Drove the Eagles to the goal line but the goal was denied...

I would love to sit here today and bitch and moan about Andy Reid's idiocy. The goal line futility. The lack of a fullback. The decision to jettison T.O. The refusal to use Buck or Baskett or Avant or Celek. The fact that Schobel and Considine and G-Lew still have jobs. But Doc Terry and the Greystone Ramblers do a better job than I would, and they do it in song! I give you "Andy Reid Bye:"
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"They're like characters in a Springsteen song..."

This article offers up easily the funniest and most accurate description I can remember of the Phillies fan. Who'd have thought it would come from the Wall Street Journal? Kudos, as always, to the700level for finding it first. Click me for the rest!

Nothing is fucked? The goddamn plane has crashed into the mountains!

Well, kiddos, the mother of all fucking catastrophes is about to strike the city of Philadelphia. With the Phils holding a commanding 3-1 lead in the NLCS, the city of brotherly love's thoughts have started to shift forward to the World Series. Lo and behold, Mayor Michael Nutter is reportedly considering making the same ridiculous mistake this city has been making for 15 years. He's thinking about putting the jersey on William Penn. I don't even know what else to say, except that this clearly cannot be allowed to happen. I need game plans, folks, how the fuck are we going to stop this from occurring?

edit: nothing is fucked. The mayor's office issued a form letter and some dude from Modell's is on WIP swearing there will be no dressing up of William Penn. Now back to regular programming. Click me for the rest!

Further proof that our world is doomed...

So, the world's most annoying no-talent assclown is at it again. Am I the only one who remembers that the last time we devoted any attention to this dickwad, he was not only a complete and utter waste of time, he also FAILED. For christ's sake, as Chris Rock put it, this is a trickless fucking magician. And one who can't even achieve the ridiculous things he sets out to achieve. He literally wouldn't get past the first round of America's Got Talent...much as i love that show, this isn't exactly the Metropolitan Opera we're discussing. I'm not going to sit here and say I want any ill to befall him, but I beg of you world, when he fails again (i'm praying because his catheter bursts and covers his entire head and torso in urine) let this be the last time anyone is desperate enough to draw a crowd to actually grant this asshole the space or time of day necessary to suck so badly at life. Click me for the rest!

You gotta...bereave?

I'd like to have something witty to say about the topic but the truth is it really just makes me queasy. This Phillies team, to put it quite simply, is not a playoff team. And it's not for lack of pitching staff, because this pitching staff is still better than it was a year ago, despite today's 8th inning meltdown -- which, by the way, is as easily fixed as Charlie accepting the fact that Durbin NEVER strands inherited runners. He's had a great year, and while he may be tiring, the truth of his recent woes is that he's been asked to be this bullpen's fire extinguisher and he's got an arm full of kerosene. Either get Brett out of the game, or at least go to the pen before the runner is on 3rd, but Durbin just doesn't react well to being brought in with his back against the wall. -- and it's not for lack of offensive talent, because even in what has been considered a significantly "down" year for the Phillies offense, they lead the NL in homers and rank among the league leaders in runs scored. This team will fall short, and in fact really has already sealed that fate with 16 games to play, because they lack the heart which their 2007 counterparts practically OD'd on. I'm pretty sure his name was Aaron Rowand, and I know he would never have let them spend so long going through the motions the way they have lately. They put on a damn good facade for the most part this year, but the grit just isn't there. The most glaring instances of it have been in games like the one they played Tuesday against the Marlins. Take a team's best shot square on the chin, get back up, and knock them the fuck out. That was the way of the 2007 Phillies, the team we saw for a couple hours about 2 weeks ago against the Mets. But in 2008, when the other team gets up from the Phils' best shot, when things inevitably get intense and the baseball suddenly gets played at a much higher level than what leads to the sorts of slugfests in question, the Phillies fold like a house of cards. They abandon the one play at a time mentality which allows them to fight out of a 9-1 deficit and start trying to do it all at once. And inevitably, fail miserably. Not miserably for them, they've maintained an impressive malaise throughout both the highs and lows of this infinitely compelling season, but miserably for those of us who have come to know it best. I never expected to wonder about the heart of this group of guys again, but I guess that's what happens when a team loses the only champion among its ranks, it loses the mentality of a championship ballclub. My only real hope, and there's documented proof of it a few times on this here blog, is that the one hallmark of the 2008 Phils is that every time they look ready to phulphill my profesy of a phade, they beat someone better than them. Click me for the rest!

Each time you smile, it'll only last a while...Life may be scary, but it's only temporary...Everything in life is only for now.

So, it's official...I'm a derelict blogger. But with no one reading, I hardly think it's a crime. Sadly, the most notable things in my life lately have been the 904 bug bites I'm sporting on my lower right leg, thanks to the astoundingly brilliant combination of Paramore, Central Park, shorts, sandals, and, because she was incredibly annoying in addition to continually leaning back into me, forcing said right leg to get tucked back under the row of bleacher on which I sat, the rather large high school girl in front of me and her two competitively slutty friends. Fuck you all.

