A Geek is Born? Flight of Dragons!

Most people start the year by making resolutions they have no intention of keeping. My family, on the other hand, began the new year by greeting, with cheerful resolution, a lovely little gift that we have every intention of keeping. Little Carmen Amparo Zamora Borra already has quite a substantial following on Facebook, as news of her birth was greeted with a spontaneous outpouring of joy last seen when the Red Sox finally ended their pennant drought in 2004.

And while Carmen Amparo's arrival was not accompanied by a total lunar eclipse (a poignant moment which many Red Sox fans recount, with sacramental solemnity, whenever they talk of the night in which they finally overcame the Curse of the Bambino) it was distinguished by my re-discovery of a classic epic fantasy movie that sustained me during my childhood:



Interestingly enough, whenever I think of my kids' futures, I always end up praying that the formative experiences of their youth would be cooler than mine. As a thin, devastatingly handsome, and brilliant young 3rd grader, I was often the object of scorn and derision from my less gifted contemporaries. A retreat into epic fantasy was the only way I could conceal my nascent gifts until the time comes when I could reveal myself in my startling splendor and take my rightful place as...

Well, let's just say that a retreat into fantasy was less an option than a categorical imperative. I pray that Carmen will enjoy entertainment as lovingly crafted, and substantial as that John Ritter movie, The Flight of Dragons.

I Believe in Signs!

It's been awhile since I posted anything remotely resembling a travelogue. That being the case, I will resist doing so. The advent of Facebook has more or less nipped the electronic travel journal in the bud for anyone who isn't Our Awesome Planet, which remains the standard for excellence in my neck of the woods. But for those of you who insist, here's a sample of what I could be blogging about later:



As I was gleefully making my way back to my hotel room in Turnham Green, I was reintroduced to one of those true rarities in popular aesthetics: a remake of a popular work that is not only better than the original, but forces one to reinterpret the original through a totally different perspective. Well, if you don't consider some of the better stuff on American Idol.

Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to introduce The Mountain Goats, with their version of Ace of Base's The Sign. Enjoy!

Guilty Pleasures: Patrick Boivin!

How does one celebrate the end of a long week spent serving the different communities that I have willingly partnered with? Certainly one does not celebrate by enumerating the many gaffes, miscues, and trials that marred otherwise successful initiatives such as the Marriage Encounter Weekend in Tagaytay, Alpha International meetings in Kuala Lumpur, or the search for the perfect chicken rice in Singapore.

Rather, let me celebrate both my happy return to the Philippines and the nerditry that I have recently come to embrace by sharing the wonderful stop motion work of Patrick Boivin. Enjoy!

In Lieu of Geekery...

In lieu of Benjamin Loong's eagerly anticipated essay on the comic book industry, I've decided to pay homage to secret nerds paying tribute to not-so-secret-nerds. First on the list is Bill Simmons of ESPN, who unveils his hidden nerditude in his latest article for ESPN The Magazine:

A few weeks ago, I spent a Saturday at MIT's Sloan Sports Analytics Conference, or as I dubbed it, Dorkapalooza 2009! A slew of statistical rock stars showed up: Dean Oliver, Aaron Schatz, John Hollinger. Panels argued topics like "Where are basketball analytics headed?" and "What's more important, coming up with a cool formula or kissing a girl?" The hottest celeb? My friend Daryl Morey, the Rockets GM, who was hounded by MIT students as if he were Britney among the paparazzi. I dubbed him Dork Elvis. Even he admitted that was funny. Begrudgingly.

That's the thing about stat geeks: They have a sense of humor about themselves. And yes, I count myself among them. I played entire Microleague baseball seasons on my 1984 Apple and kept handwritten stats. I've played fantasy baseball since 1982. I frequent the Prospectus sites and devour their books. I try to hide my inner geek, but believe me, it lurks. Remember, I'm the guy who figured out Hickory High's title-game box score.

