I probably shouldn't reveal this, but I'm using DeepSeek—the cheap, knock-off AI—to craft the perfect NCAA bracket. However, I'm sure someone else is using it to cure cancer.
Pickleball Weekend
Two away Cross Club Pickleball matches in one weekend is one too many-- I played well yesterday at the Pickle House down in Robbinsville (I was lucky enough to have a fan club-- my brother and his buddy Craig came and drank beers and watched me play, and I always play better at any sport when my brother is around . . . family confidence) but today our team got spanked at the Pickle Palace up in Whippany-- I think we were a bit tired from yesterday's match (and we had a few subs playing, who were not ready for this level) but losing at pickleball is still more fun that not playing at all.
We Used to Hang Out in There!
The Corner Tavern—the bar in New Brunswick where I met my wife (actually, I met her just outside the bar, when I exited—because she was only 20 at the time—this was 1992, and I was with my best buddy Rob, and she was with her best buddy Tammy—and we married the two of them eight years later) and now this bar seems to be some kind of Superfund site, in a perpetual state of industrial decontamination.
Enough of This Shit
By the end of parent-teacher conference week, the contrast between the demeanor of the English teachers with the parents and the demeanor of the English teachers in the English Office had reached such a stark contradiction that if I detailed this phenomenon further, it might be detrimental to our employment.
March: In Like a Lamb, Out Like a Lion?
82°F earlier in the week, and now it's snowing-- when the fuck is the porridge going to be just right?
Will I Ever Escape From Stalingrad?
I thought it would be a good idea to read Vasily Grossman's epic WWII novel Stalingrad, but now that I'm 700 pages deep and trapped in the mines of the Donbass region of Eastern Ukraine, I'm wishing that I had decided to read something a bit shorter-- like another Tony Hillerman novel (we just finished watching two seasons of Dark Winds-- an adaption of Hillerman's Leaphorn and Chee novels: 1970s crime and mysticism on the Navaho lands in New Mexico . . . good stuff).
Into the Bath!
While I don't like the fact that it got THIS hot this quickly, the unseasonably warm weather is great for airing out smelly things, whether furry or footwear.
Let's Never Do the Time Warp Again
I was very happy yesterday, after the Knicks threw up another airball in a messy game against the Lakers, when the announcer blamed Daylight Saving Time for the poor, rhythmless play by both teams.
Time for a Nap
Great weekend: a lot of old friends; a lot of rugby on the telly; a lot of Guinness consumed; a fair amount of Z played; and a fabulous Hoboken get-together.
Meet Us at the Shepherd and the Knucklehead?
Yesterday, after riding a slow local and very full train to Newark Penn, and then a crowded PATH train to Jersey City, I then walked over an hour to a bar with an absurd name in north Hoboken, The Shepherd and the Knucklehead, and despite the crowds on the way, the bar was empty aside from a bunch of knuckleheads watching rugby, and I believe a good time was had by all and we finished a keg of Guiness.
Epic Fury?
I'm not sure why we're calling this coordinated attack on Iran "Epic Fury"-- I thought Iran was epically furious with us-- not the other way around: we don't usually chant "Death to Iran," but the Iranians have certainly embraced the slogan "Death to America."
Trying to Illuminate Things
Today was dark, both weather-wise and literacy-wise . . . it was one of those days in class when you're fairly sure that nobody has read what they were supposed to read, or if they did read it, they didn't comprehend it-- and so you have to retreat and start from square one (also, I learned today that high school do not know about the Abu Ghraib prison travesty . . . so I explained it to them, because that knowledge might be relevant again: the dire costs and consequences of attempting a regime change in the Middle East and then determining how to treat various detainees).
I Did Not Know There Would Be Costumes
Dave: The Master
I am the master at cooking blackened salmon in a cast-iron pan: I coat the filets with melted butter and then I sprinkle a mixture of blackening spices and brown sugar onto the buttered fish (and the sugar and spices stick because of the butter) and then I cook the salmon, skin side down, in a blackening pan until the temperature is about 100°F, and then I place the salmon, still in the blackening pan, under the broiler for about three minutes, until the brown sugar/blackening mixture caramelizes with the butter . . . it's so good even my son Ian eats it, and he doesn't really like fish-- and our dog also loves when I cook this meal, because she loves to eat the charred skin.
The Good Doctor and I Celebrate Yet Another (Rhyming) Birthday
Dr. Seuss and his cat-- they knew some good tricks--
They made a big mess for rainy-day kicks.
Thing One and Thing Two ran wild-- yikes!
Like my two boys when they were young tykes.
Then the Cat in the Hat-- he cleaned up the mess--
with his high-tech machine, with panache and finesse.
But now Seuss is dead, and my kids are old.
They are tall and mature; they cannot be controlled.
Time is a force that we just cannot fix . . .
Seuss is long gone, and I'm fifty-six.
Lesson Learned
Last night, I drank four good beers, and we ate a bunch of delicious fried fish (black cod) and fried coconut shrimp at Wu's Fish House in the wild and chaotic H-Mart Plaza in Edison, and today my stomach is pretty sketchy, and I have a Cross Club Pickleball Match at 2 PM . . . but at least-- if the unspeakable happens-- we are all wearing black shorts.
Resilience
After gently digging it out, my bamboo—which was buried underneath two feet of snow-- has sprung back to life.
Look Before You Drink
You should look before you leap, and you should also look before you drink out of a cup in the bathroom in the middle of the night-- which I did not do last night (because I was being considerate and didn't want to wake my sleeping wife . . . but she was NOT considerate, and so I ended up drinking from a cup containing her floss pick . . . yuck).
Seniors . . . The End Is Nigh
A student that I know quite well was taking forever on a quiz, and so I said to him, jokingly, "Okay, Nico, finish it up . . . take your D like a man," and while I meant "D" as in a poor grade, he interpreted it another, much filthier way-- which I immediately realized and said, "or C-, you know what I meant," but it was still pretty funny (almost as funny as moments before, when Nico's friend Frankie shoved two apple slices into his ears, and instead of chastising him, I said, "What are you listening to, Apples in Stereo?" but of course, no one appreciated that joke because they had never heard of The Apples in Stereo-- and you just can't explain that kind of thing) and these are my seniors in February . . . what's going to happen in June?
Dave: Still Learning Stuff?
My students did presentations today about works of art that tackle "the establishment" or a particular system-- racism, colonialism, authoritarianism, capitalism, ageism, sexism, etcetera-- and so from one group I learned that Lababus are the quintessential symbol of rampant consumerism-- they are a collectible "ugly-cute" doll that you buy in a mystery blind box, and there are various rare and secret designs, fueling overconsumption wiht a sociopathic social media marketing campaign . . . and if you don't want to spring for an actual Labubu, then you can buy an ersatz version, a "Lafufu."
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