A Nation of Cowards

Eric Holder, our nation's first African American attorney general, made a very controversial statement earlier last month (celebrated as Black History Month). He said that we are a nation of cowards when it comes to discussing race. Race always seems to be the 2000 lb gorilla in the room-the thing that no one wants to talk about but is always present. For the most part, I think that many white Caucasians are reticent to speak honestly on race issues because they cannot win. If they speak highly of African Americans, they are seen as needlessly pandering to that population. If they speak ill IN ANY WAY of African Americans, they are immediate viewed as racists. As a member of neither group, I have seen this in action, and it is indeed sad. It is no wonder that we are a nation of cowards. Everyone walks around on egg shells trying not to upset the status quo. So where is a person to go where someone does not follow the status quo? Where are people fearless enough not to succumb to easy race baiting and state things in such stark terms that people should be forced to discuss race issues?

Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you the comedy genre-most notably "Family Guy" and the Mel Brooks classic, "Blazing Saddles". Now, mind you, the central concept of these works-"making you feel uncomfortable enough to talk about it"-is not just limited to race relations. Sexual orientation and gender relations are also a part of the larger equations. Abortion, violence against women and gays, pedophilia-these are all very real problems in our society that are NOT going away unfortunately. People just do not discuss these topics at parties or other gatherings. As individuals move beyond high school and college, there are no fora where discourse on these topics can occur-and it does need to occur-not just in the news media but among the citizenry.

So what are we left with? Why, we are left with the satirists-those individuals who poke fun at our society and make us uncomfortable enough to face some real hard truths. Take "Family Guy," for example. There are more racist, sexist, anti-Semitic, misogynistic jokes per minute on "Family Guy" than on any other show on television. These jokes, alternatively, make me laugh and wince in uncomfortable silence. It is during these moments that Seth MacFarlane, "Family Guy's" creator, is at his most effective. On the surface, his show panders to the lowest common denominator, but the more intelligent television viewer ( I know, quite the oxymoron) will see the show as a stage upon which MacFarlane is able to strip away the curtain and focus in on the problems in our society, including racism, homophobia, violence against women, pedophilia, the great numbers of the poor and homeless in the wealthiest country in the world, and the lack of accommodation that all too often face the disabled. While it would be all to easy to dismiss MacFarlane's creations as ignorant caricatures of American society, I view them as providing the opportunity to demystify the taboo topics that we never...seem...to...talk about. I have actually had conversations when people are discussing a particular scene that may have been racist or sexist, and I am able to stop them and ask them "what was so funny about it?" More often than not, they stop and reflect on how their own passive acceptance is contributing to the problem rather than formulating a solution. Of course, the major problem with the shows is that the lowest common denominator likely fails to look beneath the surface and recognize it as satire. The optimist inside me would like to believe that the true leaders of society would be able to educate the lowest common denominator and address these very real problems in our society. Hopelessly naive? I prefer to think of myself as hopeFULLy naive.

It is interesting how 5 different people can watch something like "Blazing Saddles", and those 5 people can walk away with 5 different opinions. You will have someone laugh throughout the entire film and see it as "the way things are." These people are what is classified as the lowest common denominator. You then have the people who do not laugh at anything and repeatedly utter the phrase :"this is not that funny" or "I don't get it." These we classify as either humorless or those who are offended to the point where they cannot laugh. I classify these individuals as the ones who are the opposite of the lowest common denominator; at the same time, their refusal to find ANY humor leads me to believe that satire in any shape would be completely lost on them, thereby short circuiting any intelligent discourse that might otherwise have arisen. We then get the people who are ONLY offended by the racial material OR the sexist material OR the homophobic material, but not ALL three (as they should be). We deem these people the truly myopic. The fourth type of person is the transitional person-the one who laughs but who feels, in their heart of hearts, that something is amiss. These are the ones who can learn the most from the movie, especially at the hands of the fifth kind of person-the enlightened movie watcher who recognizes the issues, laughs at the ignorance in our society these films are clearly poking fun of, and educate (in reverse order) the other 4 types of people.

Don't get me wrong-sometimes you can just go to a movie and just enjoy yourself and laugh. I do, however, find it extremely short sighted for ANYONE to write off satire just because it offends their delicate sensibilities. My challenge to those people is to USE the material as the vehicles of change. It is too easy to change the channel to watch something as vapid as "Rob and Big", "Paradise Hotel", or "Rock of Love." It is much more difficult to watch something that offends you and use it as a vehicle for discussion.

