Mister Faded Glory returns from hiatus, its author supposedly rested and relaxed after a weeklong trip to San Diego (no, not to punch Philip Rivers in the face).
Upon his return, he immediately squared off against a yard impossibly filled with leaves, and an irascible opossum taking up residence in his shed. Now victorious, he announces his return annoyingly in the third person.
Anyway, I’m here. And I’ll be blogging again, more frequently, and I might even discuss the Hawkeyes (Great season, would prefer aggression with 50 seconds left) and the Colts (Bet on the Texans tomorrow). But in the meantime, I spent most of the fall consuming new stuff – which I’ll be reviewing in staccato bursts during the next few weeks. In addition, I’m a bit more refreshed and a bit more certain These Monks will see the light of day, and I’ll be burning the midnight oil to make it happen. Moreover, I’ve got Book No. 2 in the works. I know, how pointless is that!
Still, in the next few days I’ll cover essentials released, chewed up, and spit out by me this Fall, including:
- Bill Simmons, The Book of Basketball.
- Chuck Klosterman, Eating the Dinosaur
- Jonathan Tropper, This Is Where I Leave You
- The Blind Side.
- Up In The Air
- Alice In Chains, Black Gives Way to Blue.
- Pearl Jam’s tour including show-stoppers in Philadelphia.
- V, the remake.
- Scrubs, the return.
And more, believe it or not. And I know you missed my exuberant schadenfreude at Bill Belichick’s maligned (OK, much-maligned) decision from two weeks ago. Suffice it to say Simmons is right, stat guys are wrong. I love the call if the Patriots are down by a point. With a narrow lead, it was reckless. Groin-grabbingly reckless!
Anyway, presented for your enjoyment is Pearl Jam’s L.A. cover of Hunger Strike with Chris Cornell. My heart melts. (Did that sound weird?)
