boss gave me advice via email, saying “The only constant in life is change”…
I can’t argue with this, since pennies seem to sprout about my car like dandelions on a summer lawn… Wrong sort of change?  Nevertheless, there is credence to these words. Jobs change. People change. Even your opinion concerning that shirt you bought two months ago changes. (What were you thinking?) And when you really think you might have things figured out, things change with the velocity, ferocity and atrocity of a rabid-dog-wielding tornado.

With all of this potentially life-altering change, what can a person do? Keep reading…


When my niece recently ate an extra piece of chocolate, despite me telling her not to, I told her that I was sad, completing the façade with the sort of look a kid gives when he’s told he can’t have cotton candy at the fair. Her response? “You don’t have to be sad. You can be happy if you want to.”
How can a person argue with that sort of wisdom?*

*If her two-year-old mind is that keen when it comes to philosophy, does that mean she’s a genius in other subjects, too? Maybe I should really take heed when she tells me that monsters and snakes live in my walls.

A look back

This wasn't supposed to happen.

No, I'm not referring to the fact that K-State lost in the second round of the 2011 NCAA Tournament (though there is credence to that argument). Instead, I'm referring to the posting of this season wrap to The Writings. It was actually intended for another web site. (GASP!)

Never fear, dear readers. I'm not turning my back on The Writings, nor cheating on them with another blog. I have, however, signed on to do some writing for www.thescoopmanhattan.com. (You should probably bookmark it/favorite it/make it your homepage if The Writings don't currently hold that honor.) It's a site intended to bring light to all the great things that Manhattan has to offer. Alas, there have been some issues on the development end; issues covered eloquently in the placeholder text that currently appears at the website. (If you don't understand it, go rent Billy Madison immediately and then watch it twice... I can wait.) As a result, the return of The Scoop has been delayed to a point where my K-State hoops piece will no longer be "timely." Thus, I'm bringing it to The Writings. Enjoy. (Or don't. Who am I to tell you what to do?)

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With the publication of this post, K-State’s basketball season has been finished for over 24 hours. The season capped with a nail-biter of a contest fueled by an extraordinary effort from one of the greatest players in the history of the program. Alas, that game is all you’re reading about at every other website with even a loose connection to Manhattan or sports in general. (Well, maybe not www.joyofbocce.com, but you get the idea.)  Instead of a quick game recap, we at The Scoop want to take the opportunity to look back on the season as a whole.  (Well, truthfully, we wanted to plan a trip to New Orleans for the Sweet 16, but one has to make lemonade with lemons thrown maliciously his way, right?)

How does one properly summarize the 2010-2011 K-State basketball season? The highs and lows seem so extreme that any sort of roller coaster analogy may not do justice. (Roller coasters are, after all, constricted by the laws of physics.) Handing out postseason awards is overplayed and far too predictable. (If you can’t determine this team’s MVP without our help, basketball might not be your sport. Have you considered jai alai?) The “predicted champ falls on hard times, but then bests its rival on its way to possible redemption” storyline could be one destined for film, but the budget here is low and we lack directors’ chairs. It seems the best way to look back at the season is to simply look back. (Original idea, no?) Here’s an examination of key points in K-State’s season, detailed in effort to accurately illustrate how remarkable/strange/mind-boggling the campaign has been. 

*Please note: “Fan confidence level” ratings were determined through a very scientific process utilizing retrospective surveys, ink blot illustrations and polygraph tests… That, or the author simply tried to remember how encouraged (or frustrated) the majority of the fan base seemed at that particular point in time. As a point of reference, the final season of the Tom Asbury era scored a -6 (of 10) on the scale. 


Date: Early Nov., 2010
Event:  Preseason love
K-State record: 0-0
Fan confidence level: 10 (of 10)
After years of receiving Sports Illustrated college basketball preview magazines featuring random Jayhawks on the cover, Wildcat fans all over Kansas rejoiced to see Jacob Pullen gracing the regional issue. The nod from SI not only eliminated ritualistic mass burnings of the annual issue in Manhattan, but also gave national credence to the expectations surrounding the 2010-2011 team. K-State saw national rankings as high as No. 3 in the preseason and was predicted to be league champ by Big 12 coaches. There was even talk that the K-State frontcourt might be the best in the nation. At no point in the modern era had so much been expected of a K-State basketball team.


Date: Nov. 23, 2010
Event:  Cats fall to Duke; Kyrie Irving proves that he’s really quick
K-State record: 4-1
Fan confidence level: 9 (of 10)
K-State’s first loss of the season came at the hands of Duke, the nation’s No. 1 team and defending National Champion. Losing to the best was nothing to fret about, but the manner in which the Wildcats lost did raise concerns. Pullen finished with just four points, shooting 1-12 from the field. Meanwhile, Duke freshman guard Kyrie Irving torched KSU, finishing with 17 points and six assists, seemingly revealing a glaring hole in the K-State defense. It was clear that the Wildcats were not at the level of Duke, but few teams could claim that they were.


Date: Dec. 21, 2010
Event:  K-State seniors suspended; Cats fall to Runnin’ Rebels; KSU fans contemplate boycotting all department stores in Manhattan
K-State record: 9-3
Fan confidence level: 7 (of 10)
If one wanted to get under a K-State fan’s skin at midseason, one good way was to repeatedly mention “impermissible benefits.” News that Pullen and Curtis Kelly had been suspended began to leak in the hours leading to tip-off of the night’s game at the Sprint Center, and fans that hadn’t heard the news became fully aware when the pair was not seen in KC. The Wildcats had struggled finding leadership to that point, and such an error in judgment by the team’s elder statesmen seemed to provide a glowing illustration of that fact. The Wildcats, playing without Pullen for the first time since Bob Huggins called Manhattan home, had four players finish in double-figures, but lost to UNLV by four points. With both seniors facing multi-game suspensions and Kansas State yet to find an identity as a team, fans were given a couple reasons for worry as conference play approached.