Lastly, let me pay tribute to the granddaddy of all guilty nerd pleasures (which is concluding its television run this season), the precursor to my current favorite, Chuck. Click on the video. You know you want to.

Dispatches from New Krypton: Chuck-ing it

Normally, my wife and I are pleasantly exhausted by the end of the day. But last night was a good night: Juan and Manuel were more or less behaving at the dinner table, Lucia was as content as any little princess about to be baptized could be, and I found that my workload had resolved itself to the point that I didn't have to slave over some thing or the other before calling it a night.

It was then when I exercised the authority vested in me as spiritual and moral head of the family.

"Sweety, we're watching Chuck!"

I don't know whether it's Zachary Levi (the actor who plays Chuck) is cut from the same mold as Tina's other favorite leading men (Zach Braff from Scrubs, Patrick Dempsey from Grey's Anatomy) or the largely wholesome nerdish good fun of the show, but Chuck's quickly become our go-to tv show of choice lately.

Besides, I'm not horribly impressed with my nemesis, Dr. John "JD" Dorian. What a nerd!

Science Fantasy and Other Delightful Surprises

Sometimes, the best things in life just happen, with very little conscious thought, but with a great deal of deliberate grace. I was passing by National Bookstore in EDSA Shangri-La Mall when I came across the books which comprise the Chronicles of Chaos trilogy. And yes, you read it right. It's a trilogy. In this day and age, where second-rate writers churn out as many books as possible to keep themselves in hog heaven, John C. Wright wrote a trilogy. With all due respect to the late Robert Jordan, his success in the high fantasy genre encouraged every second-rate, derivative, pretentious hack to produce some spectacularly awful books in the hopes of replicating Jordan's epic Wheel of Time series. This is why a trilogy is so welcome. Like R. Scott Bakker, another wonderful fellow who penned a thought-provoking epic trilogy The Prince of Nothing, Wright's science fantasy epic has a beginning, a middle, and an ending, which is more than can be said of the many series being published today.

And yes, it is science fantasy. The problem with hard science fiction is that it tries to convey wonder through definition. Science fantasy, on the other hand, conveys wonder through definitions that require an a priori response that questions the rigidity of such definitions. In other words, this genre requires an enormous leap of faith that validates belief in magic of a sort.

Reviewer Paul Di Filippo writes:

Science fantasy is a blend that requires enormous skill to bring off. The author must mix the improbable with the probable, the fanciful with the hard-nosed, the rational with the supernatural. Luckily, John Wright is just the man for the job...he effortlessly blends the two.

Astute readers will detect flavors here of Philip K. Dick (the games with the nature of reality); A.E. van Vogt (the recomplicated shifting alliances); Roger Zelazny (the mythology mixed with contemporary slang); James Branch Cabell (the droll speech patterns of Boreas, the school's headmaster); Clark Ashton Smith (the descriptions of otherworldly realms); A.A. Attanasio (the gnostic interplay between gods and humans); C.S. Lewis (the Narnia-style trope of teens with noble secret identities); and so forth and so forth, with more allusions that I've probably even overlooked.

This kind of homage-laden, deep-lineage fiction can get over-intellectual and stultifying in the wrong hands. But Wright keeps it fresh and sprightly, mainly thanks to never losing sight of the teenage high spirits of his protagonists, especially his perfect narrator, Amelia.

Pick it up. After all, who can resist an author who, after having converted to Catholicism, insists that "If Vulcans had a church, they'd be Catholics." It's refreshing to read the works of a man who knows exactly, in the wonderfully chaotic way that science fantasy makes the impossible possible, where he's heading, be it in fiction or in life. Enjoy!

iLove my iPhone!

Following my previous entries, I would love to blog about more important matters such as the need for spiritual renewal and how this renewal should manifest itself in even simple acts of charity, but allow me to indulge the vanity of my inner geek and proudly announce the newest member of the Borra household.

iLoveit!

Photo Credits:

Picture of iPhone comes courtesy of Mobile Tracker.

