The second full-length album from the Arcade Fire, Neon Bible, will be released on March 6 in North America. With the release of their first big single, Intervention, the band assures its place as a god among insects. Listen to it. Loudly.
The Patriots may not be playing for a few months, but that's not going to stop me from wondering about Bill Bellichick's sleeves. I'm sure there is a story behind his savage scissor action, but I have yet to discover it. Is he too warm? Then why wear a sweatshirt? Does he want to look like a sherpa? Then where's his woolly hat? My guess is that he's tired of roling up his sleeves; but this still seems like an extreme measure to take just because you're sick of your sleeves falling down. I wonder what he does with the discarded material...maybe he could make them into sweaters for tiny dogs. I don't know...obviously the age of coaches attired in suits and ties is long gone, but I don't think people were expecting a fashion statement, either. It's quite perplexing.
Okay, I admit it. I have been avoiding posting on such a painful topic. I am now faced with the awful realization that, fan though I am, I can't keep posting about the Patriots when they aren't doing anything. And can I just say that I am sick of people consoling me by saying, "Well, Tom Brady has enough Super Bowl rings. Peyton needs one now." This is not kindergarten; one doesn't have to share if one is not inclined to. In fact, if one shares on purpose, one gets fired. Besides, since when was there a Super Bowl win quota?
In other news, 24 is just about the craziest show in the world. I love it to pieces. A particularly appropriate aphorism, since nearly everything is combustible in 24.
I watched Masterpiece Theatre's Jane Eyre on Sunday. Enjoyable enough to lessen some of the pain my soul was writhing in. If your psyche has undergone severe and searing agony, nothing like a little Jany Eyre to make you feel on top of the world. While we're on the topic, Charlotte Bronte was a good writer. Emily Bronte was not. For the impressionable teenage girls out there, Wuthering Heights is not romantic. It's stupid. Another book I can't stand is Captain Blood. I was conned into reading it because I thought it was about pirates. Instead, I find it to be a bunch of anti Spanish/Catholic drivel, piled on high and thick. It's not even well done as propaganda.
So I thought I would put something up in case all three or four of you lost interest. Computer access comes and goes...and mostly goes.
My elation over New England's win on Sunday was quickly replaced by the combined anxiety and breathless waiting for the AFC championship next weekend. Someone told me that Peyton Manning chokes on important games, but now the rest of my family wants to root for Indianapolis because they haven't been to the Super Bowl. Or something.
24 caused me much consternation. Curtis died. Of course, previously I had been wondering why he was still alive...he was so cool, how could he still be alive? Now that he is dead I am distraught. And for all those who complained that the premiere had too much pc-ness with the Muslims being bad guys but so qualified that you almost felt they weren't Muslim. My stance is that the writers are trying to make sure they stay alive. Risky business. Might as well try to keep the masses of homicidal maniacs pacified while you're skewering them.
Ok. So, as Father Barry so adroitly pointed out, I am a Patriots fan. A major Patriots fan. But even I quail at accessories such as this. Who on earth would buy that? Maybe it's comfy, I wouldn't know. But it's so incredibly tacky!!! The logos proudly emblazoned on back on front...how does it match anything in your living room? Unless you had a Patriots themed living room. Aside from Extreme Makeover Home Edition, I don't think themed rooms make much headway amoung the general populace. Certainly not in my world. I can't think of any other words for tacky, so I will just leave you to contemplate the utter bizarreness of the consumer football fan world. Weirdos...they're everywhere.
I guess I shouldn't really be surprised that the Patriots totally wasted the Jets, but it sure did make my day. I went to Stanford's for lunch and by a happy design of Providence was able to watch the game as I ingested a fairly toothsome chicken sandwich. Looks like NE is going down to San Diego to see if they can shut down LaDanian...I'm not so sure they can do it, but will hope for the best as usual.
Last night OPB aired an mildly interesting life of Queen Elizabeth (the bloodthirsty one) entitled The Virgin Queen. Which apparently was supposed to have us believe she was no such thing. How crass. Of course "bloody" Mary was depicted as an appropriately savage Catholic. And of course you would never even suspect that a country going by the name of Ireland was in existence.
Is anybody out there? I just looked at all the posts of late made by myself and the obliging Erasmus, and realized that nobody comments anymore. Why not? What have I/we done? I live for comments on here, and if I don't see any, I feel like my life is unfulfilled. At least in this sector. If this goes on much longer, I will feel like I'm talking to myself. Which I do enough of anyway, but come on, folks! I'm feeling purposeless.
My computer was being vicious for a while and I couldn't post. Sorry.
Now I am going to inform you all that I detest sports commentators. Not all of them, to be sure; but enough of them to bitterly condemn (in a lighthearted sort of way) the profession. Why do we need somebody telling us that "He probably wishes he'd gotten that touchdown now" or "Bet he wishes he could've held on to that one"??? (I'm using football examples because that's mostly what I watch) You think? Yeah, maybe he might have wanted to win, because after all, that what one tries to do in football. Good lord; at the rate some of them commentate, I could commentate football games, and I've never even played. There are moments when interesting information about the players is disclosed...but too often it just gets repeated until you feel like tearing your hair out. Anybody remember last years' Tostitos Fiesta Bowl? "And, as you know, Brady Quinn's sister is dating AJ Hawk"....five minutes later, "Brady Quinn's sister watching...she's dating AJ Hawk, actually" ....two minutes later, "Brady Quinn's sister must be having a tough time deciding between her brother's team and the Buckeyes since as you know, she's dating AJ Hawk..." YES. WE KNOW.
And take last night at the Sugar Bowl. The ruddy commentator couldn't even pronounce Notre Dame properly. You'd think that would be a prerequisite to commentating, but no. He went on calling it Notra Dame all night. Just what are the job requirements, anyway?