If this is Friday it must be Wednesday. Or, in other words, Nostrum is back. Granted I didn’t get to it in a timely manner, if a timely manner means a Wednesday publication, but anyone who has ever dealt with Jules and the Nostrumite knows that they are not exactly Old Reliable in a Can themselves, so having an episode arrive at my door in the first place is miracle enough, much less getting it recorded. Jules tells me he’ll try to be regular, and for what it’s worth I now pass that along to you. With my own schedule, I’m guessing that as a rule all Wednesdays will be Fridays in the future. So it goes. Gives you something to listen to on your way to tournaments.
The trickle in of emails from the Speechnonauts of tomorrow has begun, once again leading me to wonder why teenagers don’t have access to computers anymore. When I was a kid—oh, wait. When I was a kid we had Univac, and nobody had access to it. But nowadays I hear tell they got these thingummies they call personal computers, but apparently they’ve been banned in Sailorville. Or maybe my eyes deceived me at the inaugural meeting. Damned kids. Can’t get them to email you, can’t get them off your lawn…
I am starting to get excited about the Pups. It’s been so long since I’ve tabbed a tournament that my fingers are getting itchy. All that nifty MJP stuff, the chapel room that has no grounded three-prong sockets, getting to tell people who changed their judges after the deadline that they don’t get any strikes, praying that the bathrooms in the high school continue working for the entire day, sporcle.com, the rush of debaters when you post anything on the wall, even if it’s a notice not to rush you when you post things on the wall… Ah, smell of it is already in my nostrils. Especially those bathrooms.
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