rock over London. rock on, Chicago.

I cleaned the entire apartment this week. except for Mike’s room. not my bidness.
when I came down monday night, I expected a couple hours’ worth of work this week. and in fact, I didn’t get any. I had one shift, and that was cause Tim felt like having a day off.
so I had a lot of time on my hands. I walked into my apartment, realized that it was a complete fucking mess (I’m serious; filthy. not like Josh n Phil n Doug n Dudd’s house last year, but filthy all the same), and started in earnest. filling garbage bags with masses of clutter and the like.
so.
I had a lot of shit in my closet, literally. no metaphors today.
and who would have thought that vacuuming could be so much fun?
anyway, the apartment is completely rearranged and clean, except for the Mike’s room and the fridge. he can give a little back, I say. if he’s cleaning anything, he can handle that. I did the rest.
you reading this? get fucked, Smith.

oh, and while I’m thinking about it: I cleaned out my apartment. went through everything. guess what I didn’t find?
my “Demon Days” album. Josh and Smith can rot in hell.

it’s been a truly suburban week. I scrubbed the floor. I’ve been burning candles for ambiance and to get the evil, lethal smell out of the living room – and I even baked cookies last night, for fuck’s sake. I can bake. speaking of which, they’re pretty good. and I bought some cake mix, but I don’t think I have a pan. have to borrow one.

next up, I gotta start saving for a new computer. we cancelled the DSL before break because it was cracking 80 a month for phone and internet, and that’s just ridiculous. the building has wireless, but I refuse to buy the card to put into my virus-ridden hunk of shit sitting downstairs. no more money’s getting dropped on that thing.
so, faithful reader(s), don’t expect a whole lot of posts in the next week or two. I try to spend as little time as possible in Josh and Phil’s apartment, as I hate both of them with a passion – even if they’ve got an internet connection.
fuck it. I’m going back downstairs. maybe I can dust or something.

oh, and happy New Years. I’m getting beligerent tonight.

this is really long.

so I just spent a week and a couple days in the ‘Po.
that’s what I’m calling Valpo these days. ‘Po. you know, short for Valpo. which, in turn, is short for Valparaiso. fascinating, isn’t it?
lots of fun was had. Aunt Nettie identified me as a homosexual. Uncle Bill forgot Virginia is pregnant. I saw “King Kong.”

hokay, speaking of movies. saw “Memoirs of a Geisha” last night.
pretty good. you can chalk in “geisha” on the list of jobs I would never fucking want to have. horribly small, confined world that demands and expects your submission at every moment. geishas had to be some of the most repressed people anywhere ever.
we was all up in the hoopty driving back, and I started talking about how I’m amazed by the human experience, and I wasn’t very clear. Alisha was like, “what in the hell are you talking about?”
so here, look. I’m going to explain.
we’re all part of the same race. humans didn’t spring up individually around the globe, and if you go back far enough, everyone is everyone’s long lost, extrodinarily distant cousin. what I find amazing is the wealth of human experience.
I don’t tend to think about the complex and intrinsic social structures we build up around ourselves, because frankly, I’ve never been very far outside the one I’m in right now. I’ve grown up in America. no doubt, there’s much more to the American experience, to American culture and society that I haven’t and won’t ever experience firsthand, but regardless, I don’t tend to think about these kinds of things until I’m introduced to something foreign to me.
like geishas. it’s amazing, I think, that thousands of years of civilization at one time had culminated in this little category of world culture.
“that’s what we learn about in the folklore department, Matt,” said Alisha.
being a geisha. wow. poor peasant girls being sold into bondage, and then made into ultrafeminine escorts for the upper class. there was so much to being a geisha that it was unbelievable. it was like a belief system, so incredibly rigid. so much rides on honor, respect. every movement they made, they were conscious of the reprecussions it had.
there was one scene, where the main character (who, of course, is a geisha) has the lead in a play, and she’s horribly worried about fucking up and ruining her chances in society. that there’s a whole world out there, and all she’s concerned about is her standing with this small group of people.
the book was set in the 30s, somewhere betwen the time when those galant Japanese businessmen we’re charmed by the entire movie rape, pillage, and burn as imperial officers in Manchuria and the reconstruction of the empire. around that same time, my grandfather was graduating from high school in Gary and starting work as a carpenter in the steel mills. I understand geishas and grandpa are two different things, but what I find amazing is how the human experience, world civilization is so varied, that it produced both. two completely different people, different set of values, in two completely different worlds. to sound hokey: I want to get out and see that shit, dog.

