My mind is blown, and not simply because Oregon gets a chance at Virginia in the Sweet Sixteen tomorrow night.
(It's big, despite rumblings of alleged
Nike malfeasance at the edges of Oregon's program. Again?)
However bizarre that seems, after watching the Ducks sink time and again in their little self-made Eugene pond early on, I get it now. Oregon seized the Zen Way, lifting the team out of its funk. The team is at the limit of its powers, identity intact.
Trouble looms ahead, though.
I've watched Virginia play often this year. Oregon won't beat them. The Ducks have reached their apex, and that won't cut it against the Cavaliers of Charlottesville, a gifted team of deadeye shooters.
Every time I sat down to watch Virginia this year Charlottesville weighed heavily. You know why, I don't have to mention the neo-Nazis do I?
My memory flicks back to the "Mission Accomplished" banner on Bush's aircraft carrier in San Diego. The draft-dodging wanna-be warrior, wearing a codpiece larger than his tiny brain, smirked in his special way.
Big-balls Bush. Bush the Moron. The idiot child. Etc.
The war was over.
No, it turned out, it was just beginning. I knew it, but the people I worked with and my friends at the local bar couldn't see it. They just didn't get it. In their willful ignorance they couldn't grasp the stupidity of what was happening.
I had to leave that scene, man.
From those days until now I have felt burdened. It's been like talking to cadavers. The dead don't listen.
To U.S. Americans the world is a game of "Pin the Tail on the Donkey," though the country's leaders have a game of utter imperialism on their minds.
I'm sad.
But then I read pieces like these and take succor.
Will Brewbaker.
Maj. Danny.
Scheer and Zapata.
William deBuys.
Bill Blum.
And this, the
holy online book of free thought.
As I say, my mind, if I had one, is blown.
TS