The Hanging Shad’s ‘Apropos of Nothing’

The late, great Zamboni the cat; for no damn earthly reason.

The late, great Zamboni the cat, pictured for no damn reason.

Things that have piled up on my virtual desk while waiting for the snow to melt so we can play baseball. It’s the Hanging Shad’s “Apropos of Nothing”:

1. My alma mater made a nice run to the Final Four this year but the Syracuse women play UConn in their final Tuesday night. If the Syracuse women slay the giant and beat Geno Auriemma’s crew, I will wear orange for a month to celebrate.

I have a weird love-hate relationship with UConn: Men’s basketball? Hate. Men’s football? Ambivalent. Men’s hockey? Love. Women’s basketball? Love the players, hate the coach. UConn Foundation? Suspicious. President Susan Herbst crying poor to the state legislature while paying millions and millions to coaches? Still stunned.

2. I wasn’t certain at the time, but I thought I heard New York Times’ David Brooks say Donald Trump will go to hell as the country’s biggest loser (electoral, I’m assuming) on Meet the Press Sunday. Upon further review…it’s a gem and comes at about :50…

3. Not to be outdone, financial and political commentator Ben Stein has a near meltdown trying to find every possible way to call Trump insane (note the anchor’s face when Stein is done. She is about to bust out laughing).

4. Hillary Clinton bugged out at a Greenpeace activist who implored her to not take “fossil-fuel money in the future.” Bernie Sanders—who apparently is the decider on what constitutes a “special interest”—got caught not telling it like it is as he claims. At the risk of being drawn and quartered in the world of social media, I’d like to point out that I’m feeling the Bern of “Three Pinocchio” for Sen. Sanders.

pinocchio_3

5. I realize that the older I get, the more I am entertained by strange people; strange being relative, of course. There is a gold mind of people watching in Davis Square (Somerville, Mass., just north of Boston). This includes a guy I saw standing at the entrance to the T station. He was dressed head-to-toe in an Egyptian Pharaoh outfit. He was doing, selling or passing out anything, He was just standing there looking straight ahead. All I could say was, “Well, alright, man!”