Various bubbles of news rise in the boiling stew of daily existence

I need a little break from this whole research thing. The reason I’ve brought it up is to revise my approach in the Cur, which is a little outdated, and while it’s been interesting to work out, quite frankly even I can tell that it’s less than groundbreaking. Still, solid principles for doing research can’t be a bad thing, even if they aren’t particularly unusual. If everyone followed such principles, the world would be a better place. Or at least the debate rounds would be better. Anyhow, I’ll probably get back to it tomorrow.

Meanwhile, there has been news aplenty. Last weekend was Newark, which meant an invitational starting Friday and an MHL starting Saturday. The former was disrupted by a literal sheet of ice that spread over most of New York starting about twenty miles north of Manhattan. One minute it was second star to the right and straight on till morning, and the next minute everybody was ass over teakettle, vehicles skidding every which way and a general alert from the Gotham police commissioner for citizens to remain in their homes. This cost the Sailors their bus, but Hen Hud knows no fear, and I led my Jolly Tars into the breech, albeit from the comfort of my office at the Day Job. In other words, one of our intrepid parents drove a few of the ABs down to Jersey and, as I understand it, is still cursing me royally, in numerous languages. The Saturday trip was much more civilized, with a perfectly marvelous bus and no traffic and no weather and we got there in plenty of time and had a perfectly marvelous MHL, except for the one school expelled for being louts and ruffians, but I have to admit I only caught the tail end of what that was all about, so I can’t provide any juicy details. In tab we just kept juggling too few judges and too many debaters and whatever hope we had for the best. If you need to know the depths of our despair, I had to judge a round myself, which I usually do by grabbing the poor little novices and putting them up against the wall of tab and scowling at them until they both give up and congratulate each other on a great round. I’ll be the judge of that, I growl, as they scurry off into oblivion.

For reasons that elude me no end, I’ve decided to go back and continue recording Nostrums. I had been planning to simply process the material into pdfs, but I realized that the pressure I was feeling back when I stopped in November has lifted, and I figured, what the hey. We’ll be back in regular weekly business for the proverbial foreseeable. A weary world, already adrift in the writers’ strike, rejoices.

In the New York primary, all the names of people who aren’t running are still there. For a moment I thought of pulling the Kucinich lever, just to give Denny that final well-wishing wave, but I ultimately thought better of it. At least now I know what I’ll do when I retire. If you’ve ever wondered where all the old people go, they’re running the polls in New York State. Save me a place, Ma!

This weekend is Scarsdale, with its First They Debate Then They Judge policy, and the more I think about it, the harder I remember it being to tab. It’s never really straightforward single flights of V then Nov, but a mixture hither and yon. But I do enjoy a challenge in the tab room. This weekend, aside from the actual tabbing, there will be also be the challenges of creating next year’s calendar and explaining to O’C yet again that I am interested in neither obscure debate trivia (even when it’s about me I never know the answer) or Howard the Bladerunning Duck.

Tomorrow at the crack of dawn I’m going over to Go West Young Man High School to watch a practice round. They’re right across the street from the Day Job. The last time I was there I saw oodles of debaters, but one seldom sees any at a tournament. Go figure. Anyhow, it’s a nice way to start the day. I love the smell of novices in the morning: smells like [my work here is done, and if you’ve got a metaphor, feel free.].