New Hoosier

Well, the Hoosiers have their new coach: Kelvin Sampson.

Right now, the jury is out. I think he is currently a good coach, and we'll see if he can become a great one after being able to recruit a higher caliber of player under the Indiana banner.

However, "Hoosier Nation" remains divided. He's a defensive minded coach, and he has a recent NCAA violation to contend with.

I think Indiana supporters would have been divided if John Wooden came out of retirement to take on the job. The only thing that will unite everyone will be a sixth banner hanging from Assembly Hall.

Seattle South

Hi everyone, thanks for coming here by clicking your mouse on this page or by accidentally coming here via Google or some other lesser search engine. Welcome to Seattle South! In the parlance of today, most refer to this place as San Francisco, but after record rain in March where it has rained every damn day, I've decided to give us a more appropriate moniker.

Actually, apart from the rain, there is some really interesting stuff going on here in San Francisco Seattle South. This year is the 100th anniversary of the Great '06 Earthquake. Today, the Chronicle has posted a story on the geolophysicists that simulated the 1906 earthquake (view the actual simulation here). The results made my knees buckle:

Less than 4 seconds after the ground ruptured off San Francisco's coast on April 18, 1906, much of San Francisco was destroyed. The great quake that struck before dawn that day savaged the entire Bay Area within 30 seconds and ripped the Earth's surface for 300 miles along the San Andreas Fault at speeds up to 13,000 mph.

For the first time, scientists have re-created in extraordinary detail what happened to the Earth's quiet surface that spring day nearly a century ago.

A new computer simulation of the quake's ground-shaking violence overlayed on today's Bay Area -- and from Cape Mendocino in the north to San Juan Bautista in the south -- offers scientists, engineers and disaster workers the ability to predict where the ground will shake most severely. That knowledge will help engineers design safer buildings and guide first responders as they decide where best to focus their efforts.

...The scientists will display the full reconstruction of the great quake's ground motions along all 300 miles of the fault during a major international conference starting in San Francisco on April 18, but Tuesday they released a vivid computer-created video showing in ominous colors of red, orange, yellow and blue how another big quake with a magnitude of 7.8 or 7.9 -- the estimated size the 1906 temblor -- would affect the Bay area and the delta region as far as Sacramento.

The video, based on a new three-dimensional model of the San Andreas and other nearby faults, shows precisely where the San Andreas Fault first ruptured 6 miles beneath the ground and 2 miles west of the city's coast.

It also shows how the quake's intensity ranged from moderate to shattering throughout the region as the ground ruptured with unbelievable speed.

Research geophysicist Brad Aagaard headed the teams of scientists from Stanford, UC Berkeley, the Lawrence Livermore National Laboratory and URS Corp., a Pasadena engineering firm. Together they created the impressive demonstration of a large quake's capacity to shake the ground in every direction.

Aagaard said he and his colleagues used invaluable data from the first group of scientists who began studying the 1906 quake only three days after it struck and who prepared a two-volume report, complete with scores of maps published in 1908 and 1910.

Invaluable too, he said, were models of the quake's behavior developed by geophysicists Gregory C. Beroza and Paul Segall and graduate student Seok Goo Song of Stanford. They determined how the fault behaved along a stretch that runs completely underwater for nearly 100 miles north of Point Arena in Mendocino County to Cape Mendocino in Humboldt County.

The quake's speed was "phenomenal," Aagaard said.

It took only 90 seconds to hit Cape Mendocino in the north and 54 seconds to strike San Juan Bautista to the south before it petered out, Aagaard said.

"I'd be under the nearest table the second I felt the first shudder," Aagaard said.

There's little to match the fury of the Earth when it's pissed off.

Wow, this place is deeeead anyway, man. It's a shame, because I think I built a nice little place here.

Don't worry, this isn't a permanent lull. Your collective sighs of relieve warm the very embers of my heart, and I thank you for that, however I don't imagine I'll be posting essays with regularity until the end of the month.

However, I will have some odds and ends to keep you from being completely bored.

Love each other passionately in the meantime.

Sweet 16

I'm going to the Sweet Sixteen tonight in Oakland--that's me sitting there 21 rows behind the bench stuffing my face with churros.

Gonzaga versus UCLA
Mempthis versus Bradley.

Two teams have a coachthat might end up in Bloomington next year.

Also, my buddy Kyle, at From the Still, is coming out tonight for this year's Whiskies of the World on Saturday. We are going to do a series of blog posts about.

Enjoy the hoops!

Indiana Coaching Search Update

Alford confirms he's staying at Iowa.

There were some fantastic comments left by R.A. Allen and The Colossus in last night's "Trying to Take Heart" post. They both provide a heavy dose of historical perspective, along with some very personal candor that relates to where we currently stand in this war. I encourage you to read them through.

...and, since they are comments, please feel free to add your own $.02.

Trying to Take Heart

I've been taking a nice break from blogging, especially about any issues of substance for a little while. There are a lot of things happening in real life that are secondary reasons for these lapses, however, mostly it stems from me trying to get my mind around what is happening to our civilization in the midst of War that it has never fought before.

I guess with a challenge like that, it isn't too much of a stretch to indentify the culprit keeping me awake all night.

