[cb_profit_poster Travel1]Clinton, S.C., Tuesday, August 27, 2013, 11:42 a.m.
This blank sheet of virtual paper is staring me in the face. I’ve got a virtual notebook full of ideas for blogs that I don’t particularly want to tackle today. What that means is that I’m undoubtedly going to discuss a pool of topics in lieu of one into which I want to dive, not just dog-paddle along the surface.
I shouldn’t feel ashamed. Most people just tread the water. A good-sized minority does the backstroke.
Roughly 30 games remain in the major-league baseball regular season. The American League playoff race is taking shape, and the National League’s seems completely set.
According to an odds-making system that relies on some formula (POFF, or “percent chance of making playoffs”), the Atlanta Braves have a 99.9 percent chance to make the post-season, followed by the St. Louis Cardinals (99.3), Los Angeles Dodgers (99.1), Pittsburgh Pirates (96.7) and Cincinnati Reds (87.2)
Next up? The Arizona Diamondbacks are rated a 13.2 percent shot of snagging a wild card.
In the AL, the Detroit Tigers are at 99.0, followed by the Texas Rangers (92.0), Boston Red Sox (91.8), Tampa Bay Rays (76.3) and Oakland Athletics (68.9). Outside the elite five are the Cleveland Indians (32.5), Baltimore Orioles (28.9), New York Yankees (7.5) and the Kansas City Royals (3.2).
These were the odds, not concocted in the sports books of Las Vegas, but in the actual standings as listed by ESPN’s website. The numbers are current as of Tuesday morning.
I’ve come to believe that NFL exhibition games aren’t just useless but counterproductive. If they achieve anything, it’s the mirage of optimism that might somehow convince fans of wretched teams that they have a chance.
As a result, I’ve watched parts of a few games, the ones where I wanted my judgment clouded.
I can keep up with TV shows I don’t like on social media. That way I can watch the ones I love but no one ever seems to, uh, tweet about.
For instance, last night the Red Sox were off, so I watched “Foyle’s War.” I often fall asleep during the early scenes of “The Late, Late Show with Craig Ferguson,” but I still like it. I think Ferguson is much funnier than Jimmy Fallon or Conan O’Brien. I like Fallon. I just don’t think he’s very good.
Then again, I think Jay Leno’s awful. Jay’s laughing all the way to the bank.
As a Boston fan, I wish Fallon would make sequels to “Fever Pitch.” That might make him my favorite actor.
The purpose of Miley Cyrus, Britney Spears, Lady Gaga and Lindsey Lohan is to perpetuate a world in which millions of people can watch a brief video and say, “Well, I’ll be.”
I’m sure there are men who fill the same demented need, but I guess, because I’m male, I don’t notice them as much.
That’s all I can come up with.
The world seems to be fueled by outrage, which is odd since almost everyone who says he or she is outraged really isn’t. True outrage involves only the negligible use of words.
In other words, it’s mostly, like, totally bogus.
It’s so predictable. A rocker says modern country music sucks. The usual country suspects are rounded up to say the rocker doesn’t know what he’s talking about.
It’s “an outrage.” Fundamentally, this is the art of changing the subject. Don’t defend your failings. Attack the other guys. No matter the question, just respond with, “Well, you’re one to talk!”
If (probably when, based on what’s going around) Pres. Obama takes military action against Syria, Republicans will be sharply divided between those who say it’s not enough and those who say it’s too much. Hardly any will say they agree, even if they do.
I’m out of work. My health insurance is $555.36 a month. I can’t wait for the Affordable Care Act to go into effect. Do I think it’s going to be better? A little. How could it possibly be worse?
My home state is one of those brandishing its plastic sword and declaring it will turn down federal funds. It will make its stand on principle, that being that insurance will continue to be as bad as it is now because that’s the American Way.
Say what you will about bad insurance, but it sure is good for raising campaign money.
Yes, I’m ready for football season, but not because I’m rearing to go (the term comes from a horse rearing and really should not be spelled “rarin’”) douse my noggin in purple paint and daub orange paw prints on my cheeks.
I don’t have anything against purple. I went to Furman University, which doesn’t align its loud color with the even more garish orange. My dedication to the Paladins does not, however, extend to the use of body paint.
I’m interested in the Georgia-Clemson game, and the Carolina (North)-Carolina (South) game, but I’m just as interested in the Mississippi-Vanderbilt game.
By the way, I’ve always been fascinated with the University of Mississippi being known more commonly as Ole Miss.
That’s ye alma matuh, boh. Ole Miss. Ya mama. Ol’ times deah ah not fuhgotten.
It’s not Mississippi-Vanderbilt. It’s Ole Miss-Vandy. The homestanding Commodores are busy even now massing the fleet on the Cumberland River in preparation for the Rebels’ advance.
I suppose if Furman grads referred to our school in the same manner as Mississippi alumni, the Paladins would be lovingly known to its graduates as The Fur Man.
And the players would look like Jonny Gomes. Maybe the team could be the Soggy Bottom Boys instead of the Paladins.
But I wouldn’t go there.
Honestly, folks, I’m just kiddin’ around. I even pull for Ole Miss a lot because of my sympathy for underdogs. So don’t be getting outraged on me. Or you can if you want. You can even post a snarky comment. But don’t hold it against my advertisers. They all love Ole Miss.