Like a Rolling Stone.

The magazine that single-handedly changed my life when I was 18 is casting for a new MTV reality show. I originally heard about this a few months back, but from the parameters thought that I would be ineligible to apply. Well, it appears that I can, so I've been looking at the application, and it is a beast. It'll take me a full-time effort this weekend to fill it out and hone my answers down, because I don't want to be one of those guys that sends in a six-page addendum to an application because I have no ability to edit myself. I mean, I think I've moved past that.

On Brokeback.

I admit, my flippant 'review' of Brokeback Mountain the other night was written just moments after I got home, and before I had a chance to fully grasp the movie, which I did yesterday.

Despite all of the reviews I read and comments I heard, I was still expecting the movie to be almost solely a love story about these two men; I knew the movie went on for a period of two decades, and that the wives and family would be integral as well, but I predicted the relationship between Jack and Ennis to be where everything developed. Well, what I realized yesterday was that while their story is of course central to the movie, the real strength of Brokeback lies in the periphery, in that relationship between the men and their families, and to society at large. The scenes with Alma (Michelle Williams) were so arresting that they haunted me for hours; the breakdown of Cassie, knowing that she'll never understand what lies inside Ennis, is a slug to the gut.

The more I thought about the last half-hour of the movie, the more I appreciated the work of Ang Lee in structuring it the way he did. To watch Ennis' daughter still come back to him, to see the struggle on the faces of Jack's parents, to listen to the phone conversation between Ennis and Lureen was to see cinema at its finest; I believe each of those scenes showed the true nature of Jack and Ennis' relationship more than any of their scenes together.

Well now I really feel like a jackass for my first comments, but my gut reaction remains the same: as far as emotional, wrenching romantic stories between two protagonists, I've seen better. But for a film that goes this deep into love and its ripple effects, this will be hard to top.

'I don't have even a blanket.'

I just came back from watching Invisible Children about the orphans and otherwise abducted children of the seventeen year civil war in Uganda. The words don't exist to describe the impact of this film, because words cannot do justice to the inhuman conditions experienced every damn day in a continent that the richest country in the world could care less about. It was indeed most heartening at the end to see the projects and events being organized to help, but though I wanted to feel hope, I found it very difficult.

Africa is a ticking timebomb; we talk about the millions dying of AIDS or malnurished from famine or abducted by warlords, but those are numbers simply for today. What happens in ten, or twenty, or even thirty years when Africa needs workers? What about those fortunate enough to live, finding that there is no economy for them? We may well witness the disappearence of a continent within our lifetimes. So much for the 21st century.

Brokeback Mountain.

Considering I couldn't understand half of what they were saying, a damn fine film, if a little anti-climactic after months of hearing about it. Gotta admit it wasn't nearly as emotional as I expected it to be, but the acting was sublime on many levels and the scenery, my God the scenery. Michelle Williams, of course, broke my heart, but Anne Hathaway (who must never again be allowed to dye her hair blonde) is my new crush. Yowza.

And that, with apologies to my good friend Lee, is the shallowest review of Brokeback Mountain you will ever read.

Brownie whore.

My mom priority mailed three containers of black & white brownies to me, which arrived yesterday. I've already eaten one entire container. I need professional help.

Too cool.

Dreams do come true in Southern California.

Second chances.

I'm taking a cue from Dan Shanoff at ESPN.com's Daily Quickie by having another go-round with the bracket, since my previous one tanked in a blazing torrent of fire.

I think LSU does take down Duke, but loses to Texas. UCLA should be able to handle Adam Morrison, but his moustache will then go on to score 25 points in a failed rally; they knock off Memphis, who will, hoping beyond hope, crush Bradley so far into the ground that Peoria, Illinois itself will implode. I'd like for Washington to beat UConn, because I really don't like Calhoun and I really like Grey's Anatomy; Wichita State should get into the Elite Eight, and then go back to their usual status of being known only for the crude sexual practice symbolized by their mascot. And I'm going to go back to my original gut instinct and take BC to the Final Four; Georgetown's run will end after nipping Florida, which can't come soon enough. I've never rooted for a team from Florida, and I won't start anytime soon.

And in that Final Four? This is one of those times when I really wish they would reseed the teams for the national semifinals; Texas and UCLA should be the title game, but instead we'll see Texas vs. BC. Now sit back and watch as every game goes exactly the opposite of what I picked here; it wouldn't be March if my love of college basketball wasn't horribly and decisively betrayed by Duke.

In Commie bloood!!!

Without a doubt, the greatest movie review I have ever read. And the best blog post title, too.

The best reading material ever.

Because our government seriously has nothing better to do:

With respect to the first factor of our contextual analysis, we find that the material is explicit and graphic. The material clearly depicts a woman’s naked breasts, which are sexual organs. In this respect, this case is similar to other cases in which we have held depictions of nudity to be graphic and explicit. The fact that the guest’s nipples are covered with jewelry does not render the depiction of her breasts, which were otherwise fully exposed, insufficiently graphic to weigh in favor of a finding of patent offensiveness. Here, the audience had a sustained view of the guest’s breasts from several different angles, and the dress only served to enhance the view.