The anniversary of the invasion of Iraq gave the opponents of the war the opportunity to jump up and down about the complete mismanagement and debacle of the occupation period. It has become commonplace, particularly in the media, to openly question the President on which cabinet members must be held responsible for these pre-established blunders. While the Washington press corp waxes outrageous, and the rest of the country losing hope fast, there are hundreds of thousands of mostly Americans and Iraqis, combined with a smattering of Brits, Aussies, Poles and others who are fighting for a free society in the midst of one of most backward societies on earth.

Truth be told, I've been losing heart. My faith does not waver towards those that are executing the war, towards the 200,000 Iraqis who have signed up to shed blood to fight for their country, towards the millions that voted to participate in a federal government backed by a constitution and towards the handful of those determined to bring us the truth on the ground through our defeatist media filter. My faith is waning from the American people who I thought were able to hold just enough of us together to fight off the predominantly Leftist onslaught that began on September 12, 2001. If we pull out and lose in Iraq, history will not point towards Bush, Cheney and Rumsfeld, it will point straight towards the combination of those who didn't have the stomach or the smarts to see through the transparent perfidity engaged by those who aren't in reality anti-war, they are on the side of those that want to kill us.

Notice how the defeatest meme has shifted its focus from the insurgency towards the "imminent" civil war. They completely ignored the United States led effort that trained a homegrown, fully capable fighting force to conduct clear and hold operations in a region that even Saddam Hussein was unable to contain--one that resulted in Sunni Iraqis actually turning to fight against the blood-thirsty members of al-Qaeda. Currently, al-Qaeda is as popular in Iraq as David Duke at Wu Tang Clan concert.

This should be HUGE news, but almost zero attention has been paid to this fact and I think a heavy portion of the fault lies with the Bush Administration for not trumpeting these successes earlier. If anything is constant, it is the anti-war panderings towards any shred of random events they can use to further their meme (for example for an entire year Ayad Allawi was nothing but a puppet of the Bush Administration; then the moment he says something that falls in line with their civil war meme, he's a hero speaking "truth to power"). Bush should know better and kill the snake in its hole.

As far as civil war goes, Iraqis have been in a state of unrest for years. Our entrance into existing this unrest didn't just start 3 years ago, but when we intervened in Desert Storm 15 years ago. The shift from Sunni to Shiite power shifted, and militias and death squads have been nothing new since Saddam's overthrow. In light of this factionalism, the major players within Iraq continue to engage in an admittedly tense, but federal political process--and that includes even the radical fringe elements such as al-Sadr.

As an aside, reading reports of Shiite opinion in Western publications and you'd get the picture that al-Sadr guy has the entire Shiite population at his beck and call. While I find even the small amount of support he gets gravely disturbing considering his Iranian connections, let's keep it in perspective. When he rose up against the Americans in Najaf, he was quickly put down not only by the 11th MEF and the 1st Calvary Division, but also by the citizens of Najaf that saw him as nothing more than a opportunistic punk. His vaunted "Mehdi Army" was dodging bullets from every direction and he eventually negotiated a truce.

The potential civil war in Iraq is still a real possibility. However, the Americans and the Iraqis had to deal with defeating the insurgency first. This has largely succeeded in light of attacks that, although still very bloody, have not been able to affect any long-term strategic goals.

If we hold on, we can win this one. Iraq is holding together despite all odds.

But, the Left sees blood. Not the blood dripping from the mouths of the Iraqis and those fighting for a free society, but blood from the man they would do anything to humiliate: George Bush. I sometimes long for a Lincoln, a Reagan, or a Roosevelt to be at the helm during these times, however in the end I know that despite his inadequacies, he still understands the stakes of this war. The Left would be wise right now to not confuse disapproval with mass approval for their memes. I'm in the disapproval of the President camp right now, but it'll be a cold day in hell before I put a vote forward towards a party that wants to pull us out to settle a cheap political score.

I'm afraid the consequences are too dire if we lose this one, and although we are still very much in position to win this, I'm not sure the decadent West has the chin to see it through.

Hoops

Bracket Busting? How is everyone's bracket doing now? I got ripped in first round, however my final eight picks all survived, and I have 7 of my final 8 still alive after the second round.

However, give it up for Bradley, George Mason and Wichita State. I don't care about my brackets if these teams continue to play their hearts out and win. This is great for the tournament, and it will be great to hear Billy Packard try explain this one away.

Indiana Coaching Search

Spent lots of time this weekend acting like a buffoon, watched some college basketball in between. Thank you Mike Davis, I got free tickets to see the Sweet 16 in Oakland on Thursday, and if Indiana won, I would have been able to see my squad play live for the first time since I graduated. But nooooo...Indiana flopped against a very beatable Gonzaga team.

Indiana held Adam "Pornstache" Morrison to 14 points, but still lost 90-80. I did't know it was possible to give up 90 points in a single college basketball game.

Very indictative of the Davis era: beat by Xs and Os. As Indiana was within 5 after being down by 15, Gonzaga called a timeout and Indiana was rolling. Indiana substituted 5'8" Erik Surr into the game, and Gonzaga went after him. They screened for Adam Morrison, so Surr would have to take him one and one, Morrison took him to the hole, scored and picked up the foul. Indiana wouldn't seriously threaten again.