Date: Jan. 29, 2011
Event:  KU decimates KSU; Wally Judge leaves team
K-State record: 14-8, 2-5 (Big 12)
Fan confidence level: 4 (of 10)
Think January is a slow month? Think again. In a span of 23 days, the Wildcats:
-    Lost to Oklahoma State and Colorado with Kelly on the sideline;
-    Drew criticism when Pullen said he would not play in the NIT;
-    Saw Kelly return to the lineup, but had Freddy Asprilla quit the same week;
-    Beat Texas Tech and Baylor at home, but fell to Missouri, Texas A&M and Kansas on the road by a combined 48 points;
-    Suffered their second mid-season departure when Judge, a former McDonald’s All-American, left the squad one day after the loss to KU.
The drama, tribulations, and sudden departures rivaled those reality television shows. Near the end of this stretch, some K-State fans were fully expecting starting lineups to be determined by cooking challenges or sing-offs judged by Randy Jackson. If backup point guard Juevol Myles had announced he was leaving the team at that point to join Canadian alt-rock group Barenaked Ladies, it would not have seemed out of the ordinary.  Frustrations and struggles peaked in the midst of a 24-point loss to Kansas; a game where the Wildcats shot just 19-percent in the first half and Kelly sat benched for the final 20 minutes.


Date: Feb. 14, 2011
Event:  Wildcats celebrate Valentine’s day, stomp KU, and prove college hoops “experts” do not exist
K-State record: 17-9, 5-6 (Big 12)
Fan confidence level: 7 (of 10)
Who predicted that K-State might topple No. 1 Kansas that Big Monday? Answering “no one” almost seems generous. Two days earlier, the Wildcats suffered a soul-fracturing, now-you-have-it-now-you-don’t loss to the Colorado Buffalos and the week prior had been filled with rumors that Kelly’s days as a Wildcat were through after he had allegedly violated a university rule. Many fans entered Bramlage in purple, but expected to leave feeling black-and-blue. Instead, something happened – something many call “quality basketball.” The Wildcats pushed their defense to a level not seen since the 2010 postseason and showed that a midseason change in offensive philosophy by the K-State coaching staff was near brilliant. The Wildcats built a substantial lead early and – in a manner never before practiced against KU at Bramlage – piled on until the Jayhawks tapped out. It’s amazing what a win over the nation’s No. 1 (especially when it’s a rival) can do in relation to confidence.


Date: 3/17/11
Event:  March Madness begins
K-State record: 22-10
Fan confidence level: 8 (of 10)
On the heels of the victory over KU, K-State rattled off five more wins to close the season before falling to Colorado in their first game of the Big 12 Tournament.  After 130+ days, thousands of practice free throws, 497 cold and wordless stares by Frank Martin, ten different starters, two player departures, and one major change to the team’s offensive scheme, the Wildcats entered the NCAA Tournament as one of the scariest match-ups in college basketball. It’s a spot many expected K-State to be in from the start of the season, but the road to it was littered with Bramlage-sized potholes. Now, Kansas State appeared to be near strength and match-up against No. 12-seed Utah State would be the start of the postseason journey.


Date: Today
Event:  Game over; K-State’s season ended with a 70-65 loss to Wisconsin
K-State record: 23-11
Fan confidence level: ?

Forgive the question mark denoting the fan confidence level, but it is a ponder-worthy subject at this point. If life was a comic strip, you would see that question mark above a K-State fan’s head when they’re presented with the question, “How will the Cats do next season?“ With the loss in the NCAA Tournament’s quasi-third round, there’s credence to the argument that the Wildcats failed to live up to the preseason expectations of the media, the Big 12 coaches, and of fans in general. But, in games against some of the nation’s best, the Wildcats showed that they could compete at that level. They showed a remarkable ability to bounce back from suspensions and departures that could have crippled the team. And they showed that their star player could take over a game as well as any player in the nation.

The Wildcats should have all but two players returning next season… Unfortunately, one graduating senior is the basketball program’s all-time leading scorer and the other is a wildly talented post. Neither will be easy to replace, but the Wildcats have been tasked with such a burden before. Two seasons after All-American Michael Beasley and uber-skilled Bill Walker took their brand of bucketization to the NBA, K-State put together its most successful season in 20+ years, led by players who were question marks when they arrived. As a freshman, Pullen was mainly known as the little point guard who Frank Martin yelled at incessantly. No one was predicting that he might one day have his No. 0 in the rafters. Kelly arrived in Manhattan as an underperforming transfer from UConn. He leaves K-State owning the record for blocked shots in a season and possessing one of the most picturesque high-post spin moves that you will ever see. While there are reasons for worry as Pullen and Kelly exit, thoughts of Rodney McGruder’s long-range shooting and Jordan Henriquez-Robert’s continued progression provide ample hope for the future.

What happens in the next chapter of this story? There will be plenty of time to pitch storylines as next season approaches. That said, after the twists 2010-2011 provided, little - beyond Frank Martin quitting to train for a fight against Clubber Lang - may come as a shock to K-State fans.

Spring Breakin'

We’ll start with an apology. This Writing has nothing to do with break-dancing, though the apostrophized title might lead on to assume it does. For those unaware, the popular* break-dancing movie “Breakin’” shares the same construction of the word. Alas, I have never seen the film and I possess as much rhythm as a plastic spork. Please forgive the lack of electric boogaloos in this Writing.

*Term used as loosely as possible. 

Now, on to the subject that this log will cover: spring break. It’s the annual week that I anticipate more than most as little as six years ago. After all, it meant a break from classes, a break from study, and a break from everyday inconveniences like bathing. (Scratch that last one.) Spring break was like a mandatory vacation, and it was great. Today, spring break mainly serves as a reason to be jealous of my friends and family members that teach. Sure, they’re underpaid and they have to deal with hellion kids and clueless parents alike, but they get one week off every spring. Unfair!

While spring break now affects my work-life in the same way that dinner menus in Panama affect my slumber, I will admit that there are some perks that come with the annual holiday. For one, it means that college students skip town like sane folks flee any home airing “Jersey Shore.” I have nothing against college students – after all, I was once one of them – but I must say that life is a little less hectic when they leave in droves. Traffic clears up, finding a parking spot is no longer akin to the late stages of a Chubby Bunny contest, and the number of inebriated shouts of “wooooo!” I hear through my apartment windows in the evening hours reduces significantly. For one week, the town I call home regains the feel of a quiet place in the Midwest.

How does one appreciate such a state? Thus far the wind (which seems to currently gusting at the speed of a military aircraft) has limited the opportunities to take in much of the outdoors. I ventured to the park yesterday to sit on a bench and read*, but the wind continually threatened to confiscate my paperback and swiftly deliver it to someone up north. (Do Nebraskans like Stephen King?)

*Is it possible that I’m actually 68 years old? I’m looking into it.

As a result, my spring break involves sitting in an office, driving home while hoping the wind does not cause my car to take flight, and then crafting prose about spring break. It may not sound like much, but it’s not bad.

… I guess I could always rent Breakin’. 