After 3 years, this weekend I finally got around to watching "Good Night, and Good Luck", George Clooney's film covering CBS newsman Edward R. Murrow's face-off against Wisconsin Senator Joseph McCarthy during his anti-communist crusade of the 1950s. It is hard to believe it, but newsmen used to be respected. The media was not separated into "the right" and "the left"-before the drive of the all mighty dollar, newsmen heard a higher calling-that of the truth. Edward R. Murrow exemplified this in his confrontation with McCarthy. Everyone was too scared to take him on for fear of being labeled a terrorist...I mean COMMUNIST. Oops...anyway, it was only through the efforts of Murrow and his fellow newsmen at CBS that McCarthy was taken down and censured by the Senate. The media was looking out for the people-how sad that this ideal, so commonplace in the 1950s, should seem so revolutionary today. In the 1950s, we could look to reporters as the ultimate arbiters of truth and honest discussion of our nation's ills. Now? All we are left with is a never ending parade of political pundits trying to force their own agendas onto the American public. There seem to be no more heroes, especially not in the media, so who can we look to?

The changes need to start with US-The People (as in "We, the People of the United States"). The discussion of these very real problems with the world start with us. Although it may be easier for us to just focus on what the American Dream has come to mean (designer clothing, high living, and unbearable debt), we need to focus on what the dream COULD BE-accessible heath care not just for women but for ALL, in a system that does NOT punish those of us who work the hardest (i.e., the highest taxes paid by the those who have worked hardest to make the most money). We CAN have a society where racism by ALL races (yes, all races are guilty of it) is condemned in public by everyone. Our society can be the one to put an end to homophobia, violence against women, hunger and poverty, but it can only be that way if we stop being so focused on ourselves INDIVIDUALLY.

Unfortunately, Holder is right-we ARE a nation of cowards. In our struggles to not be contrary and hurt people's feelings, we allow these societal evils to flourish and grow even as we make noises as to how we need to stamp them out. It has to start with us. It has to start with painful honesty. There has to be an end to hypocrisy.

Watch This Space

For there is more to come. Thanks to everyone for their show of support. I actually had no idea that people read this thing until I saw my inbox and the sweet comment from the irrepressible Daisy Duke.

You guys are great. My posts may be a bit hit or miss for a while, and I might not always be a shiny happy person, things could always be worse. At least I do not live in the slums of Mumbai!

For your entertainment today, I leave you with this post (courtesy of a reader who I will call Mrs. Sharpe) that is a sad commentary on the state law students today. Graduates of this school oughta be proud of the students who have taken their place since they have left:

http://campuslol.com/blog/index.php/2009/02/21/katrina-von-sutphin/

Wow (and not in a good way). So, she hopes to be employed by what kind of prestigious law firm?

The Artful Blogger-signing off...

When I started this blog, it was meant to be an anonymous chronicle of my life as a law student at beyond, but it has grown to be so much more. I have been exposed to so many more people and other bloggers, but at the same time, I think that I have lost some of the freedom that comes from being able to blog anonymously. That, and some things that are happening in the real world, have made it hard to me to continue. I am going to "blog" the old fashioned way-in a written journal. I have started, and perhaps in the future you might find some of the pages in some obscure portion of the internet and wonder to yourself "is this Artful"? Thanks to all of you who have helped me through some of my best and worst times in my life. I appreciate it. I leave you with a movie quote (appropriate, I know) that kind of sums up where I am right now and why I need to reflect in a big way:

From Lethal Weapon

Murtaugh (upon being partnered with Riggs): "God hates me-that's what it is"

Riggs: "Hate him back-it works for me."

Time for Another Tale From the Past: Part I of the Great Black Car Story

Many of you read and marveled at the wonder that is the Artful Mom. When I was thinking about that story, I started reminiscing about something else, an inanimate object for which I have an enormous amount of nostalgic affection. That object would be the first car purchased by the Artful Parents. To understand the hows and whys of how the Artful Parents ended up with the MOST AWESOME CAR, you have to understand that the Artful Dad was, and is, a car nut. He LOVES cars, and his love of cars is something that he has passed on to both the Artful Brother and myself. When AD and AM first arrived on these shores, their only objective was to save money so that they could return to India and open up their own clinic. Part of their salary, however, was going to pay off their flight here + room + board, and back then, foreign medical grads in Baltimore did not get paid a lot. Not at ALL. The AM, however, was, and is, a master of saving money. After scrimping, saving, and going without, she was able to save out of their meager paychecks $1000, a pretty nice sum of money in those days. She was so proud of herself. They had started their nest egg, and they would be independent before long.

