http://story.scout.com/a.z?s=171&p=2&c=573014

I managed to write an article about the ISU/Texas debacle after nothing more than listening to the game over the radio while working cattle & hauling big round hay bales in from the field. This is easy. Why didn't I go into journalism? This career is even easier than leaning on a shovel with a Department of Transportation repair crew.

ISU plays in-state Division 1AA Northern Iowa this weekend in a night game. We're going up to the game early to try and get a good parking place.

Posted by: Russ from Winterset at 08:58 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Here's an interesting social conundrum that has raised its head recently:

We used to have some fairly close friends, a guy who worked in same firm as me and his wife. This friendship got to the level of sometimes going on vacations together, being invited to family events like weddings and birthdays, that sort of thing.

We had always had opposing political views, they being Chevy Chase Donks and us being Virginny Republicans, but none of us was especially political and the topic simply never got discussed. At least until 2000. When Bush got elected, my friend started tossing little jabs - sending email jokes and the like. I either ignored them altogether or responded off-handedly.

Eventually, our friends moved across country. They came back to Dee Cee every now and again and we visited with them when we could.

Things stayed at about the same level, viz a viz the politics until about 2003 and the invasion of Iraq. Suddenly, the level of political commentary from my friend changed from gentle banter to outright attack. This culminated in a full-blown rant about the Bush Administration in 2004 (and about my job), when we met for lunch one day in Dee Cee with our children in tow.

I don't have much patience for this kind of behavior, so after this outburst I simply cut contact with these people. We have (I think) traded holiday cards since then, but nothing else.

Well, the other day we got a phone message: they're moving back to Dee Cee. It seems we have several options in dealing with this and I'm not sure which one to choose. Do we:

- ignore them altogether?

- welcome them back as if nothing had happened?

- welcome them back but preemptively explain we couldn't be friends if they (he) are going to keep up the political screeding?

- welcome them back and wait to see if/when the politics start up again before issueing said explanation?

Personally, I'm rather ambivalent. I can see being friendly, but things have grown cold and I'm not going to waste energy heating them back up just to get hectored again. And given the current climate, it's quite conceivable that my friend has got even shriller in his outlook. On the other hand, I'm not even sure they completely understand why we lost contact. I mean, I didn't confront them or anything like that.

We shall see, I guess.

Posted by: Robert at 01:49 PM | Comments (5) | Add Comment
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The Iowa State University Cyclones lost to the Iowa Hawkeyes last weekend 27-17 in Iowa City. My wife Janis & I were in attendance, sitting directly behind the trombone section of the ISU Cyclone Football "Varsity" Marching Band in the North end zone.

You want to know what OLD feels like? I was talking to one of the trombonists about the last time I'd sat in that section of Kinnick Stadium in 1986, when ISU was so bad we spent more time soliciting varied brands of liquor from our neighbor's wineskins than we spent actually watching the game. It was pretty cool, because you could stand up and yell any particular brand or type of liquor, and someone would throw their "bota" bag at you so you could take a drink. I never tried "Absinthe", but I'm thinking that SOMEONE would have brought a 'skin full of that liquid death in with them.

The kid (yes, he's a "kid") gave me a funny look & said "I don't want to make you feel old, but, Dude, I was BORN in 1986." Impudent Whippersnapper. You can be sure that he didn't get any of my blackberry brandy.

I've been asked by the powers that be running the Cyclone Nation website to write a weekly column with a perspective from the cheap seats & the public parking lots. I focus on tailgating activities, my general impressions of the game atmosphere, thoughts on the team's performance tempered with humor, and the state of the program. No worries about those pesky facts & keeping quotes accurate for me, no sir! That's for the REAL journalists.

My first column, after the win over UNLV is HERE.
My second column, after the loss to Iowa is HERE.

I'll limit my future reports here to links to my CN articles, which should continue to appear every Tuesday, unless I get fired, detained by the authorities, or sent to rehab.

Go Cyclones.

Posted by: Russ from Winterset at 08:00 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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If you're making your spouse's lunch and you decide to include a banana, please be sure to tell said spouse before he or she jams the brownbag into his or her briefcase.

This will ensure one fewer nasty surprises at lunch time.

Ick.

Posted by: Robert at 02:25 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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"Mr. Knightley entertains his nephews."