Writing Feverishly

First things first, I better get one thing straight: being sick is horrible. I had the pleasure of waking up at 3 this morning soaked with sweat and generally feeling as if my head was near a low flame. I tried to put the general lousiness behind me and return to my slumber, but such a task was akin to learning Latin during "The Price is Right." After an undetermined period of time (I don't track well when generally confounded by sleep deprivation), I made my way to my thermometer to take my temperature. When three digital digits appeared prior to the decimal, I had confirmation that one of those flu bugs that have been making the rounds had stopped by my place. I also had the sort of headache that makes a person check the sides of his head to ensure that he is not currently in the grasp of a medieval torture device. Back to bed!

From that early morning hour through 9 a.m., I probably slept for an hour-and-a-half. Believe it or not, that schedule does not meet my typical quota. Alas, where there's bad, there's often good. You see, today is the first TRUE day of the NCAA Tournament (sorry, opening round... you're dead to me), meaning that my television will be airing little other than hoops from 11 a.m. onward.

You know what they say: When life hands you lemons, stay on your couch and watch basketball.*

*The Writings: We really have no insight into popular vernacular.

With my day's schedule now cleared, there's plenty of time to keep updates coming on the day as it proceeds. If you only read one running account of a sick day this week, make it this one.

10:24 a.m. - While trying to get through NCAA pregame without falling asleep (note to self: record some studio shows to watch next time you can't sleep), I realize that today is St. Patrick's Day. I have no Irish luck, I'm not wearing green, and I don't see a pint of Guiness in my future... Apparently I'm the Grinch of St. Patty's.

10:34 a.m. - Pregame includes a short interview with Jimmer Fredette, the BYU guard who leads the nation in scoring. I cannot watch a Jimmer interview without expecting some sort of pitch to drink milk or visit the library at the end.

10:42 a.m. - Good news: we're just 18 minutes away from the start of the first game. Better news: we're just ten hours and 15 minutes from the start of K-State's game against Utah State. I have of goal of being able to sit up by that point without my head feeling like someone is jabbing my brain with the pokey end of a compass. It's good to have goals.

10:47 a.m. - Within a span of three minutes, the pregame show aired highlights of KU's loss to Northern Iowa in 2010 and of Kansas falling to Bucknell in 2005. Have I mentioned that I love March?

11:06 a.m. - Charles Barkley calls the Big East the most overrated basketball conference in the country. If you disagree, you're wrong. Just ask Chuck. Sure, Sir Charles may have once thrown a guy through a bar window, but he's undeniably entertaining on television. I don't think there's any correlation there, but I could be wrong.

11:24 a.m. - Four minutes into the first game of the day, West Virginia - coached by former K-Stater Bob Huggins - is shooting slightly less accurately than a blind, vertigo-stricken marksman. Remember, their opponent - Clemson - is the team that just competed in a "first round" game 38 hours ago. Lesson: sports make no sense.

11:43 a.m. - The second game of the day - Butler-Old Dominion - has begun and now my thumb will get a workout. For the first time ever, four networks are broadcasting the NCAA Tournament, meaning all games can be viewed in their entirety. I'd say that my head hurts just thinking about all that basketball, but we've already established that it hurts and I don't condone beating horses in any state of being.

11:53 a.m. - If Mario (of Super Mario Bros. fame) was a real person that wore suits, I am fairly certain that he would look identical to Old Dominion's coach. This update brought to you by the Council for Pointless Observations.

12:47 p.m. - Through fastidious research, I discovered that "rest" is a recommended remedy to things like the flu. Thus, I gave that a go, along with a healthy dose of off-brand Dayquil. (We'll call it Fakequil.) Have I made a miraculous recovery? Not exactly, but I'm no longer daydreaming about video game characters becoming basketball coaches... That's progress, right?

12:58 p.m. - Ever feel like you'd be better off letting a Latvian hobo make your bracket picks than deciding the winners yourself? Welcome to my world, as Louisville - one of my Final Four picks - is losing to Morehead State (a school seemingly named after a common phrase at cannibal dinners) 8-0 early on. 

1:36 p.m. - Game one of the day wraps with West Virginia reigning as the victors. Broadcasters credit the Mountaineers' defense down the stretch. I credit their bright yellow shoes. How the opposing team can concentrate while continually asking "It's possible to make shoes that shade? Does that color even exist naturally in nature?" is beyond my comprehension.

1:50 p.m. - Like buzzer beaters? Butler wins with one, causing me to sit up so quickly that my brain seemingly stayed back on my pillow. Note to self: don't do that again.

2:55 p.m. - I've never had one of my Final Four picks lose in the 64-team round of the NCAA Tournament... Apparently there's a first time for everything. Morehead State just topped Louisville and I now know that there are a ton of people out there who feel a whole lot worse than I do... On that note, I've been sitting upright for 30 minutes now and my head has yet to explode. Progress.

3:11 p.m. - Like buzzer beaters? Wow, this sounds awfully familiar. Whether I'm encountering deja vu, suffering from 'quil-related hallucinations, or simply witnessing a great day of basketball, I'm not entirely sure. If my eyes don't deceive, though, Temple just beat Penn State with a bucket that left just 0.4 seconds on the clock. I'm not one to support overuse of common phrases that slyly refer to mental illness, but "March Madness" is pretty accurate in describing things so far.

Five hours and 1,000 words into this log, it's probably time to let things rest. After all, the Cats will take the court in five-and-a-half hours. That's just enough time to attempt to nap, get frustrated because I can't sleep, and then watch more basketball. Good times.

Bracket Busting

As promised via a quick Writing mainly posted to mask the state of torpor that both my mind and my typing fingers * were in yesterday, it’s time for The Writings to break down the NCAA Tournament bracket. Three quick notes before we begin:

1.    This breakdown may have no semblance of order and will be comprised of random thoughts presented in a fashion that may bring the phrase “willy-nilly” to mind.
2.    Bracket thoughts are written for entertainment purposes only. Any attempt to use these ramblings points to aid in bracket pools will be judged swiftly and harshly. (Translation: When it comes to analysis, I am slightly less astute than water-fearing manatees. You will probably lose money and lose it quickly if you take these notes as gospel.)
3.    Note No. 3 is completely unnecessary. If you would like to know why, please refer to Note No. 3.

*As opposed to, you know, the nontyping fingers I possess.