Ahh...but here is where the Artful Dad made what at the time could have been a marriage-dissolving decision but what instead ended up as the best purchase he ever made. While roaming around the Baltimore suburbs, he happened to walk by a Mercedes dealership. Now, Mercedes was not the status symbol that it is today. Also, unlike today, Mercedes Benz automobiles were renown for their high quality. They were veritable TANKS. My father and mother had discussed purchasing one and having it shipped back to India when the time came to leave. Well...maybe discussed is the wrong word. Dad brought it up, and Mom said she would think about it. Well, that was all the Artful Dad needed to hear. In his mind, since Mom never said "no", she said "yes" (a mistake that she has never again made to this day). The day that Mom was celebrating having her first $1000 in the bank account, Dad was at R & H Motor Cars in Owings Mills, Maryland putting that same $1000 down as a down payment on the new member of the family. It was gorgeous. It was black. It had tailfins. It was all metal (no plastic on this puppy). There was no air conditioning either, and it was a diesel. It was a 1967 Mercedes Benz 200D.

Gorgeous, isn't it? The picture really does not do justice to what a behemoth this car was on the road. This was a BIG CAR. It had the most ingenious center console, a speedometer that was a mercury-like gauge that would change from yellow to red through different transitions that indicated when you needed to shift gears. It was a diesel too, so there was a lot of power. The AD purchased the car, and immediately he drove to the Maryland Department of Motor Vehicles to..ah..get his driver's license. The Artful Mom still tells the story of when he pulled up in his prize. She looked at it and immediately ran into their apartment crying. Poor Mom. All of her money gone. In her mind, the AD had not even asked her. Slowly, she started coming around-especially after Dad took her for a spin. You see, this was Dad's first car ever. He wanted to be able to take care of his wife and family, and in Baltimore, it was tough to get around solely on public transportation. The car was their ticket to freedom.

But why does a car, to this day, still hold such a very special place in the hearts of me and my family? What happened to the car? Are there any adventures to be told that occurred in the car? Tune in and find out in my next post...

Stolen Lines #2

"Ghosts definitely live here," I say.


During the two years before I entered law school, I had a pretty fun job. I was an applications scientist for a Big Biotech Company (BBC). Now, BBC was based in California, but I was based out of Chicago. My office was my home, and it was a wonderful thing. I reported into my boss on occasion, but for the most part, I lived on the road. My territory extended, at its height, as far west as Colorado, as far north as Montana, as far south as Texas and as far east as Michigan. I had every single state in between, and the travel was...umm...extensive to say the least. I would fly out on Monday mornings and usually not come home until Friday evenings. I used to call my apartment at the time my $1000 per month storage unit. It was kinda sad. I loved the nomadic lifestyle my job afforded me, the flights, the meals, the rental cars, the hotels, the company car, the company phone, etc. All of the bells and whistles that makes business travel fun, I dug.

True story that puts into perspective how much I traveled. During my second week in law school, I was on my lunch break when my cell phone rang.

Artful: "Hello?"

Marriott VP: "Hello, is this Dr. Blogger?"

Artful (confused): "Umm...yes, why?"

Marriott VP: "Dr. Blogger, we noticed that you have not staying in our hotels in quite a while. We were concerned, as our Platinum Members are very important to us. Is there anything that we can do to make sure that you choose us in your business travels?"

Holy crap. Was he serious?

Artful: "No, no...I have not been traveling in a while."

Marriott VP: "Well, you let me know if there is anything we can do to help. Have a good day, sir."

Wow. I really used to travel a LOT.


Because I was not a salesperson, I was usually met with open arms by most principal investigators in the labs I visited. I had the opportunity to travel to large companies like Monsanto and Eli Lilly to give scientific talks to everyone from lab technicians to boards of directors. I saw some amazing research and met some fascinating people along the journey. I also made it a point to visit the various points of interest in the places that I visited. After all, when does one have the chance to do something like that on the company's dime?

Among all of the places that I visited, however, one of the most powerful places, where I actually felt the ghosts of the past, was right here in Chicago. I was on the University of Chicago campus. It was a normal crisp fall day, and classes were in session, so the various areas around campus were filled with kids getting to class, their knapsacks haphazardly slung around their shoulders, young men and young women getting along with their lives. I remember walking across the street adjoining some buildings, but my attention was then diverted by a fascinating sculpture that was in the middle of this flat area. At first glance, I thought it was a sculpture of a tooth, but as I looked closer, its appearance seemed to alternate between a nuclear mushroom cloud and a skull. Seeing as how college campuses are hotbeds for protesters, I thought that it might have been placed there in honor of some famous protest or another.

