It's college football's offseason. That's not my problem. It's not your problem. It's our problem. And collective problems call for collective solutions.
Thus we present Free Form Friday. Until further notice, I'll spend Fridays posting a vaguely organized compendium of non-sequiturs, pop culture observations and college sports miscellany which you may discuss in the comments, or ignore in favor of your own topics. Think of it as your weekend open comment thread.
All I'm saying is, when some dude on Maple Street gets stabbed over a batch of waffles, the synchronicity is simply too much to ignore.
Speaking of synchronicity, I heard Every Breath You Take on the radio yesterday and was once again reminded that the Police are on that list of artists that I really, really enjoy even though they don't intrude on my consciousness more than once every few weeks. Cream is also on that list, along with Railroad Earth and Shooter Jennings, among others. Again, not the artists I listen to every day, but when I hear them I'm reminded that I really like them. Certainly I'm not the only one with that kind of mental list.
With the exit of Memphis last night, my tournament bracket is officially toast. Though to be fair, everything else was just a fait accompli at the point that I picked UCLA to go to the Final Four. This is why I don't play the lottery.
Speaking of Missouri's absolute housing of Memphis last night, it's become increasingly clear that Missouri's Mike Anderson may be the prime candidate to be Georgia's new head coach. If that's the case, his services just got a lot more expensive. While Anderson may still end up in Athens, I wonder if Alabama isn't now pausing in their relentless pursuit of VCU's Anthony Grant to consider their chances with Anderson, the former UAB Blazer coach. Add in the imminent departure of Billy Gillispie because
Kentucky basketball fans make Alabama football fans look more soberingly logical than Mr. Spock he isn't a "good fit", and it becomes clear that things are about to get silly on the coach-searching front.
So Johnny Majors, Ed Orgeron and Lane Kiffin walk onto a practice field . That's not the setup. It's the punchline.
In all seriousness, Majors said the practice he observed was "outstanding in every way", then thought to himself "especially because that pork rind-scented Judas Phil Fulmer wasn't out there." At least that's what I'm guessing. Majors's return to the Volunteer fold should stand as further proof that, when confronted with trying times, people will always reach out for the familiar comforts. Especially when the familiar comforts smell strongly of Jack Daniels.
And speaking of people who are difficult to deal with, have you ever noticed that anyone who prefaces a statement with "I don't want to impose" or "I don't want to be difficult" is almost certainly about to impose, or be difficult, or both? Those people should just lead with "I know it is socially unacceptable for me to be so difficult, but I'm going to do it anyway, jackass." At least then you'd have to give them some credit for honesty.
Have a great weekend, and try not to get knifed over a blintz. It just ain't worth it, man. Until later . . .