And no, that is not referring to the Super Bowl.

ETA: If you can, check out page 27, under "The Pursuit of D.B. Cooper." Sorry Founding Fathers, but Section 87 is the most amazing passage I've seen in a federal document.

It's 50 degrees in Moab.

And I'm in hell.

Weak tot action.

When given the option of going strong to the hole or not going at all, we chose instead to stand by and watch Bradley shoot lights out from three-point range. Sasha Kaun should never again wear a Jayhawks uniform.

Costs.

Via Atrios, this quote from Zbigniew Brzezinski, Carter's NSA:

The war has proven to be prohibitively costly. American leadership, in all of its dimensions, has been damaged. American morality has been stained – in Abu Ghraib and Guantanamo. American legitimacy has been undermined – by unilateral decisions. American credibility – particularly the case for the war, has been shattered. Leadership depends on morality, legitimacy, credibility. The economic costs of the war are escalating into hundreds of billions of dollars. More importantly, American casualties are in the thousands, with more than tens of thousands maimed. We are not even counting Iraqi casualties; we prefer not to know what they are.

Though I must admit, I first momentarily thought this was Kissinger talking. Then I realized 'Wait, he's a fucking war criminal.' Which is also how history will be referring to this Administration en masse.

Gimme a S! Gimme a E! Gimme a X! What's that spell!?! Wait...

Oh sure, Kansas misses out on all the fun:

In Iowa, a 15-year-old cheerleader was arrested for allegedly writing "Columbine-style" threats to blow up her school.
In Boston members of a high school cheerleading squad produced "a homemade lesbian porno video".
In Minnesota, a cheerleader paid $50 to have a rival beaten up.
In Brooklyn kids at a school "pep rally" heckled, punched, kicked and then battered a cheerleader they considered "mediocre" with a garbage can.
In Pennsylvania a mob of drunken cheerleaders, doped up with malt liquor by their coach, went on a car-trashing rampage.
In Texas, teen cheerleaders were accused of sending a "shit pizza" to their local rivals.
In Colorado two cheerleaders were arrested for dealing morphine.
And - most famously - last year in Florida two Carolina Panthers cheerleaders were arrested after one of them hit a woman who objected to the "Top Cats" having sex with each other in a bar toilet stall.

But seriously, the balance of the article is fascinating in describing such a seemingly insignificant part of American sport and school culture, but which may itself be a microcosm of our larger society.

Last call.

My final bracket has Kansas beating Iowa, and Villanova besting Illinois in the Final Four. KU then beats Nova to take the title. Farfetched? Yeah maybe, but I've taken one for the team this year (in a kinda weird and potentially boring yearbook story that you know you don't want to go into right now) so I'm pulling for our boys.

Upsets (first round): A&M over Syracuse, San Diego St. over Indiana, Utah St. over Washington, G. Mason over Michigan St., Wis.-Milwaukee over Oklahoma, and Northern Iowa over Georgetown. I only have one addition to my aforementioned second-round upsets, Nevada upending BC. All of the No. 1s except Nova will fall in the Sweet Sixteen to their respective four seed, and none of the No. 2s will make it to the Elite Eight either. Alright, that's it for me; I think the first game starts in about nine minutes. Rock Chalk Jayhawk!

ETA: And yes! Sonic has brought back their 'Weak Tot Action' ads. I know how much the rest of the Council of 1118 has been anxiously awaiting this!

Bracketology: the only science that matters.

This is about the most wacked-out bracket I've seen since I started running illegal tourney pools back in high school. I have no bearings at all as I go through it, to the point that my current submitted bracket has all of the four-seeds (Illinois, BC, LSU and Kansas) going to the Final Four by taking out their respective No. 1s in the Sweet Sixteen, along with such upset specials as (7) Cal beating (2) Texas and (7) Wichita St. taking out (2) Tennessee in the second round. Because seriously, when did Tennessee even hear of the game of basketball, let alone play it at a two-seed level?

Finis.

I had to break into the Union last night to get them done, but the remaining 66 pages of the Jayhawker Annual 2006 are at the printing plant. I literally made my publishing representative gasp when I told her I finished it this morning. That makes me happy.

Cancellation.

Monday's classes at KU have just been cancelled. Our boys just put a Texas-sized beatdown on the Longhorns for the Big XII tournament title. And I am still five pages away from completing the book because they still won't open the Union where my office is located. The tornado giveth, and the tornado taketh away.

That. Was. AWESOME!

I just watched a fucking cyclone come down Campanile Hill and hit my apartment complex, uprooting trees, messing up the stadium, and tearing the third floor railing off the building opposite mine. There are sirens and debris all over town, but seriously, I can't believe I watched the thing come towards me. I couldn't decide whether to stay in front of my big patio screen door, or run for cover. I did the sensible thing; I stayed. And it was sweet.