I moved in to take a closer inspection of the monument. I circled it, staring at it intently and taking in its grotesque, yet haunting beauty. My eyes were then drawn to the unobtrusive plaque attached to the base. I moved in to read the words, and as I read them, I felt a shudder creep down my spine:

Here, on December 2, 1942, a small group of scientists under the supervision of Nobel laureate (1938) Enrico Fermi (1901-1954) achieved for the first time the controlled release of nuclear energy.

HOLY CRAP! This was where it all happened. The start of the Nuclear Age, the Cold War, the Berlin Wall, the Cuban Missile Crisis, the arms race whose conclusion could only be mutually assured destruction. I could almost close my eyes and hear the whispers of the scientists responsible, those who died eventually from the radiation poisoning and those who wished that they had never succeeded in creating a self sustaining nuclear reaction. I imagined the spirits of the victims of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, the ultimate losers in Oppenheimer's and Fermi's work on the Manhattan Project, of which the U of C experiment was a part. I could almost see the spirits of the victims of the Chernobyl tragedy.

"Ghosts definitely live here," I say.

How could they NOT? Seeing this sculpture and being engulfed by the emotions that came from my realizations as to what a scientific experiment begat, my mind turned to so many other aspects of science that arise from the hubris of man. I sat in front of this sculpture for almost an hour, lost in thought and listening to the dead. I marveled at how low key this monument to the birth of the nuclear age appeared. The various young men and women never gave it a second glance. They just walked on to their next class, trying to grab a Starbucks, lost in thought and never thinking about what started over 60 years before on this very spot.

My later research uncovered more information on Fermi's team. Apparently, they conducted the experiment in absolute secrecy not knowing if they would blow up Chicago in the process. Some of the team members succumbed to radiation poisoning later in life, but Fermi went on to Los Alamos to continue his work on the Bomb. The labs were all underground beneath some old tennis courts within Stagg Field. The nuclear era, in all of its glory, sprang forth from this unassuming patch of land in northern Illinois, along the shores of Lake Michigan.

I would like to think that we, as a species, have learned the lessons of our hubris.

I stole the first line of this post from You'll Never Eat Lunch in This town Again, by Julia Phillips. This has been a part of Grace's Stolen Lines series.

A Review of "He's Just Not That Into You" starring the Namby Pamby and the Alleged Lady.

Today was a normal day of drudgery at the firm. I was knee deep in deposition statements trying to put together a carefully annotated statement of facts for a summary judgment answer. I was also fact and cite checking another brief for a patent interference (where 2 inventors claim that they have invented the same invention, to be decided by the Board of Patent Appeals and Interferences at the USPTO). It was NOT looking like a sunny, funny day. And then...an e-mail from the Alleged Lady popped up asking us bloggers if anyone wanted to go to an evening showing of the chick flick du jour, "He's Just Not That Into You." Now, I was familiar with the source material of the film. I remember the episode of Sex and the City when Berger (Ron Livingston) enlightened the ladies as to how they needed to stop reading into guys reactions, responses and words in an effort to explain away boorish behavior. If memory serves, Miranda was the one who was trying to justify why a guy had not called her back, and while her friends were trying to make her feel better about herself, Berger broke in with "maybe he's just not that into you." It was as if a light bulb went off. Of course, later in the run, Berger became infamous as the man who broke up with Carrie via post it note (a precursor to today's text message and Facebook break ups), but still, women everywhere talked about that episode. The book provided a chapter-by-chapter breakdown of the boorish behavior that men resorted to in order to not call women or to break up with women they were not that into. I remember being bemused by the book, as I could recognize certain proclivities that I might have had as a teenager, maybe, but SURELY today's women could NOT be so naive as to fall for these tricks from all loser men out there. Surely guys were more mature than THIS when they dealt with the opposite sex.

Talk about naive. That would be me.

The more I spoke with my female friends (I have a lot of them), the more I realized that both sexes bore some of the blame. Women want to see the best in the worst of male specimens while ignoring lesser (but better) specimens around them. In contrast, too many men saw women as disposable playthings and tended to realize, too late, that they might have had something real. Ick. These boors were messing with women's minds to the point where women reacted with doubt whenever they were face to face with a good guy. Demystifying the guy mystique for women (here's the secret-there IS no guy mystique-we are pretty simple creatures, actually) would do a world of good.

