The headline in today's The Athletic begins: "Ted Ginn, Jr, ex-NFL receiver and UFL coach...". Ted Ginn Jr? Now that's a name I've not heard in a long time. A long time.

Ginn, for those of you who haven't wasted the past few decades following the rotting corpse of a once great football team called the Miami Dolphins, was the 9th overall pick in the 2007 draft. He played his college football for Ohio State, where he set a record for scoring on punt returns. I presume that's why GM Randy Mueller (who had been installed as something of a figurehead GM during Nick Saban's head coaching tenure only to find himself in over his head when Saban abruptly skipped town) drafted Ginn as high as he did. Ginn had great foot speed but hands of stone. He was an immediate bust.

I happened to be in the stands when Ginn finally scored his first NFL punt return touchdown following the Eagles' opening drive in week 11. The Dolphins were to that point winless on the season, and I had already soured on Ginn. My brother, an Eagles fan, knew it. So when Ginn scored, he immediately taunted me with "Who's your fav-rit play-er? Ted Gin Jun-ior!" He would repeat that whenever Ginn's name came up in NFL broadcasts in the following years.

Admittedly, the 2007 coach and roster Mueller assembled didn't do Ginn any favors. (Can you name any of the three quarterbacks who started for the Dolphins in 2007? There will be a quiz later.) But after just three years in Miami, he was traded to the 49ers. Thereafter, he spent equally short terms with the Panthers, Cardinals, Panthers (again), Saints, and Bears. That's actually a pretty good career by NFL standards, and he wouldn't be widely considered as a bust if he hadn't been drafted so high by a team that needed so much help.

Anyway, all that is what I think of when I read the rest of that headline: "...arrested on DWI charge in Texas." I have to say that it's nice to know that some things don't change. Nearly twenty years later, Ted Ginn, Jr. continues to disappoint.

Pop quiz, hot shot! The Miami Dolphins 2007 quarterbacks: Trent Green (5 starts), Cleo Lemon (7 starts), John Beck (4 starts). Lemon was the only QB on the roster when Ginn was drafted. Later-career Trent Green was signed in June on a one-year deal to shore up a terrible roster. John Beck was the rookie QB taken after Ginn with the 40th overall pick, after JaMarcus Russell, Brady Quinn, and Kevin Kolb. There's a reason 2007 is considered one of the all time worst QB classes.

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24/2594. The Boys from Brazil (1978)
This conspiracy thriller is a spy film typical of its era, only with strictly television quality cinematography. However, the brutally violent ending with Doberman Pinschers (a breed with German origins, cleverly reinforcing the conspiracy) is definitely not. I didn't love it, but I was entertained.

25/2595. Palm Springs Weekend (1963)
Perhaps this is best described as Where the Boys Are in the desert... for Easter. With Jerry Van Dyke doing his best Dick Van Dyke impression. Watched with Mom, who spent most of the film complaining about what a fool she was to have once liked Where the Boys Are.

26/2596. Sugar & Vice: A Hannah Swensen Mystery (2026)
Diminishing returns continue diminishing this once delightful series. I know that these productions are limited by formula and actor availability, but I really should start avoiding the ones without Norman the dentist, Hannah's co-detective and former love interest.

28/2598. Dark Victory (1939)
Bette Davis plays a bitch with an incurable brain tumor, but it's a romance? And it was nominated for Best Picture? Yeah, that tracks. Hard pass.

29/2599. Dancing Sweeties (1930)
The title tells you everything you need to know: a couple of strangers get married for a dance contest only to learn that marriage is hard. It never tries to be deep, just a bit of melodramatic escapism for a generation that doesn't yet know what a television set is. And that's okay.

Coke is good for sore feet!

More to come.

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Why is my Google News feed full of stores about how rampant commercialism and inept governments are leading to the impending collapse of Earth's ability to sustain life? Is this inspired by the current moon mission? Earth Day? AI data centers? War in the Middle East? Or just my particular doom scrolling preferences?

