I finally returned to Miami on Sunday, and despite my previous declaration to the contrary, I forgot to bring a snorkel. Miami, however, remembered to bring the rain, at least through the first quarter. The rain stopped just in time for the Eagles to score 21 points in the second quarter, allowing the sun to come out and bake those of us stupid enough to sit through the rest of the game.

This was my second visit to Sun Life Stadium (formerly Landshark Stadium, formerly Dolphin Stadium, formerly Dolphins Stadium, formerly Pro Player Stadium, formerly Pro Player Park, formerly Joe Robbie Stadium), home of the Miami Dolphins. I can now say for certain, that it is far more disappointing to watch the Dolphins lose in their home stadium than it is to watch them lose on television. The Dolphins played as poorly as they have all year, and their loss to the Philadelphia Eagles ensured another losing season and the dismissal of Head Coach Tony Sparano. Good riddance.

It didn't help the experience that I was surrounded by idiots and assholes. Behind me sat some pre-teen children who cheered for the Eagles despite no awareness of when it was appropriate to start screaming. (I know they were true Philadelphia fans when they began discussing how they would kill the Dolphin's mascot given the chance.) The group in front of me spent all game screaming trash-talk, mainly at women. (Between taunts, they discussed the best strip clubs in the various NFL cities they had visited.) The douche to my right, an *ahem* Atlanta Falcons fan, tried to convince everyone around him that he was a true Falcons fan because he owned an officially branded pair of Falcons socks. (However, he spent more time discussing the NBA and the necessity of "respect" than the game.) And the fellow to Trey's left spent the entire game texting, never looking at the field. (Although he did frequently ask Trey to update him about what had just happened.)

As we began the 9-hour drive back home immediately after the game, Trey made me promise that the next time we take one of these cross-country trips to a game, we have to spend at least as much time in the city as it takes us to get there. That means that I have about 4 years to come up with something to do for 2 days in Philadelphia. At the very least, I know that I'll need to buy some Eagles' gear; after 12 hours in Philly, I suspect anyone wearing any other teams' colors might get shot.

It wasn't until Trey and I stopped at a rest station just south of Jacksonville that I actually interacted with someone who didn't irritate me. There I met a season ticket holder who has been traveling the 5 hours between Jacksonville and Miami since 1971. He dryly mentioned that he's seen a lot of bad football lately, a reference to the fact the day's loss ensured a third consecutive losing season for the franchise for the first time since 1969. Despite that, he said that he looks forward to future wins, and I guess that's what being a fan really means. I couldn't tell if he was wearing Dolphins' socks.

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Another season of home games is in the books, and it ended pretty much the way it began: with Mike Bobo doing his best to keep Georgia out of the end zone. Fortunately for UGA, Kentucky wasn't even in the same weight class as they allowed the Bulldogs to win 19-10. Now isn't the time to revert to form, Bobo. If my brother and I can predict your every play from 3 stories up in the stands, Georgia Tech and LSU aren't going to have any problem shutting you down.

Despite the terrible offensive play (8 total turnovers?), Trey and I had a lot of fun. There was plenty to complain about both on the field (horrible officiating) and in the stands (McDonald's advertisements), and that kept us plenty entertained throughout. I am already looking forward to home games next year, where I hope to see many more post-game celebrations.

As I mentioned above, only Georgia Tech is left between UGA and LSU in the SEC Championship game. I don't think there were really a lot of people out there in week 3 who thought UGA would end the season playing for the SEC title. As Trey pointed out leaving the game, Steve Spurrier is probably furious, having fate steal the SEC East from his star-crossed South Carolina Gamecocks [after losing his star quarterback and running back mid-season]. If Steve Spurrier can't get it done, how do you think you'll fare next year in the meat grinder of the SEC, Missouri?

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It's been a long time since the Georgia Bulldogs beat the Auburn Tigers by better than 38 points. It was 1946, in fact. That's why no one in Sandford Stadium expected what we saw as UGA took it to Auburn in a 45-7 rout.