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One team whose bracket situation we won’t be discussing is Colorado. If you are a Colorado fan, odds are strong that you were tearing up brackets in a fit of rage after Sunday’s selection show wrapped. The Buffalos beat one No. 4 seed (Texas), beat a No. 5 seed (K-State three times), beat an 11 seed (Missouri), and lost to two other tourney teams (KU and Texas A&M) by 7 points combined. It’s true, their nonconference schedule was slightly more difficult than tying one’s shoe, but I am still unsure how they are not more deserving of a spot in the 68-team field than the Clemson Tigers, who defeated one other tournament team all season long. 

I assume that the Selection Committee just could not bear having a coach named Tad in the field.

-----

In a very daring move, I am predicting that the top two seeds meet to determine the winner of the East region. (The Writings: We’re not short on chalk.) Entering Sunday, I thought that Ohio State and North Carolina could make a pretty dandy (that’s right, dandy) championship game. Now it turns out that they will potentially meet just to reach the Final Four. I predict that the Tar Heels would trump the Buckeyes in the battle of nonsensical mascots.

-----

In the West region, it was difficult to refrain from picking Bucknell to advance, since – fueled by their victory over Kansas in 2005 (and the fact that I was probably the only person outside of Bucknell’s basketball program to predict that result) – I once purchased a school t-shirt from their online university bookstore. Alas, I don’t see them topping Connecticut this season. (Sorry, Bucknell.)

In the region, I think the winner comes down to Duke and UConn. While I really enjoy watching Kemba Walker for the Huskies, I think Coach K* and the Blue Devils** are destined to meet North Carolina (for the fourth time this season) in the Final Four.

*The Writings: We’d rather not type Coach Kryzezdkafkzyzydizsski

**I agree. Naming a school mascot after depressed residents of Hades IS strange.

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The popular pick to win the Southwest region is Kansas. Alas, making such a pick would violate the only strict, nonnegotiable, longstanding rule that I have when it comes to bracket predictions: never pick KU to advance beyond the second round. Sure, the rule doomed my bracket when they won the National Championship in 2008, but there have been occasions (Bucknell, Bradley, Northern Iowa) where the rule has proven valuable.

With Kansas out of the picture in round two, this Final Four spot seems pretty wide open. I trust No. 2 seed Notre Dame about as far as Rudy Ruettiger’s reach, so I have No. 3 Purdue and No. 4 Louisville meeting in the Elite Eight.

Who wins?

Louisville.

Why?

The answer has something to do with Coach Rick Pitino, but nothing to do with his hair.

-----

Last, but not least (in any way, shape, form or conjurable scenario) we get to K-State’s draw. In the 24 hours since the bracket has been released, there has been much discussion that Utah St. as a 12-seed could upset the No. 5 Wildcats. The Aggies, after all, only lost three games all season long; they’ll be playing closer to home than K-State; and they share a nickname with a squad that KSU already lost to this season. (That counts for something, right?) Naturally, the purple tint of my blood* won’t allow me to consider such a premise.

*I hope that’s not a result of mercury poisoning.

Beyond the Utahians (Utahns? Utihtes?), the bracket presents the opportunity for some interesting rematches for K-State. In the round of 32, KSU could potentially face Wisconsin, who dropped the Michael Beasley-led Wildcats from the tourney three years ago.  The probable foe should K-State reach the Sweet 16 is the 1-seed Pittsburgh, but there’s a slim possibility that the Wildcats could face the Butler Bulldogs. Butler knocked off K-State in the Elite Eight last season and advanced to the tournament’s championship game. Continuing the rematch theme, should K-State win its way to the Elite Eight, they could face 2-seed Florida – who bested K-State earlier this season in one of the ugliest games ever recorded – or 3-seed BYU. Last season, the Wildcats sent the Cougars home from the tournament despite the fact that guard Jimmer Fredette entered the game touted as the top guard in the nation, the best scorer in years, and future president of the yet-to-be-formed Galactic Council of Unified Planets.

As for the region’s winner, I don’t think there’s a clear-cut favorite. Naturally, the longstanding “When in doubt, pick K-State” rule applies. For no real reason other than the fact that I’ve actually seen this team at its (impressive) best, I have K-State advancing to the Final Four.

-----

So we have a Final Four of North Carolina, Duke, Louisville and K-State. We also have a bracket with no real Cinderella teams, as the furthest I have a double-digit seed advancing is the Sweet 16. Add that factors together, and we end up with a bracket that is sure to have red marks all over in a week.

Where do we go from there? Who wins it all?

Answer: I can’t divulge said information at this time for fear of bad mojo. Forgiveness is requested.

-----

The Wildcats take the court Thursday night in Tucson, but opening round tournament games begin Tuesday night. Get your brackets ready.  (Just don’t copy mine. It’s really a horrible idea.)

Coming Soon - Bracket Thoughts

Another Selection Sunday has come and gone and another two hours of my life have been devoted to watching names of college basketball programs populate a bracket. Since the event is relatively unknown and lacking much media coverage*, you can expect The Writings' take on the tournament soon. Here's a teaser: Colorado suffered a hosing that should go down in hosing history as one of the hosingest hosings of all.**

*This line stricken from proper publication because it exceeded the Internet's limit of allowable sarcasm.

**Possible exaggeration, though they did get hosed.

Inspiring thoughts

The National Pork Board recently determined that the slogan "Pork: The Other White Meat" was played out, replacing it with the (apparently) much hipper "Pork: Be Inspired." How any board, let alone one whose president may end every meeting by saying "That's all folks!", determines that their long-standing slogan is no longer effective is not something I have any insight to. I do, however, know that the new slogan is effective. After all, after eating a pork chop dinner, I often feel inspired... Inspired to nap.

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We're now just days away from Selection Sunday, meaning that picking bracket winners will soon be a topic of much discussion. If you're looking for a strategy to pick the winners of the 68-team field, I have a quick suggestion to pass along...

1. Write the names of all 68 teams on 3x5 cards.
2. On the back of each card, write the name of an alum of that school.
3. Draw a picture of each school's mascot on each card.
4. Compose a haiku poem about each mascot.
5. Read the haiku poems to the clerk at your nearest gas station.
6. Shake off the clerk's taunts and go back home.
7. Dip all the 3x5 cards that you previously wrote on in cake batter.
8. Place all cards in a 10-gallon hat.
9. Place the hat in a trash bag.
10. Hang the bag on a dart board.
11. Throw the dart board, bag, and all cards away.
12. Pick K-State to win it all. 

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Upon picking up my mail today, I came to the realization that someone needs to invent a device that automatically trashes junk mail the moment that it is inserted into a mailbox. Unfortunately, I possess neither the cognitive ability nor the mechanical inclination manufacture such a product. Readers, I urge you to contact me if you are capable of inventing such a product. I'll even split the profits with you, 90-10. Hello, lucrative riches.