Good luck Coach Davis, I wish the best somewhere else as you are a good man.

However, I'm looking forward to getting another coach that will bring us back to the top, and his name is not Steve Alford.

Gregg Doyle said it better than I ever could have today:

Indiana: Brace yourself, because this is big. If it's true. Do I think it's true? Actually, I do think it's true (which rhymes). Without further adieu ... we're hearing that Hoosiers athletic director Rick Greenspan has had his interest piqued by Texas A&M coach Billy Gillispie. And you know something? It makes sense. Hiring Gillispie over Steve Alford wouldn't be the most politically savvy move Greenspan could make, but basketball-wise it would be brilliant. Alford would do fine at Indiana. Gillispie would contend for national championships at Indiana. It's as simple as that.

Greenspan is no dummy. He's managed to clean-up the beleagured IU Athletic Department, and has hired two solid coaches for football and women's basketball. Greenspan seems to know a winner when he meets them, and I don't think that he'll opt for the "politically correct" answer in Alford.

Of all the names out there, Billy Gillispie is now at the top of my list.

Breaktime

Hey everyone. I'm taking a bit of a break from blogging for the week/weekend. There won't be much up until next week. However, there will be a bunch of interesting stuff I'll be posting.

Until then, go watch some basketball. My Indiana boys made me change my underwear three times last night, but we'll be moving on to play Gonzaga.

Bring it on you mustached freak!

Oh yeah, Happy St. Patrick's Day. I've already had my first Guinness today, how about you?

Etc.

"Monkeys! Monkeys! Monkeys! They're everywhere!"

The posting around here has been light for a few reasons:

1) Monkeys - They're everywhere
2) Work is busy
3) I haven't been all that inspired to write about anything recently. I've tried, but most stuff I start ends up in a digital wad in my "recycle bin." How dumb is the recycle bin concept on a computer anyway? When it was a garbage can, were all the CFCs produced by the destruction of massive amounts of 1s and 0s destroying the Ozone? Why am I trying to act like Jerry Seinfeld?

Anyway, I'll be talking to you soon. I heard rumors that Kofi Annan has proudly announced another "Human Rights Council" to replace the "Human Rights Commission." The same "Commission" who's current members include China, Cuba, Sudan, Myammar, Zimbabwe and Russia. Apparently, the need to move from a Commission to a Council was needed, according to General Assembly President Jan Eliasson, to "toughen the criteria for membership."

Rumors in the chambers of the UN abound over what these new criteria will be:

1) You must be able to touch your toes without bending your knees.
2) If you can tie your shoelaces while you are down there, you are eligible to Chair this Council
3) Can you say, "Down with America" in more than one language?
4) How do you feel about depicting Muhammed in cartoons?

These are just rumors, so take them with a grain of salt. I'll press my sources for further information as it comes available.

Someone forwarded me the latest piece of crap churned out by the NY Times in an endless attempt to find voices of dissent within either the Bush Admistration or the military over the execution of the war in Iraq. I started spewing a post which was more mean than it was substantive, so I deleted it.

Then I read Dave's post on the same article and determined that he said everything I wanted to say. Only it was like a 100 times better.

Read it now.

File Under Corrections

Indiana University doesn't exactly have a storied history in football. Prior to the 97-01 seasons, Trent Green was our only recognizable face in the NFL.

Then came Antwann Randle El. He was not only one of the most exciting players we had ever seen, he was a breath of fresh air to college football in general. However, due to the fact that he was playing football for Indiana, we never made it to a bowl game because our defense still managed to give up 40 point a game.

Needless to say, when Randle El threw that touchdown pass in the Superbowl this year, Indiana fans felt a rare feeling of--dare I say--football pride.

Now he signed with the Redskins and senior NFL writer Michael Smith has this to say about Randle El:

Randle El made a bit of a tough call Saturday, rejecting a six-year, $18 million (including $8 million to sign) to play for the Bears in his native Illinois.

Besides the bigger contract, what sold Randle El on the Redskins was the prospect of playing under a proven coordinator in Saunders, with a veteran quarterback in Mark Brunell, and the promise of a key role in Washington's retooled offense. Randle El, remember, played quarterback at the University of Illinois, and he longs to handle the ball more than he did in Pittsburgh's run-oriented scheme.

Egads. Indiana University: the Rodney Dangerfield of college football.

Support the Danish Embassy Today in San Francisco (unless you are a Basketball Fan)

Ok, are you ready for an in-depth look at my priorities?

Today is a day where I could go and support my Danish bretheren in support for freedom of speech over Islamic fascism about 3 blocks from where I work, 45-minutes from now. If I took some good pictures, I might be able to get Glenn Reynolds to finally acknowledge the existence of this measley site, thus establishing myself as a somewhat-legitimate blogger.

What will I be doing instead?

Catching the second-half of Indiana's first-round game against Wisconsin.

Sorry. This may come as a shock to all of you that don't have ties to Indiana Basketball, but Hoops take a higher priority than almost everything short of nuclear war.