Craptions!

While the rest of our proud nation was watching Pacquiao-Marquez II, I was scouring the web for something cheerfully inane. It just so happens that my delightfully subversive friends at Cracked have a cheerfully inane section called Craptions.

Behold!

Between his alchoholism, his poor temper, and his half-assed attempts to disguise his true nature, Seamus was always the least popular Transformer...

Photo Credits:
Picture comes courtesy of Cracked.

Acquired Tastes: Miracle Man

My last post on uber-nerd Gary Gygax opened up a whole can of lumbricus. Soon after ruminating on the legacy of the man after which natural 20s are going to be named (if the preceding clause made absolutely no sense to you, then you might as well skip this post as I will be sprinkling nerd-speak liberally throughout this entire entry), I came across A.V. Club primer on dystopian science fiction writer and comic book legend Alan Moore.

Miracle Man is one of those unfortunate masterworks which, due to the frustratingly endless legal battles over the ownership of the opus, might never be available for reading ever again. Yet it should be available to the general public. Without going into too much detail, because it is precisely the inspired selection of minutiae which makes reading Miracle Man a distinct joy, and without producing any samples to validate what follows (due to the aforementioned legal complications), I would like to recommend all mature readers to check it out.

How, pray tell? Well, there are torrents, and these files shared with among the many BitTorrent peer-to-peer networks might contain some miraculous finds. Enjoy!


Photo Credits:
Picture of Miracle Man comes courtesy of Wikipedia.

Gary Gygax (July 27, 1938 – March 4, 2008)

I read today that Gary Gygax, co-creator of one of the most influential tabletop fantasy role-playing games of all time, Dungeons and Dragons (D&D), passed away at the age of 69. While I haven't played D&D in a while, and it would take me a while to reacquaint myself with the different polyhedral dice that are used to calculate for event outcomes, I remember playing D&D with much fondness. I tried to come up with a fitting tribute to one of the most influential nerds ever by composing an encomium of sorts for Mr. Gygax, but one of our friends at Cracked beat me to it.

Therefore, in an effort to ensure no one will make any more terrible puns, I have compressed as many as possible into the following obituary. Hopefully running the premise into the ground will convince others to give it a rest.

Gary “The Beholder” Gygax reached epic level this week after rolling a natural 1 during a battle with Time. Apothecaries have stated that despite his Alertness feat, he was caught flat-footed and failed a subsequent Fortitude save to negate the effects of a Level 8 Finger of Death spell (touch attack), due largely to a -3 Constitution modifier brought about by a Curse of Natural Ageing. Though clerics at the Temple of Pelor have attempted a resurrection, it appears Mr. Gygax has been the victim of a Soul Bind enchantment, and has already passed through the material, astral, and shadow planes into worlds beyond.

Mr. Gygax is best known for his Critical Hit Sneak Attack against an Ancient Red Dragon during a treasure-hunting excursion in Ched Nasad, and for turning a Bag of Holding inside out in order to destroy an evil pocket dimension. Later in life, he retired from adventuring to work with animals, training Mordenkainen’s Faithful Watchdogs for the blind and chairing a committee for the conservation of Gelatinous Cubes.

He is survived by his wife, two half-elf children, and a +5 Mace of Shock.

There, now I hope we can all let Mr. Gygax rest in peace. And if you’d like to contact me about giving a eulogy, I speak Common, Abyssal and Underdark.

Rest in peace, dear friend. And thank you for creating a gaming experience that everyone, especially those who cannot roll natural 20s in real-life, can enjoy.

Photo Credits:
Picture comes courtesy of The NYC Dungeons and Dragons Meetup Group.

Passion in High Places

I must confess: the refreshing directness of this article's editorial slant got me to read it. How could anyone not break out a smile at CBS Reverts To Form, Begins Destruction Of Startrek.com? I can only imagine the internal battle that the author must have been waging. Do I even attempt to adhere to some sort of journalistic objectivity? But they're doing this to my people! Don't I have the right to throw out all pretense at neutrality given the immensity of the evil that is being perpetrated here?