I'm a downer. I get it. But how about a nice link to dogs eating ice cream? Or Kpop Demon Hunter memes? Or news about cabinet members being fired for being terrible at their jobs? You know, the sorts of things that give hope that the universe isn't bent towards the worst possible outcomes.

Maybe if I just keep scrolling, I'll get to the good stuff....

Aw, geez. Now it's "I'd like to buy only America a Coke"? Fine, you win, universe.

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Yes, it's been days since my last post, and this blog may have seemed dead. But that's just how I'm celebrating Easter this year.

Speaking of not-dead guys, the local Catholic Church has had a crucifix on its front lawn this year with a Jesus that looks like he was carved by a chainsaw. The folk art approach doesn't bother me. I don't know what Jesus would think of it. I suspect that as a carpenter, he'd probably be pretty impressed by chainsaws.

On the other hand, he probably wouldn't be too happy that people are so into seeing him hung up. The Catholic list of 10 Commandments conveniently omits that whole "graven images" restriction -- they love their icons! -- but Jesus was a Jew, so he might have a different opinion about Exodus 20:4.

What does bother me a little is that the statue has a very well defined set of washboard abs. I'm sure the historic Jesus had low body fat (although infinite fishes, loaves, and wine didn't do Dionysus any favors), but could he really have looked like Mark Wahlberg in a Calvin Klein ad? I hadn't thought so, but now I'm reconsidering. Jesus was a wise guy, and a thirst trap certainly would have helped attract eyeballs to his newfangled religion. It's a whole lot easier to love your neighbor when he's beautiful. (That's why even Catholics agree about keeping your hands off your neighbor's spouse.)

Hmm. Maybe those clever Catholics are right. A cut wooden Jesus just might be a good idea. Not only does it have me now rethinking my religion, I'm also inspired to cut back on my own intake of waistline-expanding Easter candy. Jesus saves!

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The Superman Sunday Special newspaper strip, April 1, 1984 (written by Bob "The Answer Man" Rozakis)

According to the Editors of the Encyclopaedia Britannica:

"What is April Fools’ Day?"
Although the day has been observed for centuries, its true origins are unknown and effectively unknowable. It somewhat resembles Hilaria, a festival of ancient Rome, held on March 25.

"How did April Fools’ Day start?"
Some suggest it originated in France with the Edict of Roussillon in 1564, while others believe it relates to the equinox that occurs on March 20 or 21 (the Northern Hemisphere’s vernal equinox and the Southern Hemisphere’s autumnal equinox), a time when people are fooled by sudden changes in the weather.

"Unknowable"? Very funny, Britannica. Superman can travel through time, so I'll be taking his word over some mere mortal encyclopedia editors.

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It's primary season in Georgia, and right now there are at least three (three!) leading Republican candidates for governor currently airing television commercials during every Jeopardy! commercial break vowing to get tough on the same issue. Not taxes. Not jobs. Not education. Not data centers or immigration or crime or polluted water or unaffordable housing or traffic congestion or gas prices. The issue they're worried about is "men" stealing trophies in women's sports.

Yes, I do live in a basement, and no, I don't have a daughter, but I still have to wonder if that's really the biggest issue facing Georgians today. Or ever, really. Outsports.com lists only five openly transgendered athletes playing for Georgia teams the past twenty years. Exactly zero of those were biological men who joined women's teams in search of fame and fortune. Zero examples would seem to make this a solution in search of a problem.

Even recognizing there were a couple of swim meets in the recent past where transgendered women stormed our borders and won (or, as in the case of Riley Gaines, placed fifth), this still doesn't seem to be a problem because A) the Georgia High School Association banned transgendered girls from playing as girls on high school teams in 2022, B) the NCAA banned the same at the college level in February 2025, and C) Georgia passed a state law ("The Riley Gaines Act") banning them from any event statewide in April 2025. It's not (yet) illegal to be transgendered in Georgia, but they better not try kicking any girls' balls.