The Tigers just rolled over for the Bulldogs, barely even threatening to score again after their opening drive. No one in the stadium could believe their eyes as Auburn just continued to take their beating, especially during Georgia's 21 point second quarter explosion. Many Georgia fans demanded more points from the Dogs in the fourth quarter, savoring the romp over our oldest foe.

Georgia is one win away from claiming the SEC East. After starting 0-2, winning the SEC East was as unimaginable a situation as beating Auburn 45-7. I guess that means it has been a pretty unimaginable season.

One note about the fans: In the third quarter, the public address announcer declared that it was time to "find Harry Dawg" in the animated McDonald's advertisement that has been a long-running spot on the giant screen. When instead the four F-16 pilots who participated in the pre-game flyover in honor of Veterans Day were introduced on the field, the crowd got surly. Grumblings were heard from the crowd periodically until the animated advertisement was finally shown halfway through the fourth quarter. Seeing this, the tobacco-chewing man sitting next to Trey shouted "finally" before concentrating with all his might to keep track of the moving package of fries that was hiding the mascot. Congratulations, McDonald's, on serving another 90,000.

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Wedding accomplished. I think I attended the wedding without embarrassing myself or my brother or my friends too much. There were a lot of comments to the effect of "that's Walter for you" and "Walter never changes," but fortunately no "arrrrgh, not Walter!" (At least none that I overheard.) Most of my foibles were politely ignored, though at one point my brother joked that "there's medicine now for your condition." (At least I think he was joking.) I suspect that there's a reason that I'm always invited to weddings, but never asked to participate in the bachelor or wedding parties. Like weddings themselves, I'm sure that Walter is much more tolerable in small doses, few and far between.

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Pepsi and their so-called "independent" polls have insisted for years that in a blind taste test people prefer the taste of Pepsi to Coke. This has been a guiding principle in my personal belief system -- which I call "People are Stupid" -- and can be demonstrated thusly:

1. People who prefer the taste of Pepsi are stupid.
2. Most people prefer the taste of Pepsi.
3. Therefore, most people are stupid. Q.E.D.

I've always figured that only people with half a brain could prefer the taste of Pepsi. It turns out that I was more right than I had realized. Science has recently demonstrated that part of the reason that Coke outsells Pepsi may be because years of carpet-bombing the world with Coke advertisements has caused the consumer's brain to react differently in the presence of a nostalgia-inducing can of Coke than a can of Pepsi (details here). In a nutshell, the science indicates that as soon as you know you are drinking Coke, your brain tells you that you like what you are drinking, whether it tastes good or not. The proof looks something like this:

1. When you see Coca-Cola, you are happy.
2. You see that you are drinking a Coca-Cola.
3. Therefore, you are happy. Q.E.D.

Like the rational, open-minded individual I am, I immediately wondered if I would be able to tell the difference between the two colas if I couldn't see the difference. So I decided to take the Pepsi Challenge myself. I forced enlisted my brother to be my lab assistant and instructed him to pour 6 ounces of a newly-opened 2-liter Pepsi in one glass and 6-oz. of a newly-opened 2-liter Coke in another as I waited outside the kitchen lab. Trey soon presented me with the two glasses and waited under threat of verbal abuse patiently with a pen and legal pad for me to sample the beverages and tell him which I preferred. No sooner had I picked up the first glass than my experiment went to hell.

For me to venture an honest opinion about which beverage I honestly thought tasted better, I had to remain unaware of which beverage was the Coke and which the Pepsi. I had no clue which caramel-colored cola was in the glass I was raising to my lips, but before I could even taste the contents, I could smell that it was the cloyingly sweet Pepsi. And more importantly, I therefore immediately knew it wasn't Coke. I continued to drink from this glass and the next, but only for science. I already knew what the outcome would be:

1. I think Pepsi tastes like shit.
2. What I am drinking smells like shit.
3. Therefore, I am drinking Pepsi. Q.E.D.

I was not surprised to discover that when all was said and done, Trey had written down that the glass I liked contained Coke and the glass I didn't like contained Pepsi. Unfortunately, I suspect I will never figure out whether that decision was made by my brain or my tongue. I suspect that only my nose knows for sure.