So here it was, a long Tuesday at work, when the Alleged Lady laid out plans for an evening viewing of the film. Closet (or not so closet) chick flick fan the Namby Pamby and I were the only ones who chose to accompany the Lady (Alleged, that is). We decided to meet for a 7:15 show in downtown Chicago. Upon arriving at the theater (I was the first one), I noticed that there were a LOT of women at the theater...I mean, a LOT. Not only were the numbers startling-I also noticed that most of them were outfitted in couture (yes, I know what that is). It was then that I noticed that there was a special advanced screening of "Confessions of a Shopoholic" in the same theater complex as "He's Just Not That Into You." The estrogen levels at this complex were noticeably high. Namby soon arrived, and we marveled at the waves of impeccably dressed females marching up the escalators. It was actually kind of surreal. Finally, Alleged Lady (sans couture) arrived, and the three of us proceeded upstairs to purchase our tickets and watch the film. Having arrived at the actual theater a little late, we were forced to sit about 4 rows from the screen (something that would prove amusing later on). We settled in with some popcorn and sodas (sorry, Alleged Lady, with popcorn and COKES) and sat back to watch the film.

Without going into spoilers, the film played as a more modern version (from the female perspective) of the 1960s era sex comedy "A Guide for the Married Man". Different stories were interwoven that followed a group of acquaintances in Baltimore (with some fun "I used to live there!" flashbacks for me, a Maryland PhD). You had the woman who desperately wanted to be in a relationship but was bad about figuring it out, the male mentor who took pity on her but then ended up falling for her, a couple where the man was adamant about not being married and his girlfriend of 7 years who wanted the ring, the married couple where the wife was frigid and the husband cheated (although he struggled with the decision for...like...15 minutes or so), the safe guy hung up on a girl who used him whenever her own self esteem was down, and a woman who was so withdrawn from the personal aspects of dating that she resorted to text messages and MySpace connections in order to meet the dregs of male society. In spite of the archetypes and predictability of the endings, I liked the film. It was a thoroughly enjoyable romantic comedy that rang true (and was cringe worthy during several scenes) because the situations depicted on the screen were real. These kinds of scenes are wonderful in that they are ones we see in real life (well, except for several of the "Hollywood Ending" scenes near the end of the film). If anything, the film points out that everyone suffers from the same issues in relationships and that we should not feel bad for failing NOR should we give up. A happy resolution is not such a bad thing (I was gonna say "happy ending", but that has SUCH an X-rated connotation nowadays).

So what about my movie going companions. Well, the first question likely will be "where the hell was Daisy, and without Daisy, who would comment on the men of the film?" Well, Daisy promised her mom that they would see this film together this weekend, so she passed. The second question would likely be "were Namby Pamby and Alleged Lady good film companions?" Yes, decidedly so. Not only were they into the film, they also made pithy observations several times throughout. Namby's comments lit up the entire theater. Oh wait...no...that bright light was coming from his iPhone as he proceeded to check his messages every 5 minutes or so. Darn those phones are bright. The only reprieve I had was when, during a quiet moment in the film, Namby proceeded to DROP the phone (with a loud clatter) onto the floor of the theater. The Alleged Lady was far more entertaining. Remember how I said that we were sitting 4 rows from the front? Well, imagine if you are sitting that close when the images of Bradley Cooper and Scarlett Johansson's breasts are on the screen (no nudity, but still). Whenever Bradley Cooper appeared, Alleged Lady would hungrily whisper "he is so hot-I can't look at the screen for so long." During one particular point, as Cooper's baby blues were staring directly out of the screen, the Alleged Lady buried her head into the chair and said "IT'S LIKE AN ECLIPSE-I CAN'T STARE AT IT FOR LONG OR ELSE I'LL GO BLIND!" She's so awesome.

At the end, Namby and I agreed on one thing. All men are jerks except for us!

Super Bowl XLIII and an update on Eve

I love it when I am right. It does not happen ALL that often (ok, maybe it does), but I really called it when I said I did not want to go to any Super Bowl parties. The Football Gods rewarded me with a game that could be considered one of the best ever. There were SO many twists and turns throughout the game, and it concluded with an AMAZING series of plays that will forever be remembered in the annals of NFL lore.

First Quarter: All Steelers. Roethlisberger led his team on a long offensive drive that consumed much of the first quarter. Although the Steelers ended up with a mere three points, the tone had been set. The Cardinals defense did not appear to be prepared to stop the Steelers, and I thought the Steelers were going to win this going away. The Cardinals had a single three and out during the entire first quarter and were not seen again until the second quarter. I was thinking that the Cardinals would not be able to score with their stars on the sidelines.