First, and interestingly, it looks like the “so long and thanks for all the fish” news item posted by the StarTrek.com editorial team has been replaced with a “hey, keep the conversation going in our forums” post. In fact, that original post has been purged from the archives. Really tacky, CBS, really tacky. Also, worst first paragraph ever (one ‘loper notes, “It sounds like Dilbert’s boss wrote it”):

CBS Interactive, which oversees StarTrek.com, is reorganizing the way it does business to align the division’s workforce with its new vision that focuses on building communities online.

You lost me at “align the division’s workforce, blah, blah, blah”. Yeah, CBS, you know your audience.

By the way, if you’re going to focus on building community, you might want to brush up on the notion of authenticity. The entire success or failure of an online community is dependent upon authenticity. The above paragraph demonstrates, most unfortunately, the total lack of authentic voice. Most lawyers aren’t good at writing. Just a thought.

Coincidentally, a passing reference to Trekkers or Trekkies led me to discover this gem.

And yes, I'm a little bored. I've had so little time to write lately that I'm intoxicated by the opportunity to just string words together. I'll be more coherent soon, I hope. In the meantime, enjoy!

Stupid Powers

After slogging through the almost unrelieved intellectual pretension of my last blog entry, allow me to apologize by linking to Cracked Magazine's 9 Superhero Powers That Would Be More Trouble Than They're Worth. While a lot of the language is refreshingly crass, some observations regarding some of the more ridiculous superhero powers bears repeating, such as this observation on super-breath:

Even Superman doesn't look cool all hunched over, cheeks puffed out, pushing air through pursed lips to knock out an arch-nemesis or blow out a raging fire. We're not denying that it's useful. It's just not terribly dignified. Plus, if you plan on using this power on a regular basis, you'd best have some breath mints on your person.

And, courtesy of Superdickery.com, here are some gems from the wonderful, and largely unregulated world of superhero comics. Enjoy!

Photo Credits:

Super Math, Infringement, and Super Chest comes courtesy of Superdickery.com

iWork '08? iLike!

I've never been very open to change. Despite an oddly fairly widespread reputation as an easy-going, roguishly handsome international man of mystery (and I'll leave it to you guys to determine which of those hastily strung modifiers most applies to moi), I really enjoy a certain amount of order in my life. I might seem open to change, but whatever changes I decide to make are often the result of much deliberation.

Which is my roundabout way of saying that, after a decade of being subject to the whims of Microsoft Office, I've finally decided to switch to iWork. And you know what? It feels just like quitting smoking. What took me so long?

Where Old Nerds Flock and Gather

Just in case you were wondering where all your teachers were yesterday morning, nerds of all persuasions hied over to the 11th Philippine Academic Bookfair, Megatrade Hall 1, 5th level, Building B, SM Megamall, Pasig City.

I could tell of the heroic effort that my loving, nerdy wife and I went through in order to procure our precious tomes on developing critical thinking, qualitative research methodologies, and the the limits of exploring objectivist epistemology in Ayn Rand. I could recall the headlong rush into the hall after being subjected to long, incoherent speeches that raised the hackles of the assembled intelligentsia, not because they were inchoate, but simply because they were long. I could sing of the berserker booklust that came upon me as I hacked my way through the throng, stepping over and crushing the backs of lesser nerds.

But I will not. Rather, allow me to extend an invitation. If you love books, please drop by the Bookfair. Don't forget to bring the claymore, just in case you need to persuade the crowds to thin.

Photo Credits:

Artwork by Frank Frazetta comes courtesy of Jose Carlos Neves.

iTunes U

I've only recently been introduced to the many different educational possibilities that our brave new, interconnected world has to offer, and I must say, with the odd gloriously brave failure that crops up every once in a while, that thus far, I've yet to be disappointed by the efforts of Apple to push the boundaries of technology. Case in point: iTunes U.

