Something for Everyone

Chatterbox says that when AO is OK, the Orange are A-OK. We’ll call that Chatterbox’s law, or maybe the fourteenth law of thermodynamics. Either way, on Sunday in the dome, AO was not OK, and the Orange were often playing with a man down. In fact, with Flynn under the weather, or whatever was the matter with him, we were often two men down. Add to that the fact that Jackson was totally MIA, just lost out there, and then it was almost a miracle that we had a shot at the end, three shots really, to tie the game and sent it into OT. Alas, none of the three went down, so the game ended, and we’ve yet to beat a quality opponent since the conference schedule began.

Tonight they’re playing in the Garden, which used to be the home away from home, and depending on how long this posting takes, perhaps we’ll know the outcome before it gets to mannymontaigne. The big question, as I see it, is not whether AO is OK, but whether we get to play seven-eight deep, or continue to play short-handed as we have ever since Rautins got hurt in the first Georgetown game. He was out for a couple games, and then got dinged later on. AO has been struggling with tendonitis for a couple weeks. And the bench just isn’t deep enough to allow that many starters to go down. Right now, we’re only playing seven, because Boeheim has lost confidence in Joseph. I think he’s looked all right; maybe lacking a little self-confidence, but what do you expect if the coach sits him every time he makes a mistake? Fortunately KO has stepped up his game the last couple weeks, playing big under the boards, blocking shots, and occasionally hammering the opposition. A guy behind me in the Dome has a term for those muggings KO regularly commits, usually when someone has an open layup: the Belgian block. I thought it was a horseshit call when he was tossed from the Georgetown game, but I have to concede that some of his other fouls may have predisposed the refs against him.

Danny says he can’t wait for baseball season, because he wants to get back to some real hating here. He’s disinterested in the whole alkaline diet thing. Andy mentioned in a comment that he’d like to see more discussion of the movies, probably because he can’t get excited about single malts; that is unless they have a PH over 10. So here’s a way to kill two birds with one stone, so to speak – hating on the Oscars.

I’ve always hated the Oscars, a self-indulgent night, where the entertainment industry takes itself far too seriously, all the while patting itself on the back, and usually giving out awards to the wrong movies, actors, composers, you name it. It’s often a source of friction around here, because Susan loves to watch it, and I can’t stand it- with one exception. I liked Billy Crystal, and would usually watch his opening number. So this year, I came upstairs when I thought the thing was starting, so that I could see Hugh Jackman’s imitation of Billy Crystal. Unfortunately my timing was off, and I got to see the whole red carpet thing. Celebrities in gowns, being interviewed by fawning wannabes. You know what’s interesting about that? To quote Seth Rogan, “Nothing!” Worse, I had to sit through an interview of some gown designer named Valentino, who must be like the great grandson of the famous Rudolph Valentino, but through inbreeding has because a moron, an idiot. So the word for the night was insipid. Each interview was more insipid than the next. I need a new vocabulary here; what’s a word for the most insipid thing possible?

Then I watched about five minutes of Hugh Jackman. He told some purported jokes, only the joke writers forgot one thing: jokes are supposed to be funny. You know what’s funny about Hugh Jackman? That’s right, “Nothing!” I gave up. Even the chance to see my girlfriend Beyonce couldn’t keep me watching.

When we were in the Berkshires, I was telling everyone my theory that TV is really Invasion of the Body Snatchers. We’ve all gone to sleep and woken up zombies. A nation of zombies. And if you don’t believe me, what better proof is there than the Oscars? An entire night of mindless idiotic banter, fools dressed up in gowns and tuxedos, and everyone giving each other awards. Here’s my solution: from Clockwork Orange, which was actually a book before it became a movie. Next year, when everyone sits down to watch the Oscars, we hook them up electrically, and then give them a shock every time an award is presented. Have to sit there all night long; eyes clamped open; getting shocked every time that little statue appears on stage. That will cure everyone. Hate; hate; hate.