I tore this feature out of the corner of the paper last week. It struck me as unusual. If it ran again this week, I didn't see it. I've been trying for a week to think of something that would be outrageous enough to amuse, yet still be published. I haven't really thought of anything that was all that good, but I feel compelled to submit a false problem anyway.

I believe that it's still the plan that we'll be graced with some visiting Hokies for the football season's first tailgate. They may read experts' opinions of what to expect on the field any number of places. I thought they might need to read about what to expect in the hours leading up to the game. The rest of this post is directed to them.

I wonder if Mad Magazine has done a spoof with Harry Potter with a lot of nose hair, but called him "Hairy Snotter." Probably like ten years ago.

I'm going to miss the shit out of Bob Barker. This probably isn't the first place that you've heard about the retirement of the King of Game Show Hosts, but I would be remiss if I didn't address it. I have always been first to admit my admiration of *The Price is Right*, which extended to making class schedule choices based on my ability to catch the show during a lunch break.

When Vanya cries, his face changes its entire shape. His features flatten a bit, and his mouth squares off and opens so the noise and tears can cascade together. Usually, this is about a bunch of nothing, and his little anguished face very often makes me laugh.

As I was digging for the photo of me with Bob Barker's star on the Hollywood walk of fame (which may or may not be included on my next post), I found a bunch of old photos from the days before I was digital. I took some time to scan a handful of them, realizing that it is nothing short of untapped treasure. They will be posted as photos of the day intermittently through the rest of the summer.

I was listening to a national radio talk show one day last week, and the host's topic was "What is the best college town in America?" Of course, I know this to be Baton Rouge, and I sat back to hear the opinions of those who are wrong.

I looked at the over/under lines for NFL teams earlier this week, and they had the Saints at 7 or 7 1/2. In other words, half the people who put their money on the line don't think the Saints will have a winning season, and the other half do. I was expecting a line of around 9 1/2. Yes, the Saints have a tough schedule, given its championship-game non-division schedule. Furthermore, the rest of the NFC South should be much improved. But its hard for me to imagine a team with this much offensive power losing more than half of its games. It almost seems like an easy-money sucker bet.

As far as I know, there's only one channel running new TV shows right now. And HBO must know that they have a monopoly on those who are tired of reality shows, game shows, and American Idol ripoffs, because they aren't really putting much effort into providing a decent program.

I'm not interested in being the writer of a "daddy blog," describing the daily doeses of puke, projectile urine, and spinach-looking poop just to ruin your lunches. But I haven't read another father's post where poor old dad's dogs figured out about the poop diaper first.

Say that you go out for pizza. You want the sun-dried tomato and goat cheese pizza, but your wife wants hamburger meat and jalapeño peppers. You might be inclined -- as we were last week -- to order two 10-inch pizzas. But how much pizza are you really getting?

It's Saturday morning, and I've started listening to the Live Earth broadcasts. So far, Hamburg and London are on, and Hamburg is kicking their ass in music quality. I've heard some good New Orleans style funk, but sung in German. I know I'll never hear any of that stuff again, but I like it.