Patriots and The Patriots

Your faithful scribe is on the road again. I'm in Kansas where for the next few days I'll be in Fort Leavenworth participating in the US Army's Combat Studies Institute's Symposium on the fight against terrorism. My own presentation will be on policing in contested political zones, using Apartheid South Africa and to a lesser extent Northern Ireland as historical context. I'm staying with Tom and his family and will write as I can.

Let's just say that yes, I am rather invigorated by the Patriots' performance against a Jets team that has playoff hopes. And I'm more convinced than ever, after Randy Moss' performance, that the preseason is way too long and for veterans guaranteed of a roster spot, largely superfluous. Bring on the Chargers!

Slaying the SAT Dragon

My friend, college classmate, and fellow member of the a cappella group Fair Game (I am now largely emeritus, since they are in DC and I am in Texas) features prominently in this story on NPR. Ned runs Prep Matters, a test prep company that does incredible business among the anxiety-ridden student populace of the Washington area. He is ambivalent about the test in so many ways and he is deeply committed to his students. he has written a book, Conquering the SAT that helps students defeat anxiety and develop strategies that work. If you know anyone preparing to take that noxious test anytime soon, Ned's book would make a great gift.

And In Leavenworth, Kansas, A Lone Tear Rolls Down a Cheek

I just got my Sports Illustrated for this week and one of the first things I read is that Steve Rushin is moving on. As a direct result of my skills at using the internets, I have been able to find a few details here and here. Tom will be very, very disappointed.

Beatdown at Big Tent

Over at Big Tent Tom smacks Sportsguy so hard the Karate Kid has started to weep. Good times.

Stephen's Got A Brand New Bag (Of Music)

Steve's got some new music. I have four of these cd's and a couple of others were on my list, and now most of them probably will be. Oh -- and big surprise that he would buy an album called "Eisenhower," eh?

Dear Diary

Tom has a new diary post up. There he cites a WSJ Opinion Journal article as evidence that Clarence Thomas is his own man. I find the argument underwhelming to say the least. He also cites Jeffrey Rosen's recent article-cum-interview with Justice John Roberts, which is great, and argues that Roberts is staggeringly smart and could be one of the great chief justices. While I think it is seriously premature to come to any such conclusions on the latter point, Roberts is staggeringly smart. But almost all Supreme Court justices are staggeringly smart. Scalia may be a gasbag, but he is brilliant. I have been able to spend time in small groups in person with Ruth Bader Ginsberg and Stephen Breyer, and both are insanely intelligent. I have done so on three occasions with David Souter who is, hands down, the smartest person I have ever encountered. Intelligence is usually (though not always) the coin of the realm for Supreme Court justices.

He also amusingly pillories Nickelback simply by quoting the lyrics of one of their songs in full. Though there was a song of theirs in the last year or two that I thought was pretty good and had a great video. But their earnest frat rock certainly warrants mockery, and Tom is up to the challenge.

Holmes' Day With Big Daddy

Over at Slice of Life Homz has a great story about his Day With Big Daddy. He talks about his job, a pizza oven in the woods, Bud Light, peculiar driving habits in non-4wd trucks, finding common ground on the issue of natural preservation, and of course a guy named Big Daddy.

Dear Diary . . .

Tom has what to my mind is his best diary post yet. Great, must read stuff. My favorites are his tackling of some indefensible Benjamin Schwarz assertions and an in-depth slap job of the increasingly bombastic Gregg Easterbrook (whom I have often touted here, but whose know-it-allishness is coming to make his weekly extravaganza less and less of an A-List read for me.)

The Vegas Hangover

Let me just get it out of the way now: That was probably the most painful loss I have experienced as a football fan, and it really screwed up an otherwise fantastic weekend. There are no excuses -- I'm sure that the Colts fans would point to a couple of bad calls as would Pats fans (offensive pass interference on Brown, the awful roughing the passer call). And it is clear that Reche Caldwell could not catch the clap in a Bangkok whorehouse. But the Colts won, they deserve it, and while I'll be avoiding anything NFL related for the next week or so, the reality is that Patriots fans have gotten to be very, very spoiled. Since most of us are also Red Sox fans, we know what it is like to be doubled over in anguish from one of our teams, but we simply did not expect it from the Pats. But being a fan, like being an athlete, is as much about dealing with defeat as it is about celebrating victory. This one will hurt for a while, but pitchers and catchers report in less than a month.

So I made my maiden Vegas trip in a big, big way. We'll dispense with the cliches, and in so doing, dispense with the details, if only to protect the guilty, the innocent and the ones we are not sure about. On the way there and back I re-read Hunter S. Thompson's classic Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. Toward the end he writes something like "A little bit of this city goes a long way. Five days can feel like five years." Most of us were more than ready to leave by Monday not because we did not have a good time but because we had too good of a time. The Thunderstick was a first-rate cruise director and we had the perfect mix of necessities and extra-curriculars (just which is which varied by each individual).

So just one question remains: When are we going back?

Oh, and for the guys: Touche. Touche indeed.

Back to the Mountain

My best man, Matt, and his lovely, superbly pregnant, wife, Heather, have been back from their Latin American adventure for a little while now. They have posted what may be a last entry, providing a bit of closure, over at Far From the Mountain.