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I know what you're thinking. "Another cop out? What is going on with your writing habits ditriech?" Yes, there have been some 'cop out' posts as of late. But you people should know by now that's what I do. I'm only good for maybe three quality posts a week. And this is not one of them. Anyhoo, after the jump is my email to the WNDC (which I actually meant to post tomorrow seeing as it was a week away from the event, but I didn't wake up until 1025 which didn't leave me nearly enough time to write a post, though I am sure that the alarm went of which didn't make Gradakiss all that happy)

My sad attempt at a blog thirty appears to have failed as I am in a bar drinking now. It will probably turn to heavy drinking soon.

I am (mostly) sorry.

FINAL		1	2	3	T
	Tampa Bay	2	2	0	4
	Buffalo	1	0	6	7

... WHICH TEAM ARE WE??? Do we suck? Are we gods? Ask me again in six minutes.

Gah.

First: The Powerthirst video. Without seeing it on this blog, I showed it to to my composition class. I was bored and out of things to talk about. We all had a good laugh. Glad to see it is elsewhere as well.

Sports: They hurt. Still. I take cold comfort that every member of the Fightin' Illini that matters is a descendant of people who deliberately massacred the actual I-Suck-At-Fightin'-Against-Smallpox Illini. They may have ruined my football season, but their namesake takes no pride in their actions. Perhaps they will rise up and smite [pain not redacted]. Like in that Thanksgiving episode of Buffy from season 4 or 5.

Also, I've realized that Mike Hart is the perfect adversary. If not for being the platonic Asshole, he would have no personality at all. Yet his very douchbaggery is the only reason his team isn't worse that Notre Dame this year. I want his life to yield nothing but unending suffering and disappointment, yet I never want him to go away.

I'll settle for the immortality that an 0-4 mark would birth.

If not, I'll be catatonic until next fall, so what will I care? This year has been good for nothing if not honing my skills at utterly burying sports disappointment.