By now, I suppose, the cat’s out of the bag. As of next week, I’ll be blogging regularly at the League of Ordinary Gentlemen. Dispatches will remain in place, though I’m afraid I don’t have the time or inclination to write for two blogs simultaneously. My heartfelt thanks go out to everyone who has stopped by, commented, or linked to this website. Blogging over the past few months has been incredibly rewarding, and I look forward to continuing the conversation with my fantastic new co-bloggers.
See you at the League.
I’m not a Catholic, so I’m loath to comment on the Obama-Notre Dame controversy. That said, I’m dully impressed by the names of the student groups assembled to oppose Obama’s commencement address:
The Irish Rover Student Newspaper
The University of Notre Dame Anscombe Society
Militia of the Immaculata
Children of Mary
Orestes Brownson Council
Notre Dame Law School Right to Life
Notre Dame Law St Thomas More Society
Definitely a lot cooler-sounding than your average college clubs.
Blogging, as they say, will be light.
I received a pretty awesome pirated copy of “The Wire” for my birthday. Among other hilarious miscues, the cover features Bunk, Sydnor, Freemon, and Bubbles arrayed against the Sydney skyline. The artist presumably thought that Sydney’s waterfront was a decent stand-in for Baltimore, but then forgot to remove the painfully-apparent Sydney Opera House from the picture.
One of the fun things about moving is sorting through your books before the move. So far, I’ve found three dog-eared copies of The Catcher in the Rye, a picture book gag gift entitled The Smiths and Beyond that may just be the gayest thing I own (hand in glove, anyone?), about half of the Aubrey-Maturin series, all belonging to my uncle (sorry, Patrick!), two books written (spewed?) by Slavoj Žižek I had to slog through before a college debate tournament, Victor Davis Hanson’s A War Like No Other, a darn good companion to Thucydides that suggests the author is beset by some exotic split personality disorder (the evil VDH can be found here), A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court, a copy of For Whom The Bell Tolls with the words “Spanish Bombs” scrawled across the inside cover, and Michael Herr’s Dispatches, the craziest book about war and journalism you’ll ever read.
You know you’re in trouble when the title of your birthday blog post refers to an awful Britney Spears song (I’ll spare you the link). I wish I had some deep reflection to pass along to mark the occasion, but turning 24 is a pretty innocuous birthday. It doesn’t have the practical or cultural significance of turning 18 or 21, and I won’t round the quarter century mark until next year. But life has been pretty darn good of late, so Happy Birthday to me. And, of course, thanks for reading.
I’m tired from a long weekend. While I recover, enjoy yet another slideshow of Mickey Rourke’s checkered past. This may be my favorite outfit.