THE BCS WORKS

Two of my favorite bloggers, Bryan and Steven, are up in arms over the BCS, since whoever wins this year’s automatic bid from the Big East conference will have at least four losses, while the once-defeated Texas Longhorns are probably going to get shut out of the BCS.

First of all, gentlemen, we can certainly agree on this: If Texas had beaten Oklahoma, we wouldn’t be having this discussion, right? Well, that’s my point: if you play in a BCS conference, your whole conference season is bascially a playoff. (If you play in a non-BCS conference, your entire season is a playoff, since no undefeated non-BCS team is likely to qualify for an automatic bid.) You might still make the BCS if you don’t win your conference/division, but that’s not a guarantee. The BCS bylaws allow for non-BCS teams to claim one of the two at-large bids under certain circumstances, which Utah did and Boise State just might be able to do. So the net result is that, in fact, that loss to OU costs more than pride. (If you’re a Cal fan, then it’s the USC loss that ruined you, but the reasoning is still the same.)

So I don’t think that complaining about Syracuse or Pitt getting the automatic bid is fair. The Big East gets an automatic bid no matter what. If Texas or Cal had gone 8-3 but still finished second in their conferences, nobody would be complaining much about the Big East. You could complain that it’s not right for Utah to get a bid and leave Texas (or Cal) at home . . . but that’s how the BCS rules are written and, after all, Utah won all their games, and you didn’t.

The obvious solution, of course, is to fire Mack Brown. Don’t laugh–John Cooper could beat everybody but Michigan, that conference rival that kept the Buckeyes out of the Rose Bowl every year, and people wondered why OSU would do such a foolish thing.

The next year, they beat Michigan–and won the national title.

TBP CLASSIC: “DEATH OF A TOASTER”

From May 2000, before I’d ever even heard of a ‘blog.’

It has not been a good week for mechanical things here at the dacha. The week got off to a rousing start on Tuesday, when the Richardson County “roads” claimed a new victim.

Here’s how it happened: The main route into Falls City from here takes me down what’s known as Kunz Corner Road (unless you live north of me, in which case it’s known as Palmer Corner Road, but I digress). Now, that particular road carries a lot of traffic, maybe 100 vehicles a day. I know that doesn’t sound like a lot to some of you, but trust me, for a gravel road, that’s freeway traffic. Kunz Corner Road is in such notorious disrepair that the UPS drivers are not allowed to use it. It’s potholed, washboarded, and generally covered with loose gravel.

Lately it’s been even worse than usual. It actually rained here the first part of this week, so now the road is not only potholed and washboarded, but rutted as well. How bad is it? I drove my truck down it on Monday, and dang if the road didn’t bounce me around so hard that the truck sloughed about 45 degrees off a straight ahead track. It gets disconcerting.

So I avoided Kunz Corner Road and started going into town on the Straussville Road. It’s a lot better, with two notable exceptions: there’s a vicious bump on the far side of a railroad crossing just west of the USDA office, and there’s a bridge just north of Straussville itself that has an 8″ deep pothole right in front of it.

Tuesday I ran into town like a fiend, trying to beat a check to the bank. I made it with plenty of time to spare, as it turns out. So I go roaring back up Straussville Road. I hit the rail crossing by the USDA office and catch a little air on the downside. (I love doing that.) I slow down to 50 when I hit Straussville (which is nothing more than a house, a machine shed, and a grain elevator, but the railroad still stops there) and blast it on north of town, because if you catch that one pothole just right, you almost go
weightless across the bridge.

So here comes the bridge KCHUNK and there I go! Once across the bridge, though, I heard this strange white-noise sound coming from the back. I pulled the truck over to make sure I wasn’t trailing suspension parts or a pedestrian or God forbid a shredded tire. I walked to the back of the truck and what to my wondering eyes should appear?

The tailgate, literally hanging on by a thread.

Not a good omen to start the week. Things got worse on Thursday, when I drove the Honda into town via the same route. I had noticed that one of the tires was looking a little low. I returned to the Tire Store of Indentured Servitude, knowing that I’d be out at least ten bucks. It was a nice day, so I meandered aimlessly about downtown while they worked. When I got back, bad news: ALL FOUR TIRES WERE GOING FLAT. The back two just had nails in them, but the front two had worn down to the steel belts. Oh, and it was out of alignment too. It would take $150 to get the car back on the road, plus about three hours of my time. And no, unfortunately, they’d already loaned out their loaner car. Grrr.

