There’s only one thing worse than seeing your team give up a ninth-inning homer to lose a game by a run.
Seeing your other team blow a 7-1 lead to lose a very important game by a run.
Thanks, Obama.
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In the afterward to Andy Weir’s The Martian, Mr. Weir explains that his most favorite comment to hear about his smash hit is I don’t usually read science fiction, but…
I fall into this camp, and I sure as hell don’t read books that will soon be made into blockbuster movies.
But the hoopla surrounding The Martian was so great, and the praise it received from Mrs. O’Connell so thorough, I could not resist reading this #1 bestseller from a genre I never read.
Like few things in life, the hype was apt. I thoroughly enjoyed reading The Martian.
I will not divulge any spoilers here, of course. If you’re like most of American you’ve read the book already, so it doesn’t matter, but maybe you’re trying to forget a thing or two before you see the movie. I’m going to wait for the thing to come out on Netflix, so by then I’ll have forgotten everything.
One thing I won’t forget is my favorite characteristic of the book…
It’s funny.
That’s right, the futuristic book about space travel and a man seemingly sentenced to death is… funny. The main character is not only likable, he thinks like a regular person (not an egghead astronaut), and he makes fun of things that should be made fun of. Government in particular and bureaucracies in general are numbers one and two. Gotta love that. I wish our protagonist wouldn’t make fun of disco music so much, but nobody’s perfect.
If you have yet to read The Martian, I recommend doing so. The book that started its life as basically a blog post from a guy who likes science deserves its (four years later) celebrated status and hopefully the big-budget film version will do it justice. I’m definitely going to see it…
Even though I don’t usually watch science fiction movies.
Damn I really wanted to say that the Redskins had somehow gone 4-0 this preseason. Well, a point away will do, setting the stage for what will undoubtedly be another season of heartbreak. I can’t say much, really, having been a fan only since the bandwagon most recently pulled into the station. That was 2012, the same year I moved to town, hoodwinked into thinking we had something good. As is often remarked out here (the wilds of Northern Virginia where most ’Skins fans live), an entire generation of Redskins fans has grown up knowing nothing but dysfunction and disappointment. I say dysfunction with intent; this seems to be the word most often associated with the Washington Kardashians. Quite frankly, they deserve every unkind thing said about them.
And God damn I’m going to be the first one back on the bandwagon if somehow they start to win again!
As promised, today this blog celebrates the anniversary of the “real” end of World War II. It was September 2, 1945, that representatives from the Empire of Japan formally surrendered to Allied commanders aboard the USS Missouri. (Yes, I realize there were at least two more peace treaties after this one, and word on the street is there are still Japanese soldiers out there today unconvinced that the war is actually over, but this date is good enough for me.)
Tomorrow evening I have the honor and privilege to entertain a group of World War II veterans at a ceremony commemorating their achievements and the celebrating the end of the war. Their day will start at Arlington National Cemetery, then move down the road to a Crystal City hotel where I’ll be doing an evening of World War II era songs with good old-fashioned American pride and exuberance.
Remember when we used to root for our country to win? These guys do, and not knowing how many more of their anniversary parties I’ll get to do, I’ll make this one count.
’Round these parts today is the first day of school. And for the first time in 16 years that actually means something to me.
Dreading it just as much now as I did then.
I don’t think I’ve ever felt a breathless anticipation for a preseason football game as I have for tomorrow’s beltway battle between the Washington Redskins and the Ravens of Baltimore. Meaningless exhibition? Hardly. You’d think the Super Bowl, Presidential election, and all future sunrises were riding on this contest.
Maybe it’s because I live here that I think this is getting so much attention. Maybe it’s because I live in an area where people just love to talk. Or maybe it really is that important.
Whatever it is, do not attempt to contact me between 7 and 11 p.m. tomorrow evening. There’s a meaningless exhibition game for me to watch.
You gotta love a game where one night your team gets a run in the bottom of the ninth inning to win the game 1-0, then the next night that same team, playing the same other team, puts up one run in the bottom of the ninth inning… to lose 15-1.
Well, you probably love the game more the first night than you do the second.
Watching the Wyndham Championship yesterday I certainly expected to be transported back in time to about 1997. I was, but not with the guy I was expecting. Congrats, Davis Love III, on the victory, and thank you for making me feel not quite so old for a day.
Usually when I watch, well, let’s say veteran sportsmen compete I think, wow, I remember that guy as a kid, he must be really old.
And then I find out the guy is 36.
Davis Love III?
Yeah, that guy really is old.
Nice.
I can honestly say that the past five years has been the best half decade of my life. It is no coincidence that during this period I have been married to my best friend, confidant, and partner in all things.
She is known sometimes as Mrs. O’Connell, sometimes Leia Anne, and recently just “Mom.” By any name I say Happy Anniversary, and here’s to happiness every day!
I probably don’t stop to think about it often enough, but I’m an incredibly lucky person. This past Monday’s homecoming concert was for me a thrilling experience, and I realize not everyone gets to do something like that. (If you have the means, though, I recommend it highly.)
Friends were seen, music was played, and stories were shared, and I’m already looking forward to about five years from now when I would do something like this again. In the meantime I’ll just live my regular life, the one with the attractive wife, adorable baby, and house in the suburbs.
Yeah, I’m a pretty lucky guy.