Rainy days and blog days always get me down.

Well, not really. I’m starting to get a rhythm to this blog thing, or at least a tempo I feel I can maintain while eating up the miles. But somedays my mental blogging jog somehow leaves the paths of scenic opportunity and insight and I find I’m in a dead-end alley with nothing to look at but trash and recycling. As the day drags on without something piquant and pithy to post the alley seems to get darker and narrower.

Ah, but then a timely glimmer of light such as this funny pamphlet, What Everyone Should Know About Blog Depression (HT: Sandy at The MAWB Squad). It’s a parody, I think, but as often happens, the parody reveals the truth. And the truth will make you free. I read it and realized that while I want to post every day, I don’t have to! It’s my blog! So I’m not going to post today! Hey, nonny, nonny!

Oh, I guess I already have. Oh well, I’m taking the next 7 or 8 hours off anyway, and I already feel refreshed!

Please don’t be disappointed, dear reader. For today’s amusement I heartily encourage you to read the very entertaining and provocative Gettysburg ghost-stories and commentary here and here. (HT: Amy Ridenour’s National Center Blog). Just the thing for a gloomy day!

See you tomorrow.

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Today’s StarTribune features a commentary by David Brooks that highlights many positive societal changes since the early 90s that suggest America is becoming more virtuous. For example, family violence, violent crime, violence by teens, drunk driving fatalities, hard liquour consumption, teen pregnancy, abortions, the number of children living in poverty, divorce rates and teen suicide are all declining. It’s strange that I haven’t seen the front page headlines about these trends, but if the Strib let this story run then it must be true.

But wait, out of their commitment to providing fair and balanced perspective, the Strib’s editorial staff had to weigh in as well with an editorial entitled “Moral revival: Not with both eyes open”. After first calling our attention to Brooks’ column “on the opposite page” (um, oh yeah, the right hand page) they note, “With one eye open, he runs through a litany of good news.” This is followed by a flying “but”-monkey bigger than anything in the Wizard of Oz: “These are indeed wonderful trends to celebrate. And, as Brooks suggests, they are part of an improved climate of private virtue. But Brooks sees only half the picture. If he opened his other eye — his eye on public virtue — his claims of a clear moral revival would quickly blur.”

The editorial then launches into a series of rhetorical questions, which means they weren’t really expecting responses (easy to do when you’re a one-way medium). Well, in my best Samuel L. Jackson voice, “Allow me to retort.”

Update:

Doug at Bogus Gold has more commentary on this editorial.

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For those holding their breath right along with the crew of Russian submariners trapped 600 feet below the surface, last Sunday’s rescue was a welcome relief. Similarly, today’s safe return of the space shuttle Discovery after unprecedented in-flight repairs brought more good news to the headlines. Somewhere between these hard-won triumphs in the depths of the ocean and the reaches of space there is room for perspective.

Men and women today are so accustomed to the technology and inspiration behind our modern miracles such as cell phones and iPods that we’re almost blind to the wonder of it all. Then when extreme scenarios present themselves we again stand in awe of the capabilities available to us. Such awe would easily lead to arrogance when it appears that there is nothing we can’t do, but for the memories of other subs and other shuttles that did not return. Our human ingenuity seems barely able at times to stay ahead of our human ignorance. We can conceive of things in a way that borders on the Divine, while the Devil remains in the details.

We stumble and trip, then breakthrough and soar, going from saying, “What were they thinking?” to “Imagine that!”

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I’ve seen some interesting information on other blogs and web sites about the distant and mysterious land that my wife and daughter recently visited. This news verifies much of what they witnessed.

Go here to see signs of the times and the writing on the wall and other places.

Here’s something that might make you wonder what this country might do with 33 million unmarried, surplus males between the ages of 15 and 34.

The seeds of an answer to that question may be found at this post from Apprehension.

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Yes! The Night Writer logo is up and lookin’ good! Special thanks to drjonz over at the Attic for the housecall in getting this implanted! And where would I be without the lovely and talented Night Visions who created the logo in the first place? With all this inspiration I feel a few more tweaks coming on to improve the look of this site.

Update:

The good drjonz is trying some different things with the size of the logo. The image may look a little funny now and then while we refine the layout. Other renovations will be going on over the weekend which may make the site look a little rough at times. Pardon the dust!

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I like mine with lettuce and tomato
Heinz 57 and french fried potatoes
Big kosher pickle and a cold draft beer
Well good God Almighty which way do I steer for my
Cheeseburger in paradise

That’s Jimmy Buffett’s idea of a good cheeseburger. Jeremy Iggers has a few ideas of his own (HT: Mitch Berg). I’m rather an aficionado myself (which may have something to do with my last post). Here are a few memorable meaty moments:

Cheeseburger in a skyway: L. Philips at 5th and Marquette, Minneapolis. Big, sloppy-looking, hand-formed burger just like Mom used to make. Hard to beat the classic bacon-cheeseburger, but the Jamaican and Cajun variations are also great. Nice fries, too.