what elses.
next week: ORTHODOX CHRISTMAS. PUT YOUR SHITKICKERS ON, IT’S BOUND TO GET ROWDY.
that’s right. January 6th and 7th, we’re tearin’ the fucking world apart. Orthodox style. see, the Orthodox operate on the Julian calendar rather than the Gregorian calendar. what you know as December 25th? that’s Gregorian. I don’t know the dates, I just know that the Julian calendar is real old, and nobody in the western hemisphere uses it anymore. the Orthodox church is centered, ultimately, in Turkey, I think, so that kind of makes sense. kind of.

also.
I wrote the family Christmas letter again this year.
I hate corny holiday letters. I’m not interested in hearing about your boring, suburban house and your pedestrian husband and kids. at least have a sense of humor about yourself if you’re going to waste your time catching us up on you. that’s what I say.
so, in the spirit of that, I always try to be incredibly sarcastic in the holiday update. lots of fingerpointing, snap judgments, and politics. and, hey, who would have thought, I have it right here online. so welcome, dear friends, to the McMullan family Christmas letter…

Season’s greetings!

Yeah, what’s good, family? Another year has passed, we’ve all grown a little older, and America has a lot to show for it: Michael Jackson is definitely not a pederast, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with the way Tom DeLay handles campaign contributions, and George Bush’s administration apparently ages like a fine wine. Consequentially, we’d like to thank the nation on another fine choice for President.

But how are the McMullans faring, pray tell?

Well, there’s some big news to be shared. Virginia. And Michael. Are due. And are expecting their first child mid February. Words can’t express how excited we are. In preparation for the baby, Mike’s back at CNN making Blitzer look all pretty for the cameras, and Virginia’s finishing up an MBA at Georgetown University. That’s right, she’s got a full time job, is a full time graduate student and is pregnant, all at the same time. What did you do today? I bet that marathon session of “Friends” feels kind of silly now, doesn’t it?

Valerie has been holding it down at Fieler Elementary and is continuing with banal and redundant “update” courses in order to meet the lofty standards set forth by the No Child Left Behind Act. Wow, what can’t a Republican administration do (besides actually fund education)? But yeah, beyond that, she’s been maintaining the garden and trying not to hyperventilate when she thinks about becoming a grandmother. I mean, really, what else can you do?

Grandma enjoyed the San Francisco vacation she took with Valerie and Mary in mid August, and has recently discovered the Cooking Channel. She’s declared Emeril Lagasse the “#1 dog in the Pound,” much to the chagrin of Aunt Nettie, the newest resident of 657 Northview Drive. Nettie feels that the host of “Iron Chef” could take Emeril two falls out of three, and many a spirited discussion has since graced our kitchen.

Big Mary McMullan is now in her second year down at IU Bloomington, and she’s come around to a major: history, and “maybe geology.” Keep those options open, Mar! She spent last summer as history staff at a Boy Scout camp in the Minnesota boundary waters, where duties included wearing a period costume, throwing a tomahawk, and speaking in a French accent in order to imitate the dirty sons of Gaul who first settled the region. Strangely, Mary refuses to teach Matt how to throw a tomahawk, and she’s been back almost five months. What the hell, Mar?

Matt, on the other hand, is coming down the stretch of his college career. He’s taking a light courseload in the spring semester, and is serving as the university newspaper’s Copy Chief – which means he gets dumped on and hardly gets a worthy reference to put on his resume. He looks forward to teaching his new niece or nephew to “ask for a pack of Luckies” and “contest unpaid parking tickets in municipal court.” He’s going to be a great uncle, we’re all convinced!

We hope this letter finds you well, and you should know you’ll be in our thoughts this holiday season. Have a merry Christmas and a happy New Year!