Even then, I'd be counting the cockroaches with a strong acumen for "taking it to the hole."

I'll try to stop by for a few minutes, but it won't be for very long.

Abu Ghraib

Let's do a little word association.

Abu Graib.

What comes to mind?

Here is what Reuters pictures:

Abu Ghraib prison, a symbol of terror for Iraqis under Saddam Hussein which later became notorious for the abuse of prisoners by U.S. guards, is to be turned into a warehouse, Iraq's justice minister said on Friday.

Jeff Goldstein has found a convert in me with his pleadings that words and their specific meaning greatly matter. In this paragraph, author Mariam Karouny explains that Abu Ghraib was a symbol under Saddam Hussein, but implies that it was in actuality notorious when some idiot guards stupidly humiliated a bunch of prisoners.

Under Saddam Hussein, the building wasn't a symbol. It was actually a place where over 4,000 people there were executed for the crime of not submitting to Saddam.

Under U.S. control, Abu Ghraib was the site that was run by a bunch of morons, all which have been properly punished under the law for their transgressions. However, it is a symbol for the Left of the "immoral and illegal" war that is supposidly indicative of decay from the top all the way down. Those whom have pushed this meme from the beginning (and that includes some on the right such as Andrew Sullivan and Greg Djerejian) have without any actual evidence, libeled the entire administration for various reasons whether geniune or disingenuine. Because of this, the perception of bad-faith on the part of our leadership not only leads to Abu Graib, but also to the "colossal disaster" in the occupation stage post-invasion.

Regardless of how much they have been able to make stick, the effect of trying to shift perception from actuality, the real history has been buried. Saddam Hussein had murdered 4,000 people there, and before the Coalition invaded and deposed him, not a single person was going to be punished for those "human rights" abuse. Amnesty International was toothless in dealing with a dictator that would put a gun to your head and pull the trigger without even a twinge in his conscience.

Again, I don't want to minimize the transgressions of the U.S. guards at Abu Ghraib either. But Jules from Pulp Fiction very crudely explains the scale in which to put the American transgressions versus Saddam's. Sorry for the vulgarity of this, but I can find no better reference that this that strikes as close to the point:

Ain't no f--kin' ballpark neither. Now look, maybe your method of massage differs from mine, but, you know, touchin' his wife's feet, and stickin' your tongue in her Holiest of Holies, ain't the same f--kin' ballpark, it ain't the same league, it ain't even the same f--kin' sport. Look, foot massages don't mean s--t.

In the end, this is yet another example of the other front in this war--the soft underbelly of the West. How far has the West sunk into it's self-loathing where many consider mass murder by an oppressive dictator to be a lesser offense to human kind than those by a few dummies who are now in behind bars?

Back tomorrow. I got my bonus today, so I think I'll spend it all on strippers, beer and a new guitar.

Unfortunately, after taxes, I'm going to have to settle for a Double-Double at In-and-Out Burger.

I'm going to protest the government by going down to the pier dressed up as an Indian (it's cool for me to do this because I have Indian friends) and throwing a few homeless guys into the water.

Hasta...

The Bubble

For the month of March, Tenfingers6Strings will be covering college basketball for the NY Times with the aim of helping the average reader to understand the greater implications.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

The atmosphere is foreboding, but as I look around, there are very few displays of anticipated secatrian strife. Yet, the future does not look so promising as we head into the first storm of many: NCAA Bubble Watch.

After Googling NCAA Bubble Watch, I found in disturbing quantities, entire websites devoted to promoting predictions on which teams will be included or excluded from the Tournament. These were not just websites created by "bloggers" who opine about everything under the sun from the comforts of their home in pajamas, but by enterprise level media organizations such as ESPN, CBS and SportsIllustrated. Imagine my shock to find that a swimsuit maganize has devolved into furthering this madness.

Some sites devoted to "Watching the Bubble"

ESPN - Bubble Watch
SI - Bubble Watch
Projecting the Field- CBS Sportsline
Joe Lunardi's "Bracketology"

"The Bubble" is an element within the dynamics of American culture that unnecessarily adds to a seemingly endless strife pervading already established rivalries. It is regrettable, yet understandable that friction would occur between traditional rivals such as USC v. UCLA, Kansas v. Texas, Philadephia's Big 5, Georgia v. Georgia Tech, Pitt v. West Virgina, Indiana v. Purdue, Duke v. Carolina and the entire Western World, and University of Anchorage v. The Native Village of Eyak. But, this decay in our culture reaches epic porportions as normally innocuous relationships are inordinantly strained by this systematic imposed "Bubble."

The Michigan Wolverines were confidently riding a much improved Hoops season on the back of 1st Team All-Big Ten Guard, Daniel Horton. In mid-February they were 16-3, but then proceeded to lose 6 of their next 8 games, effectively putting their chances of playing in the NCAA tournament at risk. I discussed this point at length with freshman Deepak Alannahanannaabad, engineering exchange student from India:

"Michigan basketball deserves a place in the tournament. We've played in the toughest conference in the country (referring to the Big Ten's top ranked RPI rating) and have finished at .500 record, and beat Wisconsin and Michigan State. We definitely own a spot over those criminal elements that play for the University of Cincinnati," he said violently shaking his finger at me, "and what the (heck) are they doing with a player on their team with the name of Jihad Muhammed? If they make it to tournament and not Michigan, I convert to Islam and wage jihad against NCAA and the city of Cincinnati."

