Just got done playing Halo 2 online with a buddy of mine who also happens to be named Chad. He is by far a better player than me, but then again, he also plays it about ten times as much. I play the game in spurts, generally when my students have put me in a violent mood. Tonight I wasn't really into the game, which is probably good because if I really cared tonight I would have been angry as heck. We were getting smoked, and in Chad's headset (I didn't have one) I could hear our opponents taunting him relentlessly.

After the game was mercifully over, Chad just shook his head, set down his headset, and took a deep breath, looked at me, then mumbled,

"They were British."

I just heard that John Ware, head coach of MSSU, died of an apparent heart attack this morning. That is awful news. I've never been a big fan of his. I found him to be arrogant, brash, loud, and hypocritical regarding game situations and other football-related issues.

However, hearing about him from his friends, family, and his players, I understand that they were fiercely loyal to him and his program, just as he was fiercely loyal and protective of his players and assistant staff. No doubt he will be sorely missed. I never met him.

He was trying to rebuild the rivalry between Pitt State and MSSU, which has been extremely lopsided in recent years. The shouting match at the end of the 2004 game, a 59-7 PSU triumph, caused a lot of bad blood on the internet message boards. Whether or not it was premeditated or just a simple loss of his temper, Ware personally re-ignited the hatred between the schools which was recently dormant.

I will always remember him for that.

And though I don't like Missouri Southern's football team, I still hope they can rally around their lost coach and play hard the way he would want them to- the way he would EXPECT them to.

Godspeed, Coach Ware.

Random Observations:

Reese Witherspoon looks like a Furby.

Crash was the best movie of 2005, at least so far. Matt Dillon was great- Terrence Howard is quickly becoming a MAJOR star- great in Ray, great in this.

I still hate the movie "Excalibur." The friggin' little shiny dome hat Merlin wears is embarassing. Only good thing- Patrick Stewart. And he sucked too.

Napolean Dynamite was great. Jon Heder looks the same in the new Just Like Heaven. My wife wants to see it. I'll probably cave- I always do. Oh well- I made her go see Team America. God, that was hilarious. My two buddies and I sat together, crying with laughter at the intense profanity blasting out of the screen at us, while our wives sat motionless, stone faced and still except when they would cast periodic evil glances at us, sort of like "You are going to die...we can' tbelieve you did this to us....."

Team America is a work of art.

Hurricane Rita needs to go away now, please. We can't handle another hike in gas prices. The heat is unbearable up here....perhaps I've mentioned it before. But I feel for the folks down there trying to get the heck out of Houston- some people have resorted to PUSHING their cars in order to save fuel- that should never happen in America.

It also makes me ask, how can traffic possibly be snarled up that bad? It has to be moving somewhere.....

Oh yeah, people are suffering, too.

Can it get any hotter? Heat SUCKS.

The Chiefs will beat the Broncos and go to 3-0 on the season. Priest is still the starting RB in Chiefland, and he better stay that way. My fantasy team is rolling- in both leagues. I smell $75 coming my way!

Tuesday Night TV

Just got done watching two shows: My Name is Earl and The Office. Both were season premieres- both were hilarious.

Jason Lee as Earl Hickey


Earl stars Jason Lee, a relatively little known actor to anyone except Kevin Smith fans. Lee has long been a favorite of mine ever since he took the screen for the first time playing Brody in Mallrats. He's been in several films- but this is the role he was born to play. Man was this show funny. He plays Earl Hickey, a white trash piece of work whose wife just left him after he got hit by a car while celebrating winning $100k in the Lottery. His brother Randy is played by a seriously trimmed down Ethan Suplee (The Butterfly Effect, Remember the Titans, and his best work, the racist SOB in American History X.) It was quality entertainment with Earl deciding to right the wrongs of his past after discovering the concept of karma ("Are you a follower of Carson Daly too?")- meaning that if you do good works, good things will happen to you, and vice versa.

Earl sets out to help a man he tortured as a youth, and what follows is fun hijinks, including a trip to the gay bar where Randy discovers something about himself after 13 beers.

