Today on Apocalypse Watch, Revelations 6:7-8 Fulfilled

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7  And when he had opened the fourth seal, I heard the voice of the fourth beast (Honda) say, Come and see.
8  And I looked, and behold a pale horse:  and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him.  And power was given unto them over the fourth part of the earth (Puerto Rico), to kill with sword, and with hunger, and with death, and with the beasts of the earth.

Not sure on interpretations for the Hell to follow, or for what killing with the sword/hunger/death/beasts means.  Maybe a veiled reference to baseball?  Either way, signs of the times, people.  Y'all have any insight into these other symbols? 

Also, Milli-walk-a, is this even legal in America?  I mean real America, not territorial America.  And yes, Utah counts.

Following In The Distinguished Footsteps of Danny Zuko

The waiting game is over.  No more uncertainty.  No more self-mortification about not yet hearing from my #1 choice.  No more weighing the relative importance of proximity to family vs. strength of program.  All of that is finished.

That's right, folks.  Today I received my acceptance to Thunderbird School of Global Management.  I'm a T-Bird.  Plan B is now in full motion.

And in a way, I'm a little bit shocked.  I'm a seasoned veteran of the grad school admissions wars, going back to the Law School Massacres of aught-five and aught-six.  So I'm more familiar with post-rejection stress disorder than with post-acceptance euphoria syndrome.  I'm not sure how I should be reacting right now.  Should I be swinging from the chandelier?  Should I be dancing across the hoods of cars?  Should I be engaging in public intoxication/urination/osculation? 

What I want to do is dig a pit and build a bonfire on the west lawn of the Capital and roast a goat. I want to do a naked pagan dance around the fire for three days while a band of midgets accompanies me on harmonicas and electric guitars with a wash-tub percussion section.  And at the end of three days, my dance will tear a hole in the sky and it will weep down great sheets of ethereal joy on my display of gratitude.  When the rain has ceased and the fire is extinguished, I will lay in the mud, watching the steam rising off my body, slowly snaking to the sky, homeward bound.

And I will contemplate how I'm going to pay for this.  You think they accept roasted goat as payment?   

This Means the Smart Money's On Butler

Madness is in the air.  Can you feel it?  Me neither.  It's not technically March madness anymore, but college basketball madness all the same.  I'm told that anticipation for this weekend's games has reached fever pitch in some places.  I don't know where those places are.  See, I only care about feign interest in college basketball once a year when it's time to fill out my bracket.  Sometimes it can be as tedious as filling out my taxes.  After the anything-can-happen excitement of the first weekend wore off, I pretty well stopped following the tournament to focus on more interesting pursuits.  Now that my belly button is free and clear of lint, I tune in to find that none of my picks made it to the final pairings.  Attempting to get me re-engaged at this point is all but useless.  Unless you can find a way to present the matchups as a metaphorical audio-visual mashup of questionable taste.  Then I might be interested.  With that in mind -- and sensing that there are many like-minded individuals reading this -- I present you with a prelude to the climactic Final Four weekend.  For the love of all that is holy, put the children to bed first (unless you're ready to have the birds-and-the-bees talk now-ish.) Then put on some Mötley Crüe and let's jam.