Easter Holiday

I watched bowling today (because I have the money). PBA. No big deal. Pretty standard stuff.

Does it blow the mind of anybody else that bowlers are considered athletes? I think that this is one of the only sports that provides for the competitors to drink alcohol while participating in their sport (with the exception of darts, but there is a significant difference between a 13 pound ball and a sharpened feather). Honestly, there are cup holders built in to the sporting equipment. Also, they have a fan built in to the ball collector, in case the competitors should start to sweat on their hands. Heaven forbid that they lose any calories; let's put a stop to that right now.

Most of you are probably thinking, "Ben, if you watch bowling and consider it 'standard stuff,' why did you think to point it out and share it with us?" Simple, inquiring minds: there was something magical going on during the bowling match (do you call it a match? I should know this). Yes, friends, a time-honored act of sport was occurring while the gentlemen were taking turns throwing a ball down some oiled wood; a tradition so beloved in so many legitimate sports, that, eventually, the tenpinners had to catch on: trash-talking. That's right folks, some good old fashioned rubbish-rambling. The crowd, naturally, reacted with delight, no doubt wondering if, perchance, an altercation might arise and, if so, perhaps taking mental stock of the fact that the heavy, urethane, plastic or reactive resin (or a combination of the three) balls might come into play as weapons.

Also, some of the fans had signs. Now, I dislike fan signs at legitimate sports, but to bring a home-made sign to a bowling rally (do you call it a rally? I should know this) really shows that you know your obscure sports and their loosely titled "stars."

I drove from Stockton to Angwin today, and therefore used Junction 12. This road is terrible on a good day, but today was rainy and I had the joy of following a truck and trailer for the majority of the trip. The trailer contained "molten sulfur" and evidently had just a sliiiight leak. So that was fun. Before I took stock of the words defining the contents of the truck ahead of me, the question crossed my mind, "Is someone taking a death-fueled blowtorch to two dozen rancid free rangers? If so, why would they chose that particular method to celebrate the Easter holiday?"

Yea, it is Easter (or, Passover, for my Jewish readers. Shalom). And it comes but once a year, so enjoy it. I hope you all had a pleasant weekend. I have now come to the end of this entry, and indeed it is shorter. On the positive side, this means that maybe you skimmers out there might get a chance to read a whole post. You have all been so mollycoddled by my long posts and your excuses of not having enough time to finish them. Well, here you go.

One final thought on Easter: does the Easter Rabbit's hiding of eggs seem to anyone else like he is encouraging people to dispose of young children? He certainly is not taking responsibility for these discarded fetuses. I wonder if people would throw newborns in the dumpster if they had not first witnessed this negligent rabbit's actions. Someone needs to tell him what a poor example he is setting for people. This could be difficult, since we all know that rabbits do not speak English.

"Thought is the fountain of speech."

-Chrysippus, stoic philosopher who died in a most interesting fashion! Whilst taken to drink, he, as one does naturally, lent some drink to his companion donkey, who attempted to, while inebriated, eat some figs. Evidently this is unimaginably hilarious, and our philosopher friend laughed so hard that he died.