Hello, all:
When I first drafted this, it was the day after Indiana defeated Miami 27-21 in the college football championship. It’s kind of hard to miss when one local news website has the headline in what I believe is known as Second Coming type:
Now, bear in mind, I don’t know much about sports as an institutional matter; I know enough so I can follow your average sports movie, right, as long as it’s something like The Absentminded Professor or Remember the Titans, maybe. I couldn’t get into the nitty-gritty with you over why a particular call on a certain game was especially disastrous or what team had a great run back in which decade but is going through a slump now. On the other hand, when the local news websites are breaking out the big fonts and Everybody is talking about it, even I manage to notice.
They’ve done that now, of course, and now the Super Bowl is next Sunday. It’s the Patriots against the Seahawks, if I remember right: I don’t have any particular affection for the Seahawks (I would ordinarily root for the Colts, then maybe the Bears and the Bengals, in that order) but I don’t care for the Patriots really at all, so go Seahawks, I suppose. Rah.
Writing Update
I see Scoot is resuming Flash Fiction Friday, which means dramatic pause the return of the Great Goblin Road Trip! Previous stories below:
Also, the latest Edison City serial is up and running! Candystriper and the Malevolent Med-Student face a long-awaited ethical crossroads: meanwhile, a mysterious new arrival on the scene is pursuing his own mysterious agenda, guided by the, you guessed it, mysterious H.O.P.E!
We’ll see how this turns out.
That’s all for now, really, except a final observation. I received two different dad-joke daily calendars from two different family members, who hadn’t communicated with each other about these specific items (do they know me or what?). The jokes have been on fire of late, so let me close with one I found particularly hilarious:
You know what Olympic sprinters eat for breakfast?
Nothing: they fast.
ba-dum-psh
Until next time,
Michael
I thought they ate Wheaties ("Breakfast of Champions!")...