Stuffing the ballot box

Warning: The following Writing is a long and rambling one about baseball and players that once wore Kansas City Royals uniforms. If your interest in baseball is akin to the interest dachshunds have in philosophy dissertations, this may not be the post for you. That is all.

The Kansas City Royals recently announced that they are opening the voting for their team Hall of Fame to fans around the world. This, dear readers, is not something I can ignore. The inaugural ballot contains the names of 18 former Royals; 18 names synonymous (or anonymous) with the success (or failure) of the club over its 42 years of existence. Here's my take on the voting.

Brian Anderson
Case for induction: He arrived in Kansas City via trade in 2003 (the only season the Royals have been near playoff contention since the 1994 strike) and won five of his seven starts down the stretch. He pitched two complete games and had fans genuinely excited about his future with the team.
Case against induction: His future with the team. In 2004, Anderson won six games while posting a 5.64 earned run average (note to those lacking baseball stat knowledge: an earned run average over 5 is generally considered horrendous). In 2005, he started just six games, with a 6.75 ERA.
Verdict: No, no, no

Kevin Appier
Case for: He is one of the best pitchers in team history. His 1993 season (18 wins, 2.56 ERA, 186 strikeouts) was worthy of that season's Cy Young award, but voters were seemingly swayed by the fact that Jack McDowell won more games. Finished third in Rookie of the Year voting in 1990 and was an all-star in 1995.
Case against: The Royals traded him in 1999 and essentially got three unsalted sunflower seeds and a dip of pre-chewed tobacco in return... No, this is nothing against Appier, but I have to get potshots in on horrible trades when I have a chance.
Verdict: Absolutely

Al Cowens
Case for: Cowens was an every day outfielder for three Royals teams that made the postseason. In 1977 he hit 23 home runs, knocked in 112 RBI, won a Gold Glove and finished second to Rod Carew in MVP voting.
Case against: Though he played in KC for his first six seasons, he played for three more teams after his departure. Aside from 1977, he never hit more than 9 home runs or batted over .295 for Kansas City.
Verdict: The toughest call on the ballot for me. At his best (1977) he was one of the very best, but he was basically a league-average hitter every other season he played in KC. Beyond that, his career postseason numbers (.228 on-base percentage, .291 slugging percentage& another note to those illiterate in the baseball stat vernacular: trust me, that's bad) were weak. Can ONE transcendent season catapult a player to the hall of fame? I vote no.

Al Fitzmorris
Case for: Pitched eight seasons for Kansas City, winning 70 games with an ERA under 3.50. Fitzmorris showed versatility, beginning his career as a strong reliever and evolving into a dependable starter.
Case against: Fitzmorris was steady and dependable, but never among the very best.
Verdict: No... Prepare for a lot of these.

Jason Grimsley

Case for: Grimsley put together two pretty strong seasons as a set-up man for the Royals.
Case against: Grimsley put together one wildly underwhelming season as a set-up man for the Royals. Also, set-up men don't make halls of fame. He was implicated in the great steroid investigation of 2006 and also played burglar in Cleveland's Great Bat Caper of 1994.
Verdict: No, but if he really wants in, he might sneak in through some vents

Bo Jackson
Case for: Bo knows fame. He hit home runs so hard that folks sympathized with the baseballs. He made throws from the outfield that seemed to defy laws of nature. He once ran UP an outfield wall. He's one of the greatest athletes in history, he was subject of one of the most memorable marketing campaigns ever, and he was even featured in a Saturday morning cartoon alongside the greatest basketball player and the greatest hockey player ever.
Case against: His actual career with KC was cut short due to a devastating football injury. He played football for the Raiders, which is unforgivable in some cases. He struck out a ton and rarely took a walk.
Verdict: Yes. Sure, his career numbers aren't stunning, but the Royals have never had a player as nationally renowned as Bo at his peak. Beyond that, at his peak, Bo was a great player. What if he'd never gotten hurt? is one of the great hypothetical questions in baseball.

Mike Macfarlane

Case for: Mac played 11 seasons for the Royals, hitting double-digit home runs in five of them. Served as a baseball magnet (that, or he made really bad first impressions), leading the league in beanballs-received twice. Case against: You're going to notice a developing theme... MacFarlane was good, but never great. To me, a Hall of Fame honors those who, at their peaks, were among the very best in the sport. For MacFarlane, that was not the case.
Verdict: No

Darrell May
Case for: He had a 3.77 ERA and tallied 10 victories in 2003.
Case against: May led the league in losses (19) and surrendered 38 home runs in 2004, leading the author to pound his head against a variety of inanimate objects. May's career record in Kansas City is 23-37.
Verdict: No sir

Brent Mayne
Case for: He played nine seasons in Kansas City.
Case against: He had a .305 on-base percentage and 20 home runs over those nine seasons.
Verdict: No

Jose Offerman
Case for: Offerman could work an at-bat and had good speed. In 1998, he had an on-base percentage of .403, he hit 11 triples, and he stole 45 bases.
Case against: He may have been allergic to leather. He came to the Royals as a shortstop, but committed 10 errors in just 36 games at the position. After his first season in KC, he never played another game at shortstop... Never. Though his offense was nice, he was never an all-star in his three seasons in Kansas City. Verdict: No, with 10 E's on the end

Darrell Porter
Case for: Porter was a three-time all-star over four seasons in Kansas City. He also finished in the top ten in MVP voting in 1978 and 1979. With 20 home runs, 112 RBI, and a league-leading 121 walks in 1979, he owns the best single-season ever by a Royals catcher. (Take THAT, Sal Fasano!) Wore glasses during games& Ahh, those were simpler times.
Case against: Only played four seasons in Kansas City. Played for the Cardinals AGAINST the Royals in the 1985 World Series.
Verdict: Yes. At his peak, he was one of the best catchers in baseball and he played a big role on postseason teams in 1977, 1978, and 1980.

Joe Randa
Case for: Gave the Royals a solid regular at the hot corner from 1999 through 2004. He also played for KC earlier in his career and served as a piece in the deal that brought Jay Bell and Jeff King to Kansas City. Earned the nickname "The Joker " because of a seemingly natural smile that rarely left his face.
Case against: Never a great player; never an all-star. Randa was a steady third baseman, but he topped out at 16 home runs in an era where knocking 40 was not uncommon.
Verdict: No, but I bet he's still smiling.