-
Valerie, Grandma Mary, Nettie, Mary, and Matt. And Lucy the dog. She’s okay, too.

at least half the people on Mom’s xmas card list are republicans, too. they can eat it.
oh, and yeah, this year we introduced the “family portrait” to the Christmas letter. I drew a bunch of obscene stick figure portraits, we photocopied and labeled them, and included one in each envelope. suck on that, all of you who send us a picture of your delinquent kid’s graduation from community college.

lastly.
Josh beat me at chess yesterday. twice. fuck!

god damn fuck.

oh kay, so I got a D in a P290.
I don’t even care that I got a D. I don’t really care how it reflects on my GPA. don’t care.
I do care that P290 is a required course, and you need at least a C- in required courses.
are you following me?
I have to take P290 again next semester. I have doubled my courseload.
of course, I could have gotten a decent grade in the first place.
of course, I could have studied. I could have tried. all I had to fucking do was show up.
couldn’t pull that off, though.
god, I’m an unbelievably bad student. it borders on ridiculous. I’m 22 years old. when is the “start trying” bug going to kick in?

alright, enough with the wallowing in pity for a moment. went and saw “pride and prejudice” last night with Alisha.
we snuck in.
I can’t remember the last time I snuck into a movie, but we snuck into, of all things, “pride and prejudice.”
it starred Kiera Knightley, whom I normally abhor. however, I came away with two new opinions of her. one, she’s not really that drop dead gorgeous. and two, she was good in her role.
now, I’m trying to figure out whether one equates to the other.
does the fact that I just assumed she was hot (because that’s how Hollywood labels and treats her) have anything to do with the fact that I despised her?
yeah, it does. I didn’t like her cause she got parts, in my opinion, because she’s another pretty face. “Pirates of the Carribean” was bland and “King Arthur” ate balls. and as far as I’m concerned, “Domino” can get fucked.
but she gets a ton of face time in “pride and prejudice,” as she’s the main character. and I was able to think about it, and I don’t know, but I think her head and jaw are mishapen.
so I came to that conclusion. but does the fact that I don’t think she’s very pretty make me like her as an actress any more?
I don’t think so. she played her part well, delivered her lines forcefully when needed, and conveyed what passed as genuine emotion. so I think it’s just coincidence. I think she’s a good actress, and not particularly beautiful. so, that doesn’t mean that I hate beautiful people for being beautiful, and I’m not a total shell of a human being just yet.

Alisha liked the xmas gift I got her, which was a rendition of a t-shirt for the small business she wants to open up after school. I tend to give shitty xmas gifts (see post below), so I’m happy this worked out. finally hit something dead on.

okay, Mike’s parents are in the living room and his sister’s in his bedroom – they came down for his graduation this morning, as Mike is now a college graduate – and this apartment is pretty small. so I need to get up and the fuck out.
stay real.

it’s nice not having anything to do for a little while.
I mean, nothing. at all. like, what’s on the calendar for tonight?
pizza and beer with Mar and the Alaskan bee eff.
then more beer.
tomorrow? sushi. movie.
saturday? Smith graduates. Neil’s coming down.
sunday? drive home. dinner party with the neighbors. then watch the Bears beat the everloving shit out of the Atlanta Falcons on ESPN.
that’ll be 8 pm, eastern, I do believe. tune in, if you’re not a communist and/or a homosexual.

I guess, though, I have one responsibility. gotta christmas shop.
so far, I bought a couple of books and some CDs, thinking I could give them out to assorted family and friends, but then again, all the stuff I bought are things I want. so I guess that’s not really fair. maybe I should, you know, ask them what they’d be interested in. or should I know that already?

watched “the Pledge” last night.
that movie is a total fucking scam.
it’s about this retired police officer who reopens a closed case about a brutal rape/murder of an eight yr old girl, because he swore on the cross of the kid’s parents that he’d find the killer.
so it takes like two hours to get to where you realize the movie has nothing to do with finding the killer. it’s a fucking character study. about a character I dont’ care about. sorry, Jack Nicholson.
typical Sean Penn film. god damned Hollywood progressives. giving the rest of us a bad name.

ooh, gotta go. pizza party with Mar and Adam.
oh. boi.

test at 5 pm. whatever you do, don’t study.

riots in Australia.
more riots.

