#12

I was sitting in my room late one night wishing I had some food in the apartment, wishing especially that I had something to put in the hamburger buns that I did have when suddenly I realized something. Hamburger buns can be food by themselves! They're made of bread! There's nothing weird about eating a piece of bread!

Another paradigm shattered.

I have, I don't mind telling you, made it into another basketball game for three minutes, and this when were at full strength. I made the only shot I took and grabbed some rebounds. On the season, then, I am 3-4, and 1-1 from three-point range. This presumably makes me, percentage wise, the greatest shooter in the history of the Irish basketball league. Also, I am probably its leading points-per-minute scorer, at about 1 for 1, or 48 points per 48 minutes. As much as I want to get into the games, some part of me almost hopes nobody notices my performance so I don't get the chance to significantly worsen my stats as almost certainly I would do. A 75% shooting percentage, 100% from three, is hard to maintain.

At least for now I am John Hollinger's favorite player.

In somewhat better news, I submitted a paper to the Society of Biblical Literature annual meeting, which has been accepted. So I'll be in Boston in November to deliver it, if anyone's around. This is apparently the largest collection of biblical scholars in the world. Just imagine if terrorists targeted the convention center. How far back would that set the world of Biblical scholarship huh? Nightmarish, right? HOW WILL YOU LEARN ABOUT IRON AGE JERUSALEM?!?! WHO'S GOING TO TELL YOU ABOUT THE TABLETS OF UGARIT?!?!
Anyway, hopefully I'll have bodyguards, or something.

Friend Melissa came to visit this week, on her way to Deutschland. She was a fantastic guest as I rarely saw her. "I'm going to class," I would say in the mornings, "come meet me at the front gate at 8pm." And so we went on, boats against the current.

On the occasions that she allowed me to accompany her on her city rounds, she would often ask me quite reasonable questions about the history of places or the significance of certain monuments along the way. I would usually respond by saying "yes, that would be an interesting thing to know, wouldn't it?" See, the Irish for some reason don't want to go to the bother of explaining what, for example, a particular statue might commemorate, or whom a certain tomb belongs to, etc. Too much bother. My favorite is in Christchurch where what seems to be a most fascinating inscription (all I can make out is "this scrupulously copied from the ancient writing by…." And then a long wall inscription entirely covered by the gift shop stall. Because really, who cares, right?

Oh, also, I've apparently become a political columnist, for those of you who just can't get enough. Here's the latest effort: http://www.411mania.com/politics/columns/70240/Hillary%5C%5Cs-Political-Side-Comes-Out.htm . Please note that the only comment to date is from my girlfriend who has very helpfully pointed out an error in fact that I made in regards to a rather infamous television commercial.

She is quite right. Thanks, sweetheart.

I'll also have you know that in a previous column I referred to the U.S. Presidency as "the most exclusive club in America outside of the Pen-15 club."

Because since they don't pay me, they can't really fire me. Woo.

Did I do anything else? I'm sure I did, I visited some other places around the Dublin area, etc. I can't really think of times that I momentously embarrassed myself for which I apologize since, as I well know, many of you read this just to see me get knocked down several pegs. Oh, I was at a production of Macbeth tonight where, as everyone milled around, I asked one of the ushers if he thought there'd be enough time for me to make water. He replied, in an extremely concerned voice "I'm sorry sir, but they're just about to close the doors! Do you think you can hold it for two hours?"

I might just make it sir, thank you.

Oh a last note, why not. The head of the democratic club here at Trinity is a girl by the name of...oh we'll say...

Nick McNiece. I know, I know, I thought she was a dude too. Funny story, actually (aren't they all), I came back one night from a bout of deep…metaphysical discourse…with my classmates to find an email from Ms. Beard regarding Muslim prayer rooms, of which there are two, and how they need to be refurbished. As I was a tad bit under the influence of metaphysical discourse, I initiated an email exchange which went something like this

Me (that night): MUSLIM PRAYER ROOMS?!?! (@P(#@(*&$#@*()#@!!!! WE ALREADY HAVE TWO OF THOSE! WHAT DO YOU HAVE FOR JEWS, HUH? NOTHING! THAT'S RIGHT, NOTHING! NO SPACE, NO BOOKS, NOTHING! (*)#$*()$#*(_@#$*) DEMOCRACY.

Her (the next morning): Hmmm. I take your point. My question is, I know Muslims need a space so they have SOMEWHERE TO PRAY FIVE TIMES A DAY, but what do Jews need?

Me (same morning): Heh.. Heh…yeah…I mean…yeah….touche salesman…touché…Got you! Zing!!!....

Her (very kindly. I know that's not a chronological note. Shut it.): No, really, if you're interested, what would Jewish people on campus need? I'll be honest, all I know about Judaism is from a not-too-religious boyfriend in highschool.

Me (too myself. Probably midafternoon, since you're so adamant about it): Hey, Nick Beard is gay, how liberal of Ireland.

Anyway, the point of this story, besides my making an ass of myself, is that I later saw a picture of her on a flyer and found out that she was not, after all, a dude, and so was able to make this incredibly perfect sentence in my head: "I thought he was gay, but then it turned out she wasn't."

Man. THAT is a good sentence. That's the kind of sentence you could take home to meet the rents. Unless they're republican.

I'm picturing several sentences and my parents shaking hands with each other. I'm trying to figure out who would handle it better.

The dog is furiously trying to lick both of them.

Allez la vie!

From Ireland with love.