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Yes, I am feeling confrontational tonight.

For those of us who still haven’t learned the true form of the Lord of the Ninth (that is, more of a jelly spread miles deep in a fissure than the suave, horned sophisticate we know and loved), I have this interesting bit of news:

Pat Buchanan’s Reform Party (you remember, the arch-conservative that wanted to build a Berlin Wall along the Mexican border?)

Would you believe me if I told you that I was one of two hundred plucky souls who, as part of a progressive movement, brought rush hour traffic on Lake Shore Drive almost to a complete standstill?

It’s true.

The #6 Jackson Park Express bus I was riding progressed up the Drive before encountering functional difficulties while stopped just north of the McCormick place.

“Why are there so many songs about rainbows

And what’s on the other side?

“Rainbows are visions, but only illusions,

And rainbows have nothing to hide.

“So we’ve been told and some choose to believe it

I know they’re wrong, wait and see.

If anybody is interested in seeing the picture I took, from which I derived the main image in the heading of this blog, I’ve put it up here.

So there’s been some fuss at the University of Chicago, among students and a few faculty members, about the recent choice to change the title of “course programs” from concentration to major.

The argument for can be summed up: referring to such programs as “majors” dates back to the 1950s, and was a concession made to a group no longer present at the university (the Hutchins crowd).

This has been a strange weekend; when I’ve been social, there’s been an overabundance of friends, drink, and merriment.

And when I’ve been alone, I’ve been so alone.

Jess left on Friday. I tend to forget, sometimes, just how much my social life is dependent upon her.

The answer to riddle no. 3 was, in fact, nothing.

If you decide to participate in the Essay question, I will be posting the winning entry (and any runners up) on this blog.

I will also put up a website where I will post all entries.

From here.

One fastidious night in McKinley Park a fallow ghost named Armand Ryden was walking home from a lurid day of spooking and eating. Suddenly, he felt as though a strange pair of eyes were flowing him. He said, “Dooood!”

If time permits, and I’m not sure it will, I will be writing some fan fiction this summer.

My two major projects are Harry Potter and a framework for Madeleine L’Engle’s works. In the case of the latter, I’ve gotten caught up in trying to make it through the canon, plus find our her particular stance on fan fiction.