Kevin Seitzer
Case for: Seitzer played six seasons in KC, compiling an OPS+ of 115 over that time. In 1987, he was an all star, finished second in Rookie of the Year voting to some nobody named Mark McGwire, and led the American League in hits. He currently serves as the Royals' hitting coach.
Case against: Seitzer was good, but never great. If the Hall of Fame is simply for those who were good in their time in Kansas City, they're going to have to plan an expansion for the stadium.
Verdict: No

Scott Service
Case for: Service, a reliever for Kansas City from mid-1997 to 1999, struck out 95 batters in just 82.2 innings pitched in his first full season in KC.
Case against: In his second season as a Royal, Service gave up an average of 10 hits and five walks per 9-innings with an ERA over 6.
Verdict: No, though I'm fairly certain he must have a family member in the committee that put the ballot together.

Michael Tucker
Case for: His at-bat music at Kauffman Stadium was incredibly catchy. His first tenure with the club ended when he was traded for future all-star and Gold Glove winner Jermaine Dye.
Case against: It's not a great sign when your career highlights involve a beat from a Mystikal track and the fact that a team once traded you for a far superior player.
Verdict: No

U.L. Washington
Case for: Played shortstop for three Kansas City postseason clubs. Stole 40 bases in 1983. Had the name U.L. Washington, which sounds an awful lot like a pseudonym for someone in the witness protection program.
Case against: Never carried an on-base percentage over .338. Led the league in errors at SS in 1983. At his best, he was a league-average shortstop.
Verdict: No

John Wathan
Case for: John Wayne Wathan (a.k.a, The Duke) provided the Royals with an incredibly versatile utility player during some of their most successful seasons. He played on seven postseason teams from 1976-1985 and logged games at catcher, first base, right field and left field over that stretch. Wathan gave great credence to the phrase runs well for a catcher, once stealing 36 bases in a season. (Six more than any Royal in 2010.)
Case against: Measured with OPS+ (basically a fancy way of determining a player's value at the plate) Wathan was subpar. His career OPS+ is 83, while the total of an average player is typically considered to be 100. He only played 100+ games in a season three times, and - at his best - he was not an all-star level player.
Verdict: No. Sorry, Duke.

Kris Wilson
Case for: He once wore a Royals uniform during Major League baseball games.
Case against: He pitched during some of the aforementioned games, compiling a 5.32 ERA over 90 games with the team.
Verdict: Nope

There you have it; 18 players on the ballot, and I find three to be worthy candidates. After 1,700+ words on the subject, two things seem clear. 1. I may need to be more lenient. 2. You may have too much time on your hands.

A letter to Winter...

Dear Winter,

It is with sorrow and deep regret that I write this letter. You see, over the 28 years we have worked together on a seasonal basis, we have created many fond memories. From sledding and snow forts to college snow days, good times were bountiful. Somewhere along the line, though, you changed.

I tried to brush off the wrist-fracturing slip you threw my way a few years back. I turned a blind eye to the 2009 Icepocalypse that left so many in the area without power. After all, who needs electricity when you have frozen water? (See? That argument still doesn’t make sense.) I figured you might just be going through some sort of phase where you clamored for attention; like you were trying to be a Jonas brother or Kardashian sister. Alas, this winter has proven that your issues go far beyond a “look at me” complex… Now you simply won’t go away. What was the breaking point? Perhaps it was the consecutive snowstorms. Perhaps it was the 40-degree dip over a span of 12 hours. Or perhaps it was the fact that you brought traffic to such a standstill on Thursday night that it took me 45 minutes to travel from my home to another location less than four miles away. The year is not 1850, I know not how to mend a broken wagon axle, and none of my family members are suffering from dysentery. Put simply, this is not the Oregon Trail, Winter. Such travel escapades are simply inexcusable. I have no choice but to ask for your resignation as an annual season.

It’s true, not all of your traits are the sort that might trigger Jack Nicholson’s character in “The Shining” to transition into a psychotic, Ed McMahon-quoting delirium. After all, snow spread over an open field and dusted over trees can create a landscape that many find “majestic” or “beautiful.” You can even help bring forth the inner kindness of individuals, leading neighbors to assist in shoveling driveways and even encouraging strangers to help push cars up an icy hill.

Unfortunately, with the good, there’s both bad and ugly. It seems far too many in the Midwest approach driving in snow as if it’s some sort of master’s-level equation, and they aren’t anywhere near solving it. Wheels spinning in place? I bet stomping on my gas pedal as if it’s a spider scurrying across a tile floor will do the trick. Uh oh, I’m losing traction as I careen down the road… I better slam on my brakes as if I’m headed toward the Grand Canyon. Basically, the roads turn into a circus… A circus where the clowns driving tiny cars operate as if inebriated and nearsighted, and snow cones are mud-flavored and fed to folks by a batting cage pitching machine.

I’d like to give you another chance, Winter. I really would. Unfortunately, you have proven yourself untrustworthy. How can I be expected to continually support a season whose quadrennial Olympics are slightly less entertaining than flossing one’s teeth?

Enough is enough, Winter. It’s time for a change. Resign now and we will negotiate a deal that will allow you to return for 24 hours each Christmas that falls in an even-numbered year. Decline this request resignation and you will risk legal action. The choice is yours.

Sincerely,

Derek Larson

Weekend wisdom

I'm passing this along because - oddly - most of The Writings known readership (a group of insomniacs seeking sleep aides) do not show the author's enthusiasm for the NBA. Arguments that folks have against the NBA seem countless, ranging from "they're all overpaid" to "they don't work hard until the playoffs." The pay issue is one I can't argue with, but I think the lackadaisical play issue is just something folks like to say without actually watching games to support the argument. Whatever the case, I'm nearing an off-topic rant, and that's not one expects from The Writings. (Nope, you expect tales of my awkward personal interactions... There's always next time.)

Back to wisdom, this weekend's glowing example came during the NBA Slam Dunk Contest on Saturday night. After an assortment of slams mixed in with awkward fanfare and the most ear-crippling announcing duo possible (Reggie and Cheryl Miller... Horrible... I'd rather listen to Carrot Top and Gallagher talk prop "comedy"), the night wrapped with LA Clippers forward Blake Griffin dunking over a car.

It was an impressive feat. (I haven't jumped over a car in years.) It was a nice dunk... but it wasn't an AMAZING dunk; not one worthy of the instant reaction that it received from most everyone in attendance. It wasn't the best dunk of the night, and thankfully Charles Barkley was there to put things in proper perspective. How does one effectively convey the message that presentation was nice but, overall, there wasn't much substance to something in particular?

