PrettyFakes

I can’t honestly tell you that I remember the first time I met Gene Clark (or, as his name has internet-degraded over the years, “gclark,” which I sometimes say in my head as “jeh-clark”). I’m sure it was at the radio station in Starkville.

A lot of you have probably never met him, so I’m going to describe him. Have you ever seen His Girl Friday, where Cary Grant talks all big-city newspaper tough like a machine-gun spitting out bullets? Gene talks like that. Not like NYC-style, but Arkansas, and fast.
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Today I discovered two things: first, watching Fellowship of the Ring and The Two Towers back-to-back—that’s three-hundred-and-fifty-seven minutes, if you’re counting out there, six hours—will leave you weary but happy, like a too-long massage.

Second, I think that I’m lactose intolerant. Dammit.
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Let me tell you, dead sober and scared so bad I can barely sleep, that law school final exams are not cool. Not cool at all. I want to give my up-nawth Senor Queso a hearty “godspeed” and hope he comes out only partially scathed in this coming week’s gladitorial conflicts.
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Finals. The bane of any school, the horror of law school—but I’m halfway through and feel alright. If I can just not get drunk tonight . . . okay, that’s ridiculous. I’m getting wasted and watching teevee at the O’Steen Palace, who is graciously lending me her couch, since I’m having a houseguest for a few days.
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Giddy with Croom-fever, I’ve still been watching the Kindercore meltdown, which has resulted in Dan & Ryan (the good guys) filing a lawsuit. Pitchfork has been covering the matter with its usual caustic (and hilarious) tone.

Still, I’m too much of a nerd to let that “promissory estoppel” joke run by.
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The Clarion-Ledger is reporting that we may hear this morning if Sly Croom will come to Mississippi State.

Please, please, please!