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This is the last post of Batman and Football Month, and it hasn't come a moment too soon for the Miami Dolphins, who have opened the season 0-3 and are facing the chip-on-their-shoulder San Diego Chargers this weekend before heading into their bye next week. If the Dolphins can't pick up a win before the bye, I predict very bad things for head coach Tony Sparano next week. It seems very likely he'll soon be joining the 14 million currently unemployed Americans. I'm not too upset: odds are that at least one of those 14 million would make a better coach than Sparano.

Meanwhile, this weekend will mark the third football game I've missed in Sanford Stadium since 2002. In recent weeks the Georgia Bulldogs have pulled out of their nosedive and look not half bad at 2-2 heading into this weekend's SEC contest with Mississippi State Bulldogs. Unfortunately, work calls, and I've been forced to give my ticket to Trey's girl Leslie. I'm sure she'll have a good time at this week's dog fight. Not as good a time as I would have had, but a good time.

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In the past eight days, I've been to four football games, 1 high school, 2 college, and 1 professional. I sure do enjoy football season. If nothing else, it gets me out of the house.

I accompanied Trey to the Atlanta Falcons' prime-time home opener against the Philadelphia Eagles yesterday in a game that ended just before midnight. It was a fantastic game featuring a bunch of turnovers, big plays, and lead changes, and I'm quite pleased that I had the opportunity to go.

It was unclear who was better represented among the fan-worn jerseys in the stadium: current Falcons QB Matt Ryan or former Falcons QB Michael Vick. Ryan outplayed Vick in the game, if for no other reason than Vick's 3 turnovers. Vick didn't even finish the game, suffering a concussion late in the 3rd quarter and being booed off the field by the ever-classy Altanta fans.

It would have only been better if the Dolphins hadn't lost their game earlier in the day, making it look increasingly like another terrible season is in the making. True story: waiting to use a urinal at the Georgia Dome, I was the only person wearing a Miami Dolphins t-shirt in a long line of people clad in Eagles and Falcons apparel. Finally, I reached the front of the line and prepared to relieve myself. Immediately the fellow behind me loudly sighed and said, "we're going to be here awhile. The guy in up here is wearing a Dolphins shirt, and we all know they're slow starters." Smart ass.

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I welcomed football season with a trip to Eastman, Georgia, to watch the football team of the school at which my brother teaches. They weren't very good, and I say that generously.

The Dodge County High School Indians lost to the Lucy C. Laney High School Wildcats, 26-13. I had a very enjoyable time, despite the behavior of the children in attendance who insisted on running up and down the metal bleachers in their flip flops. It was surprisingly loud for a high school football game. Fans attending a UGA game would have been proud of the support shown by the home team.

Quite by accident on the way out of town after the game, I discovered a memorial to Mr. Angel, the first recognized Bulldog mascot of the University of Georgia. The monument was dated 2008, and a bit of research after the fact revealed that it was built only after the dog was snubbed by an official UGA mascot list snubbed the poor fellow in 2006. It's a pretty cool monument for a dog with such a silly name.

The next day, the Bulldog's current mascot, Russ, wisely chose to hide in his doghouse and not to show his face in Georgia's latest loss. The University of South Carolina came to town and quite simply outplayed UGA on the way to a 45-42 victory. At least the Georgia coaches aren't directly to blame for the loss. Bobo's play-calling was generally far better than usual, and the team appeared ready to play, if unable to find an answer for the superior talent of USC's Marcus Lattimore.