The University of Cincinnati? While I understand his argument against them, why would someone who normally reserves such vitriol towards their traditional rival Ohio State, be so utterly consumed with rage against a small school in Cincinnati, that he'd be willing to change his religion for the sole purpose of actually going to war? The other disturbing piece of this phenomenon is that it seems to be taking on a foreign element.

There is only one culprit: the Bubble.

Throughout the basketball season, schools who have already been excluded from playing football in a bowl game, stew over their lack of inclusion, and are given one more chance by making it to the college basketball tournament. There are 326 teams that must compete for 64 spots (20%) with the larger schools typcially holding the advantage over smaller schools. In 2006, a small evangelical school in burgeoning Tulsa, Oklahoma, founded by televangelist Oral Roberts, gained its first automatic tournament bid in 22 years yesterday.

Guard Michael Tutt vividly remembers being excluded last year:

"We didn't want to go through what we went through last year. It was a horrible feeling," said Tutt, with a freshly cut basketball net dangling from his neck. "I would say that has been in the back of my mind this whole season. Every time I went in the gym, I just thought about that loss."

"The desire to feel included is a natural part of the human psyche," said Dr. Laidlaw, a licensed psychologist specializing in culturally sensitive psychotherapy with children, adolescents, adults, couples and families, "and putting the human psyche through such trauma in a cultural system where the outcome presupposes exclusion, will cause rival factions to ebb and flow as their future is influenced by the other. In the end, the dejection felt by those striving for inclusion can cause long-term feelings of inferiority and lowered self-esteem. A common symptom of these underlying root-causes are bouts with rage, self-initiated conflicts with others and increased memberships to dwarf tossing organizations. Mememberships at these types of sick clubs always peak in April."

I went to Kendell White, a graduate of Northwestern University, a school who has never made it to the NCAA tournament, to ask if he felt the symptoms described by Dr. LaidLaw above, "I'm a big sports fan, and of course it stings when you root for your school and they fall short each year, but I'm also a Cubs fan, so I'm used to annual disappointment."

We asked Kendell how he managed to cope with 42 years of disappointment, he said, "It's called being a grown up."

"Utter nonsense!" Dr. LaidLaw scoffed on the other end of the phone, "There isn't even a clinical term for 'grown-up', and I wouldn't expect a non-specialist to understand the complex environmental factors challenging the human psyche. We are all like little children, and I would bet that inside of Mr. White is a suppressed child waiting to cry or lash-out at someone. If he was my patient, we'd do some roll playing to bring that anger to the surface with scarves."

The beaten down, the trodden. Society's forgotten element. The Bubble exists to provide an additional ray of hope intended for those who seek inclusion to the "Big Dance." Sadly, the Bubble is going to pop for a number of teams seeking the college basketball's metaphorical Mecca. But are their hopes greatly misplaced? They seek inclusion to an arena where the words "single elimination" means, "Pack your bags, you're going home, Pal," and not just for the participants, but for the fans as well. If the experts are right, we could be on the verge of a division not seen since 1861.

Fear of Sectarian Violence Soars in March

For the month of March, Tenfingers6Strings will be covering college basketball for the NY Times with the aim of helping the average reader to understand the greater implications. Due to the editors at the NY Times, I have decided to publish my articles in full, including any items that the editors removed. Those passages will be posted with a strike through.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Sectarian tension has never been higher. Fears of civil war and irreparable damage to internal harmony are on the minds of many Americans as we begin our decent into Conference Tournament play.

"I'd rather eat sh*t than lose to Kentucky," says University of Florida alumni Miller Folsom, "I'll be rooting for the Gators to win, and for the Wildcats to die."

Miller Folsom is just one of millions this week who will be threatening to end the fragile peace that was instituted just shortly after the college football bowls were over. Stadiums across the country will be filled with those blindly lending their hand to support their tribes. "Can't we all just get along" will not be on the minds of these rabid partisans.

As tensions rise at the end of the college basketball season, many Americans are hoping that vivid memories (pictured above) of sectarian violence are a thing of the past.

The Big 10 tournament is scheduled to open this Thursday in Indianapolis. I must divulge my bias and state for the record that I graduated from Indiana University. I will be doing my best to report on the Big 10 Tournament without bias, but in the end I'm a proud Hoosier that hopes they'll succeed in March. I found a few Indiana Hoosier fans wandering around Conseco Field House hoping to get last minute tickets to watch Indiana take on Wisconsin on Friday.

"They beat us pretty good the last time. This time we have the advantage. Ted and I bought a couple of badgers from an online exotic pet dealer, and we ritualistically slaughtered them in my backyard. We soaked their dripping carcasses in gasoline, and our neighbors came out to participate. A virgin stepped forward and lit them on fire."

"Hey, I lit them on fire!" exclaimed Ted.

I asked them if they were concerned that the tenuous peace formed in January was about to be derailed.

"(Explitive) no! I'm a Hoosier, not some peace-lovin' hippy!"

