Blank page weekend/year begins now.
Everything that happens is from now on.
We don’t know either. Have a great weekend!
My brain is cropped like this.
Little house, big sky.
Photo by Manuel Cosentino from “Behind A Little House Project.”
— "Take Your Time (Coming Home)" — Fun.
Over two days, She-Ca-Go loses all five of its games, the last one by only five points. Everyone contributes, but Cochran was noticeably hobbled by arthritic knees. It’s why she may finally be done. Her departure may mean the end of She-Ca-Go. But Leone wants to keep playing as long as she can. And Dennis, who turns 80 in January, says she may sign up with another team because, in her words, “I ain’t quittin’.”
Photo: Benjamin Morris for NPR
What bad asses.
Favorite line: “Sometimes things aren’t always smooth, but at the end, when you leave and what happens? You come back next week, and you’re back with these people,” she says.
No. No no no no no no no. Because then you wouldn’t be a collegiate student-athlete. You’d be a money-making, professional athlete. The whole point of collegiate athletics, for me, is that you are a kid who is learning and gets to play sports at the same time (maybe as a way of earning the privilege of learning).
I don’t care if your program made 163 million or 350 gazillion, why do you need to place even more emphasis on the fact that your student-athletes are different? Why should they be paid to earn the same degree everyone else has to pay for? I could go all slippery slope here but I don’t have to. This is wrong.
Via The Atlantic’s Mieke Eerkens, who wants to know what happens “When Judges Assume That Men Cannot Control Their Own Sexual Urges.”
I’m right here, dude, and I hear you. Let me give it a shot.
Dr. James Knight: you are an astonishingly bad person. You must have felt some sort of sad vindication when seven male judges agreed that you had every right to fire a co-worker for being TOO ATTRACTIVE (you just made me type in all caps, BTW, which is ridiculous. Oh God, I’ve gone and done it twice). But let me ask you this. What joy is there in knowing that you’ve taken a good job from a good person? What joy is there in causing that person an infinite amount of discomfort by spotlighting her for something as superficial as her appearance? What satisfaction did you get from texting her obnoxious things like “how often” she “experiences an orgasm”? Are you KIDDING me?? And you thought that she was a threat to your marriage? You’re a threat to male decency. It does exist — we just have to crop your dumb ass right out of the picture.
Game, Set, Match
I love few things more than seeing someone work so, so, SO hard for something and then actually achieve that thing. To commemorate, I shall quote The Sandlot: “Heroes get remembered, but legends never die.”
Andy, you earned it.
One of the best things about living in DC is the variety of experience you can have. On the way to a baseball game, we stopped at the American Art Museum intending only to take advantage of some air conditioning. To our surprise, we found music and dancing.
Five women stepped and circled and flowed around the stage, sometimes all at once, sometimes one at a time, cueing one another into action and forming a community with their bodies. Sometimes they broke and sprinted around the courtyard, literally bringing us into it when they danced around cafeteria tables and on top of garden planters. They moved as we moved. They made connections with us whether we looked at them with intrigue, discomfort, disdain, or awe.
I find all of this noteworthy because in watching this, I realized that interpretive dance is, instead of a punch line, just as valid of a form of communication as spoken word. I saw cycles of companionship; I saw collaboration; I saw pain; I saw resurrection; I saw unity; I saw hope. I saw beauty where before I would have seen nothing.