From time to time I am forced to look in the mirror and consider myself an asshole. This is one of those times. I don't know, man. The last few years have been wearing on me and at this point you would not believe the kinds of totally unverifiable but plausible-seeming stuff that hits my inbox and sometimes, like when you feel compelled to address the same damn thing that doesn't mean anything at all for the tenth time in the last few months the dike breaks and you publish something you regret. There is a lesson about the value of editors and a news cycle that has some time for reflection, consideration, and actually talking to the people involved. Sometimes it's unfortunate that this enterprise basically couldn't exist with the former and sometimes—still, even after five years—fails to apply the lessons learned over that timespan when it comes to the latter. And by this enterprise I mean "I". I know better by now, but apparently sometimes I don't. . . . All I can ask for is understanding. Mea culpa.I'm not sure how disturbed I should be by the fact that Brian Cook's Michigan fandom seems increasingly analogous to my Georgia fandom. I mean, I've never asked anyone at an airline counter if they knew who I was, but I get how disappointment at the performance of your alma mater's sports teams can wear on you. Received and understood, Brian. Go 'Dawgs!