But nothing compares to the painful hilarity of The Office. Steve Carrell, who recently hit it big as the star of the 40 Year Old Virgin, is in his second season playing Michael, the boss of a paper company. Carrell took over the role from Ricky Gervais, who originated a similar character in the original British version of the series. This show is hysterical. We've all worked with people who simply have no idea how irritating and morbidly un-funny they are. You know the type- a group of people will be talking, laughing, telling jokes, and there is always the person who makes the last comment that absolutely KILLS the fun- and brings on that horribly awkward silence as people refuse to make eye contact.....I see them all the time in class- I have a couple of students that are that way- and when they speak, you just see everyone's eyes go down, because they simply don't know what to say.

Michael is that type of boss- the one who butts into everything, has absolutely zero social skills, is incredibly lonely because of their lack of tact, but deep down inside is really not a bad person. You can't help but secretly wish Michael will catch a clue- like in tonights episode, after just being a racist, bigoted, ignorant moron the entire episode while hosting his personal awards show for his employees at a local Chili's, he finally says something meaningful at the end the somewhat redeems him.

Somewhat.

But the characters of the supporting cast- whos real names I am too lazy to look up- Dwight, the sycophantic Yes-man pseudo-Nazi-in-training...Pam, trapped in a relationship with a bully.....Kevin, the temp...>Stanley, the black guy who puts up with WAY TOO MUCH MICHAEL....they follow Carrell's lead wonderfully.

I highly recommend this program to anyone who's ever been in an office, classroom, or social situation with a person like this- the pink elephant in the room that no one is willing to talk about.

Golf practice was hotter than Hades today. Some people call it hell, I call it Hades. Man, was it hot. It was so hot that at one point fish were jumping out of the water just to cool off. The temperatures right now are roughly 13-14 degrees above normal, about 140 degrees, which has made for a very long practice season.

Of course, I didn't let the Sahara-esque temps stop me today. No sir. I proudly drove the ball down the left side of the #6 fairway and then stuck the ball five feet from the pin with a glorious 7-iron from about 160 yards out. I sunk the putt for birdie, and I did the Fletcher Birdie dance, which involves me running around in circles like a maniac, screaming at the top of my lungs, bouncing around with all the grace of an epileptic fish on a frying pan getting electrocuted by a lightning bolt striking a metal shark cage underwater.

But I have been thinking. Running and dancing about like that is actually pretty poor sportsmanship, like when football players who score a touchdown do something that brings attention to themselves. Examples of this are acting like they are mooning the crowd, pulling out a cellphone and holding an actual conversation with someone in the stands, or running over to the opposing team's cheerleaders and giving the prettiest one a big kiss.

Any athlete knows that you're supposed to act like you've been there before, like it's no big deal, as though what you just did is as mundane as successfully stopping at a stop sign or looking both ways before you cross the street. I mean, nobody gets out of shape and acts crazy when they cross the street without getting hit. If you were sprinting across Rangeline in Joplin on a Saturday evening, then maybe you could dance, but crossing a street in Columbus just ain't a big deal. I mean, old ladies with two broken hips on Rascals with dead batteries can make it across the street safely in Columbus. So it is definitely poor sportsmanship to show up your opponent and make yourself bigger than the game.

But I never scored a touchdown in football, although I picked up a fumble and ran the wrong way once in 4th grade. I never even came close. Something about being slow and a devastating fear of bodily harm kept me from pursuing an NFL career.

Birdies are pretty rare for me- more rare than the Great Flatulent Purple-Throated Swan (extinct as of 1743- the last one was killed by Sir Norman of Potsdam off the coast of Ireland.)

So you know what I say?

Screw it. Let's dance. And dance I did, I danced like the wind, until I was too tired to continue.

But the golf Gods do not take arrogance lightly.

Following my big celebration, I promptly strode to the next tee box, set my ball, took a practice swing, and then.....

shanked the ball about 90 degrees straight right out of bounds into the vast forest.

I think I heard a deer scream in pain.

I should go check on it. Hopefully if I hit it, it died quickly.

Then, one day, when that dead deer's glazed, stupid eyes are blankly staring into the abyss of eternity above my fireplace mantle, people will ask me,

"What did you get him with? A 30.06?"

I'll shake my head and reply, "Nope. 3 Wood."