So we ask the question: why are all these Republican governor candidates spending so much time and money decrying a vanishingly rare situation that is already triply illegal in the state they say they know enough about to run? I guess it's too much work to come up with a plan to address the ongoing homeless crisis or social media monopolies when you can just keep holding up your pitchfork and yelling "Won't somebody please think of the trans children?"

All I can say for sure is that it doesn't look like I'll be voting Republican this year. Again.

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DAD: Do you think they'll play all Elite Eight NCAA basketball games in one day this weekend?

ME: No. They'll spread them over two days as usual.

DAD: I suppose they want us to be able to watch them all?

ME: Yes, but your viewing pleasure is a secondary concern. The NCAA is primarily interested in maximizing the broadcast window so that they can increase advertising revenue. Sports broadcasting decisions are all about the money.

DAD: You mean to tell me that if they broadcast a meteor falling to earth, the money caused that?

ME: No. That's totally different. No one is paying for meteor strikes.

DAD: So broadcasting decisions are not all about money.

ME (raising voice): No! I mean, meteors are not sports. Those are Two! Different! Subjects!

DAD: Now you're yelling. That's my fault. You don't take it well when I point out when you are wrong.

...

I don't wonder why some children abuse their parents; I wonder why more don't.

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I just spent the last three hours trying to play a video game called Disco Elysium. If you haven't done that, don't.

Mechanically, the game is part painfully dull point-and-click roleplaying game, part existentially crushing choose-your-own-adventure visual novel in which your character's health is measured by both physical and mental punishment absorbed. That description makes it sound more fun than it is. In my first attempted playthrough using the game's predefined "Thinker" archetype, my hungover protagonist, a depressed police detective, encountered the decaying corpse he'd been assigned to investigate and promptly quit the force. Game over.

In my second playthrough, I knew to avoid the body and instead questioned some witnesses. There was only one that can be interacted with: a stoned kid throwing rocks at the body. The brat belittled my detective skills, and I lost my will to participate in society. Game over. Gee, this is fun.

Deciding that the game had suckered me into playing a character with starting Morale that was too low ("Thinker" being the default option in the menu), I decided to start over with a customized character. Only, the user interface doesn't really hold your hand through this, and pressing the wrong button twice, I was suddenly starting the game again, going through the same startup dialog with the same shitty Morale as before. I have to give the game credit for making the menus as irritating as the in-game environment. That's commitment!

So I started a fourth time, this time successfully placing all of my available stat points into the two key survival attributes, Psyche and Physique. I also decided to chose only roleplaying dialog options that seemed to be delusionally optimistic. And it worked! When I got to the body, I successfully pushed through the first round of gag-reflex vomiting and was rewarded with a short quest to find some ammonia to mask the decay. But the stench was still overpowering, and I lost Morale. Calling into my precinct, I truthfully reported I was missing my badge, was ridiculed by my squad mates, and lost Morale. In between insults, I discovered I had also lost my gun and lost Morale. Pushing on with the case, I spoke to the person who reported finding the body, who was rude to me, and I committed suicide. Game over. Game deleted.

Seriously, what's the point of something like this? I only played the game because it was A) critically lauded and B) free. But I paid too much. While, yes, this game has a unique artistic vision, that's not enough to declare it a worthwhole (much less recommended) gaming experience. Who are these video game critics whose lives are so amazingly satisfying that they enjoy "playing" fatalistically depressing video games? Life is awful enough without this kind of masochistic shit in it.

Am I ranting because I'm angry? Damn right, I am. If nothing else, I should praise Disco Elysium for making my blood boil at the time I wasted on it, because that red-hot rage against the dying of the light is life-affirming in ways that Disco Elysium is very much not. It needs psychiatric help and deserves my pity, but narcissistic emotional terrorist that it is, it has gone out of its way to make me hate it. I hope it goes and fucks itself.

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