Notes from the swamp

I mean, what the hell other place was all that hot, humid weather in New Haven all about? Good grief, as they say in the funny papers. I haven't felt like this since my years as a guide on the Amazon (the river, not the website). As I thought would happen, I ended up judging JVLD, which made me feel a little like a superstar because I alone in the pool was a native English speaker not from a certain Catholic School (Regis) that will remain unnamed... They put me in every round they ran and a couple they didn't run. If you want to nuke somebody, or not, I'm your man.

Meanwhile, the Nostrumite is in a state of permanent depression over the whole MJP thing they used down there. He had a judge in the pool who sat out the whole tournament. Normally this wouldn't be so bad, because that means you can usually make it all the way to Alpha Centauri in whatever version of Civ you happen to be playing, but in her case, she had no computer and, apparently, she was allergic to dank. And let me tell you, Hell House High School was dank on a stick. On the positive side, while the ladies room went offline pretty early in the day, the men's room remained hale and hearty for the duration. Which is more than can be said for the Mite's varsity judge. They had to carry her out on a rail late in the afternoon and bring her back to the motel, where she recovered by watching Judge Judy reruns. I sympathize with the whole being carried on a rail business, although for me, there's usually also tar and feathers involved.

Through it all, the Mite and I managed somehow to produce a new episode, both on paper and off. Pick your poison, as they say.