“by now, anyone who looked middle eastern was fair game, and so were the police.”

at the beginning of the first video, there’s the obligatory 45 second advertisement. normally, you just sit there and wait for it to be over, because I have no interest in becoming involved in Charles Schwab mutual funds.
this one was an advertisement for MSNBC, though. the videos are from it’s international affiliates, apparently. and they were doing one of those “where were you on 9/11,” “where were you when Saddam was captured,” “where were you when Desperate Housewives won an emmy” commercials. the ones that end with something like “MSNBC was there.” but that wasn’t what was interesting about it.
no. what was striking was the commercial had a cover of Gary Jules’ “mad world” sung by a children’s choir, and it made for a very fitting segue into scenes of racially motivated mob violence in a Sydney suburb.
I don’t especially care who started it. in the end, you’ve got people beating on each other cause of ethnicity. and that’s all that really matters, I think.

went and saw the film version of “the Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe” last night. wonderful film. fun to watch. CS Lewis had a beautiful imagination.

it’s suddenly, over the last day or two, kind of cold in this apartment. maybe it’s cause I’ve been sitting here trying to read about probation theory (I swear to god it exists) and haven’t been outside much. I’ve got nothing to compare the temperature to. or maybe I just can’t handle the cold anymore. hope that’s not it.

prepare for the greatest post in the history of man:

listening to “high tide or low tide” by Bob Marley.
I’m not normally into slow rastafarian music of any stripe, but it’s a great song.

going over my old tests for P304. it’s gonna be interesting. it was definitely my most interesting class this semester, even if it dragged on at times. 2 1/2 hours of straight probation can wear on you.
it was taught by the father of a friend of Josh’s. and I’ve met her. so I know the daughter and the father. two generations of Binghams. and the professor knows that too; knows I know his daughter, and I guess I made a good impression on her, cause he seems to like me – even after my stellar attendance record and my kickass prison reflection paper.
all this on top the fact that he grew up in south Philadelphia roughly around the exact same time my dad did, and they would have gone to high school together if Bingham was a catholic. I brought this up. it’s a small world, after all.
now, if only that recognition could carry into the final…

okay, now I’m listening to “I’m so tired” by le Beatles. one of my favorites on the White Album, but side A is kickass in general.

so the founder and former leader of the Crips is going to be executed in California. I guess it doesn’t make any difference how many anti-gang violence children’s books you write while in the hole. Schwarzenegger, it seems, ain’t give a fuck.
seriously. Dutch – the terminator – Detective John Kimball – for once, and probably will again, hold a real live life in his hands. and he let it go.
looks like he’s pretty standard, after all.
I’m not saying he didn’t kill four people. he did. that’s not the point. the point is, there is inherent racism within the criminal justice system, and most upper middle class white folks don’t have to deal with growing up in Watts. so let’s have just a little bit of understanding.
I don’t get capital punishment. I don’t get the why the system even cares what the victim wants. if the victim, or relatives had their way, we’d live in one of the most violent societies in the history of the human race.
oh, wait, we already do.
no, but really, I understand why the state kills. some sort of divine punishment bullshit. I just disagree with it.

also.
wikipedia and anything under “africa” has become my new timekiller.

now it’s the Fugees’ version of “no woman, no cry.” it’s a Marleyrific evening.

I ate a chicken burrito earlier today. bad move, motherfucker. bad move. I felt like my stomach was turning itself inside out about an hour ago. I’m going to stick with no meat. that never seems to bother me.

this afternoon has been a bust.
everytime I pick up my text book, I fall asleep. haven’t studied nearly enough for tomorrow. test is at 8 am.
and the Bears lost.
yeah, I know. say it out loud. they lost. seems like an illusion; like it’s not real, doesn’t it?
oh well. I’m still rolling. hard. to the hole. everytime down the court.

Mar’s boo (heh, Mar) is in town. I wants to meets hims.

