I will have a bunch to say on Spain shortly, because it’s an interesting place worth talking about. Of course, I think that almost every place is an interesting place worth talking about, but some are more interesting than others. As a case in point, we are talking about the one country in the world where the mullet is not merely not dead, but in fact rules. As my personal mullet days are far behind me (see my photo on the right if you need some explanation for this), you can imagine how this might have affected me. Anyhow, we’ll do detail travel stuff over the next few weeks. What else is there at season’s end, right?
Wrong.
One thing I noticed in that WTF thread on disclosure (to which, btw, I’ve posted my notes, at O’C’s request, which means I can never look at the thread again) was that someone commented that virtually no $ircuit debaters were writing their own cases, a point which no one challenged. I’m shocked—shocked!—to hear it. One of the favorite rounds I ever judged was of a young debater running for the first time a case his college-student coach had written for him, which he understood practically none of. When we discussed it later in the day, he said that as he ran it more often, he was starting to get the hang of it. This particular debater went on to great debate fame and fortune, and as far as I’m concerned, he is still some schmuck running a case he was handed that he didn’t understand, and his coach was more of a puppeteer than a coach. I wonder if they do this in, say, high school baseball. Do the coaches throw the pitches for the kids? Or do they bat for them, because they’ll be better batters than the kids would be? I’m rather religious on this subject. I certainly believe in working with my team to develop arguments on a resolution, usually as many arguments as we can think of. We talk about them all, then they go off and work out the ones they like to make cases out of. They will, therefore, learn to think about the material and then learn to write about the material. I do edit it, but as you know, I’m a professional editor, and one thing we do if we’re doing our job well is get the writers to do the writing; we don’t do it for them. I point out areas in a case that I think need work, and occasionally suggest what that work should be in some detail. I do not do it for them. And I certainly don’t tell them what arguments to run. Quite honestly, I think that if I wrote cases, they’d be pretty good. Hell, I’m a published author and a publishing veteran and relatively intelligent: how bad would I be? But I’m sorry, you couldn’t pay me to write a case for a student. Oh well, one person’s religion is another person’s bull-ogna, and vice versa. If I were to convert, and somehow get the money for travel, it is not inconceivable that I could field a lot more $ircuit debaters. But as I’ve said over the years, if TOC didn’t exist, I wouldn’t have invented it. Time has not eroded my views on this subject.
On the other hand, I like CatNats for a variety of reasons, always, however, excluding their topics. CP’s recent blog (it’s flogged on the Feed, which you should be following religiously if you really consider yourself a serious member of the VCA) explains that in fact the Cats solicit topics from the membership at the beginning of the year, and offers some possible reasons why no one seems to know about this. He will make some effort next year to publicize this solicitation, and perhaps eliminate all the whining about the topic (a breed of whine of which I am a connoisseur). Kudos! In the race for forensic sainthood, CP has, as you know, already achieved my venerable and beatified states for his work in normalizing the college universe. If he can tame the Catholics as well, he’ll be shaking Mother Teresa’s hand in heaven any day now (metaphorically speaking).
But then, on the other other hand, not long ago Chris sent out a notice about Yale explaining that the hotels were filling up—nay, in many cases, had filled up—and that we’d all better get our reservation acts together. So I started calling my usual venue for the last few years, the La Quinta, and got nothing but no replies and leave-a-message messages. I talked to the desk, and they promised action, and then I went to Spain thinking that maybe action would ensue in my absence, but I returned to no action whatsoever, and started calling again, and FINALLY got a human being who told me they were sold out. Feh! So I liked La Quinta because of the shuttle, but I figured at a cheaper price I could bring a bus and driver and get an extra room, so my next step was a cheapo Days Inn up the road, and I talked to someone there of the totally useless persuasion who took some information and told me that the manager would call me back in an hour. Unfortunately, this was not an hour by my watch, so I decided to bite the bullet and go for the Clarion, which also has a shuttle but is a shot or two more expensive. Lo and behold, the person who answered the phone (yes, there was a person who answered the phone) was professional and seemed to have some knowledge of and experience in the hotel business. Working with her was a pleasure and I am now happy to say that my rooms are secure. But oy, what a pain in the patoot. No wonder I’m not writing cases for my team. I’m too busy making (or failing to make) hotel reservations.
And finally, in that catching-up category, tonight we’re going to see Indiana Jones. For the first time. O’C tells me he saw it 38 times just last Sunday alone. Maybe I’m never going to catch up. Thank goodness.
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