Ted's only fear is how they'll perform the next ritual if they have to face the Nittany Lions again.

If you think this type of mindset is only prevalent in the flyover states Midwest, think again. New York City typically more sophisticated and understanding is hosting the Big East tournament and rival fans have never been more divided.

"We split with Vanilla-Nova Villanova during the season, but Rudy Gay and UConn will make sure that these fascist pigs find their way back to the Philly suburbs earlier than planned," said a man who would only go by the name of "Seth."

However, in the midst of all this division, one thing that has been common throughout, is universal hatred for Duke Basketball.

"That smarmy sum-bitch Coack K, with their goober fan base can take a long walk of a short pier," grizzled 83 year-old Stanford alumn, Ethel Hodge, "cookie anyone?"

"I think the college basketball world will unite around routing for the Blue Devils to lose. This could be enough to hold America together during this deeply divided time," stated sociology professor, Dr. Harold Smith of Yale University.

Dick Vitale, ESPN commentator and Coack K lapdog, countered Dr. Smith's assessment by saying, "Duke! Duke! Duke! Duke! Duke! Duke! Duke! Duke! Duke! Duke! Duke! Doooooooooooooooooooooooooooooke, Baby!"

Dr. Smith had some advice for fans, "It would be prudent and wise while you are routing for your favorite basketball team avoid provoking fans from opposing teams." Mostly he recommended, "to avoid wearing inflamatory t-shirts that say things like 'Puck Furdue,' and things of that nature (It must be stated for the record that Purdue will not be in this year's NCAA tournament for the fifth year in a row). Mostly, at all costs, avoid holding signs outwardly taunting the intelligence or record of the opposing team or fans."

Smith offers alternatives to partisan divide, "It would be best to just clap, and sometimes say in a tone of voice just a little louder than your inside voice, 'Go Team,' if events are in your favor. At the end of the game if your team wins, it would be good to give a genuine warm embrace and maybe feel a little empathy for the opposing fan. Remember that they paid $500 just like you and how would you like it if you had to go home early?"

Empathy seems to escape the North Carolina fans pouring into Greensboro, North Carolina, "We are the defending champs and we're here to defend our title," said 'Biggs' a 6-foot 4-inch Chapel Hill native holding a Coach K effigy with a rope around his neck.

Clearly these are trying times, which most Americans assume will get worse before they get better. I will report from the trenches this week to deliver the latest during this upcoming, month-long crisis.

Pro-Denmark Rally in San Francisco

C.S. Scott at Security Watchtower sends me this link which tells of a pro-Demark rally in San Francisco. It's downtown at the Danish Consulate (1 California Street).

(Cop-out alert) I'm desperately going to try and make it, however work has been absolutely pounding on me for the past few weeks, so I hope I can sneak away for an hour. I'll bring my digital camera and take a few shots if I can make it.

If anybody is interested in meeting up beforehand drop me a line, or a comment, or a pleasant thought.

(Thanks C.S.!)

Big Sur - Adventures

I was hazy and restless. I couldn't quite shake it. I turned over and over; my mind unable to wrap itself aroun something very big, looming and mysterious. Beads of sweat started to form around my crinkled brow as I meandered unconsciously frustrated and lost.

My eyes struggled to focus, but the room became clearer. I stared back at the red numbers glaring at me: 7:45. I was awake. The twisted covers knotted up around me in my bed pointed to something ferocious that had occurred at some point during my attempted slumber. Sometimes there are good reasons for such disarray, but this morning would not reflect one of those nights. Sleep is supposed to rest your mind, make it fresh for the new day. In my case, it just served to remove all the sub-conscious things that take just enough brain cells to render my purely conscious thoughts facile during the day. At night, these thoughts were free to roam, inflate and torment with the impunity of street thug with a baseball bat on a playground.

It was Saturday morning and my original plans to strap a snowboard on my feet at Lake Tahoe were scrapped due to 65-degree sun gleaming in through my french windows. Although it was directly responsible for screwing my snowboard plans, its rays were calming and much preferred to dreamworld I just exited.

Sitting up and staring at the ground, I just had to get up and do something. I stumbled over to my computer and brought up Google Earth with the default page set on Northern California. My eyes immediately locked onto a little penninsula jetting out into the deep blue Pacific: Big Sur.

Google: B-i-g S-u-r h-i-k-i-n-g t-r-a-i-l-s click

Return:

Pfeiffer State Park

Pfeiffer Falls: 1.4 miles roundtrip, easy. A scenic hike along Pfeiffer Big Sur Creek through one of the park's finest redwood groves ends at a 60-foot high waterfall.

Valley View: 2 miles roundtrip from trailhead or 1/2 mile from Pfeiffer Falls; easy. To beautiful views of Point Sur and the Big Sur Valley.

Oak Grove Trail: 3 miles roundtrip from the entrance to Pfeiffer Big Sur State Park, easy to moderate hike. This trail intersects with the Pfeiffer Falls trail. There is a variety of ecosystems beginning with redwood groves, open oak woodlands, and dry chaparral.

Buzzard's Roost: 4.8 miles rountrip loop, moderate. Along shady redwoods to a switchback trail through tan oaks and bay trees, peaking at Pfeiffer Ridge with beautiful coastal views.