I think I need to qualify my like of snow a little bit.
I like when it’s falling. it’s hard to say it’s not pretty. very relaxing, warming to see it coming down in a Rockwellian kind of way.
but then, the city salt truck hits the street at 4 am, and we’re introduced to winter slush. Rockwell never painted that shit.
when I think of winter – and it’s a big season, so I obviously think of a lot of different things – but when I think of winter, I think of driving Spencer to the airport.
it was New Year’s Day, or the day after. probably what, 1998?
Spencer came out for a few days to visit. one of the only times he’s been out to Indiana. his flight was early, around 7 or 8 in the morning. it was this early, of course, because we missed getting him on the flight he was originally supposed to catch the day before. they oversold the flight, and we were late. typical. Valparaiso, even as the crow flies, lies about 50 or 60 miles from Midway, so you need to have a jump getting up there even when the weather is good.
the weather wasn’t when we left at 4 in the morning. Mike was out visiting, so he’s in the car. we were driving this 85 Chrysler my mom bought from an old lady at church who was moving to a home in Florida. nothing said “northwest Indiana” like that car. it was straight out the hood. I don’t even think the radio picked up FM. had about 150 thousand miles on it.
okay, so Mike’s driving Mom’s in the front seat, Spencer and I in the back. it’s still the dead of night when you leave that early, and it was snowing hard. when you come out of Forest Park, down the street from the house in Valpo, you skirt right along the edge of the public golf course. and it sits in a bowl right there with Harrison Blvd going up a little ridge on it’s south border. snow was drifting everywhere, and it was intense. one of those times when nature becomes intimidating, and I remember thinking “we’re driving all the fuck the way to Midway in this?”
so we drove. got on I94, took it all the way up the Bishop Ford, onto the Dan Ryan. lots of abandoned cars on the freeway.
no one was on the roads. just salt trucks. everything was overwhelmed with snow. the streetlights flooded everything, making it all glow soft yellow. and in snow storms, the sky gets this eerie red glow. so with the absence of other cars, the fact that we could’t go any faster than 40 miles an hour on straightaways, and the weird ambiance getting garbled Chicago news through an ancient car radio will give you, the region looked like an alien landscape from the back of Mom’s ice encrusted Chrysler.
it probably wasn’t even that bad of a storm, it’s just one of those memories I have. I still remember Spencer jumping out and rushing into the terminal when we pulled up to arrivals. Mom went with him.
and he made this flight. barely.
next.
I remmeber picking up Mike and Virginia at O’Hare last thanksgiving. Uncle Bill and I went. drove mom’s new car, A Honda Accord with leather seats and a CD player (movin’ on up).
the flight got in at like 9 pm, and it wasn’t snowing this time.
we left mom’s house, and we had to stop by Bill’s house before we left. A) he had to get stoned, and B) he had to get a “welcoming-doob for your brother. what kind of fuckin’ uncle would I be?” his words.
so we’re driving up there. I’ve got “Medulla” by Bjork in the car, cause I had just bought it.
that album is perfect for cold weather. perfect. I don’t know if Bjork knows that, but some music just doesn’t work in the spring and summer, and is built for the cold. seriously. go check it out.
so Uncle Bill and I are in the car, and he’s stoned/sleepy, and I’ve got Bjork on, and the Chicago skyline looks really cool lit up at night when you’re on the Ryan and it hooks right near 20th Avenue by Chinatown. up on the Kennedy, coming into O’Hare, traffic hit a wall. Uncle Bill and I are listening to “mouth’s cradle.” he really took a liking to the album. I ended up getting it for him for Christmas.
then Mike and Virginia got in the car, and we put in “Wildflowers” by Tom Petty. on the way out, got stuck in south bound traffic where the Ryan and the Bishop Ford meet. oh well. good company. who cares?

then, there was that time I blew a tire picking up Mike and Virginia the spring of my freshman year. middle of nowhere.
but that story will have to wait, because I’m rambling, I need to study, and this should be edited. probably reads like shit.

well look at that. Southwest Airlines is responsible for the death of a child.
this, a day after an air marshal shot a mentally unstable man in Miami.
think about it. I know it’s serious, but saying “I’ve got a bomb” is a death sentence when you’re flying the friendly skies.
I hate airplanes, and I hate airports.

