Pathetic (and I mean pathetic) Fallacy

A dark pall has fallen over the land this morning, a grungy, gray, and glum gloominess . . . clouds and rain and mud and rot and decay-- and this would be fitting, if the pathetic fallacy was not a literary conceit, an artistic delusion-- but, alas, the weather does not care about my mood, although this morning it is, coincidentally of course, mirroring the contents of my soul: last night, for one brief moment, after Florida beat Auburn, I was in pole position to win the BIG March Madness Pool . . . the 25$ entry, 150 person pool that pays out nearly all the proceeds to the winner-- all I needed was Duke to win over Houston-- and then I would be be the top pool member with Florida as the winner and it would all come down to Monday night-- I was so excited, so happy to have made it this far in, and sure that Duke's high-powered offense would overcome Houston's slow paced style of play . . . and it looked like that was the case, Duke had a 14 point lead in the second half-- and thank God I fell asleep because if I had to watch the catastrophic meltdown and Duke squander a 9 point lead with three minutes to play, I would have maxed out my ticker and had some kind of coronary event-- so at least I was fast alseep when that bullshit happened (although I watched it this morning) and when I awoke deep into the night and checked my phone for the score, that is when the rains came, both inside my soul and outside on my roof . . . so close, yet so pathetic.

THIS is My Secret Purpose

Up until last night, I thought my secret purpose was to see a fairly obscure actor/actress on TV and say to my wife "I totally know that guy/chick" and then struggle to remember their name or what movie or show we previously saw this actor/actress in and then use my phone to track down their name and the roles they played-- and usually my hunch is right and I celebrate my facial recognition acumen-- but my wife is also very annoyed that I'm doing this instead of watching what we're watching-- especially if I pause the show to do my research-- but now I know my secret ability is not to identify faces, it's to identify diners . . . because I am 100% in recognizing diners on a TV show, whilst with actors/actresses I'm probably more around 80 . . . but last night, while we were watching season two of the show Severance, and Mark met his sister at Pip's and they showed the outside of the diner and the mountainous backdrop and I said to my wife "that's the Phoenicia diner!" and then I looked it up and "Pip's" is the Phoenicia Diner, a wonderful place to eat in the Catskills.

 

Dry Bones (Longmire #11) by Craig johnson

The only thing better than a Craig Johnson Longmire mystery with all the usual fixin's-- the vast and desolate landscape of Wyoming, a well-plotted police procedural, some emotional stuff about Longmire's family, some Native American lore and legend, a moment of deus ex Henry Standing Bear, and some mystical Native American visions-- is a Craig Johnson Longmire mystery with all the usual fixin's plus not one but TWO prehistoric creatures . . . one species that qualifies as a living fossil, with 90 million years of staying power, and the other that is legendary in the fossil record; Danny Long Elk is found floating face down in a farm pond filled with snapping turtles, who have done some damage to the dead body AND a paleontologist discovers a complete tyrannasaurus rex skeleton on his property-- which is a very valuable find-- and also a legal conundrum because the find is on land that belongs to the Cheyenne nation . . . and if the plot of Dry Bones plot sounds enticing, then you should also read Michael Connelly's City of Bones, which features the La Brea Tar Pits and perhaps the first human murder on record (I'm a sucker for mysteries with some forensic paleontology thrown in for good measure).

Sophomores are Sophomoric

As we trudge along towards this year's (very late) Spring Break, my sophomores grow more and more unruly and annoying . . . they can barely concentrate, even during a quiz-- which led me to insert questions like these amidst the actual comprehension questions on Shirley Jackson's masterpiece We Have Always Lived in the Castle:

2. When you are finished with this quiz, you should:

1. Turn and chat with your neighbor about the answers

2. Make strange faces at people

3. Sit silently until the entire class is finished

4. Poke someone

4. You should take AP English because:

1. You genuinely enjoy reading and analyzing literature

2. Your friends are taking it

3. It looks good for college admissions

4. Your secret crush is in the class

9. Draw a picture of the Blackwood house. This is not worth any points, but simply to occupy you and prevent you from being obnoxious and annoying while the rest of the class finishes the quiz.

and, oddly, this strategy worked and they were much better behaved during the quiz today than they were last class-- when I had to deliver a profanity-laced diatribe to get them to stop pestering each other while some students finished the quiz . . . now mind you, a profanity-laced tirade does work, but it's exhausting-- so this was a more efficient strategy and I will be putting "behavior reminder questions" and random word jumbles and picture prompts (that are not worth any points) on all their quizzes in the future.

Money, It's a Gas: Squandering Economic Victories

My new episode of We Defy Augury is a rather epic meditation on wealth and its consequences, at both the human and national scale; my thoughts and theories are (loosely) based on Taffy Brodesser-Akner's novel The Long Island Compromise and Andrew Bacevich's political critique The Age of Illusions: How America Squandered Its Cold War Victory . . .

Special Guests: Tana French, Pat Martino, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Tom Wolfe, Ayn Rand, Bret Easton Ellis, Gordon Gekko, Noam Chomsky, Ross Perot, and Miley Cyrus.

A Whale of a Prank

Today in my Grade 10 Honors English class, I distributed copies of Moby Dick-- which I found mouldering away on a high shelf in the book room-- and then counted the days of Spring Break on my fingers and did some long division on the board: eleven divided by 822 . . . the days of Spring Break divided by the number to pages in this great behemoth of a novel and I arrived at 74 pages a day . . . but I told them that would be the easy part of their Spring Break assignment-- the hard part would be the vocabulary in the enovel, which is erudite, recondite, and archaic-- and I told them I was halfway through and already the vocab list was over 150 words, and they would be quizzed on those words (and the entirety of the novel)on the day we returned from break . . . and then a couple kids started laughing and the rest of the class realized that I was April fooling them . . . but I did convince a couple of kids to actually take the novel and give it a shot-- I promised them the opening hundred pages would not disappoint, but then they might want to "skip a bit, brother" and make their way to the final sequence-- and perhaps this reverse psychology might work, the joke assignment might be more appealing than an authentic, graded task-- one kid said, "Better this book sits on my shelf than on a shelf in some closet."