According to Apple, they're simply offering a service that allows higher learning institutions to disseminate audio and video resources to its students through the, by now, intuitive iTunes interface. In the end, these institutions get to supplement classroom instruction by allowing their students to bring substantive content with them wherever they go.

Colleges and universities build their own iTunes U sites. Faculty post content they create for their classes. Students download what they need, and go. Learning isn’t just for the classroom anymore. It’s for anytime and anyplace you’ve got a Mac, a PC, or an iPod.

So far, iTunes looks to be, at the very least, one of the gloriously brave failures that will, eventually, lead to something truly revolutionary. I've been to the iTunes store, and have delighted in the many FREE and varied resources that schools are offering for download.

The video podcasts of Professor Hubert Dreyfus on "Existentialism in Literature and Film" are worth visiting UC Berkeley's section for. Dreyfus is considered one the world's leading analysts of postmodern philosophy from Edmund Husserl to Michel Foucault, Maurice Merleau-Ponty, and especially Martin Heidegger.

Stanford is also offering a wonderful series of audio lectures on literature, particularly the classics, courtesy of Professor Susanna Braund, whose analysis of the Aeneid is both lively and comprehensive.

The Web is opening up, and a brave new world emerges. Excuse me while I put on my iPod. I have a class to attend.

Photo Credits:

Picture of iTunes U comes courtesy of Webware.

Of Mansions and Marriages

When it comes to finance, I could hardly be called an expert; my financial acumen is roughly the equivalent of Homer Simpson's. But I came across some rather interesting articles in Slate that some numbers people might find interesting.

In his article entitled Haunted Mansion, Daniel Gross reports that according to a working paper titled "Where are the Shareholders' Mansions?" David Yermack of New York University and Crocker Liu of Arizona State argue that the bigger the CEO's mansion, the worse their companies' stocks perform.

Gross writes:

Yermack and Liu insist there's a solid academic reason to look through the keyholes. They want to figure out if a mansion purchase signals commitment or cashing out. A CEO who buys a 12,000-square-foot mansion could be showing his intent to stay for the long haul and to bust his butt so that he'll have the cash to pay off the huge mortgage. In which case, you'd expect stocks of the companies where the CEO just bought an obscenely large house to thrive. Buy!

Or the purchase of an absurdly large house could signal entrenchment: The CEO is too comfortable with his position and his personal finances. He has made so much money that he can't really be bothered with running the company. And the willingness to spend gazillions on a house—not to mention the furnishings, artwork, and baubles to fill it—betokens a general inattentiveness to costs. In which case, you'd expect stocks of the companies where the CEO just bought an obscenely large house to fare poorly. Sell!

Then, there's the relatively obscure William McAdoo, the man that Daniel Gross (again!) terms as The Unknown Financial Superhero. The most interesting part of this article deals with the convergence of skill, determination, and, for the lack of a better word, luck, which allowed McAdoo to well, do what he did:

Why did McAdoo triumph? Silber argues that it's because the former railroad executive, who had no formal economics education, thought like a businessman. He acted quickly and decisively, and focused on an exit strategy. Of course, McAdoo could not have succeeded without the support of President Woodrow Wilson, who happened to be his father-in-law. In March 1914, McAdoo had made one of the smartest career moves any executive can make: He got engaged to the boss's daughter.


Picture of Homer Simpson comes courtesy of Zapin.info.

Acquired Tastes: The Way Of The John-D

I will never truly go on the record as being a child of the '80s and '90s, but I will go as far as expressing a more than academic interest in the popular culture commonly associated with that time frame. Following that vein, is there anyone who represents the '80s and '90s as completely as Patrick Swayze? Swayze either starred in, or played a pivotal role onscreen for the following movies: Youngblood, Dirty Dancing, Road House, and Ghost. Doesn't anyone find it even remotely interesting that Swayze, following an improbably glorious run of finding work in the aforementioned popular cult classics, simply vanished off the face of the planet after 1991?