I've also finally really started the process of writing my Senior Project/Thesis/whatever you wanna calla 30-40 page paper on essentially anything media studies related. And by started the process of writing, I mean I attended my first meeting (of 7 total) of the seminar whose lone assignment is a semester-long research paper which eventually compiles to about 30-40 pages but must be delivered in many increments before then or else an A paper can get at best a 55 or so. I think my topic, which is due in a week and must eventually be boiled down to a single thesis question, is essentially "What Makes Media Independent?" with, hopefully, the most significant changes to be made to the wording of the question, and not the spirit of it. There's definitely enough there for me, given the amount of literature review required and the ridiculously vast amount of literature on media ownership, and, as a natural byproduct, independent media, and it's definitely a topic I can really dig into, and with any damn luck at all, maybe just have something compelling to say about it.

I felt like I got into a really nice groove writing papers last fall/spring which seemed to always come around to a decent point even when I had no fucking clue what I wanted to say while I was writing them. So hopefully, I can knock one more out of the park, boost my final official bullshit GPA a little more with an A, and finally complete a damn degree of some kind (damn you for costing me an IB diploma, Petrovic. The run of the mill one really feels illegit to me.) In other news, there are some sweet-ass brand name band aids (officially the greatest new tongue twister of the 21st century) with neosporinesque (neologism! score!) antibiotic ointment on them which are currently plastered all over my foot/ankle. Other than sometimes getting a little gooey, they're quite helpful.

Running out of transitional phrases here, those Phlailin Phils have their last best chance yet to come, with 7 games of their next 10 against the 2 teams they're chasing, the Mets and Milwaukee. I predict a 3-4 record and a phairly quiet phinal phade.

Fuck transitional phrases. I'm going to see Ben Folds con Orchestra and Beth(orchestra with ben, who beth and i will be seeing together, for clarity's sake. Not that Beth shouldn't be performing with Ben and an orchestra. Also, I should be linking her name to her blog...but I not sure how spell it.) in Philly on Saturday, which should be quite awesome.

And finally...I still have no job. But at least I'm seeing a couple old friends in the next few days. I'm still convinced that's really the most meaningful thing there is. It's now 2:32 as I wrap this up, proofread, and begin the interminable search for THE song lyric which sums up how I feel. Over/Under at 2:55 AM for clicking publish.

Okay seriously Apple, stop being so cognizant. Whilst I had music ADD and looked for a song which wasn't so sleepy for my lyric (at 2:37), iTunes, shuffling (not party shuffling, for true blind randomness) my entire library, has just given me THREE songs in a row with lullabye in the title (lullabye by Ben Folds Five, lullabye for wayne by Weezer, and lullabye by Billy Joel). It's not bedtime for me until 4. Any time earlier than that that i choose to go to bed, barring morning obligations, is my choice, and it's not yours to influence, Mr. Jobs. Your team of slaves is clearly picking my shuffle music for me somewhere in a bunker somewhere, thus creating the strangely cognizant abilities of itunes and ipods and iphones, and they wanna go to bed. Too bad. Don't make 24-hour devices if they're gonna not only spy on me but try and influence me. That's bullshit.

Oh, also, I'm clearly way too into parentheticals and I think I've essentially come to be a nihilist. But ya know, a nihilist who really loves ancillary cultural institutions like sports and movies which conveniently convey the most prominent signs of our imminent cultural demise. Nihilists can still vote Obama even if we think change is hopeless, right? I like the dude and I like voting so no one can tell me if I didn't vote I can't complain.

It's 2:49. Still no song. What all-encompassing song lyric could even sum this one up? At 2:55 AM I pressed publish. Click me for the rest!

I have had it with this motherfucking snake on this motherfucking plane!

I'm sorry to my reader if you get bored hearing about the Phils all the damn time, but holy shit enough is enough. The amount of agida I've had over Jimmy Rollins in 2008 makes Sundays with Donovan look like Tuesdays with Morrie. His always questionable approach at the plate has reached an all time height in its ridiculousness, to the point that he is so mechanical I can guarantee the only pitches he's taking he was taking all the way. Lately that's been a few more, but it's pretty apparent he's been getting those signs from the dugout. It doesn't take a long memory to think back to the time when Jimmy was free as a bird at the plate -- you know, like he swings -- and rarely, if ever, looked into the dugout save for in run-scoring situations. But this year, the hole he's burning in the top of the lineup has gotten to the point where Charlie clearly feels the need to micro-manage him. It's simply time for him to vacate the leadoff spot, if only temporarily, so the Phils have a chance of starting games off without the inevitable dose of 1st inning depression. I don't even need him dropped much farther than down to 2. It actually sounds kinda perfect the way Shane's getting on base and Jimmy's grounding out to 2nd. It's almost as if he's focused on trying to move Shane over before he even gets on. Regardless, I've got 5 bucks says if Jimmy leads off tomorrow, our scoreless streak extends at least one more inning. Click me for the rest!