I’m listening to “once in a lifetime” by the Talking Heads. which is an oddly appropriate song for a snow storm. it’s not snowing right now, but it did today. all day. lots of snow.
so I worked tonight. wasn’t supposed to work, wasn’t scheduled, but I needed saturday evening off. wasn’t hard to get someone to switch me a closing shift in inclimate weather.
wasn’t even that bad. because of the shitty roads, our delivery range was shortened, and we were allowed to tell them basically whatever we wanted: “no, sorry, we’re not going there tonight,” or “it’s gonna be at least an hour and a half.” I think I took about five, six deliveries. made 15 dollars, five of which I gave to the in-store workers. I was on autopilot tonight.

so you know what fascinates me?
holocaust revisionists. or people who claim genocides never occurred. that kind of stuff.
I mean, here’s the mass graves and exhumed bodies, dickface. what more do you want?
sorry. I’m reading this book on the Rwandan genocide.
“we with to inform you that tomorrow we will be killed with our families” by Philip Gourevitch.
fantastic book. will give you a legitimate reason (because right now I know you don’t have one, you jingoistic fuck) to dislike the French.

ho ho, I’m getting cranky. time for bed.

super edit: lord, someone, give me a reason and the means to live on the Seychelles.

okay, so I’m at the paper. again.
I’m sitting here, and my main man Cordell comes up. haven’t seen him in a month or two, even though I’ve been whupping his ass in fantasy football.
he hands me a opinion columnist application. Cordell is next semester’s opinion desk editor.
I bet he’s given out a lot of these.
you’ve got to hand in an resume, a schedule of classes, and answer the questions on the sheet.
right.
so I went down the hall. I bought a Payday from the vending machine. chewed on it. and, very thoughtfully, answered the questions…

name: Matthew McMullan
year: senior, May 2006
major: English/Criminal Justice
where are you from?: the dream realms – Valparaiso, In./Alexandria, Va.

list journalism experience, if any: I write for the IDS. Word up.
interests/activities outside the paper: bitchin’ and moanin’, running, skullduggery

1. Give one, and only one, reason why anyone in their right mind would be interested in your column.

Because I’m opinionated. Very opinionated. And on top of that, I can string a few words together, making a coherent argument. That’s hard to find these days.

2. What are you passionate about? What do you plan to write about?

What I’m passionate about.
Okay, I’ll be honest. I’m passionate about politics, music, movies, popular culture – and yeah, a couple of those could be better served writing for Weekend, but I already do that.
What moves me? Nothing in particular. I tend to react a lot. I’ll read a story, become outraged, and calm down after a while. That’s what being an amateur pundit is all about, right?
Oh, and I’m also very passionate and very serious about the Chicago Bears. Best team on earth.

3. How do you deal with stress? Conflict resolution? Problem solving?

When I get upset, I break a few things around my apartment. But because I see that coming, I’ve got this huge box of used china I bought at Goodwill for six bucks, and whenever I’m ready to freak out, I just grab a plate and throw it at the wall above an open trash bag. So that works itself out.
When it comes to stress and problem solving, in all seriousness, I like to think I work pretty well. I’m pretty laid back, and usually will work through any problem that comes up to me or find one of my betters for guidance. Pretty standard stuff.

4. What weakness do you have as a writer, and how can we be of help in fixing them?

I’d say my major weakness as a writer is my casualness. I write very much “off the cuff” and spur of the moment. This can make for some real entertaining copy, but occasionally an argument could be more succinct, or more developed. That’s only occasionally, though. I’m a mental giant, and I’m almost always right to the point.

5. being a member of the opinion desk is like being a member of a team. Are you willing to come to Ed-Board once a week and discuss staff editorial topics with others?

Yes. I’m willing to come in for editorial board. You bet.

6. What makes a good column?

A good column should be both entertaining and meaningful. Which means it shouldn’t read like a peer reviewed article, but it should also have a point. I can’t stand seeing opinion columnists who have nothing better to do than drop a list of “things I like to do when I’m bored” on a paper’s readership.
A good column (and a good columnist) needs to be able to walk that line. If you can’t find something worth writing about once a week, you might be in the wrong business.

