Comic for Friday, August 18th, 2006

Posted: 12:00 am, Friday, August 18th

I am so glad to be done drawing that up-do of Lissa's.

I haven’t checked in on Slate’s Bible-blog lately, but the most recent installment has the world’s first lawsuit and the world’s first separation of Church and State. (Not skate. Although that’s cool, too.)

Also from Slate, it is very clear I was not one of the lefties used in this study.

From CNNSI's collitch football blog comes this tidbit about tOSU's QB:

Smith, a comic-book fanatic, asked me about my job and admitted that what little understanding of journalism he had was gleaned from the Spider-Man movies.

There's those Buckeye academics shining through once more. (Seriously, what in God's name could you learn of journalism from the Spider-Man movies? That someone actually takes the pictures that you see in the newspaper?)

E and I were talking about ... geez, I don't remember how it came up. I'm going to go out on a limb and guess we were discussing football. Anyway, though, for some reason I got on band names, and I think Five For Fighting and Savage Garden are the two most misleading band names of all time. If you play the piano and sing in a high falsetto, you should not get to have the word 'fighting' in your band name, and you definitely should not take your name from a tough-ass hockey penalty. And Savage Garden, when I first heard of that band name, I thought, "Whoa, they're like Soundgarden, but tougher! They're friggin' savage! This is going to be some heavy shit!"

That's all I have to say about that, really.

I've been meaning to mention this here forever, but it usually happens when I'm drawing and not blogging. My desk in our apartment is right in front of a window that looks out upon the backyards of people on the ground floor. Since it's a city block, I'm looking out on our backyard and also the backyards of the people the next street over. Someone on the next block plays the guitar. He's not bad - certainly better than I am, I'm still figuring out how to change chords. But he also sings. Usually, I get treated to white guy wailings of Bob Marley. I'm not sure what I'm getting today - blues of some sort. But this guy just bellows at the top of his friggin' lungs. It's hilarious, although sometimes I really wish he'd shut the hell up. But he's way better than the kid in my hallway freshman year who decided what he needed to do one day was belt out Knockin' on Heaven's Door at top volume. (This guy is not to be confused with the other guy in my hallway who, I shit you not, would break out the French horn whenever he got depressed. Which was very, very, very often.)

Today's Daily Irish comes from the Rakes of Mallow. I have no idea how the Kansas City Star employs the ass-kicking Joe Posnanski, who can write a beautiful, introspective piece about Buddy Bell and really capture what it's like to manage a floudering team like the Royals, and also employ the race-baiting idiocy of Jason Whitlock. Whitlock gets to vote in AP poll (and actually ranked the Irish first), which is just appalling, given his absolute willingness to look past anything resembling a fact. The Rakes lives up to its name and really lays into that piece, so I'm just going to move onto the nightmare. (And sorry that I basically told the same little joke twice, if you made it all the way down to the comment section of that piece.)

Today's nightmare is a conspiracy theorist claiming involvement with the Illuminati. So if I disappear after today, well, don't bother to come a-lookin'.

bullfrog

Red Sox vs Yankees. Five Game set over four days. Make or break time.

Sox absolutely must take two. I won't be happy with two, but if they don't take two, it's all over. You have to like Torre going with Villone for thirty-something pitches yesterday, his third straight day, and Dotel twice in a row right off the DL, and one-batter pitcher Myers for 30 pitches. If the Sox can tee off on Wang early in the first game, it could be a glorious day for the resistence.

I often wonder how one of the smartest men I ever knew--my grandpa--felt about having attended the same university as Andy Katzenmoyer and Santonio Holmes.

But for some truly entertaining college-football idiocy, listen to this (be sure you have headphones):

http://www.myspace.com/seventhfloorcrew

Go Hurricanes football! Fuck them hoes!

Oi, Katzenmoyer. What was his curriculum, AIDS awareness, golf and intro to music appreciation or something like that?

My favorite is number 52's line. God, the University of Miami.

Red Sox vs Yankees. Five Game set over four days. Make or break time.

Today's Uni Watch is a cornucopia of vintage awesomeness.

http://www.uniwatchblog.com/2006/08/18/auction-action/

I dont know why it automatically re-posts what i put when i hit reload. Regardless, isnt the seventh floor crew singing to the beat of If your mother only knew by Rahzel.

I remember watching Andy Katzenmoyer at Patriots Training Camp after he got drafted. At the start of each play he would run at blinding speed into the hole and destroy the full back coming through. The full back unfortunatly was Sam Gash who looked more like a mountain than a human. Katzenmoyer was left worse for wear.

I just realized this story is pointless but I am posting anyway

Hm. I had a comment in there, but it got lost. Anyway, a five-game set against the Sox and Goat Fuckers is big enough to warrant two mentions, so no worries. And pointless stories are what this blog thrives on. So no worries, part deaux.

In an astounding coincidence, the headline for the Sox-Goat Fuckers series on mlb.com right now is "Five for fighting." Which doesn't even make any sense. I hate headline writers.

Twenty pitches to get one out. Jason Johnson has ruined the day of baseball in a mere seventeen minutes.

Deadspin used "Five for Fighting" as a headline today, too.

http://www.deadspin.com/sports/baseball/the-closer-five-for-fighting-195081.php

Spooky.

Don't know how I missed that, RAW.

I can't believe I made it all the way home and Johnson hasn't given up another run. Goodness!

I have turned the Sox-Goat Fucker game on the radio three separate times, and each time, the Goat Fuckers have scored almost immediately. You'd think I'd learn my lesson, no?