Walking into the game, Trey and I had a conversation with a pair of South Carolina fans who claimed to be attending their first game in Athens. They were extremely concerned about potential maltreatment by the UGA fans, who they claim have an especially bad reputation in South Carolina and throughout the SEC. I've always felt that UGA fans are unusually gracious when compared to those found in some other stadiums. But later during the game, two drunk, obnoxious Georgia fans managed to offend nearly a dozen other UGA fans sitting nearby. If we can't stand our own fans, I can't imagine that we are engendering much love outside our home field.

As you can [no longer] see in the Flash file above showcasing nightfall in Athens, the field markings and stadium scoreboard have been redesigned for 2011. It's not an improvement, but it's better than the uniforms worn last week. If nothing else, the Georgia "G" needs to be returned to the goal line where it belongs. Georgia needs all the help they can get finding it.

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I recently watched Seth Rogen's Green Hornet with Trey and his girl, Leslie. Leslie noted with surprise that Trey, who generally likes movies, hated it, while I, known for hating everything, enjoyed it. No one could adequately explain the personality transposition, but for several minutes afterwards I felt like doing math problems while Trey read my Justice League comic book. Go figure.

Part of the issue may have been that I was familiar with the Green Hornet and his sidekick Kato from their interaction with Batman and Robin in the Adam West television show. As a result I was willing to give the movie bonus nostalgia points. Trey was less familiar with the Green Hornet and therefore may have been expecting something more... good. Rogen's movie may not have been good, but neither was the 1966 television show.

Then again, last week I also watched John Saxon's 1978 B-movie The Glove. To phrase it as an SAT analogy, The Glove is to good as Batman is cheerful. You may remember Saxon from such films as Enter the Dragon starring Bruce Lee, television's Kato. If I can stomach two hours of John Saxon's comb-over and uncomfortably inappropriate love scenes, I can handle Seth Rogen's implausible Green Hornet. What I'm trying to say is that Trey, a more discerning movie watcher, is probably more qualified to offer an opinion on the movie than I am.

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After the last two weeks of plumbing disasters, I think I'm going to have to swear off bathroom repairs once and for all.

Last week: I took it upon myself (with no small amount of prompting from my mother) to fix the slow drip in my brother's guest bathroom. Despite all of my might, the stupid Moen Posi-Temp 1222 cartridge embedded in the tub faucet would not budge. Not with the official Moen replacement tool, not with a wrench, not with a hammer. I know when I'm out-matched: rather than risk breaking the pipes permanently, I called a plumber.

At least it wasn't just me. When the plumber arrived -- at 4:45PM the same day, a Friday! -- he admitted that it was the most stubborn sink cartridge he'd seen in at least 15 years. I'm sure he said that to soothe my ego, and it worked. It turned out that some knucklehead had overheated the pipe when soldering with the cartridge already in place, causing the rubber gaskets to fuse to the pipe walls. I'm certain that Moen doesn't cover "installer stupidity" in their Lifetime Guarantee.

[For the record, wriphe.com 100% endorses Tom Donnelly Plumbing. If you're in Dublin and your tub has started floodin', call Tom Donnelly.]

Yesterday: while trying to make my father's bathroom more handicapable following his foot surgery, I tightened the tank bolts and replaced the wax ring below his leaky toilet. Trying to maneuver the toilet back into place in the cramped space, I managed to spill toilet trap water all over my shoes and the floor. Of course, I promptly slipped -- Jerry Lewis would have been so proud -- dropping the toilet and breaking the base of the intake valve. This necessitated a third trip to Home Depot on the day to buy a replacement valve, a trip during which my car window motor broke in the down position. Grrr.

Finally, at 10PM, I got the toilet into place and turned the water back on, only to discover that the new intake valve stem and the existing water line don't play well together. So in the end, I replaced a leak at the base of the toilet with a leak at the tank. Truly a worthwhile endeavor.

[For the record, wriphe.com is 100% opposed to Oldsmobiles. If your car's AC is running hot and its electrical system's not, you're driving an Oldsmobile.]

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