Mount Manuel Trail: Beginning at the Oak Grove Trail, 8 miles roundtrip, strenuous. A steep climb to the top of 3,379 foot Manuel Peak.

My eyes widened and I sat up straight. A mountain? 8 miles and 3,000 ft? Oh, I am so there.

I logged onto Summitpost to get information of optimal climbing times, permits, etc. I found this:

Mount Manuel (aka Manuel Peak), located on California's Big Sur coast just east of CA SR-1 (aka California Highway 1) near Pfeiffer Big Sur State Park, offers what some consider the most spectacular views of the Big Sur area when the coast is not fog bound. While the trailhead is easy to access and the trail is generally in good condition, Mount Manuel is not often climbed since the state park has many other attractions and those wishing to see a scenic view point often choose to climb Cone Peak's 1.5 mile class 1 trail with a 1355' elevation gain vs. Mount Manuel's 4.5+ mile class 1 trail with a 3150' elevation gain. Cone Peak is also much taller at 5155'.

Further descriptions of Cone Peak clearly labeled it as a destination for tourists. The foot traffic is so bad, they are having major issues with erosion on its rather delicate ecosystem. Combine that with the fact Mount Manuel has an additional 3 miles (one way) and 1,800 more vertical feet to contend with. I had found my destination. The hair on my chest boldened and swayed with superiority over all the mere mortals that would "hike" the other "daunting" one-and-one-half mile Cone Peak, versus the clear choice for the more authentic, pure and celebrated mountain-man tough guy. I wondered if they had installed an escalator on the sissy trail.

So, in the spirit of all other the tough-guy mountain men who proceded me in the rugged arena where man must survive as insignifcant speck, I quickly jumped onto the Zipcar rideshare website and booked a shiny, bright-yellow Mini-Cooper (which became available at 9:30 am) for the entire day. It has a sun-roof, XM radio and a backseat that barely fit my ultralight-daypack that was only quarter full. Reinhold Messner would have kicked my ass.

I grabbed my Camelback pack and filled the two-liter bladder; threw in a headlamp, water-filter, some Cliff Bars, a knife, a digital camera and the iPod. The camera was purely so that I could bring you, the valued and greatly appreciated readers of TenFingers6Strings a little closer to paradise. That and the fact that I wanted to have some pictures on my digital camera that weren't of my privates.

It would be a full day. 150 miles to Big Sur from San Francisco would take exactly 3 hours. Leaving at 9:30, I'd get to the trailhead at 12:30, with an estimated 5 hours round trip on the mountain. Leaving at 5:30, assuming I stop and eat, I could be back to the city by 9:00. Perfect timing, as I had plans to go out with some friends and pathetically drink too much and unsuccessfuly hit on women have a few cocktails starting at 10:00.

I quickly got into my gear and was out the door on my way to Palermo's Italian Deli in North Beach to pick up my lunch. As I headed down the hill, I forgot for a minute about what I was supposed to be consumed with. It all came flooding back, but I knew the mountains would help me to clear my head. Why, I thought, do I feel so much loss over something that I never had in the first place?

"'Sup Frank."

"Hey ma-man, how ya do-in'? You want one wit'?"

One Italian combo: salami, capicola, prosciutto (dried in his own prosciutto room) with provolone on a fresh italian roll.

"Bring it."

Frank is my favorite man on earth. He is a 5'1" Italian man who can barely see over the counter, but approaches his job with the tenacity and energy of Angus Young performing Highway to Hell. He normally wears a shirt with a skull and crossbones that says, "The beatings will continue until morale improves." If you can manage to maintain your bad mood after being around Frank, then you've exposed the black cavity in the middle of your gut which used to contain some reminants of a soul.

"Where you goin' with all that stuff?" He nodded at my pack.

"I'm going to climb a mountain."

"Right, why don't you come work for me for one day? You'll have it easier on the mountain."

The old Italian man in front of me was waiting in front of me to pay for his fresh meat with a C-note. Old Italian men are always carrying around wads of cash that could embarrass a drug dealer. Me, I can barely pay for coffee at Starbucks without having to use my card.

"Frank, if you pay me from the bank that Senore here is running, I'll climb a mountain, work for you all day, and then I'll go home chewing on the piece of steel I ripped off of the '64 impala sitting out front."

"Crazy white boys. Here you go. Have fun today, baby. Who's next?"

I drove south on 101 heading down the pennisula. At San Jose, I'd go 85 West, then 17 South winding like a snake over the Santa Cruz mountains. From there it is CA Route 1 South to Monterrey, Carmel and then Big Sur. I had XM Station 64, "The Groove," kickin'. It was all Funk on Saturday, and I couldn't help but want to get up out of my chair while I was driving listening to Parliament, Ohio Players and early Prince.

Route 1 dipped and dove and headed straight towards the coast. I caught a visual of the water, followed the sharp curve which turned almost 90 degrees straight south. Gasping, I saw the angry sea pounding at the mountain's brooding cliffs. The battle between these two Goliath's produced a puffy marine layer. The two are old rivals, and clearly this was just another day in the battle of attrition that the sea was slowly winning. The result from the human perspective is one of magnificence, beauty and awe. I pulled over and drew in the thick salt air that was cooled by the 54-degree water below.