Mr. Barkley?

"That's like when you have a pretty girl, if she's dumb, it don't matter."

I can't top that. Use your newfound wisdom wisely.

Roses are...

It's Valentine's Day. This means that florists will stay in business for another year. It means that fancy restaurants everywhere will have folks spilling out the doors. It means that several husbands around the country will sleep on their couches tonight, having forgotten about the entire holiday. It also means that vernaculars, written communicae, and the Internet are infested with sappy "Roses are red..." poems. This is an infection that must be cured. We at The Writings have decided that the only way to put an end to the thought that such poems might be in any way romantic is to compile the worst examples of said poems. Here's a start. Please feel free to pitch in if you can.


Roses are red; violets are blue;
I'd put your name here, but I haven't a clue.


Roses are red, but roses have thorns;
I'll see you tonight, you can help treat my corns.


Roses are red; a rose is a flower;
On such a special occasion, I might even shower.


Roses are red; ... well, some roses anyway. Roses can also be white, yellow, pink, or even striped. There are actually over 100 species within the family Rosaceae. They're all perennials and many are native to Asia. Roses are most often used for ornamental purposes and they have been used in that manner for thousands of years. I'm a big fan of roses. In fact, I can tell you a lot more about them if you like. I'm going to assumed that your stunned silence means, "yes, I would like to hear more." Did you know that roses are even used medicinally. No really, it's true...


Roses are red; this is no fling;
Put on something pretty, it's time for Burger King.


Roses are red; my online avatar has tremendous stats;
Have you seen my collection of porcelain cats?


Roses are red; my formal title is mister;
Sweetheart, you're great, but can I call your sister?


-----
Yes, the fact that it is Valentine's Day also means that tonight is the Sunflower Showdown at Bramlage Coliseum. I'll be headed that way soon. Frankly, I won't allow myself to write anything else about the game, as I seem to have an adverse effect on most things I appreciate. That's a topic for the future.

Cards of the Day - Feb. 12, 2011

Dick Vitale's voice can make a person alter their plans. Sure, I've detailed inane comments from a number of broadcasters over the life of The Writings, but Vitale is like a different species (Dickius Vitalus). Honestly, I care not if someone is a "PTP'er" or a "diaper dandy." In fact, if one really ponders the catch phrases, they mind end up assuming that Vitale spends his spare time getting wildly excited for recently potty-trained children. For me, today it's all too much. The game - Ohio St.-Wisconsin - is one I'm mildly interested in, but certainly not one where I feel like I need to catch all the enthralling commentary that accompanies it. Instead, it's time to examine a bit of childhood nostalgia. After all, it's been far too long since I wrote about trading cards.




Dale Carter - 1993 Pro Set Power

Carter is one of the best defensive backs in Chiefs history, and I'm nothing if I'm not biased when it comes to my favorite teams. These factors, plus the fact that the folks at Pro Set were apparently ancestors of Samuel F. B. Morse. The description on the back of Carter's card reads, "In 1992, Carter telegrammed his game-breaking ability to the league the first time he touched the ball..." It was 1992; what was he doing using a telegraph? Was he stuck in history museum. I don't ask for much (editor's note: lie), but couldn't the Pro Set folks have referred to faxing instead of sending a telegram? Or, embracing the technology of the era, maybe they could have even written, "In 1992, Carter phoned the beepers of teams around the league. Upon checking their pager messages, locating a pay phone, and borrowing a quarter from the nearest guy wearing a fanny pack, teams were informed of Carter's game-breaking ability..."

I think it sounds good.




Don Mattingly - 1994 Bowman

On the back, a scout talks of why Mattingly - who won the 1985 MVP over George Brett despite the fact that the Royals went on to the World Series and that Brett had a higher batting average, on-base percentage, and slugging percentage (bitter? Me?) - was not drafted until the 19th round in 1979. "He didn't show the tools that were in vogue then," the scout says.

I assume that means that he hadn't grown his mustache yet.



Jon Nunnally - 1996 Metal Universe

There's no descriptive paragraph on the back of this card, and that's probably for the best. The illustration on the front seems to get the point across. Nunnally - a former Royals outfield who hit a home run in his first major league at-bat - is shown apparently navigating a minefield in effort to catch a falling mine in the webbing of his mitt. It's true, the Royals were lousy in the mid-90s (and the late 90s... and nearly the entire 21st century to this point), but depicting their once-promising young outfielder (he was eventually traded to Cincinnati and may have fallen into a bottomless pit) in the midst of a war-torn minefield seems a bit harsh. After all, they didn't even have Neifi Perez or Chuck Knoblauch by that point.

Unfortunately, it seems that no picture of this card exists in the entirety of the Internet and my scanner is on the fritz. (Who knew that a printer/scanner might quit working if one goes without using it for four years?)








Mike Remlinger - 1992 Donruss

Poor Mr. Remlinger, not only is he stuck wearing a throwback uniform that makes him look like a member of a 1919 prison team, but the folks at Donruss mention missing most of the 1988 season due to an elbow injury as a "career highlight." Donruss: Enjoying the career-threatening misery of others since 1992.

Asking my source

If you keep up with K-State sports at all, you know that this week has been a whirlwind of rumors, allegations, innuendo, and other intriguing terms in relation to the status of senior forward Curtis Kelly. Kelly - who sat out the first three games of the season because coach Frank Martin apparently did not like the way Kelly was approaching practice, and then sat six-games in the heart of the season because he is apparently obsessive when it comes to bargain shopping - has been practicing all week and will play tomorrow, per Martin's comments yesterday. I'd comment more one the subject, but my "source" tells me that my reaction to comments like these (advance to 2:10 mark) from Martin would result in me curling up in the fetal position as if I was being attacked by a grizzly.

Mondays

I encountered someone with “The Mondays” today, and the result was not one many might desire. Those unfamiliar should know that having The Mondays basically involves experiencing the frustrations in life that might only seem to occur on Mondays – the oft-dreaded start to a work week. The origins of the phrase are unknown (as far as I’m concerned… The Writings: Who Says Writing Involves Research?), but said phrase was made popular in the film “Office Space,” in which an ultimate result is a scheme gone wrong followed by workplace arson. It’s true, The Mondays are not anything to take lightly.

As far as I’m aware, if you have ever said any of the following, you may have suffered from a case of The Mondays:

- “I lost my keys.”

- “I locked my keys in my car.”

- “I locked my car in my house.”

- “I lost my house.”

- “I overslept.”

- “I underslept.”

