Super Patriot USA

Strolling through Georgetown on a fine summer evening this past Wednesday, I saw an all-American family, assumedly in town from Illinois or somewhere similar. The chubby 14-yearold son was wearing a Bush/Cheney 04 t shirt, and I was mighty tempted to tell the kid he'd better pray Kerry wins unless he wants to be drafted the day he turns 18 and shipped out to our new front in Tehran.

So we're standing in front of the Bistro Francais when Mumsy suggests maybe this place for dinner, what do you think? The dad grimaces and shakes his head like she suggested a strap on. He clarified his thoughts with, "French. No."

I guess despite the fact that France was eventually proven correct on WMD doesn't supercede this guy's moral objection to roasted chicken and potatoes, and all other things French.

Crumble

Not only did I end up buying Madden 2005, I bought it the very day it was released.

I don't know what I'm feeling right now, but I'm pretty sure it's not integrity.

2004 still in the house

I'm on to you, EA Sports, with you crafty automobile model year-style Madden updates. Forget your precious Madden 2005. I'm sticking true to 2004, especially when the Virtua-Steelers are 13-2 in the year 2010, behind the amazing arm of Adam Martin and running power of league-leading back Paul McMillan.

My goal is to keep playing 2004 until either every real-life player has retired or I finally realize how big of an idiot I am.

I don't get women (and other obvious observations)

Work sent me to Cleveland and St. Louis week. The wife called two or three times a day to say she missed me and couldn't wait until I got home.

This wasn't empty rhetoric, because when I got home last night, I was greeted with much excitement and hugging. Later in the night, I wondered if three calls a day wasn't, you know, a touch excessive. Especially when each call is a variation on, "I can't wait until you're home." That didn't go over so well.

Today she refuses to talk to me. And, one can only assume, can't wait until I go out of town next week. I give up.

St. Louis

St. Louis is loaded with hot chicks. Riverboat casinos, however, are not. What are they loaded with are extras from a 1950s movie warning about the danger of nuclear war.

My favorite moment might have been playing blackjack between a woman who was five months pregnant and a guy who hit on 17 because the dealer was showing an eight. He busted, incidentally.

The guy had about a million questions about the complex intricacies of blackjack such as when you can bet and when you can stay. And each answer was countered with, "Okay, because in Vegas..."

Here is an actual exchange:

17 HITTER: Can I put my chips in my pocket?

VERY PATIENT DEALER: Huh? Of course.

17 HITTER: Okay, because in Vegas you can't.

ME (to Buckle): Maybe he's thinking of New Vegas, Connecticut.

Hmm

You know what you never want to hear coming from the stalls in the mens room?

Effort.

Huzzah!

I have created a blog! Surely you will agree I have chosen the snappiest of all PowerPoint templates. From here on out, all of my very important thoughts, which previously vanished into the ether, will be digitally preserved!

Hail!