And then there was the Bronx.
First of all, LD rounds now last two and a half hours. That
is, 90 minutes for the two debates and 60 minutes for, as the Frenchies don’t
say, merde du taureau. (Apparently,
the French actually say conneries,
according to the interwebs, but that’s none of our concern here.) I gather most
of that extra hour is prep, or as we like to call it, desperately and pointlessly cramming
on the night before the test because if you don’t know it now, you’ll never
know it. Jeesh. It was even worse in break rounds. Don’t you people have homes?
Don’t you want to return to them at some point?
Second of all, a solid cadre of judges continue to act as
blockheads, unable to click the start button when (not before) a round starts.
Same ones, every time. Same ones, also, who whine about tournaments that force
them to fill out a paper ballot, which, you blockheads, we don’t want to handle
any more than you do, but until you get your bloody act together and act like a
professional, we will continue to treat you like the amateur you obviously are.
Third of all, when you tell everyone the judging obligation
(all in for doubles) about 2,304,472 times, the message that “I didn’t know
this” demonstrates a level of obliviousness that can only be found in the mind
of a debate coach. If you’re going to welch on your obligations, welch like a
real welcher: at least then we will admire your authenticity.
Fourth of all, we are on to you, School That Will Remain
Unnamed. As soon as there is a problem with you—and there are always problems
with you—we will not rush to solve it in such a way that you are not
discomforted in any conceivable way, because you are vicious, nasty and
unbeloved by the vast majority of the rest of us precisely because it is all
about you not observing your obligations, one way or another, or tearing down
everything that doesn’t conform to your unique and vile world view. Your merde du taureau does not work with us.
We know you won’t stop trying—it’s like a zebra trying to change its spots
(since we need to put a little dysmetaphoric levity into this rant)—but we can
always hope. Hope is the only grace you leave us with, since you have completely
stripped us of faith and charity. Feh!
On the bright side, tabroom only had one glitch, which CP
says arose from the mix and match of regions with MJP. The Bronxwegians really
wanted regions, but, like swing teams, it’s one of those things that went out
with the leisure suit. But while I don’t see the value of swings when there’s
almost two hundred debaters, with somebody always getting sick and dropping out
or dropping back in or whatever, I have nothing against regions. I do agree
that if we can avoid your traveling a great distance to debate the boy next
door in a preset, it’s a not a bad idea to attempt it. I’m sure I won’t see
this again until next Bronx, if then. Given that regions result in an absence,
I wonder if anyone even noticed. (“Not a lot of black swans around here, eh,
mate?”) Anyhow, other than this, tabroom was lovely. The prefs in the pairings
looked better than ever, and it was only when judges texted random Bronx
students that they were on the wrong subway heading in the wrong direction when
they should have been pressing the start button and we had to replace them with moldy leftovers, that anything untoward would
happen number-wise.
More merde du taureau
tomorrow.
///
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