- “I slept in my neighbor’s boat.”

- “I slept under my neighbor’s boat.”

- “My girlfriend discovered that my sales job at Vandelay Industries is a farce.”

- “My coworkers discovered that my girlfriend is a farce.”

- “I discovered that my life is a farce.”

- “My credit card was declined at lunch.”

- “My credit card was declined at lunch with a client.”

- “My presence was declined at lunch with a client, though he did ask for my credit card to stay.”

- “My dog ran away.”

- “My cat ran away.”

- “My goldfish ran away, despite the fact that it cannot run.”

- “Someone keyed my car.”

- “Someone vandalized my home.”

- “17 yokels that were raised by shrews robbed my home, hijacked my car, and left me with nothing but a 1989 Don Aase baseball card and a pair of non-matching socks.”

- “I lost one of my non-matching socks.”

Whether or not the girl I encountered today had previously uttered any of the above remains a mystery, as I don’t make it a habit of asking strangers for printed transcripts of their daily conversations and inner monologues upon meeting them. No, the first clue of this case of the Mondays unfortunately came at my expense.

(Insert appropriate appalled gasp here.)

While the drive-thru attendee at my favorite local fast-food establishment passed my order through the comically small window, she managed to fumble my cup and spill a portion of my carbonated beverage. The splash zone was unfortunate, somehow extending from my driver’s side window all the way to the passenger seat. Had it not been for the fact that my pants resided in said splash zone, I might have marveled at the way the soda seemed to defy physics. Instead, I put napkins into immediate action, attempting to sop the pop before my car seats were stained and my cup-holder was left in a sticky state that would make future passengers wonder why I had apparently attempted to manufacture taffy in my motor vehicle.

Alas, it was not the fact that the drive-thru gatekeeper also gave me stale French fries, or the fact that she forgot to provide some ketchup packets (despite specifically asking me if I might desire extra ketchup – a query to which I responded, “Yes, that would be great.” … Apparently, she was just taking a survey...) that cemented my diagnosis of this case of The Mondays. No, said realization came directly after the employee chose to baptize my dungarees with Pepsi. Rather than apologize profusely (or even minimally), she instead followed with “I think that cup spilled a little.”

Apparently she was curious whether the Mondays were contagious.

Brrrr

In the denouement* of my last Writing, I mentioned that more thoughts on the ice and snow would be on the way. I’m a man of my word, however there seems to be a more pressing weather-related issue. It’s true that snow is everywhere, leaving every yard, sidewalk, and street looking as if they’ve been encompassed by the fallout from a Hostess powdered donut factory. And, sure, the snowy roads do give me ample opportunity to put into practice everything that I’ve learned from The History Channel’s “Ice Road Truckers.” (Rule No. 1: Avoid ice roads and the truckers that occupy them.) The snow is rough, but the cold is far worse.

*Let usage of “denouement” serve as proof that I passed my freshman English course many years ago... Surprising, I know.

The cold we’re getting (-4 with the wind chill at noon today) is the kind that makes penguins feel smart for not migrating. It’s the kind that leaves the dials in your car frozen and difficult to turn, while your engine makes a sound more like someone asking “Are you serious? You expect me to move?” than the force behind a matriculating motor vehicle. It’s the kind of cold that makes a person long to see the big people wearing far too little that always accompany summer. Lousy weather.

The best way to combat said cold? Stay indoors or move to warmer climate. Unfortunately, those options are not always realistic. (Oddly, many jobs require the employee to show up in order to provide them with a paycheck.) Knowing that the outdoors are unavoidable – since I’ve yet to construct a series of heated, underground tunnels that lead to my workplace as well as other hotspots around town – I’ve resorted to layering clothing. From doubling up on socks to wearing three different shirts, I’ve basically become a walking closet. The result? A warmer Derek, though one with ever more laundry to wash.

On the drive to work this morning, I did notice one person that took a different route to keeping warm. Clad in jeans and a sweatshirt with no coat, jacket, parka, hoodie, vest, or life preserver to speak of, this guy* had apparently decided to simply pretend that it was not cold. Was it working? My observation was inconclusive, though he did seem to look jealously at my heated car as he crossed the crosswalk… Then again, maybe that expression was just the result of him not being able to feel his face.

*This youngster looked to be headed to class and he was wearing a K-State football sweatshirt. If he was indeed a KSU football player, I look forward to seeing him on the field next season… That is, if he recovers from the hypothermia and frostbite.

Luckily, there seems to be hope of waking from this frigid nightmare. After all, Punxatawney Phil – the rodent who apparently has a greater brain capacity than all meteorologists combined – reportedly did not see his shadow this morning. Using the sort of elementary logic that comes with many traditions (bunnies for Easter? OF COURSE!), this means that Spring will soon arrive. For the sake of my Midwestern existence, I hope that groundhog is right. Sure, he may not have seen his shadow because he’s ridden with hypothermia or maybe he’s been blind ever since an unfortunate bar fight after the 76ers won their 1982 NBA title. Honestly, the fur ball could be lying about the whole thing just because he does not want to suffer the wrath of some crazed Spring enthusiast. Whatever the case, I think that the 2010-2011 Winter has served its purpose.

That purpose? Forcing the author to walk with the speed of a geriatric tortoise in order to avoid slipping on any ice. Lousy winter.

I'll learn

It seems that, once again, I jinxed a team I root for with my positive thoughts conveyed through written medium. K-State not only suffered a humiliating loss to rival Kansas on Saturday, but also lost one of the highest-rated players in the history of the program today when sophomore Wally Judge chose to leave the program. The ability is a gift(/curse). Someday I’ll learn that cynicism is the proper way to approach things and that, when it comes to sports, I can’t have nice things. Someday.  In the mean time, I’ll concentrate on not showing the balance of a one-legged barstool outdoors. As has been well-documented here (and by my friends and family) ice has proven to be my mortal enemy in the past. It’s the Bowser to my Mario, the Dr. Evil to my Austin Powers, the Voldemort (gasp!) to my Harry Potter, and the booze to my random yokel that eventually appears on Cops. It is all these evils and more, and now… it’s everywhere.

 

(Cue dramatic montage of water freezing, folks slipping, and cars sliding uncontrollably into others, all set to ominous-sounding music.)

 

Wish me luck. (Or, perhaps, ill will, if you have the same luck that I do when it comes to things you like.) Beyond that, expect more weather-related blogging soon. (Please, don't let the thought of being subjected to more of my writing drive you to spending the next few days attempting to replicate the life of an eskimo.)