Sitting there, I decided this would be a perfect place for lunch. Looking down on this view:

Eating this:

My aggressive nature gets the best of me during these times. Eating a fantastic sandwich which was more cuisine than fuel, while over looking ocean carved cliffs should have relaxed me. However, my heart was racing, and I couldn't wait to get to the trail. I only put down half of Frank's masterpiece, before I drove to the parking lot. I got my stuff out of the car and checked my watch: 12:30. Time to hit the trail.

The gates to this trail where quite typical and "boring" for Big Sur, but spectacular to this traveler:

Staring up at these monsters, I saw a couple of hikers, who were going to Oak Grove, walk past these centennials as if they were the most common and boring feature in the place. It was like a $5,000 dollar Madison to Donald Trump, or sex to a porn star--too much of it breeds a boring familiarity that completely removes the magic from such a special thing. But, that's not my problem, I knew the magic was there for me, and I was soon pounding away at the trail in a strong power-hike with goose bumps.

Only 3,000 ft to go!

The marine layer was rather thick, but as I climbed higher, the sky turned blue. Within minutes I was boiling and had to strip down to my t-shirt. There is nothing calm about this place in the sense that it seems to be a giant arena for environmental factors to have it out with one another. But somehow this conflict brings a peace to it as I walk from darkness to light. The 50-degree day turned 80 as I approached the wide valley with a rushing river running about 600 ft below me.

I passed a couple who looked like they didn't know what trail they ended up on. He was wearing a Harley Davidson jean jacket, while his lady friend swore about her bra getting sweaty. I looked up and saw 4 vultures circling overhead. I wish I was kidding.

I turned back into the valley to find more evidence of conflict. On a very narrow and steep ledge, I found a graveyard of trees that weren't quite able to escape gravity when the rains came down. It wasn't quite Ent genocide, but it was a nasty scene nonetheless.

Another solid hour of climbing rapidly and it seemed like the summit was getting close. Mt. Manuel has a few neighbors that reared their heads as I turned into the North side of the mountain.

Considering that my brain was so active the previous night wrestling with recent events, I was surprisingly aloof and carefree on the trip up. For all the worry and want, I couldn't have found an ounce of "give a crap" in my head. Believe me, I tried for about 12-seconds. Then I saw this and I forgot about it all again:

Moving along, I pushed harder, as I usually like to keep my heart-rate pounding pretty good. I reached the summit rather nonchalantly, and joined a couple of Indian guys on the summit. They didn't care much for me being there, but I was pumped and feeling good. The salty look on my face completely belies it though.

TF6S not displaying the emotion usually displayed after a summit. Instead he seems to be more interested in finding out who pissed in his cornflakes.

However, I wasn't standing on the true summit. I cut through Vietnam-like brush to get to the true summit to the west. The sky was clear and the marine layer had been peeled.

Looking around I found evidence of last week's storm tucked underneath a lone pine tree:

Evidence of apparent "bad" weather in California.

I was completely pumped. My heart was racing and I wanted to keep it going. I reached into my backpack and preceded to do something that many mountain purests would revile with a ferocity and anger normally reserved for those who refuse to carry out their dookie. I put my ear phones in my ear, and let highly underrated guitarist Andy Timmons scream into them. I tightened up my pack and trail ran back down where I came from.

Within about 15 minutes, I caught up to the Indian guys. I don't think they liked me, as they started running when they saw me. That or they were scared of my 5'9" 145 pound frame. They were both wearing jeans and carrying Jansport backpacks. Obviously, they weren't big runners, and I feared that one of them was going to bite it off the edge, or sprain and ankle. Once they hit the area with all the down trees, they let me pass with big smiles on their face, as if they didn't want to play anymore. Andy Timmons kept rocking, but I thanked them and ran past.

I turned around the corner and saw the freedom of the peaceful blue sky being overrun by an angry, vengeful and thick rival. The temperature of the valley was still too warm and it produced a wall that didn't allow it to pass. The earth looked so angry, and I wondered if this is what this place looks like from an angel's perspective:

I continued running. The trail was hard underneath my feet and my legs felt oddly unfatigued. Then, a part in trail went back up hill and my legs turned to jello. Luckily, I came to the point in the trail where I was standing on the line between the marine layer and the sky. I stopped to snap another picture of sun's last dance with me.

I got back to the car right at 4:00. I felt absolutely fantastic. My mind was settled and somehow regained my center. Amazing, because I didn't even really think about anything. I just went allowed myself to actively be for a few hours.

Well, that and the view was quite nice.

I'd be back in San Francisco 4 hours later. I slipped in a nap alongside the road for about an hour, but in no time I was celebrating with a number of friends that night who also used their Saturday to "find their center." They did so by going out to Tiburon and drinking margaritas and beer all day.

Note to self: must find ways to bring margaritas to the mountains.

Very light posting warning.

It's 11:15 and I just got home from work...

I'm wondering if it might get worse before it gets better.

Anyway, I still have much love for ya. Talk to you in a few.

Cheers.