What do you do when you’re stuck in a tire store for three hours? That’s a rhetorical question–it’s happened to me twice in the last six months and I *still* don’t know. If it weren’t for the news stand at the Grocery Store Formerly Known As Hinky Dinky, I’d probably be stuck paging through all their back issues of Modern Tire Dealer.

I made it back home by about 4, lighter in the wallet and grumpier than a gathering of “Matlock” fans. It was too early for dinner, but the rumble in my gullet would not be denied. I grabbed an English muffin, popped it into the toaster, and sat down in the living room for just a minute.

Then just two minutes. Then three. Still no POING from the toaster. I sprung back into the kitchen just as the smoke began pouring from the slots. I jerked the plug out of the wall and flung the flaming English muffin directly out of the toaster slots and into the front yard.

That was it. That was all I could take. One too many mechanical betrayals in a week filled with stress. I had no choice. The toaster was going to pay.

I spun it over my head, lasso-like, by its cord, then flung it down the road. (That’s the great thing about living in the country. I’d like to see you try something like that in town.) Then I did it again. And again. Then I picked up all the plastic parts and chucked them into the burn barrel. Charcoal lighter fluid. Match. Two-week-old potato salad. Bye-bye, junk toaster.

The only negative aspect of this senseless act of toastercide, of course, is that now I had no way of making toast. This is a big problem, since toast is one of my four food groups, along with pizza, coffee, and things other people give to me.

Have you shopped for toasters lately? My WORD! I’ve had computers that weren’t so advanced, and here I am thinking specifically of the VIC-20. They’ve all got names like “BagelSmart” or “PastryPerfect” or “LuftWaffle” or some other spaceless Space Age name. I actually found one with something called “ToastLogic,” an onboard COMPUTER CHIP that senses when the toast is done to perfection. Twenty years ago, we would have laughed at such a concept. Twenty years later though . . . well, I still think it’s funny.

I had only two criteria for the new toaster: It had to cost less than $30, and it had to not be a Procter-Silex, since that’s who made the scapetoaster I’d wrecked the day before. I finally found one, a Toastmaster, ’cause hey, with a name like that, they must mean business.

In case you’re wondering, yes. My new toaster does indeed have “ToastLogic.” It makes mediocre toast. Anybody want to play Cowboys and Indians? I get to be the cowboy.

MILWAUKEEATTLE

Gray, gloomy day in these environs. I was up until 3 AM trying to trap a mouse (I succeeded) and waiting for Serena to get hungry so my wife could get a good night’s sleep. I ventured out into the retail world to visit one of my favorite bookstores, then drove around listening to ESPN’s College Game Day (or trying to, at least . . . the otherwise-wonderful ESPN station in Milwaukee decided to air a NASCAR season wrapup program instead).

And it rained the whole time.

So now it’s gray, cool, and raining gently, and I got maybe four hours of sleep last night. I don’t know whether to go to bed or to Starbucks. Of course, since my local Starbucks has two–two! –big overstuffed chairs, it’s not necessarily an either/or decision. And I did pick up a copy of this, so perhaps the course of my afternoon has already been determined.

SEARCH ENGINE ANSWER GUY #7

I’d apologize for the lateness of the seventh installment of this site’s most consistently popular feature, but (a) I decided to move this feature to the end of the month so I don’t have to pore over two months’ worth of referral logs to write it, and (2) the only reason this is the most popular feature on the site is because the first edition of it contained certain terms which have enticed those who are seeking ungarmentable imagery of antigeriatric individuals. Since, every time they click here, my Google rank goes up, I’m fairly certain that one day I’ll actually reach the top of the search page for every Roman Polanski wannabe on the planet.

So anyway, it’s late in the evening, but I still feel like destroying my reputation, so let’s begin.