Patrick Swayze is an interesting enough pop culture phenomenon to at least nudge the A.V. Club to begin an autopsy, er, inquiry into, if not his whereabouts, then his influence on the generation he meant the most to.

Noel Murray writes:

For a good long stretch in the late '80s and early '90s, Patrick Swayze was the go-to guy for Hollywood casting agents looking for a rugged action hero with heart and soul—deep, but not too deep. Whole websites and mini-cults have sprung up around Swayze's Road House character, a philosophy major with a Zen-like understanding of when to fight and when to "be nice." But Road House is just one tile in Swayze's mosaic of manhood. Below are some key quotes that outline how anyone can become the dancin'-est, truckin'-est, surfin'-est tough guy on the block. How to be, in essence, "The Swayze."


If only there was a need for the emergence of a thoughtful, mildly amusing, endearing, philosophically-inclined, but fundamentally happy teacher with abs that were used in the Spartan movie, 300, and the widest repertoire of cheesy power ballads from the '80s, '90s, and beyond: to wit, "The John-D". Now wouldn't that be an improvement on "The Swayze"? I'm thinking of turning off the comments for this particular post, by my faith in humanity prevents me from doing so. Any thoughts?

Picture of Patrick Swayze from Point Break comes courtesy of A.V. Club

Picture of Yours Truly need not be credited, because The John-D need only answer to himself.

Acquired Tastes: Neil Gaiman's Neverwhere

My mother-in-law has an absolute passion for literature and learning, which is why I wasn't even mildly surprised when I spied, next to her copy of Elie Wiesel's Messengers of God, the graphic adaptation of Neil Gaiman's Neverwhere, a distinct combination of eclectic intelligentsia that merely confirms that Mama Dodie is a nerd of the highest order. Still, I borrowed her copy of Mike Carey's adaptation of Neil Gaiman's first full length novel with trepidation. Given my critical misgivings (and wholehearted, gleeful appreciation) of the cinematic adaptation of Frank Miller's 300, I understood all too clearly the dangers of adaptation.

Fortunately, we're in good hands with Mike Carey. In his introduction to Neil Gaiman's Neverwhere (a clunky title which is probably a source of profound embarrassment to Mr. Gaiman), Carey writes:

I was asked in an interview recently what I thought of the Constantine movie, and I said that it was very enjoyable as long as you didn't go into it expecting "the film of the book." What that glib comment conceals is the extent--the enormous extent--to which any adaptation splits itself off from its source and becomes its own journey: its own answer to a set of questions that only formulate themselves as you set to work. Peter Jackson's Lord of the Rings, Ridley Scott's Bladerunner, Brecht and Weil's Threepenny Opera, the stage versions of The Producers and His Dark Materials, they're all straight jazz riffs on their wonderful originals rather than straight translations. Because straight translation from one medium to another is both impossible and undesirable.

It is this understanding of the problems involved in adaptation, as well as the gorgeous art by Glenn Fabry, that probably accounts for my enjoyment of Neil Gaiman's Neverwhere. I heartily recommend it, even if you aren't slogging through less than triumphant adaptations of scholastic thought that my students have been submitting lately. It's one way to get through the painstaking task of walking the fine line between constructive criticism and the utter annihilation that shoddy academic work deserves.

Oh well. One has to be several kinds of madman to even want to teach, really. To borrow liberally from Mr. Gaiman's insight into the character of Emperor Joshua Norton in "Three Septembers and a January", my madness keeps me sane.

Picture of Neverwhere comes courtesy of Amazon.