From the Jane Austen Society of the U.K.:

Emma Woodhouse regards herself as the most important lady in the village of Highbury, being mistress of her father's house and receiving the deference of all the neighbourhood. She is cleverer than most of her acquaintance, and loves to meddle and arrange their lives for them. The only person who ever expresses any criticism of Emma is Mr Knightley, who owns the nearby Donwell Abbey and estate. Sixteen years older than Emma, he is both fond of and exasperated by her. His younger brother is married to her older sister, and they have a string of nephews and nieces in common.

Read the rest (and the novel, of course).

SOOPER SEKRET MESSAGE TO KATHY: Yip! Yip! Yip!

Posted by: Robert at 11:51 AM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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I'm sorry, but I had to put this up to bump the poetry fest. I know Kathy's a "girly-girl" who likes all these sorts of fru-fru things, but she also possesses an appreciation of all things testosterone-soaked (with some minor exceptions), so I'm confident that she's happy with my football updates. Until she shows up at my door with a lead pipe & a blowtorch, I'll assume that my attempts to "butch things up" at Cakeeater Central are welcome.

ISU won again last night, but it was closer than it should have been. UNLV came into town as a 13 point dog, and ISU only managed to get 16 points on the board to manage a 6-point win. The ending was straight out of central casting. The officials were screwing the pooch all night (apparently, the Mountain West conference has hired Mary Mapes as their Q/C assurance supervisor) and they totally fouled up the last drive of the game. UNLV appeared to let the clock run out on a crucial 4th & 1 near their own 40, but the officials disregarded their own flag & stated that UNLV had called their last timeout (which I saw nobody call). The spots for UNLV were consistently generous all night, while ISU appeared to get the crappy end of the stick most of the time. In the last :07 of the game, the UNLV receiver appeared to fumble the ball into the hands of an ISU defender, but the officials allowed UNLV to run back to the line & spike the ball with :02 left on the clock. A ten-minute review followed this play, and the officials proceeded to mangle the rulebook & put :07 back on the clock while IGNORING the "spiking" play UNLV used to stop the clock. Once the game started again, UNLV took one last shot at the end zone, and their receiver caught the ball after the QB scrambled around 'til the clock ran out before throwing. The problem with that play? The receiver was at least one yard out of bounds when he caught the ball. The officials immediately ran for their locker room, with members of the UNLV coaching staff hot on their heels.

While the PA announcers were congratulating the victorious ISU team, the UNLV team proceeded to embark on the biggest display of poor sportsmanship since the 2000 Florida recount. Their players started CELEBRATING & making touchdown signs with their arms, while the coaching staff railed at the officials and the assembled media. The UNLV coach did manage to shake Coach McCarney's hand when he came over to the sidelines, but this didn't stop him from keeping his team on the sidelines for 20-30 minutes after the final gun sounded. He was acting like all he had to do was stomp his feet & hold his breath and the officials would come back out & declare his team the "REAL WINNERS". The behavior of the players was even worse. About half of them tore off their helmets & started taunting the crowd, and a few of them even went out to the ISU logo at midfield & threw down their helmets & stamped their feet on the logo. I understand that several players from this team transferred to UNLV after legal and/or attitude problems with their former programs, and unfortunately this shows in the way they behaved in our house last night. Maybe they should change their name to the UNLV Leper Colony.

No matter how ugly the game was, we're still 2-0. Next up: Iowa.

Posted by: Russ from Winterset at 07:28 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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I realize that I'm about two weeks too early. But after picking about a pint of raspberries from the garden for Sunday night dessert; a nice, cool, rainy day yesterday, and a nice, cool, misty morning today, I can feel my summer torpor slipping away. So I'm going to go ahead and post a tribute to my favorite season by one of my favorite poets:

SEASON of mists and mellow fruitfulness!
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run;
To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,
For Summer has o'er-brimm'd their clammy cells.

Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?
Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find
Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,
Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;
Or on a half-reap'd furrow sound asleep,
Drowsed with the fume of poppies, while thy hook
Spares the next swath and all its twinèd flowers;
And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep
Steady thy laden head across a brook;
Or by a cider-press, with patient look,
Thou watchest the last oozings hours by hours.

Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?
Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,—
While barrèd clouds bloom the soft-dying day,
And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue;
Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn
Among the river sallows, borne aloft
Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;
And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;
Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft
The redbreast whistles from a garden-croft;
And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.

Posted by: Robert at 03:27 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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