2004 motor city bowl scenario

A hush falls over a crowd of 12,000 people in downtown Detroit. On one sideline stand the Minnesota Golden Gophers, the underachieving, undercoached, oversold, challenge-avoiding scions of Ski-U-Mah. On the other sidelines stand a bunch of MAC players, each thinking to themselves, “If I’d walked on at Ohio State, I’d be in San Antonio right now, where it’s warm. Plus I’d have a car to drive. And if I’d gone to Kent State like my mama wanted me to, I wouldn’t have to spend Christmas in Detroit.” The referee calls the captains to the center of the field for the coin toss. The Minnesota captains try to call time out while the coin’s in the air, because they need permission from their position coach before they say anything to the ref. The MAC players agree to the time out–being from the MAC, they’ve never seen a coin before. Heads are bowed as the referee tries to explain that the “tails” side of the coin doesn’t really have a tail–the MAC players, again, are unfamiliar with the concept of a “coin,” while the Gophers are really not supposed to take classes at the ag school, since it’s all the way over in St. Paul, a long way from the Bierman building. Then, while everybody’s heads are still down, it happens.

A lutefisk comes flying out of the stands, striking one of the MAC players.

History will quickly dub the ensuing melee “the blood spieled at Ford Field.” A TV audience estimated in the upper dozens will be appalled as the MAC players and Minneapolis sportswriters try to drown Minnesota’s coach in the Gatorade bucket. The ESPN announcers will report that the MAC head coach was injured and they’ll have an update just as soon as somebody can remember what the guy’s name is. In Bristol, they throw the switch, beginning their emergency tape broadcast of the 2002 World Series of Slot Machines. The next day, the papers will be filled with heartfelt handwringing and bitter recriminations. But no one will care. Why?

Because the Insight.com Bowl is on that night.

dealing with child flatulence in ministry

Ignore it as much as possible. Given what the average American child eats for breakfast, though, that may be a daunting task.

matt lovecchio and drafting

That may have more to do with the Pentagon than the NFL.

healthy menu for basketball tea

OK, I can think of three possibilities here. One is that you’re looking for food to serve during a basketball-themed tea. I would suggest anything with three points, though this will confuse NBA fans. The second possibility is that you intend to invite a basketball team over for some tea, in which case you’d better be exceptionally precise about what it is you intend to serve.

The third possiblity is too horrible to contemplate, and I’m not sure what you could serve to make up for drinking that.

how much do finance majors get paid out of college

About 40% of what they think they’re worth.

how to say spleen in portuguese

It’s pronounced “chorizo.”

does statutory rape involve oral?

*sigh* . . . thanks, Bill.

music who originally did the tide is high

Blondie. They should be showing up on oldies radio in another couple years.

philosophical idea of chocolat movie

Suppose someone in Hollywood came up with an idea for a movie that, unfortunately, failed to contain enough material to fill out a segment of “Love American Style.” Moreover, the screenplay (if you wanted to call it that) contained characters who would be considered laughably fake by five-year-olds watching “Scooby-Doo,” and the plot was so predictable it made the average romantic comedy look like the backwards episode of “Seinfeld.” Would it be possible to make a movie this bad, but make it so well that thousands of moviegoers and dozen of critics would be bamboozled into thinking they’d just witnessed something profound and touching? Yes, if you make it in France, and force Johnny Depp to wear an Errol Flynn mustache. This effectively proves the existentialists’ point that life is inherently meaningless.

best fight scene ever

There can only be one choice: the fight between Hugh Grant and Colin Firth in Bridget Jones’ Diary.

1993 ford tempo transmission fluid requirement

Technically, yes, transmission fluid is required, though if you leave it out, you may not be able to tell the difference. I mean, your car will break down without tranny fluid; it’s just that breakdowns are not a unique experience for Tempo owners.

define a simple experiment?

Put the phrases “sensible tort reform” and “naked baboons” on your blog; then, see which gets you more search engine hits in a month. That’s a pretty simple experiment; I’ll let you know the results next month.

what college majors make the most money?

According to statistics, if you want to make over a million dollars a year, your best bet is to go to the University of North Carolina and major in geography. The average annual salary for a UNC geography grad is in the low millions. If you don’t know why this is bad advice, you probably also don’t know where Michael Jordan went to college, or what he majored in–and you’re not a good candidate for majoring in statistics, either.

i-aa qualified team bowl eligible

I-AA teams may not play in bowl games under any circumstances.

minnesota pansy rule

If you play nothing but pansies in your out-of-conference schedule, you’re bound to underachieve in the conference season. This used to be called the Bill Snyder Theorem, but I think the Gophers have refined it enough to make it their own.

can i get into architecture school with an economics major

Do you have the tuition money? If so, the answer’s bound to be “yes” someplace.