Acquired Tastes: Tolkien and Herbert

Just as soon as I was ready to return to the daunting pile of papers which currently constitute my very own Annapurna, I stumbled across the startling news that the The Children of Húrin, the posthumous Lord of the Rings novel that Christopher Tolkien spent close to three decades preparing for publication will be released worldwide on April 17, 2007. Appropriately enough, breaking news of this sort got an enthusiastic response from geek haven Fark, where in true geek fashion the responses were largely negative, if only because Tolkien has always been a sort of a rite of passage for all would-be geeks. While it would be interesting to offer a digression on the schismatic qualities of Tolkien's work, that's a post for another day. Instead, here's a sample of the comments that the aforementioned news spawned:

Nerdlinger

I will never claim LOTR is great literature, but seriously, if you are in a bookstore you should pick up the Silmarillion and read a page or two. You will be willing to nominate LOTR for the Nobel Prize after you stop throwing up.

Faethe

You have to be into way sappy stuff. It's cheese. English cheese. Stiltson. Good on everything, but way stinky.

Tolkien is like that.

Oddly enough, the writer who get the raw end of the deal for this particular post was Frank Herbert's son, Brian. To wit:

Paulson

I hope he doesn't follow in the footsteps of Frank Herbert's son. The stuff he pissed out is an abomination to the Dune series and literature in general.

CowboyNinjaD

The new Dune books are pretty good if you ignore the weak writing, unlikely motivations of characters and at least a half-dozen things that contradict the first 100 pages of the original book.

But other than that, they're awesome.

Bring on the whored-out version of LOTR.

theexistent

Brian Herbert could be forgiven his sin of being a piss-poor writer (along with Kevin J. Anderson) if he at least evidenced an understanding of his father's Dune novels. Given that in his first prequel he conflicts with canon in the SECOND FREAKING SENTENCE it was pretty apparent he had no intention of remaining faithful to his father's vision. It also showed up that his lame excuse of writing sequels (he found his father's notes) was absolute BS. I hope there is an afterlife just so his father can give him an epic azz whooping for running such a beautiful universe into the sand.

Picture of The Children of Húrin comes courtesy of Amazon.

Shakespeare and Basketball

I wasn't going to post any entries since it's the end of the semester and I have quite a lot of checking to do, but I couldn't resist. I got to this wonderfully written blog entry via Henry Abbott's new True Hoop site on ESPN. While Henry's migration to the self-proclaimed Worldwide Leader in Sports is news in itself, I decided to save the inevitable vitriol involved and instead credit True Hoop (and, by association, the Worldwide Leader) for leading me to Celtic Shakespeare. Here are some excerpts worth considering:

On the raison d'etre for the post:

I have seldom been accused of being overly cultured. I have stains on all my best shirts, eat with little to no regard for table manners, and I'm "that guy" that makes out of place comments at parties that stop conversations dead in their tracks.

However, I do hold on to at least one sophisticated acquired taste. I love Shakespeare. I've seen dozens of plays and read more than half of the Bard's works.

A lot of people simply can't stand the language and/or don't appreciate the poetry weaved into his prose. This will largely be lost on those people, but oh well. To everyone else, I hope you enjoy and feel free to chime in with your own in the comments.

On hope in Boston:

Now is the winter of our discontent, made glorious summer by this sun of York - Richard III

It has been a long, hard winter of discontent for the Celtics, but there is hope for a glorious summer. We need a lot of luck and a lot of hard work by the management team. But there is hope ahead.

"Out, damned spot! out, I say!" --Lady Macbeth

To Vin Baker’s cap hit. The blight of Vin Baker will finally pass into the history books. We bought out his contract long ago, but the cap hit was spread across several years to lessen the blow. As of this summer, he’s no longer on the books!


On the talented, but sometimes overenthusiastic Bill Simmons:

Therefore, since brevity is the soul of wit, and tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes, I will be brief. – Polonius (in Hamlet)

To Bill Simmons. If you read the context of this quote you’ll see the irony of it. Polonius is like Simmons in that he believes nothing is worth saying unless you can stretch it out to 20,000 words. I love Bill, but sometimes the best writing comes in small packages.


Picture of William Shakespeare comes courtesy of The Classic Literature Library Presents William Shakespeare.

Picture of Bill Simmons comes courtesy of Charlie Powell, in Slate.