ETA, 10:29am: There are sooo many trees down all over campus and at the dorms up the hill. I went walking with the yearbook camera and it is incredible, the amount of damage just in our little neighborhood, considering all of the reports and footage from downtown and also from south of campus. It's still all dreary and cloudy outside, so it's like being in a warzone.

Five pages out, or, Wow I really now how to overdramatize things.

So I won't be dead on Monday. But I will be very somber with the end of my yearbook career, an end that came in the form of approximately 700 photos taken in an eight-night stretch, and the better part of 70 pages put together yesterday afternoon. The remaining few pages are just waiting to be graced by more RCR photos from tonight; tomorrow I put on the finishing touches, check for typos, preflight the PDFs, and make the CD that will be FedExed same-day on Monday to the plant. By the week of Stop Day, we will have 805 copies of the Jayhawker Annual 2006 sitting in the Kansas Union. It's an incredible feeling, knowing that I was able to pull this off; once again my thirst for drama and pressure has saved my ass. Thankfully I had RCR; without them I would have 30 empty pages. All those crotch shots were not in vain, after all.

On a related note, CinderEllie was truly the best overall show, but I thought Joes & Dolls had the better original song, In the Club should've received best use of sets, and Rockin' the Boat got robbed of best costumes. None of you care.

Influence.

I like to think I had some impact on that bottom headline, thank you.

Reunion.

I would've posted on this last night, but I was too tired to care. Apparently yesterday was Humboldt reunion day here at KU; my classmate Jennifer happened to be in town on a little break from her neuroscience studies in Amsterdam, so I took her and her little sis, Amy, an RA at McCollum, out to coffee. On the way to the dorm, though, I saw a freshman who graduated from Humboldt walking towards the cafeteria. Then at afternoon tea on the other side of campus, I saw another Humboldt freshman. And while taking yearbook photos at the Rec in the evening, I saw Brad and David keeping up with their basketball jones.

And yet, I still don't have an easy answer for 'What are you still doing here?'

Revue.

Every other week out of the year, I make fun of the fraternities and sororities. In my circle of friends, that's what we do. We decry the conformity and perpetuate the stereotypes and make a grand ole time of it. But for one week, I can't. This is that week.

I just spent the past 3.5 hours at the Lied Center for the dress rehersal of the Rock Chalk Revue, our annual variety show. Ten frats and sororities paired up to put on five plays; the proceeds from the show go to the United Way. Last year I was introduced to RCR when my friend Lauren and some of her friends were involved in the show, and when I went to watch on opening night, I was hooked. The time and energy that all of these students put into the show (it takes all year to put together and rehearse a 20min. original play); the closeness of the performers; the pressure to put on three consecutive performances was all incredible. Call me a softy, but I can't help it; I was never part of something like that, and to watch it up close is rather special to me.

Which is why I take my photography at RCR seriously, knowing that I'm one of the few people allowed to take photos during the event (and that's just during the rehearsal; the other nights I can only take pictures backstage and during the awards on Saturday night). It makes me step up my game because I know I have only one shot at getting the perfect photo, and when I miss, and I certainly did miss quite a few times tonight, I get that much more frustrated. I know most of the performers will probably never see my work, but their moments are ours, and I can't let them slip away.

The American Republic, 1776-2006.

It was a good run, but I'm sorry you went out with a whimper.

And surprise surprise, the man who drove the final nail into the coffin went to K-State.

Consequences.

If you want to know where you won't find me or my robust tourism dollars in the near future, this is a nice place to start. [Though, to be fair, it's not like those states were high on my list to begin with. Except Utah; I'd love to go back to Zion for a few days of canyoneering.]

[In his best Anakin/Vader voice] NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Why, Yanni, why!?!?!

Boring.

I was flipping through several moments ago and on the Oscars caught the montage about controversial films. Combined with George Clooney's great comment after receiving his award, that Hollywood should be outside the mainstream, and I got to thinking about all of the conservatives who bust a nut because those damned celebrities have the audacity to speak out on issues and create movies that might make one feel a little squeamish inside. (Never mind that the films and celebrities who are on the side of the president or the 'mainstream' aren't given the same treatment: Gary Sinese, Britney Spears, Ted Nugent...wait, that's all they got? How sad.) I like that celebrities are outspoken and politically and socially minded, but not because of the great spirit of dissent and freedom of expression that we give lip service to. No, I like it because without them, society would be pretty frickin' boring. Admit it, Tom Cruise may be a batshit loonball whose grin you want to slap all the way to the planet Xenu, but when you see him argue with a German reporter, you feel better about yourself all over again.

Priorities.

So we're against deadlines in getting our troops out, but we're for deadlines in potentially sending our troops in. With royalties to Atrios, Worst Administration Ever.

Things I Love, #56.

The sweet, soft 'oohh' that Deb Talen inserts in the chorus of 'Painting by Chagall' by the Weepies. I bought this album last night, and had to tear myself away from the computer so I would go take pictures at Mo Rocca's 'Gamekillers', before ending up at a bonfire with Mischa. But this album was playing in my head the entire time; I am a sucker for cascading tonal changes within words, and the Weepies bring that in spades.