7. Who is on the top of your listas the smartest and dumbest public figure, and why?

I’m trying to think of someone I find really dumb, and no one is coming to mind. There aren’t a lot of real dumb public figures, unless you want to go to the easy targets. I could say that President Bush is an idiot, but I bet I wouldn’t be the only one to say that. I could talk about how vapid Paris Hilton is, but she’s from Hollywood, and there are plenty of stupid celebrities. So what’s the point?
Instead, I’ll talk about the public figure I detest the most.
Nancy Grace.
I hate Nancy Grace.
Nancy Grace hosts show with a title based on her name on CNN Headline News. She used to be on Court TV, and recently, her job has been to act hysterical about high profile crime cases in the media. Hey, have you forgotten about Natalee Holloway for a few hours? Well, Nancy Grace will cure that ailment. Yeah. I don’t like her. She’s shrill and irritating and a horrible news anchor, and she’s CNN’s tabloid journalism answer to the Fox News channel.
So okay, in the spirit of not being able to identify anyone I find “dumb,” it wouldn’t be fair to identify someone I find “smart.” So I’ll talk about someone I like.
I like the starting center on the Chicago Bears offensive line, the indomitable Olin Kreutz.
Selected in the third round of the 1998 draft, Kreutz has consistently been solid for Chicago. He’s a four time pro bowl selection, and is considered a leader on both the O-line and in the locker room. He’s also not afraid to throw down. Kreutz was recently involved in an alcohol-fueled altercation with fellow lineman Fred Miller during a barbeque – hosted by off-duty FBI agents involved in team security – at an north Chicago gun range. Get all that? Booze, guns, and federal agents.
I like Olin Kreutz.

8. Answer the following simple questions in no more than three sentences:
A) Why are we here? (aka What’s the meaning of life?)
B) Is torture a necessary evil?
C) Should Adam Herbert’s performance be reviewed?

A) I subscribe to evolutionary theory, so we’re all here by chance. Best make the most of it.
B) No. Anyone who thinks it is probably has never had a dynamo and alligator clips attached to their private parts.
C) Well, it has been a helluva long time since the university has had a permanent chancellor. (note: Herbert is IU Bloomington’s president)

well I’ll be god damned.
it’s been a long time.

okay, so lessee.
last week, on thursday, I interviewed for the reviews editor position at the Weekend. went in to have a meeting with Maggie Bozich, who is next semester’s editor in chief.
and turns out, I get interviewed by Maggie Bozich, Rick Newkirk, and Gavin Lesnick. who are the editor in chief and managing editor for the next semester, respectively.
these are all people who I worked with in the summer.
either way, I don’t think my interview went very well. I mean, I think it went alright, but it was nothing special. Rick, near the end, he goes, “you know, we haven’t filled up all the positions for the daily staff yet. and I know you’ve already done this, but we still need a copy chief.”
I’m all like, “uh, okay. so…”
and he’s all like, “so would you be interested?”
and I say the only thing I think I can say, and that’s, “in the event that I don’t get reviews editor, yeah. sure.”
so I think what happened is they were sitting there, looking at different applicants, and they said, “McMullan was alright. but instead, let’s just go with someone else and give him copy chief.”
and here I am today. I have to go in for a dry run tonight, which means I have to sit with the copy chief and let her tell me how to do a job I’ve already done before. should be mindnumbingly boring, but to hell with it. I’m playing dumb. I coud use a refresher course.

funeral was alright. as far as funerals go.
didn’t really get that upset. no, scratch that. I didn’t get upset at all. I mean, it’s Grams. I love my grandmother, but we all gotta go.
was cool seeing all my relatives though. Megan Madden told the funniest story I’d heard in a long time involving the phrase “these pants are like a cheap hotel.” (CHANGED FOR MAR) kicked it with my brother, he’s always money. kicked it with my cousin Courtney, who I always seem to kick it with at these family things. she’s the bee’s knees.
but then, some of my cousins decided it was a good idea to go all “top 40 power hour” on the accoustic guitar. I think it’s real nice that one of them learned how to play an instrument. I also think it’s a real shame that the only songs they bothered to learn were Sheryl Crow ballads. god, that bitch is talentless.
no, but the funeral was nice. big turn out. nice send off. they even had someone playing bagpipes at the cemetery.

okay, so I won an Erik Kramer jersey on eBay. kick ass.
and I might be trying to maybe be trying to go to the Atlanta game on the 18th. sunday night game. how awesome would that be? can you possibly comprehend???

that’s about it. finished with two classes. two to go. I’m not sweating it. I’m glad the semester’s wrapping up. gonna be nice and calm from January to May. and then, bam, I’m an adult – fully, in the eyes of the law.