Second Quarter: Steelers score a touchdown on another clock eating drive and went up 10-0. I was ready to become disgusted and turn it off. It was then that some magic started happening. In less that 6 minutes, Kurt Warner led his team on an 83 yard TD drive. The Cardinals defense then held and the runback after the ensuing punt was run back into Steelers territory. With plenty of time left before the half, Warner then led his team to the brink of yet another score. On the threshold of going up 14-10 before the half, we, the audience, were treated to the longest play in Super Bowl history. Defensive Player of the Year, James Harrison, dropped into coverage and intercepted Warner's pass in the end zone. He proceeded (with the help of several illegal, if uncalled by the zebras, blocks by his teammates) to run the ball back 100 yards (!) and score a TD (he was actually tackled before the ball crossed the plane by Larry Fitzgerald-another bad call), the Steelers entered the locker room ahead by 10 points. Now, what I did not see anyone comment on is Fitzgerald's never-say-die attitude on this play. On the play, Fitzgerald had been headed in the opposite direction and was a good 10 yards downfield from Harrison at the time he realized that Warner had been picked. Fitzgerald, deep in his own end zone, turned on the jets and gave chase, weaving his way through Steeler defenders and caught Harrison BEFORE HE CROSSED THE GOAL LINE. A lot of other offensive players would have given up, but Fitzgerald did not. Although he had been a non-factor in the game to that point, he showed his mettle. At half time, it looked like the Cardinals were toast.

Halftime: GO BRUCE

3rd quarter: Only 1 score: Steelers score again-3 points. 8 minute drive. The score was 20-7, a 13 point deficit. I started paying more attention to the commercials and started feeling bad for Kurt Warner. He should not have ended his career like this....

4th quarter: the best 4th quarter I have watched in a LONG time. Larry Fitzgerald is ALIVE; Warner goes into a no huddle and does not give the Steelers defense time to adjust. He proceeded to pick apart the Steelers' #1 rated defense with pinpoint accurate pass and a jump ball to Fitzgerald in the corner of the end zone. The score is 20-14...hmm...interesting... 2 quick series by the Steelers and the Cardinals, and the Cardinals pin the Steelers on their 2 yard line (pushed back to the 1 yard line thanks to the thuggish actions of James Harrison-he should have been ejected for throwing punches at a guy who was down on the ground-classy). Steelers appear to escape (NO!) but then the refs FINALLY get a call right and call holding on a Steelers lineman in the end zone. Folks, that means SAFETY. The score was now 20-16 (with the Cards still needing a TD for the go ahead score). So following a safety, the opposing team has to free kick the ball to the other side. The Steelers punt to the Cards, and there was NO return. Warner went back to work. Right before one play, Madden pointed out how far back the safeties were playing to take away the deep pass (very conservative on the part of the Steelers). Madden noted that all Warner had to do was use the center of the field and the Cardinals would continue to have success. Sure enough, on the next play, Warner found Fitzgerald, who turned on the jets and outraced the entire Steelers secondary into the endzone. TOUCHDOWN! Cards are ahead!!! End of story, right? Wrong. See, The Cardinals had left too much time on the clock, Warner knew it. He had been in this situation before in Super Bowl XXXVI, when Brady came back and won the game. While his teammates were celebrating, Warner (with good reason) had a sick look on his face. Roethlisberger and wideout Santonio Holmes proceeded to put on a passing clinic, with Big Ben finding Holmes in the back of the end zone with less than 40 seconds left for the go ahead TD-and WHAT A CATCH! Tiptoe, complete control, while being defended by 3 Cardinals. Wow....

This was one for the ages folks. I have serious doubts as to whether the Steelers would have won without the generous calls they received from the zebras, but that is neither here nor there. I thoroughly enjoyed the game, and I had the best seat in the house for it. God bless high definition and Dolby Digital 5.1! I even rewound and re-watched certain plays as they happened thanks to the magic of DVR.

Yeah...still no Super Bowl parties for me next year...nope.


On another note, my friend Eve is doing well. She is getting the best treatment at one of the top medical institutions in the world. On a happier note, Wally proposed to her. The sad thing is that Wally proposed in the shadow of Eve's medical hardship. The cool thing is that he had the ring for a while. He had intended to propose well before this, and by timing it just right, she knows exactly what she has to live for. Congrats to both Eve and Wally. I cannot wait for the wedding-it will be a blast!