b'dee b'dee b'dee b'dee

I find this is well thought-out articulation of my views on international relations.

The Euston Manifesto

They should have Leondard Cohen week on American Idol.

Tonight I'm watching Ottawa versus New Jersey in the Stanley Cup playoffs and making enchanted spicy bean burritos in Kingdom of Loathing.

This is a very good hockey game, and I'm rooting for the Sens. My normal rule is to root for American teams over Canadian teams to annoy my wife, especially by chanting "U-S-A! U-S-A!" whenver, say the Detroit Red Wings are in the lead or even showing a bit of 'momentum'. However, I will never support the New Jersey Devils or any Dallas Team under any condition, so Ottawa it is. Enjoy the glory, martycus

Or as whats-his-face would say, "Go, sports!"

Classes are over, thank the frak G-d. Eight weeks to finish dissertation now. Eight weeks of FURY!

Would I block the door with my body to let my students escape?

Ah, livejournal. You're like the dorky friend I've abandoned as soon as I fell in with a more popular crowd. But I still care for you, and when my new friends, realize what a big nerd I am, I'll come ingratiating myself into your favor again.

My, friends, I wish to report that the State of the Newman is strong. I told you several months ago that my thesis was almost done. This is even more the case at present then it was then, and shall be even true some months hence, I say with no shadow of doubt. Our children is learning, and spring are coming.

Team Newman endorses Sandra Boynton's Hippos Go Berserk, as well as her other works.

I'm also a fan of Richard Scarry.

"I am a bunny!"

You should've seen the one that got Away. Get it? Got AWAY?!

Perhaps this is more to your tastes.
http://www.scifi.com/battlestar/video/index.php?cat=features&vid=35344

Once, there was a simple fisherman who lived by the sea with his equally simple wife. For a long time, they very much hoped for children, and so they were overjoyed when they were finally blessed with twin boys.

Being simple people, and in such great joy, they found it impossible to come up with names for their sons, so they thought they would wait and see what seemed appropriate to their natures.

Now when the fisherman's wife would go to wash their clothes in the surf, one son would always face out towards the ocean, and the other would always look away from it. And so they decided to name the one son Towards, and the other one Away.

Many years passed until Towards and Away came of age, and the fisherman announced to his wife that he would have to teach his trade to his sons, and so they would be departing for a month at on his small boat. She was sad, but had known this day would come. And off they sailed on a clear day.

A month passed, and the fisherman's wife spent all day at the shore, her eyes eagerly scanning the horizon. But alas, they did not appear that day. Nor the next week, nor for the next month, though she stood on the beach expectantly each passing day, growing more and more anxious.

After three months, she realized they must have been lost, and began a period of mourning. She grieved greatly for a long time, until one day, when she was washing her clothers on the beach as she once had done with her dearly missed sons standing by, looking in different directions, she saw a broken, emaciated figure swimming his way toward the breakers. As he staggered up onto the beach, collapsing to his knees, she recognized his sunburnt face that of her husband's.

Overjoyed, she threw her arms around him and wept with relief. "But what," she choked through her tears, "what of my boys?"

"Well," said the fisherman, coughing up seawater, "we'd been out four weeks with no luck, so I decided to stay out another week to see if we couldn't make a catch. Finally, one day, Towards got a bite, and by the bend in his rod, it was a big one. He fought and fought many hours, letting out line, bringing it in, his hands bloody and chafed, until he finally almost had it reeled in, when up out of the water it jumped, an enormous horrible monstrous fish with great sharp teeth and bit him in half!"

"Oh no, oh my dear son, how terrible!" exclaimed the fisherman's wife.

"Oh that's nothing," said the fisherman. "You should have seen the one that got Away!"

GO GATORS!

http://sports.yahoo.com/ncaaf/recap?gid=200701080033&prov=ap

School Bars Yearbook Photo of Student in Medieval Garb

I support the decision of the high school administration. This is the sort of thing you want to nip in the bud.

I have found a striking similarity between the style of Scottish comic Artist Frank Quitely and Victorian children's illustrator Kate Greenaway.

Toaster Oven!

One other little thing I wanted to share with you all:

The Pseudo-Aristotelian Secretum Secretorum, a mirror for princes from Arabic sources that was popular in the Latin Middle Ages, contains much advice on the conduct of warfare. Among such sensible suggestions as how to build ditches and moats and use terrain and weather to one's advantage, the book suggests that at the outset of battle, one should scare the enemy with a great sound, "such as may be obtained from blowing the Horn of Themistius, which could be heard from six miles away."

I am always pleased when the Middle Ages has one of those moments of resemblance to a goofy fantasy novel.

Item: When did Hi [Your Name Here], become the universal greeting for e-mail?

Yeah. Still here. Will come back alive when thesis is done. Now soon.

xoxoxo
PH

To draw things to a conclusion on a slightly less vituperative note, I want to thank you all for a tremendous few years of conversation. I will be in touch, and will resume this after I got me some tenure.

"The internet is like TV because it has made us stupider than we were."

That is all.

Good-bye.

Allez Les Bleus!!

Allons enfants de la Patrie,
Le jour de gloire est arrivé !
Contre nous de la tyrannie,
L'étendard sanglant est levé, (bis)
Entendez-vous dans les campagnes
Mugir ces féroces soldats ?
Ils viennent jusque dans vos bras
Égorger vos fils, vos compagnes !

(Never thought I'd find myself rooting for France, but I got this nasty sinus headache, and if every car in the neighbo(u)rhood has to honk its horn for the next eight hours, I may have to go all berzerk on and smash up somebody's sweet customized Honda. And then my pain would be over, for I would be killed by a bunch of drunken hooligãos in muscle tees. And then my son would grow up without a father. So go France!)

Edit: Zoot Alors! Triomphe!