Cheeseburger near a fly-way: Lion’s Tap, near Flying Cloud airport. Haven’t been down that way for maybe 20 years, but I remember these burgers. Great seasonings and a moist bun in a funky setting.

Best Cheeseburger that ought to come with a warning: I’ve had the Juicy Lucy (cheese and onions sealed between two patties) at Matt’s, but I really liked the ones at Adrian’s, another South Minneapolis bar that we’d hit after softball games. I gave up a lot of tissue from the inside of my mouth to those babies. Hurts so good!

Best Cheeseburger in London: Another burger blast-from-the-past. A long time ago I spent a semester in England and it was hard to find a good cut of meat by itself, at least on a student’s budget. After a month of dubious meat pies and pasties we made it to the Hard Rock Cafe where they actually had a char-broiled burger that tasted like a real American hamburger. Ambrosia! Moans and whimpers went around the table as we let the juicy goodness roll over our tongues and tonsils (which may have been the chief ingredients of other English “meat” fare we’d had). Unfortunately the Budweiser I ordered to go with it came from the Czechoslovakian brewery of the same name.(And the worst hamburger in London was from a Wimpy’s, which, despite the American name, always tasted funny – and this was pre-Mad Cow).

Best Trivia Cheeseburger: Keegan’s. I tied into one of these last week and it went down even easier than Terry’s questions. I may just have to have another tonight when Night Visions and Tiger Lilly rejoin the group on the patio. (And I’ll award a trivia point to anyone who knows where I got the headline for this post.)

Current Fave: I’m a big fan of the burgers at Red Robin, where I usually get the peppercorn or Blue Cheese versions. Finally tried the Royal last time: a week’s worth of protein in every bite! Burger, smoked bacon and a fried egg on a bun. Add in the bottomless bucket of french fries (the thick, wide kind like Wendy’s used to do) and you can see why the place ought to offer valet parking for ambulances.

Least favorite: White Castle. Yeah, they smell good, especially after bar-closing. And they’re really cute. So is a Pekinese, but it doesn’t mean I want to eat one.

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Multiple news sources report today that author, blogger and embedded journalist Steven Vincent has been killed near Basra after being kidnapped. There is some speculation that the outspoken voice behind the In the Red Zone blog, and the recently published book by the same name, may have been killed in retaliation for this recent opinion piece in the New York Times criticizing the rise of Shi’ite fundamentalism in Basra and especially within its new police force. Vincent’s translator was also kidnapped and wounded, but has survived.

Michelle Malkin has the story and many links, and it is also worth reading this post from Michael Yon, another embedded blogger and author (please note that Yon is a freelancer and is covering his own expenses in Iraq and could use your support).

MOB members Captain Ed and Mitch Berg interviewed Vincent in the past and post accounts as well.

Update:

Also check out these tributes on the MAWB Squad and Jay Reding.

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I came across this article recently about the Little League coach who paid one of his players to deliberately injure an autistic kid on their team so he wouldn’t be available to participate in the play-offs. It’s one of those “signs of the apocalypse” stories about misplaced priorities that so often seem to be linked to kid athletics. It did make me remember, however, my first coaching experience.

The summer I was 18 I was recruited by a civic-minded person to coach a girl’s fastpitch softball team in the small town we had moved to six months earlier. Being new in town made me a perfect prospect because anyone who had lived there for awhile already knew better.

It was a league for girls 10-12 years old, and would be the first ball-playing experience for most of the younger girls. The town was so small that there was only enough kids to field three teams. The other two teams were coached by a pair of adult sisters who had been coaching in the league for a few years and were very … well, cut-throat is such a harsh term.

They were very cut-throat.

We got together one evening at the Commissioner’s house for the draft. I recognized maybe three names on the list of players, and had no idea of how much ability each had. The sisters would pick and then when it was my turn I’d say, “Who is this Mary such-and-such?” and their eyes would get big and they’d say, “Oh, she’s really good!” Sometimes they even managed to control their snickers after I’d picked the “really good” girl.

Obviously my team was going to start with some handicaps – literally. We had one little girl who really was a little girl, barely coming to waist high. The sponsor’s daughter was on the team, of course, and she was a sweet, game kid with the build – and range – of a fire hydrant. She became my centerfielder because my rightfielder wore braces. On her legs.

So of course we went 6-0 for the season (that’s right, undefeated) and it was fun leading the team across the infield after every game to shake hands with our worthy opponents. I think the difference is that from the first practice I said we were going to have fun while learning to play the game. I also mentioned that for me winning was more fun than losing but the main thing was that they get a good start in the skills of the game and that we’d work on what we could and then go out in the games and just let it rip. The two other teams were shouted at and criticized, especially after we had defeated each of them the first time. At one point in the final game a base runner from the other team got hung up rounding third and the shouting from her coach made her stop halfway to homeplate and begin bawling even before she was tagged out.

I wonder if that girl ever grew up to say, “Let’s play two!”

(Oh, and the little waist-high girl, playing second base in the last game of the year, in the last inning of the game with the tying runs on base, caught a pop-up for the final out!)

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